#bills x shin

[thelastofhyde]

i. the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

taglist. @kayleezra​​ @newavenger + add yourself to the taglist here !​

read on ao3 ! ( capitalization available )

distaste is not new in the life of joel miller.

in particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. he is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. the years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

if anything, he’s made himself more empty.

rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

an apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. the man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that miller guys passed between cowardly members of fedra and the keep away from mr. miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

this plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become dead-weight.

“so that’s all i am to ya, huh? dead-fucking-weight?” his brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving joel to do what joel does best: endure.

somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the dead-weight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

she was an exception, his tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. they’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

she never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of tess’ foot against his shin.

“... and then,” frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. with a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. we were finding paw-prints for days!”

joel’s unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. as if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the german shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“which means i was cleaning paw-prints for days.” bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

frank is quick to shush him.

“i’m sorry, again, bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “i’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

there you sit, parallel to him.

the sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. it hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

you catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

the threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which joel can account for, mouth to keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. the battle ends swiftly as you surrender to bill’s hardened stare, and frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“you, sit. no one should have to clean up the food they made.”

they get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and painting you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun hind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

being alone, with you, is something joel’s never mastered. the affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. the dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

the ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. he’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

the pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“he likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

as if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

to envy a creature that licks it own shit off its ass is a new low for joel.

“thinkin’ he might like ya more, sol.” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

he takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and tess have made.

“you’ve got a whole load in common, you know? i think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“how the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” there he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. it helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. he’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “and have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

he’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘s easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

with you as its protector.

he doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. he watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

but i could keep you safe.

he toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. it’s not the first time he’s thought it. truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

his memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just bill, frank and you. a few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was frank who’d prompted the question. “where were you all when... this started?” tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’ll never meet. 

he never imagined her working in a bank.

bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” he’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. she was barely out of school. “i knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

joel had always been a good listener. being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. all this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of bill.

but you weren’t smiling.

he watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

the desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. with each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. he’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“you’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “those we remember never truly die!”). he’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘could keep you safe. there, then, the thought did cross his mind.

he’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-could fix it, you know. i’m good with my hands.”

he almost chokes on his own breath.

i'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. and he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“what?” the question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. in the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

the mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face joel once more.

he sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“your watch, it’s broken.”

“hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “don’t need ya to fix it.”

you pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. confusion.

“don’t you want to know the time?” you ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and joel miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“i don’t keep it for the time.”

you smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

the german shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

he’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. it’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” you’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “i’ve never heard any of the joel miller backstory, this should be-”

“i get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

nature falls silent.

skies grow dull.

you juggle sadness.

there’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. the dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. only, the gates have been shut in his face and joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “but you’re wrong. i don’t like everyone.”

“‘s that so.” his eyes roll. the hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “i don’t like you, joel.”

the hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

we’re staying, for tonight. tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the qz for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

the nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading bill and frank- mostly frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. if only joel could remember which door leads to yours.

the two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a fedra agent’s wife, you whisper that frank and bill had been fighting again recently. the memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly bill and frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

at some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. at another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-n’t tell me you’re a virgin.

the words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

a protest rings true in his head and his ears.

was gonna say. knew you were young, but not that young.

it’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“god, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. it was alright, i guess. i just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

he’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. a groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“not much to miss?! sweet christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” he’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken tess. each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. there’s no need to bother opening his eyes, joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “i’d give up a hand for some head!”

you must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of tess’ renewed shock fills the room. he wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“you’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“it bores me!”

“it bores you!?”

the couch beneath joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp tess gives. the last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

the crueler part of his mind replays your voice, i don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

you like tess. love her, even. it’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out finally someone with a pair of boobs, i’m bored of the sight of my own. joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“must not have been doin’ ya right,” the bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. you’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. it’s oddly endearing, you think no one has noticed. “this fella of yours.”

joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

he does so, regardless.

“well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “we were each others firsts.”

“that’s no excuse! trust i left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time i went down.” tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. no discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

you scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “what, are you offering your services?”

this he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which tess had raised you to heaven while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘as sure as i am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you i like my women a little older than you.”

he knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the qz. it should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. but he can’t, and he won’t.

and you’re the one to blame.

you, with the glow of a thousand suns. you, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. you, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

his own self being the first he’d need fight.

joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

the next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

he’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. some small, meaningless little things, that ripple joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. others, tsunamis. big, angry, all imposing. they’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. but the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. they catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. in the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

the currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

this evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. he reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. the gentle, barely-there croon of a sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. across from him is tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. snoring comes from below him, where joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

you take up no space of this room.

neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

there are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

he should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. a good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

he could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure frank wouldn’t mind. bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the qz.

he would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. he imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

i don’t like you, joel.

those words stop him from trying.

he tells himself it’s for the best.

with a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. he swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. the door’s already half-opened, and joel nearly thanks christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. the darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

the refrigerator.

it’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. a subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

she never lived long enough to get either.

he catches something move beneath the artificial light. cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“why aren’t ya sleepin’?” the words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

beneath the light, you shrug, “could ask you the same thing, texas.”

he curses tess for teaching you such a nickname.

he curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

you’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, joel remains unaware.

he grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. the door behind him closes over and give the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“i asked first.” you laugh, at him. full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. the corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. he hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you, bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘s so funny, huh?”

“nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “just never heard the joel miller say something so childish. you’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

you make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. a fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. uncouth and unbothered, joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“you know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” you call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. the thirst does not budge. he hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

by the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“i’m making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “make sure you take some with you when you leave. tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. he’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

i don’t like you, joel.

of course you would do the same. not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. all words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. they violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over joel’s entire persona.

he straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. the sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. his hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, and the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of tess, and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what joel hears.

i don’t like you, joel.

i don’t like you, joel.

i don’t like you, joel.

i don’t like you, joel.

over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. you’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

and, suddenly, joel’s angry. at you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. the fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

a hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise joel gifts you.

you may leave your marks emotionally, but joel’s will always be physical.

“why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “don’t ya like me?”

if not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “why do you care?” 

he scoffs, “i don’t.”

“hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody tess was playing in the living room. “sure sounds like you do.”

“yeah, well, i don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

joel knows he cares. it’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to bill and frank’s. 

what joel doesn’t know is why he cares. there’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. he’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

not one bit.

joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. his feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. his chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

he inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“for the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘s like how i sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. no part of him should ever be compared to you. “i don’t like ya either.”

he’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

the knife never ceases its movement. back and forth, back and forth. chop, chop, chop. blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. it’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

the hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“that’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point. 

it’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“you only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. his wandering touch halts. “a little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what i think.”

this strikes a nerve. fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. the realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “d’ya know what i think?”

even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“no, unlike you i don’t care what you think about-” joel tugs on your hair once more.

“i think you’re a brat. a silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” you could. he’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

 “you’re hurting me,” you whine, joel growls.

animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. his gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

your dress- red, a colour joel miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“you like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“no, i don’-” dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “joel.”

he retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. whoever joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and tess. the blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ talkin’ bout your past.”

he doesn’t specify.

he doesn’t need to.

you give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. his hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “i wouldn’t.”

you say nothing. joel pulls harder.

“too bad i’m-” you cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. with a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, joel watches you like a hawk. the twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. the want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “too bad i’m not offering you the chance.”

joel miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. with notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“who said anything about an offer?”

the descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

a part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

the other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. you’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs longer than any tree in the amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the himalayas. arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, joel knows how to read people. and, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

you breathe in, you breathe out.

one knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. he revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

inhale, exhale.

your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. all he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. with the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “don’t move.”

where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. one flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. a wet patch, your wetness. the stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

curiosity gets the better of him- one day, joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers curling themselves in the waistband of your panties and the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

in and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

the lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. a heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. he makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. there’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. he wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. he thinks it must hurt.

his fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in joel’s peripheral vision.

“shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “people are tryin’ to sleep.”

you scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘s that an invitation to see how loud i can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. this, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “or a challenge?”

“it’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

as coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. so he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. he awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

it’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“you’re drippin’” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. the view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘s actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. is it cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

he can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

but first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

it happens so sudden, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of tess. he wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

so he does the same.

working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. he breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“so now you shut up. ‘s the matter, huh?” he’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “am i too borin’ for ya?”

“you’re the most infuriating man i’ve ever- oh!”

a tongue meets skin.

the knife clatters onto the counter.

you lurch forward.

his hand pulls you back.

“tess was right, ya know?” he can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. he pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “that boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

the common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better, if you’d just let him.

‘could keep ya satisfied.

that’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. he’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? what ya need is a man, a man like me!” the softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension, god it’s never sounded sweet, and joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. he imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “but if ya insist.”

diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. the tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure. 

he’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by only experience that comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. you’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

he’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

what a perfect excuse you are, for joel to remaster the arts of lust.

it’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. it’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. it’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever days he shall possess on his knees before you.

and all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass. 

his only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“n- ah,” you can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “no, don’t, not there.”

next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time tess tells him they’re due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

 and then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“d’ya touch yourself, sol?” you don’t answer him, but that’s okay. in a sweet change of pace, joel miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “yeah, bet ya do. late at night, right? once you’re all alone in bed. ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

you back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “let me do the honours this time though.”

you don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. he imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

he’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

you’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. your expression, he can’t quite read. not sad, not happy, not mad.

your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

the discomfort of trekking back to the qz will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

he swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. he’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“that,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. he pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “shouldn’t have happened.”

joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

people once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. as sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. not today, however, and joel miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

it chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. there’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

that dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

he cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “no, not again. my back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the german shepherd’s head. it whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. a scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “not so bad, are ya? huh?” never in a million years did joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and tess had set out for their routinely visit to the bill and frank’s. never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

he hears you before he sees you.

“you planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, texas?”

he tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

the world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

so instead, it sends you.

peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than uv ray could ever be. he’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. a few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. at the very least, he considers, i’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

the smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. when he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. he does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. you’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

a queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. he’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “no problem, thanks... for feeding tess and i.”

“no worries!” you’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. he can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “oh, actually, that’s why i came out here, i was looking for tess-” of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “hold on!”

you shoot off back inside so quickly that otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. with an idle pet to his head as you pass by, joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. in your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“i wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. he can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “i know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

you show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him, “there should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

it’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

so he tries again, louder.

“why don’t ya like me?”

“and i’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

he grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "answer me." like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"for someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. you don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “you sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"answer the damn question, girl.”

“or, what?” you’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “you gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

joel says nothing.

“how about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and bill make.” inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “you get me something, i’ll tell you what you want to know.”

he grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “what d’ya want? ‘cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. i ain’t messing with none of bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“a dress.”

“a dress?” the statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“yes, and don’t look at me like that!” it’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “i need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

unaware he’d even began to lean closer, joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time. 

“joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

neither of you dare to break eye contact. again, his name is yelled. this time, he manages to identify tess as the owner of the voice. habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of tess or you. 

his feet remain glued to the ground.

tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “think you might be needed inside, macho man. your missus is calling.”

“she ain’t my-”

“you two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. in her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. you approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms. 

“i should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. he decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “go check on the food, before it burns.”

you’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

tess and him hit the road by noon. earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. the bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun heating the world with its rays. he walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from tess and racking his brain for answers.

answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the qz. answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven bill’s created. answers to why you don’t like him.

i don’t like you, joel.

it motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. if he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

till then, he needs to find a dress.​

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut

[moonsgemini]

dress - rafe cameron

summary: she’ll always wish she could enjoy the midsummer’s celebrations instead of working at it, but her secret moments with the kook prince make the bad tips worth it

warnings: rafe x pogue!reader, typical classist stuff but not from rafe, fluff, angst, mutual pining, alcohol, kissing

wc: 3.5k

an: this is based off of dress by taylor swift but my own interpretation of it I guess. If you guys want a pt. 2 with smut let me knoooow, I’m such a s!ut for rafe cameron pleaaaase

our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you

Midsummer was probably her least favorite day of summer. You’d think that being a bartender on the day that the whole figure eight came to the country club would bring in lots of tips right? Well wrong. During midsummer’s the drinks were complimentary and there was just a tip jar for cash tips. Kooks don’t usually carry around cash, or really tip for that matter. Also seeing all the kooks dressed in their pretty dresses and cute flower crowns made y/n go green with jealousy. She desperately wished she could attend as a guest and get to dress up and enjoy the food. Y/n would be dreading this shift if she didn’t have something to look forward to.

She had looked over herself in the mirror a million times, making sure her dress still looked as good on her as it did in the dressing room mirror yesterday. The tag was securely tucked into her side because she may have run up her credit card to be able to afford it so she had to return it after. Bartenders didn’t have as strict as a uniform as the waiters did. Her manager allowing them to wear black dresses for the night, and of course she was going to jump at the opportunity to wear something nicer than her boxy polo uniform and tennis skirt.

Her makeup and hair had been done to the best of her ability, without it seeming like she was trying too hard. Y/n would never admit to any of her friends or family that she was dressed up in order to impress a certain kook prince. The same kook prince she had spent months crushing on, and he never helped make the crush go away because he would shamelessly flirt with her every time he was at the country club. It was more like banter, she had a feeling he never really meant anything he said. But it felt so good to feel wanted.

When Rafe would see her around the outer banks he would smirk at her or give her a nod as to say hi. At parties sometimes he’d go up to her and make some small conversation. Teasing her about what drink she had or making sure that she didn’t give her number to that guy that was flirting with her. They’d be making conversation and she would take a step towards him wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and his scent. But then her friends would come and think they were saving her from the kook prince and pull her away, sending a glare Rafe’s way. She’s look back at him apologetically and he’d just give her a tight lipped smile and walk to the other side of the party.

Rafe really liked her, he liked making her laugh and smile. He wished he could make her quit her job and just come live with him, he’d take care of her. She’d never have to worry about bills or rent ever again. His friends always made fun of him for flirting with a pogue but he didn’t care. They’d say he was scraping the bottom of the barrel, that he had already gone through all the girls from figure eight so now he was entertaining a pogue. Rafe never let them get away with their jokes. He’d glare at them and punch them in the arm or kick them in the shin. He’d defend her honor saying she’s different and she’s a better friend than they’ll ever be.

All Rafe could do was think about her while he was getting ready. He knew she’d be there and he wanted to look extra nice. Tonight felt like the night he would actually ask her out. Y/n was a good listener, she was always there for him. At first he thought it was just because she was stuck behind the bar so she had to listen to him, but then he’d see her at parties and she still had that look in her eyes. That look that she was listening to him, actually listening to him. He felt like he was on a cloud with the way she looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

When she arrived to the country club she started getting all her things ready, the guests would start arriving in a few minutes. Stocking up on scotch and the best wines, she knew those would be the popular drinks tonight. As she worked diligently her mind wandered to Rafe, like it always did.

She wondered if he’d be the same as always despite his family being here. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, but not while she served him drinks. She wanted to dance with him and drink with him, and then go home together at the end of the night.

Guests had started arriving, her eyes looking out for the dirty blonde. She was so excited and a bit anxious to see him all dressed up, knowing he’d look extra handsome. An hour had passed and she still hadn’t seen him. The country club was now filled with kooks and her tip jar only filled with about $20 when she’s certain she’s made twenty martinis and poured just as many scotch’s.

As she was handing Mrs.Weatherby her glass of merlot smiling at the older woman her eyes caught her favorite blue ones. Rafe stood across the room with Kelce and Topper. He wasn’t paying any attention to what Topper was saying as he watching y/n from across the room. When their eyes met a lopsided smile formed on his lips. Her cheeks felt hot as he looked her up and down, as much as he could despite the bar being in the way.

Y/n begged with her eyes for him to come over, to save her from the boring night. He knew her better than she thought as he started walking over, saying something to the guys that he’d be back. But as he was crossing the room his dad stepped in front of him.

Ward put a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Rafe please, don’t start drinking yet. This is supposed to be a nice night okay? Lets take it slow.” He turned him around to walk out toward the patio.

“Yeah sure dad.” He muttered not wanting to make a scene. He followed him out but looked behind him to catch the eyes of the girl he was infatuated with.

His heart sank a little as he saw her bright eyes dull a little with sadness. She tried her best to put on a smile and not show her disappointment but he knew her better than she thought. Ward had no idea of Rafe’s crush and even if he did he probably wouldn’t care. He’d probably be disappointed in his son for liking someone like her, then he’d tell him that she probably only wants him for his trust.

all of this silence & patience, pining & anticipating, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

The first few hours of the night their eyes just met, hers pleading him to come over and talk to her. Give her something to think about tonight before she went to bed. His eyes begged her to forgive him for not giving her the attention she deserved, especially in that dress. He hoped that she wore it just for him, it made her look ethereal. Rafe’s legs ached from trying to stop himself from walking over and kissing her with everything he had.

As the night went on she was always on his mind. He hated this stupid midsummer’s stuff, mostly because he couldn’t share it with the one person he wanted. It was filled with snobby people and teenager’s getting drunk on booze they had snuck in.

Rafe kept getting stuck in conversations with his dad’s colleagues, Ward wanting him to be more involved in the business. Or he’d be with Topper, Kelce, and some other guys having a meaningless conversation about lacrosse or surfing. Whenever he got the chance he’d look over at her and she’d have a smile on her face handing some old dude a drink. He knew it wasn’t her real smile, then her eyes would look over at him and that’s when her real smile would come out.

“Uh I’m gonna get a drink,” Rafe said trying to excuse himself from his friends. His dad would be fine with him having a drink now, it’s been three hours since the night started. Three hours of his fingers tingling with the want of tucking that hair that kept falling in her face behind her ear.

“I’ll go with you dude. I need a refill,” Topper said holding up his empty glass. Rafe held in the urge to roll his eyes, he wanted to go alone.

y/n was wiping down the bar when they approached. She looked up meeting eyes with her favorite boy, but then she looked over to his left and their Topper was

“What can I get you guys?” She asked looking between them, smiling at Rafe.

“Long island,” Topper said placing his empty glass down.

“Can I get a rum and coke please?” Rafe asked, resting his hands on the bar.

“Of course,” she nodded with a grin.

Rafe watched her as she prepared the drinks. Topper was trying to talk to him about who knows what, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t pay attention even if he wanted to with that dress she had on. It fit her so perfectly, he wondered what it’d feel like under his hands. What it’d feel like to push it up as he touched the expanse of her thighs. Wondered what it’d feel like to hold her waist as he kissed her. If her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Bro you’re not even listening,” Topped said as he hit Rafe’s shoulder.

“Long island,” Y/n places the drink in front of him.

“You’re right I’m not.” Rafe rolled his eyes.

Topper took his drink without even thanking her, “Whatever dude I’m gonna find Sarah.” Finally Rafe was alone with his girl.

She placed his glass in front of him, “So where have you been all night?”

“Uh my dad didn’t want me to drink earlier,” He shrugged. He knew it was a half assed excuse.

“You don’t need to order a drink to come see me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “I-I know but my dad thought that I was just coming over for a drink.”

She laughed bitterly not at Rafe but at the whole situation, “When I’m with you I forget I’m a uh pogue.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” He reached out to touch her lightly. She leaned into his touch slightly, yearning to feel anything from him.

Her manager walked in, “Y/n, take your fifteen.” Taking over he place behind the bar, Rafe pulled his hand away from her.

“Uh yeah,” She gave him a tight lipped smile before walking to the back room. Rafe sighed and walked back out to where his friends were.

if I get burned at least we were electrified, I’m spilling wine in the bath tub you kiss my face & we’re both drunk

Y/n stood in the back leaning against the wall. She hated this town. She hated the labels everyone put on each other, it made her life so much harder. It was so easy when she was around Rafe even if it was a few minutes at a time. But then there was always something that reminded her of who she was and where she came from. It was either Ward, her friends, Rafe’s friends, her bosses. Someone always had to remind her where she was and who she was.

She rolled her eyes at herself. She walked into the back, in search of a bottle of wine. She found one she thought she’d like, popping it open and pouring herself a glass. Y/n felt like she deserved it, especially after tonight. The night wasn’t going exactly as planned, so she might as well drink.

After three full glasses of red wine her break was over. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to drink while on the clock because now everything looked a little fuzzy.

“I’m back,” She slurred to her manager.

Lisa eyed her suspiciously, “Are you drunk?”

“No never,” She gave her a toothy grin trying to hide her tipsiness. The alcohol affecting her more and more as the seconds passed.

Lisa sighed, “Y/n you can’t be like this here right now. You know how bad this would look. If you get one of these jerk offs orders wrong and they smell that merlot on your breath they’ll have you banned.” Lisa tried her best to look out for the girl because she knew she didn’t have anyone that was looking out for her.

Her eyes watered at the thought of losing the only job she had been able to get on this whole island, “I-I can’t lose this job. I need this.”

Lisa sighed, “Go home. I’ll cover for you, and you can still keep the tips okay? Only because I care about you.”

Y/n sniffled bringing the older woman into a hug, “Thank you Lisa, I owe you.”

“Get home safe okay, call someone.” Lisa said rubbing her back. She walked (stumbled a bit) to the back to grab her bag.

even in my worst times you could see the best of me

Y/n didn’t know who to call, her friends were all at parties probably drinking as well. Her parents weren’t in her life. The one person who could help her had been watching her from across the room. Concern written all over his face. She looked at him with teary eyes and he was already taking long strides towards her. She met him halfway, the tag from her dress itching her side.

“Rafe,” Her voice was shaky as she hugged herself looking for some comfort. She knew this was all her fault, she shouldn’t have had that wine. She felt like she was always making mistakes like this.

Rafe’s hands held her face, “What happened? Did someone do something?” He asked with worry and a bit of anger. If one of these kooks made his girl cry they’d have him to deal with.

“No no I did something. I-I drank some wine on my break. I’m drunk Rafe and Lisa told me to go home. She um she said she’ll let me keep the tips today but uh can you take me h-home?” She asked barely taking a breath.

He brushed her hair back, “Hey breathe, I’ll take you home okay baby.”

“I’m sorry Rafe, I-I shouldn’t take you away. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. I’m glad I get to get away from this shit, especially if it’s with you.”

Ward had been watching the interaction from outside. He eyed as his son held the bar tender who he felt was trying to hard to look like she fit in with them, her dirty sneakers gave her away. In her defense you can’t really bartend in heels.

He walked over to them before they could leave, “Uh Rafe, what are you doing?” He didn’t spare a glance at the disheveled girl.

Rafe stood up straight, “I’m taking her home dad.”

“Who is this? The bartender? You can’t leave now. There’s still some guys I need to introduce you to.” He treated her like she was nothing.

“No dad I’m taking her home, this is more important.” Rafe wrapped his arm around her shoulders to lead her towards the exit.

Ward grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him, “Don’t disappoint me son.”

He shrugged his shoulder to get him off, “You’ve made it clear plenty of times that it’s too late for that.”

They didn’t make a big scene but some people had been watching. They watched as the oldest Cameron led the girl outside, a pogue. Tomorrow word would spread all across the island just how cozy they were. Ward would berate Rafe about it but right now he didn’t care, he just wanted to get his girl away from everyone.

Y/n couldn’t believe Rafe had done that for her. He dropped everything for her, she really did feel like he was a prince.

only bought this dress so you could take it off

Rafe kept glancing over at her as he drove to her house. He was worried about her, she looked so sad and he hated seeing her sad. Her head was leaning agains the passenger window just looking out into the darkness.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” He finally asked breaking the silence.

She sighed looking over at him, “I feel like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“I put on this stupid dress that I can’t even afford and I got too drunk while I was working. I took you away from the party.” She shook her head at herself.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of her small house, her grandma had left it for her after she passed a few years ago. It was the perfect house for her but now she had to work overtime to keep up with bills.

“Lets talk once we get inside,” Rafe turned the car off and ran over to open her door.

They walked into her house, Rafe had never been there. This is the most time they’ve ever been able to spend alone, without anyone being able to interrupt them or pull them away from each other. He liked her house, it was very her. Warm lighting and pictures everywhere. She sat on the couch setting her bag onto the ground.

“You look amazing, this dress looks amazing on you.” He said as he sat next to her. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I wore this for you. I wanted to impress you, instead I embarrassed myself.” She closed her eyes thinking about the events of the night.

Rafe turned to her, “I would drop everything for you. I have been dying inside to spend this night with you.”

“Really?” She asked looking at him with stars in her eyes.

“Yes, baby. And this dress does look amazing on you. You look perfect. I’ve wanted you since the first day we met at the club.” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

Her face flushed at the compliments, “But why? I’m just me. I don’t have anything, I can’t even afford this dress. I’m just a bartender.”

He shook his head, “None of that shit matters to me. You actually listen to me and you care about me more than my shithead friends ever have. I only go to those stupid parties to see you.”

“Rafe, I care about you so much.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. They were slightly swollen from the few tears she had shed earlier in the night. Her lips tasted like merlot she had downed. They moved in sync as if they had been doing this forever. He smelt like expensive cologne and she wanted to drown in it, she wanted to drown in him. His lips felt so good against hers, she had been dreaming about this moment for ages.

Her hands slid up his chest and into his hair. Pulling at the dirty blonde locks to encourage him. Rafe’s hands slid up and down her waist. Finally feeling the dress he had thought about all night. As the kiss grew more passionate he grabbed her hips and tugged her towards him. He pulled her to sit on his lap, her legs on either side of him. His fingers slowly slid up her thighs pushing her dress farther up, almost fully around her hips. Y/n’s thighs were just as soft as he imagined. His mind was racing with thoughts of everything he wanted to do to her.

The small whines that left her lips encouraged him to keep going. One hand moving behind her to give her ass a squeeze. He pulled away to press kisses against her neck making goosebumps rise on her skin. Her hands moving back and forth from tugging his hair to pulling at his blazer to get him impossibly closer.

“Baby,” He mumbled against her neck. She just hummed in return, too lost in the feeling of his lips on her. Tasting her like she’s always wanted him to.

“I want to keep going, but I know you’ve drank tonight. I want you to be be a hundred percent sober when I do everything I’ve always dreamed about doing to you,” He said looking up at her. He almost regretted his words and took her right then and there when he saw her swollen lips and hazy lust filled eyes.

She took a deep breath to get herself to focus. Her senses were overloaded on Rafe, “Okay, can you stay? Please?”

He leaned forward giving her another kiss, “Of course, I’ll always stay.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron au #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #outer banks

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 6)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: mentions of covering up SA cases, lasting mental effects of dubcon under the synthetic hormones, morally gray characters, lots and lots of self-deprecation and low self-esteem, one mention of sexual dreams

____

Yoongi’s eyes are on the screen, but his mind is everywhere but the presentation. The meeting room is chattering away about profits and liabilities but all he can think about is you and Hoseok. The feeling of betrayal clawing its way into his chest, ripping out his heart and snuggling into his ribcage as a replacement. Betrayal for making him think you weren’t just as twisted inside as the rest of your kind: the ones with mansions, luxury cars, and chauffeurs waiting on their every move. The kind that Yoongi’s worked for already. He remembers how lucky he felt when he got this job, how ecstatic he was to finally work under someone who wasn’t insufferable. Sure, you were brash and cold, but that was nothing compared to his old boss—the one who’d make him commit a thousand crimes to cover up his own. He can’t remember how many books he’s cooked or funds he’s laundered at this point. The worst were the sexual assault claims, looking into every poor woman’s eyes and writing off a check as if it would make her hurt any less. All the nights he’d cry himself to sleep, feeling like a monster, but not knowing how to stop. His mother’s health has always been the first thing on his mind, and it goes from bad to worse too quick for him to quit with no backup. Hospital bills never pay themselves, do they? Especially not when he's the only breadwinner in the family.

He remembers the day you two first met, at a museum opening in Spain, where he was assisting his former employer in landing a partnership with your firm. He can’t say he liked you from the get-go. Didn’t like you at all, quite frankly. You were quite the expert at barking orders, making a scene at every little mistake the nervous waiters made. Everyone was on edge the minute you’d sit down, designer purses propped on the table that cost more than the last surgery his mother needed. But something changed as the week-long trip progressed, when he saw how quickly you shut his boss down the second he proposed a less-than-legal deal. It’s a deal he’d help get many others to sign off on before—with no one caring about the legality when millions were on the table—but you were passionate in your rejection, saying Shin Investments would never take part in anything illegal under your watch.

He still doesn’t know how he found the courage to approach you for a job at the end of the trip. He knew it was risky, that you could not only reject him but also tell his current boss that he’s looking elsewhere. But he was so fed up. Fed up with doing all the dirty work. Fed up with evading the law under the excuse of “doing his job.”  You gave him hope that there was a place where he didn’t have to do all that.

You had given him an amused brow raise in response, mentioning how you’d fired your last assistant, just prior to the trip, for smiling in a way that annoyed you. He knew you were challenging him, basically telling him he’s free to try, but he won’t last more than a week.

But, surprisingly to everyone, he does. It’s been two years since his first day, and it’s not an exaggeration to say his relationship with you back then is night and day from the one now. You had purposely put him through absolute hell during the first month, having him run around the office scrambling day after day. But even at your most difficult, it was always “run four blocks to my favorite salad bar and get me lunch in the next twenty minutes” and never “tell the new hires if they keep whining to HR about a compliment, they won’t ever work in this industry again” (the latter being the exact words his former boss once said to him). So, as challenging as you were, it never phased him, as you were much better than the alternative.

It was a little after that first month when you started warming up to him, having your first real conversation after you had one too many glasses of wine at an afterparty. It’s when you admitted that you were looking for any excuse to fire him.

“Because I can just do it. I can do it without any red tape, you know? Firing an assistant is that easy. My father wouldn’t even bat an eye. It's one of the few things I don't have to report to him.”

In a strange way, he understood. You were overcompensating. Even you, the CEO, felt powerless in her circumstances.

That was the first of many similar conversations over the years, each one giving him more insight to why you are the way you are. He’s managed to be the only person who can dull your sharp edges, and you’ve managed to do the same for him. And that’s why it feels like a knife is twisting into his gut at the thought of you using Hoseok for you own pleasure, taking advantage of him in a way Yoongi didn’t know you were capable of doing. No, it wasn’t illegal, but still morally wrong—and though he was understanding of your questionable ethics when you agreed to the Kang deal, knowing how you get when you’re backed into a corner, this was unacceptable. No one was backing you into any corner this time. You did this because you wanted to. It made him feel like he was right back at his old job.

And the worst part is the jealousy. His rational mind knows Hoseok is the victim, but his irrational mind—the one that’s in love with you—can’t stop feeling jealous. His thoughts are racing at a thousand miles per hour, conjuring up scenarios of what the two of you could have been doing. Was it like the dreams he’s had of you? Dreams of you flipped on your stomach under him, moaning his name…but with his name instead? Yoongi feels his skin crawl at the thought of you chanting Hoseok’s name in that way. He’s disgusted in himself for thinking like this, but it’s hard to push it all down when his emotions are threatening to spill out at any moment.

___

Jin steps out of the library for a broom when he lays his eyes on you, absolutely mutilating a poor dethawed chicken. It’s clear that you haven’t cooked a proper meal for years, or maybe even ever. The way you’re holding that knife is unintentionally the funniest thing he’s seen in a while, and that’s why he doesn’t even realize the slight laugh escaping his lips. You look up at the sound, meeting his eyes, which turn from joyful to terrified in a single second.

He almost flinches at the expectation of yelling alone, but that’s not what happens. Instead of your shouts filling the giant kitchen, it’s your laughter.

“I look like a mess, don’t I?”

He shakes his head no, to which you just laugh louder.

“It’s okay Jin, I know I suck at cooking. I’ve been putting this poor chicken through hell for the last forty-five minutes.”

He takes tentative steps forward, broom forgotten as he tries to think on his feet and be useful to you.

“I could…I could do it if I’m allowed. I’m a really good cook!”

You look down at the chicken, almost considering it with how outside of your skillset this all is. But you think better, as he’s already been cleaning the library for hours.

“It’s alright, I think I’ll just leave this chicken alone for tonight and order pizza.”

“Please, I insist! You let Jimin make breakfast!”

You don’t miss the way he pouts the last part out, eyes furrowed in a way you can’t help but find adorable.

“I wouldn’t have let him if he didn’t wake up before me. You guys are recovering patients, you should be resting, not cooking. You shouldn’t even be cleaning the library honestly.”

“But we want to help, we want to be use-“

Jin’s words are cut off by the sound of sniffling, heads turning to the source: a very scared Taehyung stands in the entryway of the kitchen, with Jimin by his side. Your heart drops at the sight of tears rolling down Taehyung’s cheeks, and so does Jin’s—apparent in how fast he makes his way over to the wolf.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?!” He takes his pup’s face into his warm hands, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead saying “I’m so sorry” like it’s a mantra. Jimin doesn’t dare speak, eyes trained on the ground.

You’re unsure if you should step in, as it looks like they’re all having a moment, but it’s clear Taehyung isn’t going to respond to Jin.

“What happened?” You ask softly, knowing anything more in your tone will easily spook them further.

Taehyung’s too distraught to register you’re even addressing him, let alone answer back. It’s Jimin who nudges at the younger wolf’s hands, which you notice have been hid behind his back.

“Taehyung, sweetheart, what’s behind your back?” You pray the use of the nickname will calm him like it did with Hoseok, but he just keeps hyperventilating more.

“Jin, please get him some water” the oldest wolf is darting to the water pitcher before you even finish your sentence. Taehyung refuses to let his hands leave his back, leaving Jin with no choice but to bring the glass to his lips for him. It’s only after a few gulps does he regain some sort of composure. It’s then that he brings his hands to the front, bringing to light the ruined mess of pages in his hands.

Jimin crosses his fingers, praying to any and every god that the book isn’t of significance to you, but your reaction makes it clear to everyone how that is far from the case. You look devastated.

It’s your late grandmother’s favorite book: a collection of translated old German poems. You had stored it in the library—granted, in a clumsy pile with the rest of the things you’ve been too busy to properly put up—planning to get a glass case and eventually display it in the living room.

Your grandmother was your favorite person in the world, and that book was her favorite thing in the world. Some of your happiest childhood memories were created with her reading you those poems, at a time when every other adult in your life was too worried about the family business. When she passed last year, she left you a lot, but the diamonds and pearls were never as dear to your heart as that book. And there it was, in Taehyung’s hands, pages stained and soaking wet.

Jin and Jimin had warned Taehyung not to bring orange juice into the library, but he was too stubborn. He assured his hyungs that he was careful enough to drink it without spilling anything, too excited at the prospect of having full access to the fridge to think much about anything else.

And now the damage was done.

Frankly, you want to break down. But you don’t. You do what you’re used to from the office: take a deep breath and compose yourself before the slightest hint of a tear can creep up on you. Crying alone in your room? Perfectly acceptable. Crying in the sole presence of your assistant? Not the end of the world. Crying in front of literally anyone else? You’d rather burn your flesh off.

“It’s okay” the words are not convincing, but at least your voice isn’t shaking. You try to get away from the situation, feeling suffocated, but the worried hybrids are hot on your trail.

It’s at that moment the main door opens, and you can’t be more thankful at the timing. Yoongi’s here. The one person you can let all your emotions out to. Yoongi, with his comforting words and ginseng tea offerings—if anyone can calm you down right now, it’s him.

Except there’s no warmth in his eyes today, not even when he sees your crushed state or the book in Taehyung’s hands.

Speaking of Taehyung, the wolf is looking at him with pleading eyes. If you aren’t in a state to punish him, someone has to. He fucked up big and deserves whatever either of you dish out. He does hope, however, that his knuckles are spared this time.

“I-I ruined y/n’s book. ’M so s-sorry! Please punish me!”

“Taehyung, I said it’s oka—”

Yoongi cuts you off, tone ice cold.

“It’s not your fault. She should’ve kept it in a safer place.”

You stare at him, stunned.

 “What the fuck, Yoongi?”

 “Am I wrong?”

“That’s not the point. You know how much that book means to me…and that’s the first thing you say? You know that’s not what I need to hear right now.”

And that’s when Yoongi’s bottled up rage finally spill all over the floor, flooding everything in its path.

“Well life’s not always about what you want to hear, and if you were taught that as a child instead of being surrounded by servants and yes-men, then maybe this concept wouldn’t be too foreign for you.”

There’s a bite to his words, a bite with canines sharper than those of any wolf hybrid, and it completely destabilizes you. Hot tears start prickling your cheeks, fighting them off no longer a choice.

“What’s gotten into you? W-why are you acting this way?” Your voice is shaking now.

“Because I’m fucking tired of coddling you, of telling you that everything you do is okay even when it’s not. Maybe it’s on me, maybe if I called you out on your shit earlier then it would never get this bad.”

You’re not understanding what he’s trying to say, but you don’t know if that’s because he’s not making sense or how cloudy your brain is right now. Regardless, the venom with which he speaks is enough to shatter your already fragile mental state. The others shuffle down into the living room at the commotion, and suddenly everyone is seeing the one thing you never wanted them to: you bawling your eyes out.

None of the hybrids know what to do. Namjoon’s eyes are locked on Yoongi, ready to lunge if he poses any physical threat, but it’s clear in his body language that Yoongi doesn’t intend to hurt you in that way. Hurting you with words, however, is not something the lab trained Namjoon to protect you against.

It’s not long before you’re running to your room, locking the door, and letting the mascara fully trail down your face, all while gasping for air. Your lungs feel heavy, your eyes feel heavy, everything just feels so heavy. But nothing’s heavier than your heart.

___

Hours go by and the chicken on the counter is long abandoned—no one quite in the mood to eat. You haven’t left your room since the incident, and Yoongi cooped himself up in his room shortly after. The air feels as thick as smoke in a burning building, blocking the lungs of anyone who tries to breathe it in. It’s Taehyung who’s squirming the most, mentally degrading himself for causing all of this in the first place.

I should have listened. Jin and Jimin warned me, but I’m just too stupid to listen. It’s always me that messes up. I’m always the problem of the pack. Maybe if I beg, she’ll only kick me out and let everyone else stay.

A lesser Alpha might have scolded him at the moment, but Namjoon understands how much Taehyung is punishing himself already. He’s all too familiar with how married his pup is to his self-deprecating ways, no matter how much anyone assures him that he’s enough. The lab was always the most strict when it came to the youngest caretaker hybrid, his naturally clumsy nature being the perfect target for their cruelty and leaving him with little to no confidence in anything anymore. So all Namjoon does is take the boy’s hand into his, giving it a squeeze that translates to “I’ve got you,” and wiping away his tears as they rapidly fall. Jin’s got him situated in his lap, hands gently stroking his sides in a way that’s always soothed Taehyung.

“You’ll listen to Jimin and I next time, won’t you pup?” Jin’s voice isn’t all that scolding either, just firm enough to make sure Taehyung learns some sort of lesson from this…for whatever adoption center they’re shipped off to soon.

Taehyung lifts his head up from the oldest’s shoulder, frantically nodding yes.

There’s a knock on the door that makes every hybrid jump, Yoongi’s voice asking to be let in.

“Come in.” Jimin decides too quickly for anyone else to protest.

He awkwardly hovers beside the door, not bothering to close it as he steps in. It’s not long before Yoongi’s eyes zone in on the one he’s here for: Hoseok.

It’s a selfish thing to do, as Hoseok looks like he’d rather be tied to a train track than look into Yoongi’s eyes, but he needs this. He needs to look at the hybrid, the victim, to remind himself not to falter no matter how many tears you shed—because, yes, even now there’s a part of him that wants to hold and comfort you. Yoongi’s always loved sparsely, but hard, and turning it off overnight isn’t something he can do. So, there he is, actively draining out as much as he can by looking at the victim of your actions.

He’s about to apologize for snapping at the wolf yesterday, when another figure peaks into the ajar door. You inch your way closer, not aware of Yoongi’s presence until you’re right at the entrance. Your eyes are puffy and stained black from makeup, but you clutch the wound care kits close to you and brush past him nonetheless. No matter how much you want to lock yourself in your room for eternity, you have a responsibility towards these hybrids and their recovery. It’s clear, as you make your way to the couch, that you’re tired and embarrassed. No one comments on it, though.

“I need to do their wound care.”

And yet again, he seems ready to pick a fight, ignoring your unspoken plea and staying right in place—eyes narrowed into judgmental slits.

“I don’t know what I did that pissed you off so much, but I’m fucking sorry, okay? I can’t deal with this right now, please leave.” Your voice is meek, absolutely no fight left in you. Just desperation to not be in Yoongi’s presence, afraid of what hurtful words will come out of his mouth next.

Yoongi lets out a dry laugh, putting everyone’s nerves on edge. “You don’t know what you did wrong?”

You shake your head earnestly, trying not to feel small when he uses that condescending tone.

“How can you even say that?! How can you pretend to play the victim when Hoseok is right here. I want to throw up just looking at you right now.”

Hoseok? Why would he bring up…

Suddenly all the pieces fall into place.

“Oh my god Yoongi…you assumed I…we…”

“I didn’t assume anything y/n. Hoseok told me directly, so lying isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

You turn your head at a rate that almost gives you whiplash, looking at the hybrid with big eyes. Hoseok doesn’t look at you—can’t look at you. The feeling of your gaze scorches his skin.

“Hobi…”

Hoseok doesn’t know how to breathe anymore, doesn’t know how to do much of anything other than let his own tears waterfall down, heart cringing at the disappointment in which you say his nickname. He knows it was wrong to lie, but he could never have guessed it would turn into something this serious. Did Yoongi like you? Is that why? Or did he have the same moral code thing you had—one that Hoseok couldn’t wrap his head around. The lab had made it very clear that using him for his purpose was no different than using a chair for its purpose—and no one here had a moral problem using chairs. It all hurt his head too much to think about. But regardless, thinking was pointless, because you weren’t even using him. He couldn’t even do that for you, and now his lie is the reason you’re hurting.

Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok. Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok.

“I’m so sorry!” The words are broken and muffled through tears, “Y/n didn’t lie…it-it was me…I didn’t want everyone to know I was b-broken.”

The room goes still, the last sentence lingering in the air.

I didn’t want everyone to know I was broken.

Your eyes soften.

“You’re not broken Hoseok”

“You don’t have to say that. I know I am. That day…you pulled back because you could tell I didn’t want it…you shouldn’t have been able to tell that…no…I shouldn’t have not wanted it…that’s why I’m broken.”

Jimin is quick to embrace his hyung, shielding his wrecked state from view, although too late. The hybrids are at a loss for words, with Namjoon being hit the hardest. Hoseok lying meant he didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell the pack the truth—to tell his Alpha the truth. And that’s a failure Namjoon will have to carry on his shoulders for a long time. But now’s not the time for a self-evaluation, now he needs to make sure Hoseok feels his touch on his back. The rest get their hands in wherever they can, gentle pats and caresses to lessen his distress.

You don’t know what else to do to comfort him, to make him believe your words. And frankly, you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to comfort anyone right now. For a moment you can’t help but envy Hoseok, seeing the way his packmates hold him so dearly when he’s crying. You wonder how it must feel to be loved by so many people. It’s not something you can see ever happening for yourself.

Yoongi's not faring well either.

There’s not a word strong enough to describe what he's feeling right now: a cocktail of guilt and absolute dread, swirling in the glass that is his body. Every spiteful word he’s said rings in his ear. How mean he was, how cruel he was. How easily he dismissed your grandmother’s parting gift to you. The worst thing? He made you cry. He’s always promised himself that he would be by your side when the world made you break down, but now it was him causing those mascara stains. And in front of a fucking audience—the thing you hate the most.

“Y/n I—” he doesn’t even know what to say.

No one does, honestly. No one has the heart to blame Hoseok for lying—not when he’s huddled up crying and labelling himself broken. You can’t exactly blame Yoongi for believing him either, because who wouldn’t do the same?

But, regardless of the context, is that how he thought of you? Has he always been by your side with this contempt, thinking of you as a spoiled brat he’s obligated to follow around? That you’d use anyone to get what you want? You would understand if this was back when he was a month into the job…but now, when it’s been two years and you’ve opened up so much of yourself to him…he still held those views? Were they always buried down, hiding until he couldn’t keep them hidden any longer?

Has he stuck by your side all this time feeling so disgusted by you?

Can I even blame him? I am a bitch, after all.

It’s Jimin that pulls you out of your head, bringing a glass of water to your lips as you so badly need it right now. “We’ll do wound care on ourselves tonight, please get some rest.”

___

Yoongi’s two steps behind you, holding his breath as the two of you leave the hybrid room. He doesn’t stop at his bedroom, though, instead following you straight into yours.

“I’ve been a dick.”

You slump onto your bed, dejected, “Maybe I deserved it.”

That’s the last thing he wants to hear. Never in his life did Yoongi think he would be jealous of his coworkers, the ones you’d yell at and kick out of your office the second they made a mistake—but right now, that’s precisely what he wishes you would do. Because the yelling he can withstand, but this is too much for his heart.

“You didn’t deserv—”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend that you didn’t mean any of it. I know I’ve never been the easiest person to deal with. You don’t have to like me to do your job well…if you still want to even work for me…”

“I should be the one begging to keep my job. I only said what I said out of spite, y/n, I wanted to hurt you because I just felt so angry. Fuck, the thing I said about your grandmother’s book too, I feel like shit.”

You wince at the mention of the poems.

“Seeing her book in his hands…I wanted to yell at him so bad Yoongi...but he looked so terrified…and Hoseok looked so terrified too …so who am I even allowed to be angry at?”

Yoongi doesn’t know how to respond, so he instead grabs a makeup wipe from the vanity. He’s gentle in the way he glides it across your skin, extra care around each eye. You let it happen, like a limp doll in his grasp, head hurting too much to be anything else.

“Get some sleep now.”

“How can I be sure you don’t hate me? That you don’t hate working for me?”

“Because”

I’m actually in love with you.

“You’re more than my boss. You’re my best friend y/n.”

____

A/N: I know I'm the writer but I'm waiting for them to be a fluffy big happy family as much as the next person. Baby steps though. Please let me know your thoughts! They are always appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #unnatural instincts

[oneforthemunny]

car troubles |dom!eddie munson x brat!reader|

prompt: "don't make me pull this van over" with dom!eddie. based off this ask from horny hours yesterday. this ended up being much longer that I expected it to be so enjoy lol.

contains: minors dni 18+. dom!mean!brat tamer!eddie, sub!brat!reader, spanking, exhibitonism, all consensual and pre-consented to.

"I saw you, Eddie!" You shrilled, hand slamming on the console in between the two of you.

Eddie's teeth grit, white knuckled grip on the wheel, heavy soled boots pressing further and further onto the gas, the van flying over the backroads of Hawkins.

The two of you had been going at it since you left the diner. He'd picked you up earlier that morning, sweet kisses and gentle touches that left you giggly and dizzy when he doted on you, opening your doors and taking you to the small restaurant outside of Hawkins- the one you'd been begging to go to for weeks, a Woodstock renovated type filled with nostalgic junk on every corner, shambled together into an aesthetic, vintage, flower child vibe, and with the best waffles in Indiana, according to your friend.

Eddie was smitten, proud of how happy it made you when he pulled into the parking lot, surprising you with the breakfast spot. You'd squealed, wrapping him up in your arms, peppering kisses and nuzzling into his cheek with muttered "thank you, thank you, thank you" until he was blushing and laughing under your affection. "Anything for you, baby doll." He'd winked, playfully tapping your ass when you passed him into the open door, holding onto his arm sweetly, overwhelmed with devotion as you sat at the booth.

The free and easy vibe of the place was pleasing to you, casual and a little funky, while the two of you gazed around the restaurant, scanning the walls at the millions of vintage posters and memorabilia from the sixties and seventies. The entire place exuded causal friendliness, laid back and relaxed, which was wonderful; until you saw your waitress.

Sandy- as her name tag read, propped right on the neckline of her plunging shirt, breasts pushed up and the yellow, gaudy name tag rested half on the exposed skin. She made sure to greet Eddie with an extra wide smile, which he returned. She took your drink orders, but not before telling him his hair was "sick, like Slash" and sashaying away, little jean shorts riding up with every step. Eddie was elated at the compliment, making a joke about his bass playing skills to you, only to be met with your pursed lips, unimpressed stare.

The entire meal got worse, you shot daggers at Sandy every time she came to check on you, rolling your eyes and snapping your order. You knew you were being mean, territorial, but how could you not be?

Eddie tried to talk to you, sweet coaxing and gentle chatter that you returned with an upturned nose and a huff. Eddie ground his teeth, eyes rolling at the change in demeanor.

It wasn't until Sandy returned with the bill, dipping down low to place it in front of Eddie, hand on his shoulder and breasts practically in his face, purring at him to, "Take it easy, and drive safe." that you'd had enough. Eddie's eyes lingered to her chest, gawking slightly before blushing red. Your mouth fell open, jaw dropping in shock and anger, furiously kicking him under the table, sandaled feet knocking into his shin.

"Ow," Eddie hissed, eyes cutting to yours. "What was that for?"

"You fucking pig, you know what that was for." You snapped, slamming your hands on the table as you climbed out of the booth, storming out of the restaurant, bell shrilling over the glass door when you stomped towards the van.

Eddie blushed a deep crimson, embarrassed heat spreading from his neck to his cheeks. He could feel the stares of the other patrons, wide eyed and snickering. Eddie's hands shook when he reached into his wallet, placing the bills on the table before walking out quickly, head held low.

"Man, I'd never let my girl act like that." Some guy muttered under his breath when Eddie passed, his friends sneering in agreement. Eddie let his curls fall in front of his face, curtaining his humiliated blush.

You stood by the car, arms crossed and stomping your foot when he started towards you. "Hurry up and unlock the van." You snapped.

"The fuck was what?" Eddie asked, throwing his hands out. "What's your problem, huh?"

"Oh, don't start this shit with me, Eddie." You huffed, hand grabbing the van's handle roughly, tugging it while it remained closed. You knew it drove Eddie wild when you did that, the reprimanding threat to "knock it off" before the handle fell off. You smirked, yanking even harder, while he shoved his key in the door.

"Hey," Eddie snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you from over the window of the van, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."

You huffed, feeling the doors click open before you ripped the door open, plopping into the passenger side. You and Eddie slammed the door equally hard, glaring at each other while he started the car.

"What's the matter?" Eddie sighed, tipping his head back to lean against the seat, tired and bored. You snarled.

"Oh, like you don't know." You snapped, shoving your seatbelt on with a furious click. "I don't mean to ruin your time with your little girlfriend in there."

Eddie gawked, wide eyed in disbelief. "Are-Are you being fuckin' serious right now-"

"-Yeah, Eddie I am!" You roared, throwing your hands out towards the restaurant. "You two were eye fucking in there the entire time, and you thought I wouldn't notice?"

Eddie's eyes cut to the building, seeing the eyes of the patrons watching him in amusement, lined against the booths by the window enjoying the show the two of you were providing for them. Eddie growled, throwing the van into reverse, pulling out of the gravel parking lot furiously, speeding down the backroads back to Hawkins.

You continued to berate him, snippy comments, mean and full of venom shooting back at him, shrill and accusing while he tried to remain calm.

Eddie took a deep breath in. "Baby, I wasn't looking at her, I swear!"

That led you to go nuclear, off the handle, shrilling your accusations with wide eyes towards him, popping his bubble of calmness.

"Her tits were right in my face, what did you expect?" Eddie threw his hands up. "I didn't mean to look at them, they-they were just right fucking there!"

"Yeah, because you'd been giving her signals the whole time, you piece of shit!" You screamed, shoving him angrily on the shoulder. "You'd been checking her out the entire fucking time, no wonder she thought she could put her tits in your face! I'm surprised you didn't shove your face in them right there! Sure seemed like you wanted to, you asshole!"

"Alright, hey," Eddie barked, eyes hard and angry when they flashed at you. "Stop it. I wasn't looking at her. I was just trying to be nice because she was nice to me-"

"-Of course she was nice to you, Eddie, she wanted to fuck you!" You screamed, throwing your hands out wildly around you.

"Well, I didn't want to fuck her, Jesus Christ!" Eddie screamed back, hitting the steering wheel angrily. "I was being polite!"

"Polite? Polite?" You challenged, turning in your seat to glared at him. "Fine, I'll start being polite too, how 'bout that?" You sneered. You saw his jaw tick, knuckles whitening. "I'll start being so nice and polite to every guy who talks to me at your shows, ok? I'll let them buy me drinks and touch all over me, how's that sound? Hm?-"

"-Stop-"

"-And you can't get mad at me because I'm just being so polite, right? So no big deal?" You sneered sarcastically. You could see him bubbling over with anger, fuming with every condescending threat that left your sharp tongue.

"I'm warning you right now to stop." Eddie turned to you, finger raised nearly touching your nose. "You better quit right fucking now. Knock it off." You smacked his finger away.

"Or what?" You challenged, eyes narrowed and fists clenched in anger. "What the fuck are you gonna do, huh?"

"I'll pull this van over right now and spank you right there on the side of the road." Eddie threatened, eyes flashing to yours seriously. You felt your stomach drop, tingling with familiar warmth at the threat. "That what you want, huh? Keep acting like a little brat, and I'll treat you like one."

You squirmed in your seat, the threat making you subdued a little, clenching your thighs at the threat. You watched him, jaw set and hoping the lingering threat would mellow you out, get you to talk rationally and calm down. Your mind flashed, the image of Sandy's hand on Eddie's shoulder, red manicured nails that you knew he loved clenched on his shoulder. Fist balled and anger flaring up, reigniting furiously in your chest, waves of jealousy and anger filling your bloodstream over again.

Your jaw ticked, lips twisting and rolling, eyes narrowing at him challengingly, venomous. "Oh, I'm sure, Mr. Big Talk." You scoffed sarcastically, rolling your eyes flippantly. "You're not gonna do anything because you're such a little bitch." You spat, his head snapping to yours. Eddie's mouth gaped, eyes wide and a little hurt, shocked at your verbiage, mean and calculated to make him riled up.

You bit back a smirk, satisfied with his hurt reaction. "You're all talk. I'm sure that's why you couldn't seal the deal with Penny Baker in there, right? She knew you're such a little-"

The van's brakes squealed to a stop, leaving you lurching forward, stopped by the harsh material of your seatbelt digging into your chest and waist. Eddie's eyes were narrowed on you, jaw ticked when he looked around, reversing back down the winding street into an abandoned parking lot, nestled behind the trees and forestry that lined the backroads.

Your stomach dropped suddenly, shrinking into your seat when you saw him pull around the decomposed shack that read Mel's in peeling paint. The ivy covering and climbing the boarded windows and crumbling structure of the building told you that it had been abandoned for a while. Unfortunate for you, seeing as that meant no one would come by.

Eddie threw the van into park, jostling you with the halt, angrily grabbing the keys out and stomping out of the van. Slamming the door behind him so hard it shook you, vibrations rattling all the way to your seat. You watched Eddie through wide eyes, tracking every angry stomp of his boots on the crumbled gravel as he rounded the hood, tearing your door open with a harsh yank.

"Wait!" You yelped, batting his hands away when he went for your seatbelt.

Eddie's eyes flashed at you hard, domineering and mean. You gulped, tummy erupting in nerves at his look. You knew you'd pushed him too far.

"I warned you," Eddie snapped. "I told you if I had to pull this van over, I was gonna have your ass, and you just couldn't stop, could you?" He spat angrily, ringed hands reaching past you to undo your seat belt.

It whirred past your head, clicking into place above you, Eddie's hands on your wrists. "Ed, wait," You whined, pulling back into the seat out of his grasp. He gaped at you in disbelief, eyes flashing in a warning that had you whimpering. "Wait, 'm sorry, ok? 'm sorry. I-I'll be good." Your eyes rounded, voice pouty and whiny, pathetic and submissive, how he liked it.

Eddie scoffed. "Yeah, right. After how mean you were?" He challenged, shaking his head. "You're damn lucky I didn't belt you in that parking lot after you acted like such a little brat. Show everyone there how I handle my bad girl and keep you in line. You embarrassed me."

"You embarrassed me." You snapped, biting and angry. Even in the face of punishment, you could be such a brat. "It's your fault. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh? You didn't?" Eddie raised his brows, glare making you feel small and stupid. "You didn't act out in the restaurant? You weren't mean to me and the waitress? You didn't throw a little fit and left instead of using your big girl words to tell me what was wrong?" You shrunk under his gaze, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the way he talked to you, a naughty little girl getting chastised and corrected so plainly.

"It's not-"

"-If I hear you say it's not your fault again, I'm going to gag you." Eddie warned. "I'll take those little panties off and shove them in your mouth so you can't say another stupid thing. I should be doing that anyways, since you don't know how to say anything nice." You whimpered at the threat, eyes already starting to burn with tears.

"Now, you get out here right now, and bend over. The longer you take, the longer I'm gonna spank you, understand?" Eddie warned, stepping back so you could step out.

You hesitated, looking at him with your saddest, roundest, pleading look, hoping to melt his hard demeanor and have him change his mind; or at least spank you in the back of the van, hidden from the potential of bypasses seeing you.

He didn't budge, jaw ticking when his head jerked to the side, motioning you out. "Now. I'm done waiting."

You stepped out on wobbly legs, carefully placing one foot on the ground then the other. You'd barely steadied yourself on the crumbled asphalt before Eddie grabbed you, spinning you around by your waist. You gasped when he yanked your dress up, tucking the end of the dress into the back of your neckline, securing it so it was out of the way, leaving you exposed in nothing but your panties.

Eddie's rough hands found the seam of your cotton panties, a high cut little thong that barely covered anything. He felt his cock throb, tightening even more in his pants at the sight, how delicious your ass looked in them, leaving his mouth salivating at the sight. He knew he should leave them on, they wouldn't do anything to stop the stinging hits of his belt that were to come, yet he slowly pulled them down, under the curve of your ass and down your thighs until they were a puddle by your ankles. He could see the small wet spot on the front, sticky and wet with fresh arousal.

Eddie smirked, tapping your calves to have you step out of them, reveling in the little whine you let out before bringing them to his nose, inhaling your scent deeply before shoving them in his pocket. It made you clench, exposed skin covered in goosebumps. "Bend over. Grab the seat and arch that ass back, you know how I want you. Don't make me tell you again." Eddie barked, gruff and mean.

You whined, leaning forward at the hips until you reached the seat of the van, nails digging into the cracked and worn leather. Your arms stretched out in front of you when you wiggled back, a deep bow that left your ass up and presented to Eddie.

Eddie's hands cracked down on your ass twice, leaving you yelping in surprise, lifting up out of position. Eddie's calloused hand pressed down on the bare, small of your back, urging you back into position roughly.

"You know better." He warned, tutting in disappointment. "You know better than to keep those legs closed too."

You pouted, eyes already shining with tears when you bent back down, shuffling your feet apart until your legs were separated like Eddie wanted, back in a deep arch, hands out and grabbing the seat in front you. You could feel the cold breeze of the air gusting between your legs, shivering when it cooled and wrapped through your slick folds.

Eddie smirked, unfastening his thick, black leather belt out of his jeans, palming himself to adjust his hard length, uncomfortable behind his zipper. "You better stay bent over like that, you hear me?" Eddie warned, folding the belt over in his hands.

You nodded meekly. Eddie growled. Three thundering swats made you gasp, jumping and squirming under his heavy palm. Eddie's hand threaded through your hair, yanking your head back, scalp burning and screaming at the pain. "I asked you a question."

"Yes, sir." You babbled, lip wobbling, eyes pinched in a wince of pain. You throbbed furiously between your legs, feeling your slick on the inside of your thighs.

Eddie let your hair go, your head bobbing before bowing back down to look at the ground. You could see his heavy, black boots behind you, menacing and oozing authority. You clenched around nothing, trying to fight the urge to squirm, rub your thighs together for some friction.

Eddie sighed heavily, disappointed, your heart dropped. "I'm giving you twenty." He said, tapping the looped leather of the belt against your ass, rubbing the smooth material over your ass until you shivered. "And you're going to count every single one out loud. You mess up, I start over. You get out of position, I start over. Understand?"

You sniffled, clenching your eyes shut as you nodded. "Yes, sir." You mumbled, pouty and petulant, face blazing at the position.

You could hear the wind whistle through the trees, leaves shaking and branches rustling making you jump, back arching up before Eddie's hand walloped on your ass.

He huffed, a slow exhale out his nose. "Looks like we're gonna be here a while." He tsked, shaking his head at you. "You just don't want to behave today, hm?"

You whined. "I do, sir."

Eddie scoffed. "I'll believe it when I see it." He bit, readjusting the belt in his hand. He moved behind you, you could see his feet planted, apart and spread to the side so he could really lash you. Your tummy twisted in nerves, anticipation.

"You remember your safe word?" Eddie asked gently.

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. How he could still be caring and sweet, even when you had been anything but. "Yes, Ed," You whispered, looking over your shoulder at him, eyes locking with his for the confirmation.

Eddie bit back a grin, rolling his tongue over his cheek instead, belt tapping in warning against your ass. "I'm gonna start." He warned. "Every single one, baby, or we start over."

You nodded, bending forward again. Your hands were clammy against the cool leather of the seat, feeling Eddie playfully tap the belt against your ass, mapping where his first strike would land.

Then you heard it, the swish of the air followed by a resounding clap! that sent you forward, stinging pain erupting in a thing strip across both globes of you ass.

You gasped, rocking forward, clenching your jaw and nails digging into the seat. "One." You grit, desperate to keep yourself in position, bent over and obedient.

Eddie grunted, arm pulling back before another stipe was added to your reddened skin, just below the first one. You cried out with that hit, knees locking and wobbling at the hit. "Two!" You whined out, head tipped down to the concrete.

Eddie brought the belt down in two short successions, where the curve of your ass met your thighs. It nearly sent you tumbling, buckling on the ground. You shouted out both number counts with a cry, shuddering as the burning sensation set in. Eddie could see the wet tears on the concrete beneath you, where your head tipped down towards it.

You'd made it to double digits, twelve, and Eddie was impressed, truly. He figured you would've sobbed, fell to your knees and cried for him after the seventh hit, but you were nothing if not stubborn. Stubborn to please him or to prove yourself right, he wasn't sure.

The whirling of tires, fast and approaching sent you flying up, wide eyed and with a little gasp, seeing the black truck fly by on the main road through tear blurred vision.

Eddie tutted behind you, a heavy sigh full of disappointment. "And you were so close, baby." He pouted, mockingly. Your cheeks flared, turning around to face him, his eyes hard and arms crossed, belt hanging loosely in his hand. "You just had to go and break the rules didn't you?"

You shook your head furiously, head bouncing from the main road back to Eddie. "No, no, Ed, I-I thought someone was coming-"

Eddie lifted his hand, cutting off your blubbering. "And I thought I told you to stay bent over or we'd start over?" Eddie challenged.

You gaped, wide eyed and shocked. Eddie shrugged, shaking his head at you. "Guess we're back to one, hm?" He jeered, nodding towards the passenger seat. "Bend back over."

You were baffled, stammering and pleading on his deaf ears. "Ed, that-that's not fair-"

"Excuse me?" Eddie snapped, taking a step towards you. "Did you seriously just say that to me?"

You clamped you mouth shut, eyes shining with tears up at him. His cock throbbed at how pitiful you looked, desperate and begging. "My rules were clear and you broke them. I told you what would happen if you did, and you still broke them, didn't you?" Eddie asked.

You opened your mouth, a whiny excuse on the tip of your tongue, silenced by Eddie's ringed hand gripping your jaw. "Didn't you?" He asked darkly.

You pouted, huffing at his harshness, tears blinking your eyes when you nodded. Eddie's fingers dug into your jaw making you whine, a warning look that had you fighting back an eye roll. "Yes, sir." You muttered.

Eddie released your jaw with a small shake of your head, stepping back behind you. "Bend over. Grab that chair, and I better hear you count loud and clear." He instructed.

You bowed back over, sniffling and red-faced with anger and embarrassment. Eddie was being so mean, so unfair. You were furious that it made you throb and drench the way it did.

Eddie's hits were lighter this time, but still unforgiving. Still left you crying and squirming, blubbering through tears and blurred vision while he wrecked your ass.

"What was that?" Eddie asked, tipping his head towards you mockingly. "Do we need to start over?" He threatened.

"No!" You wailed, sobbing at the threat, tears and snot running down your face, pooling at the tip of your nose and falling onto the asphalt. "Fif-Fifteen." You whimpered, knees bouncing as if it might ease the burn and sting.

Eddie hummed, taking mercy on you, only for a moment before he tapped the leather belt back against your reddened ass, arm rearing back before walloping against your skin.

Your knees buckled, crying out in pain. Cries and emotions bubbled deep in your chest, spilling over and out of you through racked sobs, shuddering your shoulders and down your spine. "Sixteen!" You whined, high pitched and desperate.

Eddie looked around, head craning towards the road. He knew no one would come back here, couldn't see them from the main road, but he couldn't stop checking.

Eddie's ringed hand ran down your back, smirking when you arched into his touch. He sucked in a breath, palm smoothing over the warm, buzzing skin of your reddened ass, nails digging into the flesh to make you sob. "You ready to be a good girl now?" Eddie asked, smoothing a hand down the curve of your ass, moving dangerously close to your center.

"Gonna be my sweet girl again? Hm?" Eddie asked, moving his hand to your soaked center, two fingers swiping through your sopping folds.

You whined, breathy and needy, head tilting back in pleasure. Eddie leaned forward, resting his belt on your ass, free hand gripping your cheeks. "Hm? You gonna be good for me again? Be sweet like I know you can be?"

"Yes." You breathed out dreamily, tear stained cheeks nuzzling into his palm, eyes pinched close in pleasure, shifting your hips when he rubbed your clit, circling it lightly, teasing. Pleasure was building in your tummy, you were already so close from the belting alone.

Eddie pulled his hand away without warning, leaving you gasping and whining at the loss of touch. You started to move, but quickly readjusted your position under his warning gaze, lower lip jutting back at him. "Eddie, please..."

Eddie shook his head, picking up his belt. "You've still got four more, baby." He shrugged. You whined loudly, childishly, but you didn't care.

"Hey, you did this to yourself." Eddie warned. "But since you've taken your spankings so good, I'll do you a favor." Eddie grinned wolfishly, making your tummy flip and twist, thighs clenching.

"I'll do the last four quick, and we'll be done. Sound good?"

Your shoulders deflated at his offer. You were hoping he'd tell you he'd pardon you, exempt you from the last four and make you get on your knees instead, suck him off until he was spilling down your throat and your knees were bruised from the asphalt.

"No..." You fussed, lip wobbling and the familiar burn of a cry filling your throat and nose. You stomped your foot on the asphalt. "Eddie, please, just be done, please." You snapped.

Eddie's brows lifted, feigned, exaggerated shock. "Are you seriously still whining?" He asked. "And here I was thinking you'd learned your lesson. Hm, maybe I was being too easy on ya."

"No, you aren't. I just want to be done, please!" You whined, stomping your feet into the asphalt, huffy and furious. Your knees bounced, squirming and crying. "I just wanna be done-"

"You still have four more," Eddie said sternly. "And it seems like you need them, baby, look at you. So bratty still?"

"I'm not, Eddie!" You cried out, huffing furiously. "I just want to be done. You teased me, and now you're making me still take more, and-and it's not my fault-"

You cringed, mouth clamping quickly, hoping he didn't hear you. You couldn't see his expression from your bent over position, but Eddie's grasp on your hair, yanking you up again gave you the answer.

"What did I tell you?" Eddie hissed, his nose touching yours, eyes furious and blazing into yours. You whimpered, giving him the most pitifully submissive look you could muster, a last resort to try and soothe him, get you out of trouble.

It didn't.

Eddie yanked your panties out of his pocket, balling them up and holding them between his fingers with his free hand. "Open." He demanded. You shook your head.

Eddie growled, dropping his hand out of your hair, scalp comforted from he release for just a moment before he hand you pulled tight against his hip, hand thundering down on your already reddened, sensitive skin.

You yelped, cried, squirmed, and pushed against him as he spanked you, hand hard and cracking down on your irritated flesh, reigniting the sting and burn. Somehow, his hand was worse than the belt, hard and unrelenting, leaving you blubbering and sobbing.

"I'm done with your attitude, do you hear me?" Eddie snapped, grabbing your face in his hands, fingertips wet with your tears. You nodded, sniffling and muttering apologies. Eddie pulled the panties back out, the fabric brushing your lips. "Open."

You hesitated before opening, barely unhinging your jaw before your panties were lodged into your mouth, gagging around the intruding material that Eddie shoved in.

You looked ruined; tear stained face, swollen and snotty with your cries, mouth full and barely closing around your panties, hair messed from his harsh pulls on your scalp. Eddie swallowed thickly, his cock lurching and he could feel himself leaking into his boxers.

"I'm going to give you your last four, and I still expect you to count." Eddie warned, gruffly, his face so close to you, his breath ghosted over your wet cheeks.

You nodded, stumbling when Eddie let go of your waist, quickly bending back down into position. Chest heaving and sniffling when you bowed, wiggling your legs apart. Your jaw burned with the stretch of the foreign object in them, your panties getting damper and damper with every ounce of saliva that filled your mouth with the intrusion.

"Get ready." Eddie warned. "I'll still be nice to you and give them to you all at once."

Your shoulders relaxed slightly, thankful. You didn't know how much longer you could last with his teasing, keeping you further and further on edge.

Eddie huffed, hand cracking up on your right cheek, eyes training on the jiggle of your cheek and hip at the impact. "What do you say, huh?" Eddie grit, roaming your reddened cheeks, puffy pussy shining in between. "You forget your manners entirely?"

You shook your head. "Thwank ywou." You muttered around the panties, response muffled and slurred.

Eddie bit back a groan, tapping the belt on your ass instead. He looked around, scanning the road and the scenery around him, pulling his arm back, four blistering hits of the belt striping against your ass, darkening and marking the already reddened skin.

You wailed, dulled and whiny with sniffles, drool pooling out of the side of your mouth. "Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty!" spilled out of you, slurred and muted.

Your chest heaved, sobs overwhelming you entirely, the snot running down your nose and throat, tears stinging and blurring your vision. Your ass ached, horrible and throbbing pain that you wanted nothing more to soothe, but you knew Eddie would correct you.

"Good girl, such a good girl, aren't you?" Eddie hushed in a gruff tone, rubbing your back gently, signaling you to stand up.

You stood, crying freely in front of him when he turned you to face him. His own face softened, cooing pitifully at you, thumbs swiping the tears under your eyes. "Aw, my poor baby, look at you, huh?" He cooed, shaking his head. "You're gonna be so good for me now, huh? So good now?"

You nodded, trying to respond around the wet cotton of your panties, damp and heavy in your mouth. Eddie held his hand in front of your mouth, fishing the wet cotton out of your mouth, strings of drool tumbling out with it.

You sniffled, rolling your jaw to soothe the stretch and burn. Eddie cupped your jaw, massaging it lightly while he pulled you close by the waist, free hand rubbing over your flamed ass. "You gonna be my sweet girl again?" He asked, tilting his head to the side, hands soothing the burn in your skin.

You nodded, wiping at your eyes. "Yes." You croaked out, lip wobbling, a hard, wet sniffle making Eddie smirk.

"Oh, I hope so." Eddie's eyes glinted, dark and daring in the sunshine, rays catching the amber flecks in his irises making your heart soar. "I think we should talk more about it at home, don't you?"

"Yes, Eddie." You replied obediently, brain foggy. Your pussy throbbed, desperate and aching for his touch.

"Hm, good girl." Eddie pinched your tear stained cheek, lips brushing delicately, tasting the saltiness of your cheeks on his lips.

You curled into his touch, needy, like you always were after he punished you. Eddie pulled you close, hand rubbing down your bare back sweetly, pulling you back towards the van. You reached to untuck the dress from your neckline, when Eddie's hand closed around your wrist.

"Nuh-uh-uh, baby." Eddie shook his head. "You leave that up until we get home."

Your brows furrowed. "But-"

Eddie lifted his brows. "I need to make sure you're gonna be a good girl. Make sure you remember to behave." Eddie's hand rubbed down the hot skin of your ass for emphasis, making your squirm.

"You sit down and think about how mean you were. Want you to remember what happens to bad little brats when they don't act right, ok?" Eddie hummed sweetly, his words making you pouty and your head spin.

You nodded with a little sigh, climbing into the van and lowering gently onto the worn leather of the van seats. The cracks, splits, crumbs, and tears of the seat made you hiss, lifting up gently with a whine. It rubbed uncomfortably against your cheeks, reigniting the furious burn with every scratch and knead against the skin.

Eddie started the van, eyes cutting over to you with a small coo. He squished your cheeks between his hands, laughing at the pout of your lips, how small and pathetic you looked. "Look at you," He laughed, a little teasing, just enough to get you blushing through wet sniffles.

You adjusted, moving to tuck your leg under your burning thighs, hoping to create a barrier between the burn of your skin and the rough leather, but Eddie stopped you. "Ah-ah," He lifted a finger, voice in a mocking coo that had your chest bubbling with embarrassment. "You won't learn you lesson that way, will ya?" He grinned, malicious, salacious. Your lips pressed together. "You sit all the way down, and you think about what you've done, ok?"

You huffed lightly, giving him a pleading look that he ignored. "Please? It hurts, Eddie."

"Oh, I know," Eddie mocked, mimicking your whine with an exaggerated pout that had you biting back a snarl, tears raising higher and higher into your chest, burning even as you took a deep breath to push them down. "That's the point, sweetheart." He quipped.

You did huff this time, but let yourself slide back onto the seat gently, holding back a wince to keep from giving him the satisfaction. "You said you were gonna be good, right?" Eddie asked, putting the car into drive as he started, the gravel mixed with the already choppy shake of the van beginning to irritate your skin further, making your squirm in your seat.

"Yes," You sighed, pathetic and desperate, looking at him mopey eyes that usually turned him to mush. You could see his bulge in his jeans, hoping if you could get him to believe you were sorry and complacent, he'd quit the mean guy games and finally let you cum.

"I'll be good. I promise." You said meekly, placing your hand on his arm, rubbing the veiny, inked forearm gently, sweetly.

Eddie smiled, pretty and loving with deep dimples that made your heart race. For a second, you almost thought it worked; almost.

"I believe you." Eddie smiled, moving his arm back to hold your hand, fingers laced in his, thumb stroking the soft skin. "But every time you lift up off that seat, I'm gonna add a stroke of the cane when we get home."

Your heart dropped, hand tensing under his grasp. He'd said it so nicely, sugar coated words that had you confused, reeling at the meaning behind them. Your wide eyed gaze met his, swallowing the lump in your throat when he winked back at you, devilishly.

"But you're a good girl right? So nothing to worry about, baby." Eddie smirked, one hand on the wheel, a slow cruise down the backroads towards Hawkins. His other hand holding yours, so he could feel every time you squirmed, pressing into his hand to move when the cracked leather grazed your sore skin.

He doled out three strokes of the cane when you got to his trailer, before he finally fucked you, hard and deep into the mattress, grunting in your ear about how you were his one and only girl.

#dom!eddie munson #eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie Munson x reader #dom!eddie Munson x brat!reader #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie munson x fem!reader smut #Eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #oneforthemunny

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader epilogue - a slow burn series of blurbs

Heaven Knows You Better ~ epilogue

summary: A glimpse into the future.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: none, just pure fluff 🧡 a slight mention of drinking a margarita.

authors note: I know you’re tired of hearing me say it, but thank you 🧡 writing this story and sharing it with you will always hold a special place in my heart.

🌆 <- chapter ten

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Three summers later - Beginning of May

The sun hangs bright in the deep blue sky, the air a little crisp from the last bit of the chill still leftover from spring. The heat of summer is just barely on the cusp of breaking through, you can feel it in the way the city starts to come alive again. The red ‘TEAM ALS’ banner blows in the wind as your shoes and Bandit’s paws cross the white finish line. The clapping of strangers on the side lines fills your ears, tugging a smile onto your slightly chapped lips, before you turn around to look at your fiancé. 

Steve can’t help his grin back, the whites of his teeth showing when your smile stretches wider at the sight of him. The bottoms of his black running shorts flap in the breeze, revealing more skin at the tops of his thighs that still lights a match deep inside your gut. You don’t think you’ll ever be immune to him. The white socks on his feet are pulled up to his shins, the color of his On Clouds matching the banner above you. The polyester of his dark gray Nike running sweater fits tight across his chest, the zipper on its high neck being tugged by a set of golden blond puppy paws.

“I told you Molly wasn’t gonna make it all the way,” he huffs, a laugh threatening to bubble past his lips when the rambunctious labrador starts licking his stubble covered cheek, pushing up the bill of his black Nike baseball cap. 

God, you’ll never not want to kiss him.

“She made it more than half way, give her some credit Steve.” You roll your eyes and he’s proud to say that’s the third one he’s earned today. The first being in your barely unpacked kitchen when he snuck up from behind to blow a raspberry on your neck while making coffee in the morning.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You weren’t the one who had to carry the extra ten pounds the last two miles, were you?” He reminds you with a smirk, setting the wiggling puppy down now that she’s regained most of her strength back.

Bandit whines for Steve’s affections, pawing at him when he’s eye level, getting the scratch behind both ears he wanted. The German shepherd wasn’t the only one wanting his attention, and it takes everything inside you not to pout yourself when he stands back up and doesn’t immediately kiss you. Despite the chill, there’s still a sheen of sweat that coats his permanently sun kissed skin, the spice of his cologne becoming more pronounced because of it.

“Thank you for doing this with me baby,” the teasing edge to Steve’s voice is gone, replaced with something softer - made even sweeter as he pulls you closer by waist, his nose bumping with yours when you stand on your tippy toes hooking your free arm around his neck. Your fingers twitch to be in his hair, you hate his hats.

“I’ll do them all with you,” you whisper because it’s just for him, it’s always just for him. His cheeks dust pink like he knows it and his hold on you tightens.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” the words come out soft against your lips, his eyes meeting yours from down the bridge of his nose.

“Three months.” 

The reminder makes him close the space that’s left, smiling into the kiss. It still feels like a hundred butterfly’s wings flutter against your rib cage when your lips slot together like they were never meant to be apart. It’s hard to get lost in him the way you want to with hundreds of people around and two dogs that can’t seem to stop their play fighting, tugging harshly on their leashes at your feet. That doesn’t keep Steve from tracing your bottom lip with his tongue when the tips of your fingers find the flyaway hairs sticking out of the bottom of his cap. You giggle against his lips and he can’t find it in himself to be disappointed when you pull away, like he knows you both should because of it.

“Careful, might have to take you downtown right now if you don’t stop,” he teases, biting his bottom lip to stop from kissing you again.

“I don’t think Eddie would ever forgive you for taking away his opportunity to finally be your best man.” Running your hands down his chest, you can feel his groan vibrate under your palms.

“Don’t remind me.” Steve lets you go, finally taking his hat off to reveal a dirty golden mess on top of his head, long fingers running through it.

Bandit whines, nudging Steve’s knee with his snout before rubbing the side of his face against his leg, ignoring the way the puppy jumps and paws at his side.

“I think someone wants to switch.” You grin at the way Steve’s face softens for his favorite boy, offering you Molly’s leash in exchange without a word.

“Someone missed daddy, huh?” Steve asks in the kind of baby voice you know he picked up from you, but the reference to himself still has you clenching like your second date. 

Bandit barks in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you untangle the unruly puppy from around him. You give up quickly on letting her walk, picking her up just like Steve had, the wiggling weight of her in your arms has you biting your tongue about how heavy she really is.

“I think we’ve earned a margarita when we get home, right molly?” Hinting at Steve with a smirk tugging at your lips when you kiss the puppies restless snout - it's his turn to roll his eyes.

“Honey, we still need to pack. We leave for New York tomorrow at like nine A.M.” He runs another hand through his hair before putting his hat back on his head and you have to resist pulling it off as you both make your way through the crowd.

“Okay, we can pack and then a margarita… although packing might be a lot more fun after one. Just a thought.” You shrug with fake nonchalance, finally getting a grip on Molly in your arms.

“After we pack and drop off the dogs at Nancy’s.” Steve chuckles, moving to the other side of you so his free hand can find the small of your back, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the soft fabric of your oversized sweater. He could never go too long, he always had to be touching you.

“Deal.” Grinning, pleased with your promised drink, you push up on your toes to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek, heart swelling at the pink that dusts tips of his ears because of it. 

9:15pm 🌃

The first sounds of cicadas buzz low in your ears, another reminder that summer was just around the corner while the two of you sit on the porch swing. Steve had set up on the small deck in your backyard. It wasn’t big like the ones in the suburbs but it was just enough for Bandit and Molly to stretch their legs without a leash. The citronella candle that you swore to Steve would work, burns lemon and lavender into the matching dusk sky, still too early in the season to prove yourself right. The stars are still half hidden by the big tree in the corner of your yard that has started to sag from the humidity. Though a lingering chill still nips in the breeze and it has Steve pulling you deeper into his side. The pine of his body wash from the shower you took together just before this mixes in the perfect blend to make your eyes heavy and your heart full. 

“You think Nancy’s going to be okay with both of them for five days?” Your question comes out quiet in the calm, your cheek pressed to the cotton of his white shirt. The hard muscles underneath twitching from the warmth of your breath. The ice in your half drank margarita clinks against the glass when your wrist starts to get lazy.

“I think we’re going to have a very well behaved puppy when we get back,” Steve chuckles before relieving you of your hold, setting your cup down next to his on the deck.

You giggle to yourself at the thought, humming in agreement, when he takes the opportunity to really cuddle you now. A big arm wrapping around you while his hand finds yours so he can do his favorite thing. His chin hits the top of your head, and the tips of his fingers tickle while he twirls the diamond ring around your knuckle. You can feel the way his cheeks pull up against your hair, his lips a ghost against the crown of your head, always losing himself in the fact that you said ‘yes.’

“Did you pack the Cubs shirts I got for Gwenny?” Steve asks like he’s trying to think back to the mess of a packing session the two of you had in between stolen kisses and heated touches that always led to more. 

“That was the first thing you packed, handsome.” You squeeze his hand, the smirk on your face widening at how obsessed of an uncle he was for the newest addition to the Munson family. 

“Oh yeah, I remember now. They are under my dress slacks,” he mumbles, while the pad of his thumb rubs small circles under your ribs where his fingers curl around your side.

Cuddling deeper into his chest a comfortable silence falls between you, the cicadas buzz louder, mixing with the sounds of the city and you wish you could always stay like this, wrapped up in him and the glow of the moon that leaks through the shaking leaves on the tree above you. The silver band he twirls around on your finger makes you realize this is what he’s asking for. A forever of moments just like this one tonight, of first, of lasts, of fingers intertwined, soft touches, stolen kisses and whispered sweet words in the moonlight that feel even sweeter when he says them again in the sunshine. 

This is what forever looked like with Steve Harrington, and you always want to be his tough girl.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @chechelia

#my writing #all i really want us you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington series #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagines

[cegantheayugipi]

The Idiot Internship (Itto x Reader)

An Arataki Itto x Reader oneshot

Word Count: 9.2k

WARNINGS: BIG SMUT AHEAD, MINORS DNI!!

Tags include: heats/ruts, omegaverse themes (Itto is an Oni after all), breeding, marathon sex, reader is AFAB

Summary: You’re a Liyuean law student looking for a summer work study. When an alumna from your school offers you one all the way in the beautiful islands of Inazuma, who are you to decline? However, it comes with a caveat – your boss knows nothing (and cares nothing) about the law.

OR: Itto was never taught about the birds and the bees. Heck, he wasn't even taught what masturbation was, and he was a little too dumb to figure out on his own. However, when your continuous presence around him during your internship sends him straight into an Oni rut, he's going to need a lot of teaching – fast.

~~~ When Kuki Shinobu gave you this job and told you that your boss would be dumb, you had no idea she meant this dumb.

And here you sat, at the back of the dilapidated office room where the Arataki Gang held meetings, listening to Arataki Itto’s ‘great and glorious’ idea.

“And then, at the end of the drumalong festival, we set off a bunch of fireworks! It’ll be great!”

“Uh, Boss.” Shinobu spoke up, raising her hand in protest. “We need to apply for a formal permit to have any sort of public demonstration, and the process will take weeks.”

Your white-haired boss shrugged dramatically, scoffing at his subordinate’s suggestion.

“Psh, who needs a permit, we can do everything first and ask for forgiveness later!” Itto brushed off Shinobu’s very important statement of fact.

When Kuki Shinobu gave you this job and told you that your boss would be dumb, you had no idea she meant this dumb.

And here you sat, at the back of the dilapidated office room where the Arataki Gang held meetings, listening to Arataki Itto’s ‘great and glorious’ idea.

“And then, at the end of the drumalong festival, we set off a bunch of fireworks! It’ll be great!”

“Uh, Boss.” Shinobu spoke up, raising her hand in protest. “We need to apply for a formal permit to have any sort of public demonstration, and the process will take weeks.”

Your white-haired boss shrugged dramatically, scoffing at his subordinate’s suggestion.

“Psh, who needs a permit, we can do everything first and ask for forgiveness later!” Itto brushed off Shinobu’s very important statement of fact.

You tried your best not to scoff, or make any noise for that matter. As a law student who had traveled all the way from Liyue for this work study, every single word that left the gang leader’s mouth in regards to rules and regulations made you wonder if he even had two brain cells to put together. While the Oni may be hot, what he had in body he lacked in brains.

“Boss, if it’s alright, I’ll talk to the Yashiro Commission about it anyways.” Shinobu spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest as she faced her boss nonchalantly. It seemed like she typically had to do things like this for him. She was sitting next to Itto, as per usual. 

“Alright, alright. It’s still a couple months away, so that’s enough talking for now. Let’s go have some udon!” Itto announced cheerfully.

You sighed loudly, not bothering to hide your exasperation. The gang members began to chatter loudly as they shuffled out of the run-down meeting room, excited for a good meal of Inazuman noodles, led by Itto who was the most excited out of the bunch. You wondered why on earth Kuki enjoyed managing an organization like the Arataki Gang when it seemed more like babysitting several adult children.

~~~

You followed the gang through the streets of Inazuma City, your stomach full from the large meal you all shared at the local noodle shop. Although you tended to miss your home country of Liyue, the food in Inazuma was so good that it always eased your homesickness.

Kuki Shinobu trailed at the back of the group, falling in step in front of you. She footed the bill for everyone, because somehow the Arataki Gang was always broke. You wondered how on earth Shinobu managed to pay your wages for the work-study, let alone the gang’s daily activities. However, according to your professor Yanfei, Kuki Shinobu was a woman of many miracles. You couldn’t deny she was incredibly intelligent – she single handedly made up for the gang’s collective lack of brain cells.

You were in the middle of thinking about how lucky you were to be offered a work study from Shinobu when you spotted your boss’s red and white hair in the corner of your eye. He was at a Taiyaki stand, chatting loudly to its owner. As you changed direction and walked closer to him you began to pick up their conversation. 

“Just one left?!” Itto exclaimed dramatically. “I’ll take it!” The Oni dug through his pockets, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, some lint, and a handful of mora.

The woman who ran the stand reluctantly picked the mora from his hand, offering up the last Taiyaki in exchange. You admired the beautifully decorated Taiyaki stand, glancing over the intricate sign displaying the menu.

Taiyaki flavors:

Chocolate SOLD OUT

Matcha SOLD OUT

Red Bean

Pumpkin SOLD OUT

Custard SOLD OUT

Wait… the last one was red bean?

Itto was allergic to beans.

As he raised the Taiyaki to his mouth, you realized you needed to stop him.

“Don’t eat it!” You shouted, lunging for your dumbass Oni of a boss. You snatched the food from his grip with a surprising amount of ease, considering how much muscle Itto had. All he did was stare – meanwhile, you did the best thing you could think of.

Opening your mouth wide, you shoved the entire Taiyaki in your mouth. You couldn’t deny it was delicious, but your face burned bright red with embarrassment as you chewed on the dessert.

“Wh-” Itto gawked. “Who are you?!” His voice cracked with surprise as he shouted.

“I’m your intern.” Your voice was muffled by the absurd volume of dessert that filled your mouth.

“Oh, I see… Did you really want the last Taiyaki that bad?” Itto asked, his voice sounding disappointed that he didn’t get to taste the dessert.

“Beans.” You spoke, pointing to your mouth. You finally swallowed the last of the Taiyaki with one large gulp, continuing to talk now that your mouth was finally free. “The Taiyaki has red bean paste inside.”

Itto let out an overly-dramatic gasp, one hand flying up to cover his chest.

“You saved my life!” He exclaimed. “I’m allergic to beans!”

“I know.” You responded, giving your boss an awkward smile.

“You’re awesome! Who hired you?”

“Kuki Shinobu.”

“Of course it’s my right hand man who hired someone as great as you!” 

You nodded, knowing that you were, in fact, great and that you had most certainly saved Itto’s day – or possibly week, considering how bad his allergy was.

“What’s all this ruckus?” Shinobu spoke as she approached the two of you.

“The intern you hired saved me, Shinobu!” Itto pointed at you. “I was about to die!”

“Don’t be overly dramatic.” You responded flatly. “I just prevented you from eating beans.”

“Ah,” Shinobu nodded, “Thanks for staying sharp, boss doesn’t read menus well enough for someone with a severe food allergy.”

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Itto scooped you up in a huge hug, inadvertently squishing your face into his ginormous chest as he spun you around.

You were extremely annoyed at Itto’s irresponsible, reckless, and stupid behavior. However, you couldn’t deny it was strangely pleasant to be squished into such a soft chest.

You felt a little dizzy as Itto finally set you down, thinking perhaps the spinning had thrown your balance off.

“Oh, what’s your name, by the way?” Itto asked casually.

“Boss, I think they’re a little overwhelmed.” Shinobu spoke up. She noticed how red your face had gotten, and was worried that Itto had manhandled you a little too much.

“Uhhhh…” you mumbled, staring at Itto’s chest, too dazed to respond.

~~~

Ever since you ate Itto’s dessert to prevent him from having an allergic reaction, Kuki began to assign you to more and more tasks related to your boss. First it was running simple errands for him, like helping Granny Oni with her groceries, making tea for the meetings, or helping Itto find Onikabuto for his ridiculous beetle fighting tournaments.

You did everything begrudgingly – you accepted this work study thinking you’d be shadowing Kuki, not running around as her idiot boss’s assistant. You felt almost like you were a glorified and well-paid babysitter for the seven-foot tall Oni.

Eventually, Shinobu even gave you keys to Itto’s house to wake him up, since he tended to sleep in and risk missing his morning meetings.

“Wait, what do you mean, make sure he attends today’s meeting?” You questioned, turning over the metal key in your hand. 

“If Boss isn’t up, can you make sure he is?” Shinobu explained. “The key is yours to keep, just make sure he doesn’t miss any more meetings.”

“Uhm…” You looked down at the key for another minute before responding to Shinobu. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Great.” She responded, immediately switching her focus to another task as she poured over papers on her desk.

You immediately walked over to Itto’s house, nervous about the huge level of trust Kuki Shinobu must have in you to be giving you Itto’s house key.

‘Just make sure he doesn’t miss any more meetings.’

Shinobu’s words echoed in your head as you reached his front door. Afraid of invading your Boss’s privacy, you thought it would be best to knock first. You gave three loud raps on the door, and almost immediately a voice called from inside.

“Come in, the door’s open!” Itto’s voice came from inside. You turned the doorknob, thankful that you didn’t need to use the key that still sat in your back pocket. “I usually leave it unlocked in case anyone wants to stop by!”

“Uhm, is that safe, Mr. Arataki?” You asked, following the sound of his voice and clattering pots and pans to his kitchen. There he was, cooking up a storm. His jacket hung on the back of a chair at his dining table, an apron tied around his waist instead.

“Mr. Arataki? Are you calling me a Mister?” Itto asked, looking up from the stovetop where he seemed to be cooking something. He paused for a moment, then the realization dawned that you were referring to him. “Oh, of course! It must be because I'm the best.”

You laughed, now completely acclimated to Itto’s unusual personality.

“Yes, uhm, Miss Kuki sent me here because you have an important meeting soon,”

“Oh yeah, yeah! Of course, I totally do have a meeting!” Itto waved the cooking spoon he held in his hand. “Uhm, I’m sure they won’t mind if I’m a little late. I made breakfast, after all!”

You glanced over at the mess of pots and pans, only to see two beautifully decorated dishes of Yakisoba bread. 

“Here, sit down and have a plate, I’m sure you’ll love it!” Itto untied his apron, showing off his toned back as he reached for the two plates and carried them over to the table. “I call it ‘way of the strong’, it’s the perfect breakfast for champions!”

“You made two servings?” You questioned, staring at the beautiful dish he set down in front of you.

“Uhh, I had extra ingredients, so I thought I should make it all!” Itto responded awkwardly as he settled into the chair beside you. He didn’t want to tell you that he normally ate both servings whenever he cooked himself breakfast.

 Without even realizing it, your mouth began to water as you smelled the delicious meal.

“Go ahead, dig in!” Itto encouraged you, waiting eagerly for you to taste his cooking.

As soon as you took your first bite, you began to scarf down the meal as if you hadn’t eaten for a week. The food was delicious. Given Itto’s stupidity he had demonstrated over and over throughout your time working for him, he was somehow an amazing cook, and this fact blew you away.

“Mmmm!” You smiled, your eyes lighting up as you devoured his food.

A smile grew across Itto’s face, despite still chewing on a mouthful of food.

“See, it’s definitely worth being late!” Itto spoke before he swallowed his food, making his words come out muffled.

“Mhm.” You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth also full of food.

~~~

For the next several weeks, you began to form a habit of visiting Itto in the mornings. He was almost always cooking something, and somehow always had extras he insisted you should try. Over time you began to realize being Itto’s assistant wasn’t actually that bad… his strange personality finally began to grow on you.

However, today, you walked into Itto’s house to find it completely silent. There was no cheerful voice welcoming you inside, and no loud sounds coming from the kitchen. This was actually the case for the past couple of days… You would have to find your way up to the bedroom and bang on the door until you heard Itto shout from inside that he was awake.

“Mr. Arataki, you have a meeting soon, please wake up!” You called.

Almost immediately, you heard a loud groan come from the other side of the door.

“I’m up!” Itto’s voice was gravelly, thick with sleep.

This morning routine was far less fun than before. Not to mention, you would have to wait for several minutes before Itto finally emerged from his bedroom, disheveled, hair messy and eyes tired.

“Didn’t sleep well again?” You asked as your gaze scanned down Itto’s body, eyes lingering on the dark circles that grew beneath the Oni’s eyes.

“Y-yeah, I think I didn’t get much sleep.” Itto responded groggily, rubbing his eyes as he followed you out of his house and down the path towards the gang’s meeting room.

“I’ll bring you some Chamomile tea, it normally helps me a lot!” You responded cheerfully.

“Oh, thank you!” Itto gave you a slight smile, but began to pick his pace up. “We’re not too late, are we?”

“I’m sure we’re fine, don’t worry Mr. Arataki.”

~~~

The meeting seemed to begin just fine, although Itto definitely looked more tired and dazed than before. As Shinobu talked through the important details for the week ahead, you raised your arm to ask a question.

“Ms Kuki, will Mr. Arataki be helping-”  an abrupt bang interrupted your sentence. You nearly fell out of your seat as you jumped from the noise, but looked over to see that it was Itto who had slammed his hands onto the table all of a sudden. He shot up from his chair then bolted for the door, something seeming to be on his mind. 

“Boss?” Shinobu spoke, but Itto was long gone. She sighed as she turned towards you. “Can you go after him and make sure he’s fine?”

“Is it normal for him to act like this?” You questioned. You had noticed that his personality had begun to change recently, but today was completely different than before.

“Actually, we’ve never seen him like this before…” Shinobu responded. “Would you be able to find out what’s going on?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” you stood from the table and bowed before leaving the meeting room and searching for Itto.

You ran down the dirt path, scanning for Itto’s head of messy white hair. You managed to spot him on the path that led to his house, so you picked up the pace and called out to him.

“Mr. Arataki, are you okay?”

Itto seemed to bristle at the sound of your voice, immediately picking up the pace. You began to speed up as well, running after him since you didn’t know what was wrong.

“We just want to know if everything is alright!” You exclaimed, chasing after the Oni who only seemed to pick up his pace even more. Since Itto towered above most people at a shocking seven feet tall, his strides were far longer than yours which made it extremely difficult to keep up. You were a fast runner, but you didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up for.

Before you knew it, you were following Itto up his front steps and into his house. You raced up the stairs after him and watched him run into his bedroom.

Before you had the chance to reach his bedroom door, Itto slammed it shut, the hinges rattling violently against the doorframe.

“Sorry, door!” Itto shouted from inside.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Arataki?” You became more worried as you heard a pained groan from his bedroom.

“Uhhh, I’m fine, I just uhm… forgot to feed my Onikabuto that’s all!” Itto shouted awkwardly, as you heard shuffling and rattling coming from inside his bedroom. You heard the fluttering of bedsheets and the creaking of his bed, and wondered what on Teyvat Itto could be up to in there.

“Oh… Okay, if you’re alright, I’ll just head back then.” You spoke through the closed door, somehow feeling a little unsettled despite Itto’s insistence that he was alright.

The walk back felt strange. As soon as you walked back into the meeting room, everyone’s eyes were on you. Several people accosted you with questions too quickly for you to answer them.

“Is boss okay?”

“I’ve never seen him run out of a meeting like that before!”

“He looked upset!”

“Calm down, everyone, let Y/N speak.” Shinobu interrupted the group. Everyone fell silent as they looked at you, eagerly awaiting your explanation.

“I think Mr. Arataki hasn’t had enough sleep, so he forgot to feed his Onikabuto.” You explained.

“Oh, of course!”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“No, not his prized Onikabuto!”

“I’m glad he’s alright!”

Chatter began to fill the room as the tension instantly dissolved at your explanation. The gang members returned to their own conversations, but Shinobu seemed skeptical of your explanation.

“Boss normally sleeps like a baby.” She told you, “There’s probably a reason why he’s not sleeping well. Can you make sure he’s alright? I’ll treat the both of you to Ramen tonight.”

“O-okay, I’ll check on him later.” You responded, a little unsure about how you’d manage to get Itto to leave his room again.

~~~

Now that the sun was sinking lower in the sky, you approached the front door to Itto’s house once again. You needed to get your boss out of the house and make sure he was alright, and you were certain the prospect of Ramen would coerce Itto out of his bedroom easily.

However, as you turned the doorknob to his house, you realized it was actually locked.

In all your weeks of coming over to Itto’s house, his door was always unlocked. He never seemed to care about his own safety, but you figured it was since pretty much no petty criminal or monster had a chance of beating the 7-foot tall Oni stacked with muscle. Not to mention, your boss had very few material possessions – and the ones he actually cared about were his Onikabuto and trading cards.

For the first time, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the house key Shinobu had given you. You unlocked the front door, quietly swinging it open as you stepped inside.

You wondered why the door was locked… peering into the house, everything seemed to be in the same position as always. You crept through the hallway and back up the stairs, noticing Itto’s bedroom door was also closed, meaning he must be inside since Itto never closed doors behind him whenever he would leave.

You knocked on the door gently, calling out to your boss.

“Shinobu says she’ll treat us both to ramen, but only if you get out of bed!” You spoke loudly, reaching over to open the door. You stepped into Itto’s room, only to find that the place was far messier than you had ever seen before. There were feathers and torn pieces of fabric on the floor, evidently the remnants of what was once a pillow. Itto’s jacket was thrown haphazardly on the floor, alongside his gloves and bracelets. His purple shirt had also been thrown across the room, hanging over the windowsill that showed the setting sun outside. But what was likely the most striking difference was the rather large hole in the far wall, that looked like someone had simply punched through the wooden boards of the Inazuman home.

You disregarded this, instead striding over to the mountain of blankets on top of Itto’s bed. You could tell he was in there – one of his horns had poked a hole through the blanket. 

“Come on, Mr. Arataki, get out of bed!” You reached towards the blankets, hearing him whine from under the covers.

“I don’t wanna…” He complained, grabbing the edge of his blanket and pulling it tighter around him.

You sighed, fed up with his unusual behavior. 

“Fine, then. I’ll just drag you out of bed myself.” You grabbed onto Itto’s wrist, yanking him away from the bed with all your might. You weren’t weak, but Itto was a huge Oni, and it took all your strength just to slide him off the bed.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Itto shouted as he slipped off of the bed, arms flailing and knocking you off balance. “Stop, Y/N!”

You stumbled backwards, caught off balance by Itto’s sudden movements. You fell backwards onto the floor, followed by the Oni who landed on top of you with a loud crash.

You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to be crushed by Itto’s heavy body, but he somehow managed to land with his hands and knees on either side of your body, catching his torso before it could fall on top of yours.

“Hey!” You blurted out, looking up at Itto’s face that burned bright red. He seemed to be out of breath, his chest heaving as he stared back down at you.

“A-ah I- I’m sorry!” Itto stuttered, his face reddening further. “I- I- don’t know what’s going on-”

That’s when you could feel it.

Something inside his pants was pressing against your thigh, and it was definitely not his leg. It twitched slightly, and Itto let out a whimper at the same time. Your eyes went wide as you realized you were feeling his dick.

Itto saw the look on your face, and his gaze immediately shifted to the floor.

“I- I’m sorry, normally this just happens when I need to pee in the mornings but now it’s happening all the time and for some reason I can’t pee it’s so bad it hurts and I can’t get it to go down I don’t know what to do or how to stop it from hurting it’s making me go crazy and sometimes I can’t even think at all it hurts so bad-”

Your jaw dropped open as you realized what Itto was saying through his nervous mumbling.

“A Rut…” You murmured, glancing around his room. It all made sense now.

“A what?” Itto questioned, his voice cracking.

“I think you’re in a rut.” You stated matter-of-factly. “Have you ever had this before? How long have you been feeling like this?”

“N-no, never! It’s been like this for almost a week… but it’s getting worse and worse I don’t know what to do-”

“A week?! And you… don’t know what to do?” You raised an eyebrow at Itto’s explanation. Firstly, from what little you knew about the subject, you understood that only a few unsatiated days would drive anyone in a state like his insane. But secondly, Itto sounded like he had no idea what was even going on with his body. “Like, you don’t know what to do when your dick is hard?”

“What do you mean? You’re supposed to wait until it goes away.” Itto spoke bluntly, and you stared up at him in disbelief.

“Mr. Arataki, do you really think it’s gonna go away this time if you just wait?” You felt his member pulse against your leg.

“N-not when you say my name like that,” Itto whined, “I don’t know why it keeps making it worse.”

You began to blush fiercely at his statement. Itto hung his head, groaning from the pain he was subjecting himself to. Did he really enjoy the way you said his name like that… all this time?

And… Why were you happy he liked it that much?

You opened your mouth to speak, but you suddenly became flustered as you thought about what you were going to say.

“Boss…” you called, and Itto’s ruby gaze lifted to meet yours. “Do you want me to help you? I can show you how to uhm…” Your gaze traveled to his dick that was straining against his pants. “Help it.”

“Yes, please, anything to help me!” Itto nearly cried with desperation as he begged.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your tone serious. “You have to be sure.”

“I’m sure, please Y/N, I’m completely sure!”

At his confirmation, you rubbed your leg against Itto’s painfully hard member. A pleasure-filled whine escaped his lips, surprising the both of you and sending heat straight to your core.

“W-why does it feel so good,” Itto groaned, gasping as you began to rub your leg back and forth.

“You’re telling me that you’ve never jerked yourself off before?” You asked bluntly.

“N-no, touching it is inappropriate!” Itto cried, realizing that what you were doing to him was dirty. “B-but why does it feel so good?”

“If you want me to stop, tell me.” You stated frankly, your thigh continuing to stroke him through his pants.

“N-no…” Itto murmured, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his head. “Keep going…”

“Okay.” You hooked your fingers around his collar, dragging his head down so your lips could meet his.

“Mmh!” Itto groaned, his dick twitching against your thigh as his lips mashed against yours. Your lips caught on one of his sharp canines, eliciting a moan from yourself.

Itto had no clue what he was doing. He knew that people kissed, but he didn’t know it was anything more than putting your lips on top of someone else’s. So when your tongue slipped past his lips and began to roam his mouth, his arms began to shake.

Itto tried his best not to fall over as he moved his arms to rest his elbows on either side of your head. He was glad he did it when you began to slide one hand down his stomach until it reached his waistband. He felt like he was going to fall over as he felt you fumble with his belt. Somehow you managed to undo it while also exploring his mouth with your tongue.

Itto let out a low-pitched moan as he felt your hand slip into his pants, your cold fingers sliding down and wrapping around his cock. Itto seemed to malfunction as you stroked up and down his length. He broke from the kiss, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he moaned.

“Haah… o-oh my…shit Y/N, it’s so go~od…”

“Too good?” You asked, loosening your grip and slowing your movements.

“N-no!!” Itto snapped his head up to look at you, his eyes filled with fear of the possibility of you stopping whatever magic you were doing to him. “Keep- keep going…please…” Itto trailed off into a whisper, but was swiftly cut off with a loud gasp as you touched him again, beginning to push his hips into your hand almost instinctively.

“Okay, follow my lead.” You began to sit up, pushing Itto until he was sitting upright on the floor with his back against his bed frame. You began to loosen his belt, unzipping his pants and carefully freeing his member. No matter how careful you were, once it escaped his pants it slapped against his stomach, eliciting yet another hitched breath from the poor Oni’s mouth.

You stared at what you had just released – you could feel its large size from when you held it inside his pants, but only now were you able to see the red markings that wove its way from his lower stomach down to the tip of his angry, hard, and already leaking cock. You had never seen an Oni’s manhood before… despite the intimidating size, it was beautiful.

“Ngh…” Itto groaned as you closed your hand around him, stroking up and down his length. “...Feels so good…”

You trailed your gaze up to Itto’s face, where he was struggling between eagerly watching your movements with his eyes, and shutting them to fall fully into the incredible sensation. Itto’s half-lidded crimson eyes met with yours as you continued, your hand gripping tighter and pumping faster. You could feel his dick twitch as he panted from the pleasure.

“So, this is what you do when it gets this way.” You spoke calmly, ignoring the wetness that grew in your own underwear.

“Aahh…” Itto gasped, “Why did nobody tell me this?”

“It’s something you should really figure out on your own, dumbass.” You smirked as you shifted in your seat. You pressed your thighs together, trying not to reveal that you were also getting turned on.

Itto groaned louder, leaning his head backwards to rest on top of his bed. You could feel his dick pulsating harder… The Oni squeezed his eyes shut, panting harder, confused about this new feeling that seemed to send stars into his vision.

“S-something’s happening, w-wait- FUCK!” Itto exclaimed, his chest shuddering as he felt something build up in his lower abdomen. It was good – almost too good. He dug his fingernails into the wooden floor, leaving deep scratches with his sharp nails.

“It’s okay, let it happen.” You spoke soothingly, giving a couple fast pumps before Itto climaxed into your hand. 

Thick and hot ropes of white burst from Itto’s swollen cock, the member twitching and throbbing like nothing the poor Oni had ever experienced before. He moaned, his voice quivering, tears pricking at his eyes from the intense pleasure.

It took him several seconds to regain his senses; you tried not to touch his overly-sensitive member as cum continued to spill from it in short spurts. It was a surprisingly large amount; but then again, Itto wasn’t exactly human.

“A-ah, I’m sorry…” Itto whimpered as he picked his head up to meet your eyes. “I don’t know what that was…”

“It’s called an orgasm, and this is cum.” You spoke, holding up your hand covered in white. “It’s a normal thing for… adults to do.”

“An orgasm?” Itto spoke in disbelief. “It felt like I died and went to heaven.”

You laughed. “That’s what orgasms feel like, dummy.”

“I wanna do it again.” Itto spoke, and that’s when you noticed his ruby eyes still half-lidded with desire. “Holy shit… You smell so good… how did I not notice it before..?”

Your thighs squeezed together at Itto’s statement.

“Wh- I smell good?” You stuttered, your eyes drifting down to his cock that was still standing completely erect. He began to push himself away from the bed to lean closer to you, dipping his head down to your neck to take a deep breath in.

“I don’t know what it is…” Itto murmured, “you smell like, really good.”

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lap. You realized he could smell your arousal.

“Please, can you keep going?” Itto’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but his pleas sent heat straight to your core.

“I suppose…” You trailed off, staring down at his still-swollen manhood. “I could show you something more.”

“More?” Itto asked, bringing his head back to look you in the eyes. “There’s more?”

You laughed, still in shock that Itto, one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen, could be this clueless when it came to sex.

“Yes, of course there’s more. There’s endless things you can do when it comes to sex.”

“Sex? Like the bad word?” Itto questioned.

“Yes, this is what it means.” You responded, surprised by your ability to remain stoic. You wrapped your hand back around his cock, stroking Itto with his own climax.

“Ahh, it feels even better-” Itto whined, “Why does it feel even better-”

“Because now it’s wet.” You spoke plainly, listening to the squelching noises you made with your hand. 

“Nghh…” Itto began to shift his hips, trying to buck into your hand.

“Tsk tsk,” you released your grip. “Stay still. Let me guide you.”

“O-okay,” Itto agreed, settling back onto the floor so you could continue stroking him. You used your free hand to fumble with the bottom half of your clothing, undoing your buttons and buckles. As you began to peel off your clothes one-handedly, the smell of your arousal hit him like a truck.

“W-what are you doing?” Itto whined, staring at the skin of your upper thighs that you had revealed.

“I think this might feel a lot better for you.” You spoke. “Do you want to try putting it inside me?”

“Wait, wait.” Itto’s eyes widened. “It’s not gonna hurt you, is it?”

“Not if we do it slowly.” You responded, taking your hand off of Itto’s member to slide your undergarments off of your legs.

Itto held back a whimper as you crawled closer to him – he could feel the heat radiating off of your skin and smell the salty-sweet scent of your arousal. You began to straddle his hips, lowering your core until your lips met the tip of his leaking cock.

“Now tell me if you want to stop.” You spoke, surprising yourself with how calm you were acting. Ever since you saw his manhood, you had wanted it inside of you. You craved it so badly, you didn’t know if you’d be able to hold back if he told you no.

Itto nodded, staring down at your bare legs, digging his nails into the wooden floor even more to avoid digging them into the plush of your thighs. He didn’t know where these aggressive, lewd, lustful thoughts were coming from – but he couldn’t stop them.

“Ah-!” Itto’s eyes went wide as you began to sink down onto his dick. You were so hot, so wet, and you squeezed him like nothing else as your pussy slowly began to stretch around his length.

You let out the faintest whimper at the stretching sensation, not used to anything near his size. It bordered on painful, but you were so turned on that you had to stop yourself from pushing too far too soon. Itto’s ears pricked at the sound, the sensation going straight to his erection.

“A- are you okay?” Itto groaned, trying his best to remain calm as you sank down onto him.

“Y-yeah, it feels good.” You blushed, sinking slightly further down. It already felt like he was filling you completely, but you knew you weren’t even halfway down his length.

Itto stared down at his dick, watching you swallow more and more of it as you sank down. It was so warm, so wet, he thought he might already orgasm again.

You felt like you couldn’t fit any more of him in despite only having half of his length inside you – you felt too full, and it was getting difficult to continue to slide down over the widest part in the middle of his shaft. You decided to stop there, shifting your legs to kneel comfortably on the floor. You began to move back up, until only the tip remained inside. Itto watched you, his ruby eyes fixed on your heat, staring at the strings of slick you left behind on him. What he didn’t expect, however, was for you to start moving up and down on him.

“Hnn, ahh,” Itto panted, pleasure building up all too fast from how you moved, making him enter you over and over again. It felt like he was being swallowed up by the heat radiating from your pussy.

You began to move faster, bouncing off of your heels to keep up your momentum. Itto’s pants turned into moans and whines as he gripped onto the bed frame behind him in an attempt to avoid bucking his hips up into you. You had told him to stay still, and he would do his best to stay still.

You could feel your own climax begin to build as you moved – it got harder and harder to keep up your pace, your head clouding with lust from the sensation of being stretched and filled over and over. Your legs began to shake as you tried to continue, your stamina running low, pleasure beginning to take over your body.

“Ah, it’s gonna happen again-” Itto whimpered, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he struggled to maintain his composure. Itto’s desperation made you smirk. You didn’t realize you could have such a huge and strong Oni quivering so helplessly below you. Trying your best to keep moving, you bounced over and over until you couldn’t suppress your own moans anymore.

With a cry, Itto’s hands flew up to your thighs, his nails biting into the fat of your thighs. He couldn’t help it anymore; he came hard, his cock pulsating as it unloaded inside of you.

You could feel the warmth spreading inside you. His load was huge; it made you shudder, pushing you further towards your own climax.

“Ahh- Mr. Arataki, not inside…” You whined, realizing that you probably should have told him to not finish inside of you. But for some reason, you found it pleasurable – you enjoyed the sensation of his hot release filling you.

“A-ah, I’m sorry!” Itto’s eyes grew wide as his face turned bright red, his grip loosening as he began to lift you up and off of him.

“I-it’s okay.” You spoke, whimpering at the empty sensation he left inside you, “It’s already done.” You moved your hands to cover Itto’s that were placed on your thighs.

“O-oh,” Itto murmured, “that’s good, because I don’t wanna stop just yet…” He lifted his hips slightly, pushing back inside of you.

“Aah, again?” You gasped at the sensation of being filled again.

“O-only if you want to!” Itto stopped moving, his gaze snapping to meet yours, worried that he was hurting or upsetting you. You began to chuckle. You haven’t orgasmed yet, but you were close, and Itto’s hesitation was beginning to drive you crazy.

“Of course I want to continue, dumbass.”

“Oh, o-okay!” Itto nodded, “C-can I move, this time?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed a little too loudly as you collapsed and rested all your weight onto Itto’s hips. With the load of cum inside you and the sex you just had, you were able to slide slightly lower down Itto’s length.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Itto asked, worried about the way you seemed to squirm on his dick.

“Yes, I’m fine…” You spoke, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. “It feels really good for me too.”

“O-okay. I’ll try to go slow…” Itto could feel himself twitch inside of you at the sound of your voice. The way you told him it felt good turned him on far too much. He wanted to move so desperately, to just go wild and pummel into you like you were a ragdoll. However, he knew he would only hurt you if he did that. And so, with as much restraint as he could muster, he slowly pushed his hips up into you and then back out.

“If you keep up a rhythm like I did, it feels goo-” You were caught off guard as Itto picked up his pace to match what you had done before. “-aah~”

You closed your eyes, the pleasure stealing away your vision. As Itto began to thrust deeper and deeper into you, he began to reach a part of you that you never thought existed. The pleasure built up in your core and made you feel like you could pass out. You had finally taken in all of him, the Oni bottoming out with each thrust, his inhuman size completely filling you.

You lost control of your speech – gasps and moans left your mouth that you would be humiliated of in any other situation. Yet somehow, Itto found the noises you made so enticing… he didn’t know why, but it felt like you were urging him on to go faster and faster.

“Hng! A-ahn, hahh~” You couldn’t focus on anything as Itto continued his rhythm. He squeezed your thighs harder, his hips slapping against the plush of your ass with each thrust. He looked down, watching himself enter you over and over, eyeing the strings of cum that slipped out of you and began to make a mess on his pants and the floor.

“F-fuck, Y/N-” Itto gasped, “You’re so…”

You could feel your own climax encroaching, and you began to lose control over your balance. You didn’t know why… but your hands flew up to grab onto the horns on his head.

“-Aah, fuck!” Itto cried, not knowing why his horns were so sensitive – or why they felt so good when you held onto them. He tried his best to continue at the pace he started but everything you did seemed to push him to just let loose.

The pressure in your core, the snap of Itto’s hips against your ass, and the iron grip of his hands on your thighs sent you over the edge. You wailed as you came hard, your walls convulsing around his cock like nothing you felt before.

“Fuckfuckfuck Y/N you’re squeezing me too hard-” Itto cried, gasping at the sudden tightness around him. He couldn’t move anymore; your orgasm was constricting him too much. He fell still, resting your hips on top of his own. In the throes of your orgasm, you had finally been able to take all of him, now settling down at the bottom of his shaft. You felt like all your energy was gone as you slumped forwards against Itto’s chest.

“Ahn, Itto… so good…” You hummed, resting your head against his soft chest, almost forgetting that you were still inside him and that he was still very turned on. Your grip around the Oni’s horns loosened, your arms falling down to your sides.

“W-wait what happened, are you alright?” Itto asked, his voice reverberating through his chest as he spoke, his ruby eyes scanning over your body to see if anything was wrong. 

“No, ‘m fine…” You murmured. “Just had an orgasm too…”

“Oh-” Itto’s mouth formed an o-shape, his eyes widening as he realized what had just happened. “D-does it feel good for you too?”

“So good…” You hummed, your head resting on his chest.

Itto released his grip on your thighs, wrapping his arms around your torso and carefully standing up while still inside you. He turned carefully and set you down on the bed, trying his best not to hurt you in the process.

“Can I… continue?” Itto asked, and you gazed up at the Oni who stood above you. You nodded, and he slowly began to pull out of you. 

An empty feeling began to take over you as you watched him pull his entire length out of you. It was coated in a thick and white mixture of his cum and yours, but you realized something that shocked you – he seemed to be even bigger than before, despite cumming twice already. On top of that, he seemed to be all too eager to continue, making you wonder just what kind of libido an Oni might have while in his rut.

“You smell… so good…” Itto began to bend down, his head dipping between your legs as he smelled your leaking cunt.

“A-ah, Itto, not there-” Your sentence was cut off by a moan as you felt his wet tongue slide across your entrance. Itto licked a strip up your lips, gathering the mixture of climaxes in his mouth, the taste and smell going straight to his head.

“H-hey!” You grabbed both of his horns, pulling his head away from your pussy. When you saw the slick running down his chin and the lust in his eyes you realized the smell of sex must be some sort of aphrodisiac for him.

“I want more…” The white-haired Oni whined, sending a fierce blush across your face and turning you on again.

“Me too…” you responded, beginning to get up from where you laid on the bed. You rolled over and got onto all fours, showing Itto a new view of your entrance. You reached one hand back, fingers probing gently at your entrance, putting yourself on display for him. “Here, you can put it-”

Itto didn’t seem to need instruction. He pressed his engorged cock into you again, the sensation of being speared open by something so huge cutting off your sentence with a gasp. He wasted no time pressing further, fully sheathing himself inside of you within seconds. 

“Ahn, Itto~” You moaned, shocked that you could take something his size just like that. “S-so big…”

As Itto began to move, attempting to replicate the same pace as before, you felt fuller and fuller. He hadn’t been moving for long when you realized your arms and legs were already shaking. His hands subconsciously went to your hips, and you were thankful for the support as you leaned into his grip.

Itto’s hips began to make noise as they snapped against your ass, the skin-on-skin slapping growing wetter and wetter. Somehow, despite being completely inexperienced, Itto was excellent at holding his pace – so excellent that you couldn’t maintain your composure. As he fucked into you, your arms failed. You fell face-first onto his bed, your shoulders and chest resting on the soft mattress. Your back was now arched as Itto continued to hold your hips in the same place before.

You let out a garbled moan as Itto lifted your hips and pulled you backwards, your legs now dangling off the side of the bed so he could enter you more easily. Your ass was now facing the ceiling; this angle made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your head was so clouded with lust that you couldn’t spare a thought to wonder how Itto could do this with no experience whatsoever; neither of you knew just how much his Oni instincts were taking over. He relentlessly pounded into you again and again, losing all restraint. It felt so good. The sounds of skin slapping on skin, the wet sounds of his cock bullying into your pussy, and your moans mixed together into a lewd symphony inside his head that made him want to keep going and going.

Itto panted as he neared another climax, completely unaware that he was pushing you towards yours as well. You wailed, the sensation of being filled to the brim over and over sending stars into your vision. He had begun to thrust harder; the impact of his hips against your ass would send you flying if it wasn’t for his iron grip on your upper thighs.

As Itto reached the precipice of orgasm, you could feel him swell. The Oni moved his hands, using one arm to hook under your hips as he planted his other palm on the mattress beside your head. His movements fell still as he bent down and placed his lips against the nape of your neck. You felt a sharp pinch – Itto had bitten into your delicate skin, his fangs drawing blood. At the same time, however, you felt his cock swell and twitch as something warm spread inside you; he had bitten you at the same time that he came.

His lips remained planted firmly on your neck, eliciting a moan of both pain and pleasure from you. After a few moments, Itto began to move again, stirring the cum inside of you. You whimpered at the feeling, surprised at how animalistic he was acting.

Itto released you, leaning back and slowly removing his length from you. You could feel a thick liquid leaking out of your entrance and hear it dripping onto the mattress, as Itto finally set you down on the bed and rolled you over onto your back.

You stared up at the Oni, noticing the red tinge to his lips that you could only guess was your own blood. His hair was even more unruly than normal, and his expression was glazed over with desire. He didn’t utter a single word as he grabbed your thighs once again, the sharp edges of his nails digging painfully into your flesh.

He pushed your thighs up and against your chest, exposing your abused entrance yet again. You glanced down at Itto’s member – it was even bigger than before, particularly towards the middle. 

“Hahhh- Itto, will that even fi-” You were cut off again as he bullied his way into your cunt, filling you completely, hitting a very different spot inside of you. “Ahn, Itto!”

You didn’t have any time to adjust to the new, better feeling. His thrusts were fast, needy, hard. He pummeled into you relentlessly, pressing your knees into your chest harder, his nails digging into the fat of your thighs. Your moans began to turn into screams of pleasure. You’ve never felt this way before – and never expected to feel this way from someone who was a complete virgin. Your body shook as his hips snapped against your ass, the movements needy and hungry.

“Itto~ Aah!” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation. You came hard, almost too hard for you to handle, the avalanche of pleasure combined with Itto’s unrelenting movements forcing fat tears to roll down your face as you wailed. Your walls clenched around him, but he continued pummeling into you without any indication of stopping.

There was something feral about the way Itto moved, his grunts as he thrusted, the wild look in his eyes. You had never seen someone with this kind of stamina, with this kind of animalistic desire. You gasped as you felt him grow even larger, a bulge beginning to grow at the base of his length, stretching you further as it popped in and out of you wetly. It grew bigger until it became stuck inside you, Itto no longer being able to pull his engorged cock out of your abused pussy. You were stretched so tightly around it that nothing escaped, even his final release.

Itto groaned as he came and his movements finally fell still. He collapsed on top of you, his arms landing on either side of your body to prevent his weight from crushing you. He unloaded a final time inside of you, his member twitching as hot ropes of cum painted your insides, this time trapped inside of you by the huge knot at the base.

“Hahhh… ‘m so tired…” Itto sighed, his hot breath blowing across your neck. He buried his face into the nape of your neck where he had bitten you, pressing his lips gently against the bleeding bite mark.

“W-what was that,” You murmured, staring up at the ceiling as you finally came down from your high..

“Dunno…” Itto mumbled, “but now I can’t pull it out… ‘n I’m sleepy…”

The Oni relaxed and you felt more of his weight shift on top of you. His breathing became more even, and it sounded to you like he had just fallen asleep.

“I-Itto?” You whispered, looking to the side to see his eyes peacefully closed.

It was weirdly characteristic of your boss to pass out on top of you after fucking you silly.

You smiled to yourself, finally closing your eyes as well.

‘I suppose I’ll have to apologize to Miss Kuki tomorrow…’ You thought to yourself as you drifted off.

~~~

The next morning, you woke up in a different position. You were underneath heaps of blankets, wrapped in something very soft and warm. You opened your eyes to see that you were inside Itto’s (pretty much destroyed) bedroom. The clothes you were wearing – if you could call it that – were hanging off of you like rags. You didn’t realize the sex you had the previous evening was that crazy. There were bite marks and scratches that littered what skin was visible above the blankets, and you dreaded seeing how you felt once you started walking.

You shifted in place, and heard a loud creak. you looked down to see the bed was sloped at an unusual angle, evidence that the entire bed frame had been broken. You looked around to see scraps of yours and Itto’s clothes littered across the floor. You tried sitting up to get a better look, but felt something slightly tighten around you as you moved. That was when you realized Itto was sleeping behind you, his arms wrapped around your torso, hugging you close to his chest. You turned your head to see his serene face, feeling his messy yet soft hair tickle your face and neck.

You smiled. Arataki Itto really was a good guy, no matter how dumb. You decided it was likely a good idea to slip out before he woke up, since there’d be no doubt he would feel bad for what he did to you last night if he was awake to see the state of your body. Besides, you had to somehow get home and shower before you needed to turn up for work. 

You began to shift slightly, figuring out a good angle to slip out of his grasp and inch out of bed.

“Don’t go…” Itto murmured, his voice raspy and deep from sleep. It was as if he could sense you were trying to leave, even though he wasn’t fully awake – he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. 

“H-huh?” you stuttered, confused. You believed you were only there to help him with his… unique problem. So when Itto held you close the next morning, you didn’t understand why.

“I like you a lot… I've liked you since I first laid eyes on you.” Itto finally opened his eyes, giving you a soft smile. Your gaze traveled up to meet his sleepy ruby eyes.

“You mean when I stopped you from eating beans?” You scoffed, but you couldn’t stop the smile that grew across your face.

“Yeah, you saved my life! How could I not fall head over heels for you?”

“You do realize that I’d already been working for you for like… three weeks when that happened.” You quipped.

“Hey, that was the first time I noticed you!” Itto whined, and you never expected to say the words that came out of your mouth next.

“Well, I’m glad you finally noticed me.” You moved one hand up to run your fingers through his unruly hair. “And I like you too.”

You laid a sweet peck on his forehead then retreated back under the covers, nuzzling your face into Itto’s chest and closing your eyes again. Work could wait.

~~~

Bonus: The Previous Night

Kuki Shinobu hadn’t heard from you in a couple hours. It was beginning to get dark, and she wondered if you had given up on trying to get Itto to leave his room. She decided to turn up at his house and check to see if he was still there.

As she approached the house, she could hear strange sounds coming from the upstairs window that happened to be completely open. Itto’s purple undershirt was hanging out of the window, and a dim light came from inside… Shinobu knew that meant Itto must be at home. However, as she got closer, she could hear someone else inside.

“Ahn, Itto~”

That sounded like your voice… she wondered why you would still be at his house, when you told her you would go fetch Itto hours ago. However, your voice sounded a little unusual.

“S-so big…” Your voice sounded more like a moan, and Shinobu’s eyes went round with shock as she heard Itto speak next.

“A-ah, Y/N you feel so good!”

Shinobu had to slap a hand over her mouth to stop her from making a noise of death. She spun on her heels and ran away, completely scarred by what she just heard her boss exclaim.

‘Well, at least I know Boss is alright now…’ She thought to herself, nauseated at the thought of what he and you were likely doing right now.

#itto x reader #itto x y/n #itto smut #itto x you #arataki itto #kuki shinobu #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin x reader #x reader #reader insert #itto is an oni #itto has rut cycles #arataki x reader #genshin arataki #arataki smut #arataki gang #arataki itto x you #genshin itto #arataki itto x reader #arataki itto x y/n #genshin impact kuki #itto is an idiot #itto is a virgin

[anisespice]

tokyo revengers boys when their horny but their s/o is too busy to deal with their shit? (u can add bonten-)

aye aye, anon! 🫡 needy men are my favorite flavor 🤤 thank you so much for your patience, and requesting ♡♡♡

pairing: tr x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, MDI. cursing, vague descriptions of sex, teasing, mild nipple-play, empty threats, crack!fic coded behavior, a tiny pinch of barely-there angst in mikey’s with a hint of misogyny, and i think that’s it :D feel free to lemme know if i missed anything!

notes: something about this request screamed sano to me, and maybe even throw sanzu in the mix for a little treat ( ˘ ³˘). also may have strayed a little from the original plot of the request, but the premise is fairly the same >:)) hope you enjoy !!

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow

“Get outta there.”

Though your tone sounded stern, your demeanor remained placid as you continued typing on your laptop, making no move to actually stop the hands from creeping inside your sweater. You were well aware of their destination, and it was anything but harmless. SHINICHIRO was latched onto you the moment he arrived at your place, excited to spend his day off alone with you, and away from the prying eyes of his siblings for once. Rarely did the two of you get alone time due to your conflicting schedules, savoring the moments you did get without outward distractions in the way.

Things were going great for the most part…until your boss decided to dump busywork into your email, last minute.

“…tell ‘em to go fuck himself, so you can focus on fucking me,” Shinichiro grumbled into your shoulder, calloused hands feeling up your chest with slow, deliberate touches. You chortled, masking the small moan that nearly slipped out when he gently grazed your nipples.

“Good idea, Shin. But wait, oh shoot, fucking you won’t exactly pay my bills, now will it? So, knock it off.”

“Who says it won’t? I’ll pay your bills for the next month, hell, the next six months, if it means you’ll let me just stick it in, baby, please..”

You hissed through your teeth at the small pinch he gave your sensitive nubs, dick damn-near throbbing against your lower back as he rutted against you. Should’ve known sitting on his lap while you worked would backfire, poor thing’s so wound up, you felt a little bad. It’d been nearly three weeks since you and Shinichiro had even a second to breathe the same air, let alone touch each other.

You weren’t immune, craving a taste of him just as much, there’s nothing you wanted more than to succumb to his persuasion. But, having been on bad terms with your tyrant boss one too many times, you couldn’t afford to procrastinate.

“Shini,” you spoke, breathless as he suckled on your neck, growing more bold with his touch, “a-as much as I’d love for you to do that for me… you don’t exactly have the funds to make such an offer.”

He huffed, nipping playfully at your pulse. “I’ll get another job. Good? Good, problem solved, can you take your clothes off now?”

“Tempting…but no. Appreciate the sentiment, though.”

Shinichiro whined in the crook of your neck. His hands slowed to a stop inside your sweater, slipping down to rest on your tummy instead. It sent a tiny shiver up your spine, but was ignored all the same as you attempted to resume typing, seeming to have put a damper on his resolve. Or, so you thought.

Not even a minute passed when you felt his fingers searching for something else to play with. Something that has been calling his name since he waltzed through your front door. “Shin…”

Your warning fell upon deaf ears. Shinichiro merely shrugged, feigning innocence while his hands breached the waistband of your sleep-shorts, stopping right at your pelvic bone. Leaning back in the chair, the ravenette spread his legs further apart, forcing yours to do the same, giving him even more access to your already accessible center. Despite his lanky stature, homie had grip—Try and close your legs all you want, you’ll pull a muscle before pulling out of it. Your heart was borderline going Macarena, focus jumbled up to the point there were more typos than words in the report you tried completing.

You huffed, though your tone sounded less stern compared to the first time. “Shinichiro. If you don’t let me finish my work…I’ll ban your dick from ever entering me or this house for a whole month.”

On any other given day, that empty threat would’ve done the trick, hands flying off you so fast you’d think he got electrocuted. But, this wasn’t any other given day. This was already a two-week long hiatus of his most favorite place to be, in between your legs, and the only thing keeping him from it was your lack of underwear beneath thin-cotten shorts. Threaten him if you must, but it won’t work.

You weren’t fooling anyone.

Playing hard to get could take you so far, but he knew you were mere moments from crumbling to your desires you tried so hard to suppress, no shot you’d last another day, let alone a month. He was determined, and you were being stubborn—An immovable object verses an unstoppable force. Eventually, someone had to give. And it wasn’t about to be you.

It went on like that for another few minutes, him feeling you up and you batting him away. It only worsened the second he went further in your shorts, teasing your sex until you soaked through the fabric. You could feel his smug grin against your shoulder, no doubt thinking he was winning this battle. However, Shinichiro wasn’t aware of your trump card, your Charizard, if you will.

It’s a dirty trick. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

By slamming your fists atop of the table, startling him right out of your shorts, you turned to look him dead in the face, and said, “Don’t make me call Mikey.”

The mechanic widely blinked. But, his shock was short lived as he fixed you a sarcastic look, bringing his slick-coated fingers up to the light and right into his mouth to be even more obnoxious. After pulling them out with a wet pop!, Shinichiro called your bluff.

“You wouldn’t.”

“And would. Emma’s probably dying to catch up with me anyway, since I haven’t been around as much lately. And we both know Mikey would come just to spite you.”

As you continued to hold his stare, not backing down or giving any indication that you were joking, the sardonicism began to melt off his demeanor, and soon realization took its place. Shortly after that, betrayal. How could you be so cruel? He was already competing with an inanimate object, he’ll be damned if his siblings get added to the list. Taking a moment to weight his options, or lack there of, his face soon resembled a kicked puppy with his bottom lip stuck out and everything; you could’ve sworn his eyes started to water. “t’s not fair…been waiting all damn day…”

“I know, baby. But I need you to hang on for just a little longer f’me, okay? And once I’m done, then I’m all yours.” You cooed, placing a small peck on his nose as an olive branch. It seemed to do the trick, his frown softening as he pointed at his lips, puckering them. You snorted, but happily obliged, even placing a few more across his face until you got a smile. Shinichiro soaked up whatever he could as he leaned into you for more.

When it seemed he was satisfied, you turned back to continue working…only for the ravenette to try his luck one more time. “Can I get one here, too?”

You peered at him from over your shoulder—Give you one guess where he was pointing, wearing that all too pleased grin from before. You deadpanned.

“…I’m calling Mikey.”

“NoOO—”

—

“That’s considered sexual harassment, Mr. Sano.”

If he could time travel, MIKEY would beat the breaks off his past-self for ever encouraging you to fill the role of secretary at his work. At first, it seemed like a fantastic idea—Standing at his side, his pretty little assistant, wearing a tight uniform that left nothing to the imagination. He’d bend you over his desk and fuck you anytime he pleased, you’d call him Sir, and walk around the office filled to the brim with his cum until time to go home, then he’d fill you up all over again—The perfect work-life balance.

However, the gangster didn’t account for one teensy thing—You, actually taking the job seriously, and setting professional boundaries the moment you were hired on the staff. No matter if you’d be practically all over him in the car moments prior to clocking in, the second your kitten heels touched the marbled floors of the lobby…he wasn’t your lover anymore. He was your boss.

And he hated it.

“Sexual harass—You’re my s/o, [______].”

“Not within these walls, I’m not.” You continued reading one of the files left on your desk to review for tomorrow’s meeting, only for it soon to vanish right before your eyes. After a long blink, you held out an expectant hand to the stubborn blonde. “May I have that back, please?”

“No.”

“Mr. Sano-”

“If you address me formally one more time, I’ll take you right here in the middle of this hallway. Try me.” He hissed, holding the file out of reach.

You pursed your lips, fighting a grin. Seeing him get so worked up over not being able to get his dick wet was entertaining to say the least, but you were well aware he wasn’t kidding. Clearing your throat, you attempted to tread lightly as your expression morphed back to neutral.

“Alright. Mikey,” his eye twitched, but you continued, “would you be so kind as to let me finish reading the material for your meeting tomorrow? I would hate for anything to be amiss because I didn’t do a thorough review.”

“Tch. Where’s Kakucho? I distinctly remember assigning this task for him. Not you.”

You raised a brow. “You sent him on an impromptu errand to fill up the time he was spending ‘idling at my desk’. You remember that?”

Mikey averted his gaze. “…Don’t recall.”

“‘course you don’t,” you exhaled. “Mikey, with all due respect-”

“Not that name either.” He commanded, slapping the file back on the desk before placing his hands upon it to lean forward, towering over you. You couldn’t fight the grin this time, tilting your head up at him, amusement in your gaze.

“That’s your name, is it not?”

Mikey glared. “You know that isn’t the one I’d prefer you to use.”

With a shrug, you easily replied, “It’s what most of your employees call you. And last time I checked, that included me-” Mikey was quick to grab your chin, forcing you to look deep into his dark, deranged eyes. Man’s was definitely toeing line of his limit, and you were pushing it.

“And last time I checked, you aren’t like most employees. You’re my partner who’s working on my last nerve, and should really consider dropping this whole ‘professionalism’ act before I remind them why they were hired in the first place. And no, it wasn’t for your work ethic and attention to detail, or whatever bullshit Koko told you in the interview.”

Ouch.

Not to say you didn’t figure there were ulterior motives behind getting approved for the job, especially under the circumstances that you were heavily under-qualified to work in their type of environment. But, you tried your damnedest to keep up, do your part, and not be a burden on the team. For him to call it nonsense and boldly confirm such suspicions outloud? You think he realized his mistake the second your face reverted back to its neutral state. Wiggling out of his grip, you leaned back in the chair with your arms tightly crossed to your chest.

“That so? Well then, Michael, how ‘bout I remind you why a man shouldn’t mix his business with his pleasure. Things could turn ugly for him, maybe even end up losing both a loyal employee and a lover all in one day. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Out of all the names, that one made him cringe the most. A clear indicator of his grandiose fuck-up, one that if he didn’t fix immediately, he’d soon suffer the consequences. And your wrath.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. It came out wrong-”

“Oh, I’m sure it didn’t. You’re a man who speaks his mind, after all.”

Mikey, though subtly, panicked. This wasn’t at all how he expected the conversation to go. But, it’s not his fault! It was his dick doing all the driving. With you working for Bonten, his long hours became yours, and by the time you both got home, sex became scarce due to your exhaustion. He was immune to the taxation of the job, while it was kicking your ass. And to top it off, he couldn’t even cop a feel of his own s/o, in his own damn building, because of ‘power imbalances’ between a boss and secretary that was ‘socially unacceptable’, according to you…as you work for the biggest crime syndicate in all of Japan.

Flawed reasoning aside, it drove him insane.

But, no thanks to his lust-clouded brashness, if Mikey thought getting some action at work was difficult, his chances at home just got a whole lot worse. He’d be lucky if you even slept in the same bed tonight.

“[_____],” he sighed, reaching over to grab your hand, though you moved it away at the last second. “You do a fantastic job here, angel. Exceeded all my expectations, actually-”

“Well, based on the merits of why you hired me in the first place, that doesn’t sound like much.” At that point, you went back to reviewing the file he threw back on the desk, seeming disinterested. But, Mikey knew better.

He’d hurt your feelings. To be reduced to nothing but eye candy for him, when you were busting your ass off like everyone else, it stung. It was playful at first, but now the blonde had crossed a line. With determination, Mikey removed the file from your sight once more, rounding the desk before crouching down so he could level with you this time.

You allowed him to take your hands in his, still indifferent. Mikey spoke with a tenderness only reserved for you, one that never failed to melt any cold front you built to wane his efforts.

“I was being childish. I shouldn’t have diminished your role like that, and I apologize for making you feel like your work isn’t appreciated. I’m glad to have you as my loyal employee. Even if a visit in my office from my lover from time to time wouldn’t be too bad, either…”

His words trailed off, along with his gaze as he reminisced. You chortled, shaking your head. Mikey looked back at you, ghost of a grin on his face. “I’ll back off. Promise.”

You raised a brow, skeptical. “You mean it?”

“Mmhm. Under one condition.”

You groaned, “Mikey-”

“Manjiro.”

“Oh, is that the condition?” He lightly pinched you for the snark, resting his head on your lap. But, before you could reprimand him for his inappropriate position, your words catch in your throat.

His stare was intense as they gazed up at you with hidden hunger, the tenderness still swimming in the inky pools, but not as present compared to moments ago. Mikey licked his lips, nuzzling against your plush thigh.

“Work less hours. Don’t want you to run yourself ragged trynna keep up with the rest of us. We’ve been doing this line of work a lot longer than you have, baby. No need to overcompensate. I’m already proud of you.”

Steadily did those words make your heart melt, until your were practically mush once they’ve set in. To hear his pride in you almost made you kick your feet, for that was all you really wanted at the end of the day—Acknowledgment. Validation. Praise. And working less hours would definitely benefit in more ways than one, more so on your mental health. You won’t lie and say this new job hasn’t been a challenge, all the talk about blood, death and drugs, one could only handle so much.

“Thank you..Manjiro.” He lit up at the sound of his name spilling sweetly from your lips. “I greatly appreciate you saying that. But, what’s the catch?”

He hummed, hands releasing yours to caress your calves all the way back up to your hips. Mikey didn’t pull nor tug, more so just holding you in place as he continued to watch you like a hawk. Eventually he shook his head, tresses fluttering with him as they curtained the sides of his face.

“No catch. Work your hours, I’ll leave you be…But once those hours are up, you better be sitting pretty on my desk with your reports in one hand and your underwear in the other, waiting for me to choose between my business and my pleasure. Deal?”

—

“Pout all you want, I’m not sitting on your face.”

When you informed your darling SANZU that your Saturdays were strictly for housework, he honestly thought you were joking—What idiot in their twenties would spend the weekend doing that?

Evidently his idiot, that’s who.

Imagine his surprise when he showed up, unannounced, ready to have you on every piece of furniture, only to be threatened with a feather duster the second he went to grab your ass. “Paws off. I already changed the sheets on my bed, cleaned the bathroom, the kitchen, and mopped the floors, so unless you’re here to help dust or wipe windows, keep it in your pants, Haruchiyo.”

Needless to say, he wasn’t the happiest houseguest.

After the long work week he’s had, Sanzu was looking forward to locking the two of you in the back all weekend, going at it like rabbits with no other purpose but keep the neighbors up—Pretty much until the room stank. But, thanks to this cleaning ritual of yours, that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. Especially not with the various scented candles you were burning to hide the potent smell of bleach and pine-sol. God, he was getting such a headache from overstimulation…and not the good kind.

“This is such bullshit,” he groaned into the couch, where you banished him after he tried to bend you over the washing machine while you were loading another basket of dirty clothes. “Why’d you even invite me over if we weren’t gonna do anything…”

You paused from folding, side-eyeing him. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You said you were staying in all day. That’s practically code for: I’m bored, come dick me down.”

Your laugh had snuck up on you, racking through your entire body to the point you had curled forward. The leap he took to draw such a conclusion nearly gave you whiplash as you attempted to regain composure. “Maybe for freaky-fucks like you, but the rest of us usually mean it as something mundane. Like, oh I dunno, doing chores.”

“On a Saturday?? What ‘re ya, 80??”

You shrugged, placing another item onto its respective pile. “You don’t have to stay, y’know. If you have something better to do, then by all means, don’t let me keep you.”

Sanzu abruptly sat up from his position, the clothes you had laid on his back flopping onto the floor, instantly losing their folded shape. You shot him an annoyed glance, but figured some of the blame was yours for using his skittish-ass for a table. The pinkette wore a pitiful look, wide cerulean eyes piercing right through you as he gave a defiant punch to the couch cushion, “Was ‘posed to be doing you! And you are keeping me from doing that!”

With a huff, you set aside the pile you were currently working through to gather up the clothes that he so rudely let fall to the floor. “Unfortunate. Now lay back down, and be a good table. Since you wanted to be chair so fucking badly.”

“Piss off.”

He absolutely laid back down.

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

#🍁allspice #🍁wasabi #burnout go BRRT‼️🫠 #tokyorev #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev imagine #tr smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers smut #bonten #bonten smut #bonten x reader

[kissablening]

SECRETS & WEBS — s.rj oneshot

pairings: spiderman!ryujin x roommate fem!reader

summary: your roommate, shin ryujin, turns out to be the citys superhero , spiderman but you are unaware of that..

warnings: language

wc: 827

note: oneshot debut👀👀 , lmk if yall want another part to this lol!!

IT was about 11 pm on a Sunday night, usually you’d be in bed, ready to sleep— but you had an important exam tomorrow so you used all the extra time you had to study for it.

You sigh at the thought of taking your exam tomorrow, it was infact a math exam and to your luck you were horrible at the subject.

Your roommate, shin ryujin aka the nerd of the house, promised to help you with studying today which was another reason you were still awake, waiting for her to return to your apartment even though it was late as hell.

You sat in silence, thinking about the answer to the 4th question on the study guide ryujin made you before she left, she made sure it was as difficult as the exam because damn, you were struggling on it too.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud coming from the front of the apartment, this freaked you out because usually, ryujin messages you 5 minutes before she arrives home. You quickly grab the bat sitting in the corner of your room before slowly opening your room door to go check what the thud was.

The only source of light was coming from your room since you earlier turned off any light you werent using to help the light bill a little. Rushing to turn on the living room light, the front door was still unlocked but the light to ryujins room was on.

Okay, what the fuck.

“Ryu, is that you? Are you home?” you call out, making sure it was her in her own room and not a intruder. You let out a sigh of relief after hearing her swear under her breath. You discard the bat somewhere on the sofas in the living room before walking towards ryujins bedroom.

You tried just walking into her room as you always do but the door was locked. weird. “ryu what was that thud about? are you okay in there?”

“Im fine yn, just dropped my dumbell on the floor.” she responds almost out of breath. weird x2.

“dumbell? since when did you have dumbells?” You question putting your ear to the door so you could hear her better, instead you hear her unlocking the door so you quickly moved away waiting for her to open it.

She opens the door standing in the door frame with a smirk on her face, yes you said she was a nerd, but she was still popular in school, played sports, basically your local f-boy with an actual big brain. “What do you mean since when did i have dumbells? do you think i just have these abs through genetics?” She taunts motioning her hand up and down her body. your eyes follows her hands eyeing her body, your eyes widened, “Like what you see? well you can always—”

“SHIN RYUJIN WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU, SERIOUSLY WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING SO MUCH!!! OH MY GOD I NEED TO GET THE FIRST AID KIT.” You panic after seeing the large bloody cut on the side of ryujins torso, running to find a first aid kit. Ryujin eyes widened and looked down.

Ryujin curses to herself in her head for forgetting to heal that spot, she expected You to be sleeping by this time, what she wasn’t expecting was her roommate finding the large cut a villain left on her, that she forgot to heal.

She slowly stops the bleeding on the wound, enough that you wont notice its stopped completely. She could hear your footsteps becoming louder.

Standing up straight placing her hand on her cut, she watched as you guided her to the dining table, sitting her down in the chair, placing the first aid kit onto the table.

“Seriously ryu are you an idiot? How the hell did u even get a cut this big?” You scold patting the cut down with alcohol wipes.

“Ahaha, its no big deal babe, i didnt even feel a thing.” Ryujin replies smiling down at the girl whose glaring at her through her reading glasses. “So, whyre you still up at this time, yn?”

“I was..waiting for you.” You say shyly , wrapping the wound in a bandage. “And all done, youre welcome.”

Ryujin ruffles her hair before standing up, secretly healing the wound in the process. “Awww, you were waiting for me?” She grabs yn’s cheeks.

Your cheeks heat up immediately, ryujin was always a flirt so why is this effecting you right now? “N..No! I was waiting for you to help me study ryujin. You promised..”

“Oh shit I did, im sorry ill help you study now.” Ryujin says grabbing your hand, leading you to her room to help you study. Letting out a sigh of relief that you didn’t bombard her with questions about why she was home so late.

“Oh by the way.. why were you home so late? its nearly 1 am.”

Shit.

⋆｡°✩🕸️🕷️✮⋆˙

#⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ࣪𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #ryujin x fem reader #ryujin itzy #itzy ryujin #ryujin x reader #shin ryujin #ryujin #itzy #oneshot #fanfic #kissablening stories #𓍢 ›𓂃 ִֶָ ࣪

[sku1l-b4e]

2008tom x reader fluff,where they are at the beach🫶🏼

i love this era of him

Beach Day !!

Category: fluff 🫶🏻 Warnings: nothin' much, kissing?, swearing, playful insults... That's ab it.

It was a beautiful summer day, you, your boyfriend and his band had all decided to go to the beach. Thank god you did, your mother had researched a more private beach so you all weren't swarmed with paparazzi or fans, then you all set off. Georg was driving the car, Bill was in the passenger seat so he could mess with the radio, Gustav was behind Bill with his headphones on and you were sat on Tom's lap.

His arms wrap tightly around your waist, as if protecting you despite the fact that the seatbelt was around you both. You smile and tilts you head back, pressing your lips against his jaw to which he chuckles and kisses your forehead.

As soon as the car reaches the parking lot next to the large sand dunes, everyone gets out. Tom unbuckles the seatbelt and changes your position so he can carry you bridal style out of the car. You laugh and cling to his neck, allowing him to pepper your face and neck in kisses, leaving Georg to grumble about having to close the door after the two of you.

A couple hours later, you're relaxing on your towel, in your bikini which seems to have been made for you, it flatters every curve (or lack of) and the colour is perfect for your skin tone. Tom was sitting next to you, a cigarette between his lips as he picks a scab on his shin. You look over at him and gently wack his hand away from the scab, earning a frown from him. "Stop it, don't want you bleeding." You say, to which he sighs and places his cigarette between your lips. You take a puff and blow it out, slowly sitting up to watch Bill be pushed into the sea by Gustav who seems to be having far too much fun with torturing Bill, Bill's voice flowing through the air and to your ears. "Fuck off Gustav! It's so- AH-"

"I love you."

Toms voice breaks you out of your daze and you look to him as his hand reaches for his cigarette again. A smile creeps onto your face, noticing how he had looked away as soon as your turned your attention to him. "I love you too." You say softly, gazing at him with gentle eyes. He glances at you and looks away. "Shut up..."

You laugh at him and shuffle closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. His skin is hot and you know he'll burn soon, you glance over towards his back and shake your head. "You need suncream."

Tom groans and tries to move away from you as soon as he hears the bottle click open but how you wrap your legs around his waist from behind stops him. "Fuck off, bitch." He grumbles, wiggling his back to try and escape the cold liquid being spread on his skin. "Don't be a cunt, Tom. Jus' tryna help."

Soon enough, he gives in and slumps over in defeat. But you soon cheer him up by wrapping your loving arms around him and kissing around his face. He chucks his now finished cigarette into the sand and tackles you onto your towel, wrapping himself around you. "Fuck- you're really heavy!" You laugh to which he chuckles and kisses around your neck, gently sucking on the skin before settling down and cuddling you, not caring about the sunburn that will surely appear later in the day.

IM SO SORRY ITS SO SHORT 😭

#tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader smut #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #gustav schäfer #love #georg listing #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #beach #summer #smoker #cigarette #girls who smoke cigarettes

[atinylittlepain]

I've Got You - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

joel miller masterlist

She and Joel are partners in business. Nothing more. But they’ll both have to come to terms with this lie they’ve been telling themselves when something unspeakable happens.

warnings | 18+ angst, very dark themes (near SA, canon-typical violence), smut

Joel was difficult to talk to, so it was a good thing she didn’t have much to say. She figured that’s why they worked so well together. 

She had been in the Boston QZ since she was a teenager, since the beginning of all this really. Had set up a solid business in smuggling, finding it easy to go out into the open since she had nothing to lose, all her family gone in the first few days of the outbreak. It had hardened her, being on her own for so long, so when she found out she had competition from two newcomers, she was quick to make Joel’s and Tess’ acquaintance, knife in hand. If it hadn’t been for Tess’ diplomatic nature, she’s certain her and Joel would have killed each other then and there, two loose cannons butting heads. But, they had worked it out, merging their “business” and soon enough, they were the predominant smugglers of Boston, exerting a wide and powerful influence when they needed to.

Tess handled the deals, while she and Joel handled the actual runs. They could both go days without speaking, trailing each other along the crumbling highways, filling their packs with salvaged goods to take back. She didn’t know much about him, just that he had lost something big, just like her, just like most folks still alive. But they were comfortable with each other, an unwavering trust that had developed over months of successful jobs.

They were wrapping up another successful trip, about two day’s out from the QZ. They’d stop at Bill and Frank’s tomorrow, get a trade in before heading back. Night was starting to slip over the woods and they had set up camp in a thicket of trees. She took the first watch while Joel hunched into the side of his sleeping bag, trying to get some sleep. She blames it on herself, really, for letting her guard down when she should’ve been on alert. But they had never run into trouble in this area, and, to be quite honest, she was fucking exhausted after five days on the road. Even sitting up, hands around her shins, she was starting to fade in and out of sleep. 

That didn’t last long though, when suddenly she was being yanked up and back by her hair. Her shriek was cut off quick by a knife being pressed flat against her throat. She could feel the man’s beard scratching against the side of her face as he held her up against him. There were two others, one of whom had his gun trained on Joel who had been startled awake by the sound. Hunters, from the looks of them.

Joel had sat up, holding his palms out, his eyes darting between the mouth of the gun and her. The man with the gun spoke first.

“Don’t want no trouble, pal.” She could see the muscles in Joel’s cheek tick as he sized the man up.

“Doesn’t look that way to me, pal.” The man holding her up chuckled.

“Now, now, no need to get all worked up. Just gonna want some of whatever you got in those packs.” He paused for a moment, bringing his other hand to caress down the side of her body. She shuddered under his sickening touch. “And maybe a little turn with your girl here.” 

Joel was on his feet fast at that, but the other two men moved quick to grab hold of him. He struggled in their grip but the one punched him, hard, in the stomach, forcing him to double over.

She writhed under the man’s grip but he pressed the blade firmer into her throat.

“Easy, little bird. Why don’t you and I go have some alone time, huh? And if you’re real nice to me, I’ll think about not blowing your boyfriend’s brains out? That sound good to you?” She huffs as he jostles her in his grip, keeping a sneer across her face even though she nods. What the fuck else can she do?

“Be right back, gentlemen. Don’t y’all go nowhere.” He hoists her around, shoving her forward until they’re deeper into the woods, the glow of their camping lantern just a speck amongst the trees. He throws her down to the ground, quick to straddle her hips, pressing a knee into each of her wrists to keep her prone underneath him. There’s a rushing in her ears and her whole body’s shaking as he wrenches her jeans and underwear down her thighs. The man grunts behind her.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t ya? Think I ought to leave you with a little souvenir of our time together, huh?” She has no clue what he means, his voice sounding muffled as her mind continues to go hazy. But then there’s a searing pain in her low back and she realizes he’s carving something into her skin. She lets out a broken scream but he cuts her off by shoving a wad of cloth into her mouth. It’s agonizing until it’s not anymore, until her body goes slack under his hold. She realizes he’s carving letters into her skin. He’s carving initials. He finishes his work, she hears him throw the knife down beside them. He whistles low.

“Even prettier, little bird. Giving me something real nice to look at while I fuck you.” She feels frozen, numb, only startling slightly at the sound of gunshots in the distance. Her mind offers up a single thought like a mote of dust floating in the dim light. Joel. She picks up the fight again, as best she can, squirming under his hold, but he grabs a hold of her hair, forcing her head back.

“Watch it, little bird. Or I won’t be so sweet to you no more.” He drops her head, her face smearing in the rotting leaves of the forest floor. 

She can hear him undoing his belt in the gloom and she braces herself for what’s coming, her whole body tensing. But just then, another gunshot rings out, and she feels the man above her go slack, falling off to the side. Her wrists ache where he had been pressing them into the dirt. She heaves, huge rolling gasps leaving her shuddering ribcage as she tries to press herself up.

She hears her name being called through the rushing in her ears, feels a pair of hands gently pulling her jeans back up her legs. And then she sees Joel in the corner of her blurry vision, leaning down to search her face. She lets out a bone-rattling sob of his name and he gathers her up in his arms, sitting down on the ground and pulling her into him. There’s blood spattered across his shirt, but she doesn’t care, digging her face into his chest. He still smells like him.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything else happen to you. I’ve got you.” 

…

Somehow, they manage to get to Bill and Frank’s the next day. Joel had overpowered the men last night, killing them all handily by the time he got to her. She hadn’t spoken since he’d found her, mutely walking alongside him, keeping her eyes on the road. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

When they met the two men at the fence, they both looked taken aback by her demeanor. Bill later told Joel he thought she looked like a spooked horse, wild eyes not quite making contact, jerky, stiff movements. Frank immediately took her under his arm, guiding her into the house to tend to her bruised wrists. The couple always had a soft spot for her, had been working with her long before Joel came around, and they treated her like a daughter. Joel and Bill were left standing there, staring each other down. Bill asked him what happened but all Joel could do was shake his head, a deep sigh rumbling through his chest as he scrubbed harshly at his jaw.

Bill offered him a shower and a clean set of clothes, which he gladly accepted, watching the rust-colored water swirl around the drain. All cleaned up, he ran into Frank in the hallway as he was coming out of the bathroom.

“She’s sleeping. I gave her some painkillers, to get her some rest, at least. She told me what happened.” Joel shifts in his boots, looking down at the floor, trying to hold onto whatever restraint he has left, to not crumple in front of Frank.

Frank brings his hand to Joel’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you, for what you did, Joel. For her.” Joel clears his throat.

“Didn’t do enough– should’ve– I should’ve–” Frank cuts him off with another squeeze to his shoulder.

“You did what you could. Listen, Bill won’t ever admit it. But that girl? She’s like family to us. Thank you for saving her. You did. You saved her.” All Joel can do is nod, trying to not let the thick feeling in his throat roll into tears.

…

The sun has already set. As always, Bill and Frank had cooked a mind-boggling meal, but she didn’t join them for dinner. Frank had taken a plate up to her before they sat down, and when he came back downstairs he told them that she was awake, that she was feeling ok.

After dinner, Joel excused himself as the couple settled at the piano together, telling them he wanted to turn in early. The room they had set him up in was across the hall from where she was and before he could think better of it, he was lightly knocking on her door.

She called for him to come in, and when he saw her, he was shocked at how much relief he felt in seeing her again. She was sitting on the side of the bed in a worn-looking t-shirt and sweatpants that Frank must have given her. She glanced quickly at him before looking down at her feet.

“Are you alright?” He’s taken aback from her question, softly shutting the door before turning back to look at her.

“You’re asking me if I’m alright?” She just shrugs, still not looking up at him.

“Frank sort of whisked me away this morning. Haven’t seen you since then, just wondering.” Joel tentatively sits down next to her, resting his forearms on his thighs, he looks at her over his shoulder.

“I’m fine. Are you alright?” She shakes her head.

“Don’t– don’t start treating me different, Joel.” “Not treating you different, I–”

“Yes you are, you’re treating me like I’m broken.” She scoffs before continuing, “I’m not that fragile. Thought you knew that by now. Christ, nothing even happened. You killed that-that bastard before he could really do anything.” Her breath shudders as she exhales.

“I know you’re not broken. And you’re certainly not fragile. Made of tougher stuff than most.” She shakes her head at that but he stops her.

“Hey. I also know that you’re a fucking human being. And you and I both know that even though nothing happened, something still did. Before I– before I could get to you.” It’s his turn to sigh now, wringing his hands that rest over his knees.

“Don’t, Joel. You did what you could, that’s enough.” He scoffs.

“Yeah, I did what I could. But it kills me that I didn’t do it quicker. When I saw him– on top of you, I– god, I– I’d rather die than see you hurt, do you get that?” Her head whips up to look at him, finally meeting his gaze.

“What?” He swallows hard, already regretting the words he just said, the dangerous confession he just gave to her.

“Look, I– I shouldn’t have said that, I should go,” he goes to stand but her hand reaches out to hold onto his and he freezes in place. His heart clenches when he looks at the mottled bruises long her wrist.

She turns to face him on the bed, cautiously raising her other hand to let her palm slide over his cheek. It comes out as a whisper when she says his name and something in Joel breaks.

He knows it’s rash, and maybe just plain stupid, but he still surges forward and when they kiss it’s not gentle or sweet, it’s desperate, it’s two people holding onto each other because it’s all they have. They move quickly, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his lap as she cards her fingers through his hair and when they kiss, they kiss ugly. All tongues and teeth and gasping breaths between. His fingers dig into her hips as she starts to press down onto his growing length. He pulls away, looking into her blown out eyes.

“I want you, Joel.” Afraid of what he might say in reply, he dives back in for her mouth, slowly starting to shift them until he’s laying her out on the bed with his legs slotted between her thighs.

He keeps his weight off her, seeing her slight wince with each movement, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm her. But she pulls him down by his shoulder blades, pressing him against her.

“Please, I just– I need to feel you, please.” He pauses, breathing heavily as he looks into her eyes, just nodding.

“You’ve got me, darlin’. I’m right here.” He shifts a bit closer to her, coming down onto his forearms as he kisses along her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbone. She sighs underneath him.

He feels her hands fumbling at the hem of his shirt and he leans back to shrug it off over his head. What he wasn’t expecting was for her to do the same with her own, and when he’s met with the sight of her bare chest, his breath catches in his throat. She reaches out for him but he’s still frozen in place, taking her in. He lets his hands slide up her sides, fingertips grazing over her nipples in a way that makes her shiver. He murmurs the only word he can think to before meeting her in another kiss.

“Beautiful.”

They press skin to skin now and the feeling, the warmth makes Joel shudder. He feels like he can’t get enough of her, the way she’s running her palms up and down the planes of his back, the little sounds she makes as he kisses her. She takes one of his hands and brings it to the waist of her sweatpants. His fingers halt there as he looks up to her, asking without saying anything, she just nods.

He slips his fingers under the band, skimming down to her folds. He groans at the pooling wetness there. She’s keening into his hand as he strokes her, dipping into her entrance before swirling her arousal around her clit.

“You’re perfect, baby. S’fucking perfect. Does that feel good?” She just nods, gasping his name when his fingers dip inside her again.

“J-Joel, please. Wanna feel you. W-want you inside me.” His head spins at her words and stops what he’s doing, splaying his palm across the soft swell of her stomach.

“Are you sure?” 

“I am.” He hangs his head, letting his forehead rest below her sternum, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, making sure this is real.

“Christ, ok. Ok, darlin’. I’ve got you.” He presses up off the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down along with his boxers. He thinks he might melt under her gaze, the way she takes in the sight of him.

He kneels at the end of the bed, bringing his hands to the waistband of her pants, looking up to her one more time, one more confirmation before he gently slides her pants and underwear off her legs. He sighs at the sight of her, bare beneath him, before framing her head with his forearms, laying over her and pressing in for a kiss. He guides the head of his cock through her folds and they both groan at the contact. She draws her knee up to his hip, spreading herself out for him just a bit more.

“You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” She nods, brushing his hair back away from his eyes before settling her hand on his cheek. He turns his head and lays a kiss in the middle of her palm before he starts to press into her. She gasps and he freezes immediately, but then she keens.

“D-don’t stop, please. Want you to keep going.” He huffs, pressing a bit deeper, taking in the way her back arches into him. Her nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder where she’s wrapped her arm.

Finally, his hips settle against hers, and they both sigh at the feeling of him being fully sheathed in her. Joel’s afraid that if he moves, this will be over before it’s even started. He dips his nose into her neck, smelling the soap Frank gave her to clean up with, but also just smelling her. Her heel digs a little into his low back, he looks up at her.

“You can move, baby.” Joel holds back a whimper at her words. He shifts his hips back, finding a slow roll back into her that has them both moaning. It’s a slow, deep pace they find, pushing and pulling against each other, lips smearing in barely-coherent kisses. 

He feels the pleasure pulling tight, ready to snap, but he needs to get her there first. He brings his fingers down, circling her clit a bit harshly. She whines at the contact and he can feel her pulse around him.

“Just let go, baby. I’ve got you. Let go for me, please.” She lets out a broken cry of his name before coming undone, and it’s enough to send Joel over the edge as well, quickly pulling out and painting her stomach with his spend. He’s panting as he leans in for a chaste kiss, pulling back to take in her flushed figure, the softly heaving swells of her body. He whispers that he’ll be right back, moving over to the attached bathroom to find a towel to clean her up with. He sits back on the bed, daubing away the mess he made. She’s smiling softly around a “thank you.” 

He passes her her t-shirt to slip back on while he tugs his boxers back up his legs before they both get under the covers, immediately tangling up in each other. There’s nothing to say, it’s unspoken what has just passed between them. Joel knows that from now on, he’s hers, and she’s his. 

Her breathing evens out before his, falling asleep in his arms. He lets his palm wander up her shirt, gently skating down her back. He pauses at the gauze bandage that sits at the base of her spine. He had seen what that man had done to her, the letters gruesomely carved into her skin. It made him wish he hadn’t just shot the man, that he had kept him alive to make him suffer, only giving him the mercy of death when he was begging for it. 

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller one shot #fanfic

[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox. ( teaser )

this fic has now been posted, read here !

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, that lives under bill and frank's roof says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. enemies to lovers ig, slow burn (i have intentions to drag this out into several long oneshots that can be read separately), unrequited love (except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion), pining, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel (if you squint), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap (reader implied late-20s), canon violence, smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, praise, degradation, possessiveness, panty stealing, dirty talk, dubcon ig, hints at ass-play, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse). this is set prior to ellie!!

word count. 10k. ( predicted )

hyde’s input. was hoping to finish and post this today in celebration of pedge's bday, but uni assignments got in the way and here i am posting a teaser instead of the full fic :(

nsfw beneath the cut, 18+ only !! ( unedited )

his only saving grace is that he can't see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint and up the crack of your behind.

"n- ah," you can't deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. "no, don't, not there."

next time, he thinks, we'll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you'll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank's- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there's little that's remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he's sure you've spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he's come to anticipate each time tess tells him they're due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island's counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he's envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he'd be able to bend and break you beneath his touch. and then there's him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than any man he's killed.

#joel miller smut #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut

[tnt-tourney]

welcome one and all to the 2023 t+t tournament!! despite the long wait for the final bracket, the day has finally arrived. due to the size of the text, the list of contestants will be under the cut. due to how many contestants there are, i wont be able to tag everything, but i will tag as much as i can.

now, since it's been a while, a quick rehashing of the relevant rules!

1. be polite to others participating in the vote

2. do not Rig the vote -- propaganda is more than welcome and the askbox is always open for it! i just dont have the energy to deal with botting

3. dont be rude if the contestants youre rooting for are voted out!! sometimes thats just the way things go. theres always next time!

4. have fun !

the polls will start rolling out sometime next week. thank you!!

left:

Hexsquad (The Owl House) VS. Vault Hunters (Borderlands 1+2)

The Bad Kids (D20: Fantasy High) VS. FloweringPassionFruit (Ride the Cyclone)

Barbie + Ken (Barbie) VS. Dwarves (Deep Rock Galactic)

Mabel Pines + Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls) VS. The Fantastic 4 (Marvel)

Klaus Hargreeves + Viktor Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) VS. Spiderband (Spider-Man: Into/Across the Spiderverse)

Lup + Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone) VS. Cleo de Nile + Deuce Gorgon (Monster High)

Spideypool (Marvel) VS. Gomez Addams + Morticia Addams (The Addams Family)

Team Rocket (Pokémon) VS. Rashmi Jamil + Amelie Macon + Loam Arnault (Entropic Float)

Link + Zelda (The Legend of Zelda) VS. Peter Parker + Harry Osborn (Marvel)

Huey Duck + B.O.Y.D. (Ducktales 2017) VS. Golf Ball + Tennis Ball (Battle for Dream Island)

Lewis + Vivi + Arthur (Mystery Skulls Animate) VS. Horokeu Usui + Pirica Usui (Shaman King)

Paulkins (Hatchetfield) VS. Magnus Chase + Alex Fierro (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard)

Bill Preston + Ted Logan (Bill and Ted) VS. Leonard Church + Agent Texas (Red vs. Blue)

Ariel + Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid) VS. Polypirates (JRWI: Riptide)

Cody Goodwin + May Goodwin (It Takes Two) VS. Frank-N-Furter + Magenta + Columbia + Riff Raff (The Rocky Horror Show)

SpaceDolls (Ride the Cyclone) VS. Kim Possible + Ron Stoppable (Kim Possible)

---

right:

The Guardians of the Galaxy (Marvel) VS. Julian Bashir + Miles O'Brien + Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space 9)

The Murder Crew (Clue) VS. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Vash the Stampede + Nicolas D. Wolfwood + Meryl Stryfe + Milly Thompson (Trigun) VS. Team Chaotix (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Steve + Alex (Minecraft) VS. Gyro Gearloose + Lil Bulb (Ducktales 2017)

Phantom Thieves (Persona 5) VS. Wright Anything Agency + Apollo Justice + Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney)

Westley + Buttercup (The Princess Bride) VS. Shin + Noi (Dorohedoro)

Kermit + Miss Piggy (The Muppets) VS. The Mechanisms

Jeremy Heere + Michael Mell + Christine Canigula (Be More Chill) VS. The Solve It Squad (The Solve It Squad Returns)

Harleyberts + Crockenglishes (Homestuck) VS. Sonic & co. (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Mulder + Scully (The X-Files) VS. Steph Lauter + Pete Spankoffski (Hatchetfield)

Main Cast (Omori) VS. Ben Tennyson + Gwen Tennyson + Kevin Levin (Ben 10)

Ashe Ubert + Claude Von Riegan + Sylvain Jose Gautier (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) VS. Birdetta + Yoshi (Mario)

Prime Defenders (JRWI: Prime Defenders) VS. Strilondes (Homestuck)

The Mystery Gang (Scooby Doo) VS. Billie Logan + Thea Preston (Bill and Ted)

Splatoon Idols VS. Lexthan (Hatchetfield)

Sex Bob-omb + Ramona Flowers (Scott Pilgrim vs. the World) VS. Jonathan Sims + Martin K. Blackwood (The Magnus Archives)

#tnt tourney 2023 #spiderman #homestuck #the mechanisms #just roll with it #the legend of zelda #ride the cyclone #rocky horror show #sonic the hedgehog #the muppets #hatchetfield #bill and ted #dorohedoro #teenage mutant ninja turtles #marvel #the little mermaid #battle for dream island #the addams family #the princess bride #monster high #the adventure zone #barbie #fantasy high #trigun #ace attorney #ducktales #splatoon #x files #star trek #persona 5

[certifiedtrashmouth]

Oh gosh I don’t wanna repeat someone and I’m not sure about Xmas traditions but what about ridiculous stocking stuffers w Eddie? Fluff/humor.

oh, god. this one also got out of hand. started in light-hearted fun and ended in fluff that had me screaming into my pillow. i'm sorry for the length.

good for one kiss (eddie munson x reader)

warnings: none really. mentions of penis??? (eddie makes a joke about his dick and there's mention of a blowjob but no description lol), mentions of cigarettes, idiots in love. best friends to lovers.

“What am I supposed to do with a single piece of gum?” 

“What am I supposed to do with a single cigarette?” 

“Smoke it, idiot.”

“It’s broken, idiot.” 

“Oh.” 

You and Eddie sit cross-legged across from each other on his bed on Christmas Eve, partaking in your annual gift exchange. But there was a catch; each year, you exchanged stockings, only gifting each other what you could fit in the glorified, fleece-lined socks. There had only been two exceptions to the rule of the years - the year you’d gifted Eddie his first professional-grade amp and he’d bawled like a baby (once he’d dried his tears, he’d threatened you and Wayne both endlessly about ever letting the story leave the room. The two of you had exchanged a look, though, knowing neither of you would ever let him live it down.) and the year Eddie had bought you your first acoustic six-string with the promise of lessons from him (it was onyx black and shined with promise as Eddie explained the two of you needed to use paint markers to decorate it). 

It was going on five years of the tradition that had stemmed from both of you never being able to afford much for each other, but still wanting to show you care nevertheless. And as the years had gone on, the gifts had slowly found their rhythm. There was always a perfect mixture of cliche throwaway gifts, gag gifts, and gifts so sentimental that some tears were sure to be shed by one of the parties. 

“I didn’t think it would break,” you scrunch your nose slightly as Eddie holds up the cigarette, limp from the crack in the middle of it. 

“What did you expect, just throwing it in here like that?” Eddie laughs, not bothered in the slightest. He had a pack of Camels snug in the pocket of his leather jacket slung over his desk chair. It was the thought that counted, after all. 

“I expected it to be absolutely fucking invincible for how expensive the pack was,” you whine, and he can’t help but watch you with bemusement, “I spent my last dollar from my tips on that damn pack.” 

The mention of that softens the look in Eddie’s eyes. He knew the two of you struggled to come up with enough money to even keep up this tradition; he had hardly seen you due to how many spare shifts you’d been picking up at Benny’s the last few weeks. 

You catch the look, immediately straighten up, “No, no, no. Don’t even go there, Munson. I can see you going there. Come back to me, idiot.” 

Idiot. The term of endearment you’d coined for him since you’d first met in sophomore year of high school. He’d heard it in a dozen different tones - elated, annoyed, exhausted - but not a single one held an ounce of genuine negativity towards him. You made idiot sound like my love. 

He wasn’t your lover, though. He kicked himself in the shins every morning over it, always telling himself that today was the day and I’m going to tell her how I feel finally. 

Spoiler alert. He never did. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he offers up his own loving nickname for you, “I just know you’ve been busting your ass at Benny’s-” 

“Yes, I have, because I want to spoil you for the holidays. I don’t regret a single second of it. Even when those creepy old men tried to shove the dollar bills in my shirt rather than just hand them to me.”

You both laugh at the memory. It hadn’t been very funny when it happened, leading to you calling Eddie crying and him coming to your rescue, but enough time had passed to see the humor in it all. 

The rest of the gift exchange goes as expected for the most part. The gag gifts pull the appropriate amount of laughter, and the more genuine gifts pull a softness out of each other that nearly had each of your eyes’ pupils forming hearts. 

Eddie fawns over a pack of pics you’d had customized with Corroded Coffin’s logo, and you react just as bluntly as expected when you pull a long red candle from your stocking, looking up to Eddie blankly. 

“For when I finally sacrifice you in the woods,” he explains with a cheesy grin, “Gotta have candles if we’re going to worship Satan, sweetheart.” 

“Ha-ha,” you dead pan, tilting your head slightly as you keep a straight face, completely unimpressed, “You’re hilarious, Munson.” 

“Hey, I could have made a sex joke,” he throws up his hands in a defensive manner, shrugging his shoulders and looking to the ground in faux shyness. 

“Yeah, yeah - you could have made a sex joke,” you mumble as you shove the candle to the side, a smile still escaping the corners of your mouth. 

“As a matter of fact, I still can. Don’t think I didn’t notice the fact that you replaced my stocking this year, darling, and that it’s noticeably larger. Finally big enough to fit over my massive dic-” 

“You’re disgusting,” you interrupt, grabbing the candle and now whacking one of his knees with it, making him fall victim to an uncontrollable giggling fit, “Have you ever been told that? Let me be the first to tell you - you’re absolutely vile, Edward Munson.” 

You don’t mean it, and he knows you don’t. You’re both laughing too much over it. 

You’re starting to get to the bottom of the stockings now. You each have an odd arrangement of candy that had been included in each respective stocking - Eddie is socking on a blue jolly rancher, being sure to make annoying slurping noises to get a rise out of you, as you nibble on a miniature candy cane. There’s only one gift left in your stocking, a small box that you only reach for once you rewrap the candy cane in the plastic wrap it’d come in that you’d saved to avoid getting sticky fingers. 

“What’s this?” you ask, pulling it out and letting the empty stocking fall into your lap. 

Eddie looks up from where he was preoccupied with attempting to open another jolly rancher. His eyes light up from the present in your palm, “Oh, only saving the best one for last, sweet thing.” 

You look at him questioningly, but begin to slide your finger under the delicate edge of the small box regardless. It takes concentration to pry open the box without tearing it, but you do, you gasp. 

In a bed of cotton, there’s a necklace. 

It looks like a copy of Eddie’s signature pick necklace. But instead of the dark swirling black between clouds of burgundy red, it shines with pearlescent opal white and ruby red, glimmering on a silver chain as if it were made of jewels. 

When you gently lift it from the box, it’s clear it’s not a real pick. It’s heavier - Hell, it might actually be made of gemstones. 

“Eddie-” you gasp, cutting yourself off, mesmerized by the beauty. 

He’s nearly shaking with delight, “It’s a locket. Look, open it.” 

You see what he means immediately, realizing that the weight was from the thickness of the faux pick. There’s a subtle seam, with a silver lock on the side that clicks gently when you press on it. The locket swings open, and inside is a snug photo of you and Eddie. You can pinpoint exactly when the photo was taken; it was at your birthday party two years ago, both of you laughing with cake icing on the tips of your nose. The photo is in dramatic black and white, but you can still picture how obnoxiously red your cheeks were with Eddie’s arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you two lost it over God knows what. 

You feel yourself beginning to tear up, completely stunned, “I- Oh my God, Eddie. I don’t know what to say.”

“You can start with how I’m the best friend ever,” he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you let out a breathless laugh. 

“It’s…God, it’s beautiful. This- This is too much, Eddie. I can’t imagine how expensive-”

“Nope,” he cuts you off quickly, waving his hands frantically, refusing to listen to your lecture. He didn’t care if it had cost him everything he owned, down to the clothes on his back - it was worth it to see that look on your face. “Don’t even start, sweetheart. One of Wayne’s friends at the plant has a wife who makes jewelry for a living. We got the family discount because she thought the idea was so dang adorable,” his voice pitches to mock the mystery woman, and it makes you tearily laugh some more. 

You look back down at the open locker, finger tracing over the opposite side from the photo. 

E. It’s engraved in cursive. As if you’d ever forget the initial of the boy in the photo - the boy in front of you. 

“You really had to choose the photo that made me look like a dork, didn’t you?” you softly tease under your breath, staring at the memory in unfiltered fondness. 

“Someone’s got to keep you humble,” he retorts. 

You ignore his comment, standing quickly and holding the necklace out to him, “Help me put it on?” 

He doesn’t hesitate to leap off the bed to your side, taking the chain gingerly before you turn and face your back to him. His movements are careful and deliberate as he brushes your hair off to the side, cold fingers skimming over your skin and sending shivers down your spine before he loops the necklace around the front of your chest. You can feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp for a few moments before finding success. 

“Aha! Perfect,” he claps as you spin around, grinning giddily at the weight that sits naturally between your collarbones. It gives you a sense of security, a sense of comfort, a sense of home. 

“Thank you, Eddie,” you earnestly say, voice crumbling with emotions as your smile shines and you lift a hand to pinch the necklace between two fingers. The locket is smooth as you rub over it, “I love it.” 

His face reflects your happiness right back before you suddenly throw yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He returns it immediately, squeezing you back just as strongly. You both melt into the hug, comfortable as you eventually beginning to just-barely-sway in the middle of Eddie’s room, chests pressed together as hearts beat in sync. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair before placing a chaste kiss on your temple. 

“Merry Christmas, Eds.” 

You finally pull away, both of you returning to your original positions on the bed. Gifts are scattered around you, mixing with candy and wrappers, as Eddie pulls up his stocking and begins to shake it upside down. 

“There’s not any more gifts, Eddie, you already opened them-” you cut yourself off, the smile that had your cheeks aching still fading when a piece of paper flutters from his stocking. 

Oh no. 

“No more gifts, you say?” he smirks in your direction, picking up the folded note, “What’s this, then?” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’d forgotten about that. When you’d been wrapping Eddie’s gifts the night before, Robin had joined you to keep you company. The two of you had broken into a few bottles of wine around the house when you had a bright idea (at least, at the time it seemed bright. Now, it was the dumbest idea you’d ever had. Ever.). Coupons for Eddie, ranging from redemption for kisses to redemption for more… explicit acts. To be fair, Robin had egged you on, knowing of your hopeless crush of two years on your best friend. You’d folded each ‘coupon’ and sealed them with kisses from red lipstick the two of you had dug out of your desk drawers. You’d chickened out when the buzz from the wine faded, and pulled all of the ridiculous notes out before properly filling the stocking with his actual gifts. 

Or at least, you thought you’d gotten all of the notes out. Clearly, you hadn’t. 

“Don’t open that!” you blurt out, lurching forward and attempting to snatch the paper from Eddie. It only makes his smirk grow, hand shooting out away from you, glancing wildly between you and the kiss-stained paper. 

“Now you’ve really got me curious,” he mocks, pulling a face at you as he brings the paper back to his face, beginning to unfold it. 

“No, Eddie, seriously, don’t read it. Please. It was so stupid, I- Robin and I were drinking, and I just…” you trail off in your explanation as he completely disregards you and his eyes trail over your scribbled words. 

You didn’t even know which one had been left behind. You could only hope it was one of the less vulgar ones. 

“Is this a joke?” he asks softly. You’re shocked - you’d expected merciless teasing. Not whatever look was currently in his eyes. 

“What?” you ask, trying to peer over to see what the paper said. Depending on which dumb coupon it was, your answer would change, “I- Sort of. Maybe. No. I don’t know.” 

You begin to wring your hands in your lap, waiting for him to respond. You felt so nauseated you considered escaping to the bathroom. Maybe you could die of embarrassment in the Munson men’s bathtub. 

But then you remember it’s the Munson men’s bathtub, and decide the better fate may lay here, Eddie glancing up at you with moving curiosity, eyebrows furrowed. 

Your cheeks burn crimson as you wish for the Earth to swallow you whole. 

“Yes or no? Is it a joke?” he asks again, a stern tone that manages to not come across angry. 

Your stomach and chest twist in sync, “No. It isn’t a joke.” 

Suddenly, Eddie is taking the note and thrusting it towards you, eyes blown wide and chest heaving. 

“Then I’d like to redeem it now, please.” 

You don’t realize it, but the room had started spinning the moment Eddie had read what was written down. It felt like a dream - a dream he’d indulged in with no hopes of it ever coming true for an embarrassingly long amount of time now. 

Your hands shake as you reach out to take the note from him, and you look down to see just how much drunk you had screwed you over in this moment. 

In your messy handwriting, it reads: Coupon for Eddie Munson - good for one (1) kiss. To be redeemed at Eddie’s discretion. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful it wasn't a vulgar one, before the reality of what Eddie had just requested hits you.  

“Did you just- did you just say you want to redeem it now?” 

Eddie nods, a determined look crossing his face, “Yes, please.” 

You both stare at each other for a moment, letting the emotions in the air sink in. It takes a moment before you both break out into withheld, shy smiles. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Before you can overthink it, you’re both leaning forward, Eddie’s hands cupping your cheeks as his lips meet yours tenderly. It’s just a peck, nothing more, but it sends your heart into cardiac arrest. You can still taste the jolly ranchers on his lips, and he tastes the sweet mint of the candy cane on yours. 

You both pull back slightly, his hands not leaving your face, knees pressing together. Your eyes had fluttered close, and you don’t have the guts to open them quite yet and face the consequences of what had just happened between the two of you. 

“I like you,” you admit quietly, your entire body tensing as you await rejection.

It doesn’t come. Instead, you’re met with the sound of Eddie’s gentle voice, “I like you, too.” 

Your eyes finally spring open to already find him staring at you with adoration. “You do?” 

“Of course I do, sweetheart. I let you touch my first sweetheart. I only give that privilege to the prettiest of girls,” he laughs, eyes flickering to your lips but still keeping his distance. 

“You’ve only let me have that privilege.” 

“Exactly.” 

He finally closes the distance again, lips slotting against yours as if they’re meant to be. Something clicks in the Universe, something that says that this is right and meant to happen. Two years of silent and hopeless pining, only to find out both your feelings were returned. It leaves the two of you delirious as you both deepen the kiss. Somehow, Eddie ends up scooting up his bed until his back meets the wall where his headboard would be if he had one, you straddling his lap. It’s all still so innocent; just the two of you, soft and sickly sweet kisses as you hold one another as if you expect the other to vanish. 

“Merry Christmas, Eds,” you repeat your earlier statement and reach up to his gifted locket on instinct now. It feels right. You and him this close, you and him kissing, the photo of you resting against your chest where it belongs. 

“Best Christmas ever,” he chuckles before he captures you in another kiss. 

He’s right. It’s safe to say the two of you struggle to ever top that Christmas. You make it a running joke to always include coupons in his stocking from that year on. Each year, the coupons get better, sometimes raunchy and sometimes just downright adorable. 

Good for one cuddle. 

Good for one blowjob (don’t waste it).

Good for one surprise date night. 

They’re always fairly clever, and each year, he thinks you get closer to topping that first note. 

But it’s not until years down the road, when the two of you sit across from each other in your now shared living room, in some big city you now call home, that he knows that he had finally topped that year. The look on your face when you dig into the bottom of your stocking, finding the small box that contains the diamond ring he’d been saving up for ever since that first kiss, tells him everything he needs to know. 

It’s still pretty nice when he hears you squeal yes out loud, though.

#twenty four hours of christmas #writing #asks #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #this one... this one got to me #but in a soft way

[krav3nn]

“It’s okay, I’m here”

Summary: your bill and Tom’s older sister. One night the twins have a nightmare and need their sister. You go up and cuddle them as they fall asleep in your arms.

Tom and bill x sis!reader

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Your brother’s were 13 years old and you were there older sister. You were there till model and they loved you more than anything. You were they’re knite in shinning armor.

When they were getting bullied, you came to school with them and stared now any little kids who said anything mean to them, scaring them off.

Your brothers were your whole world. You would do anything for them. Scour the whole world to get them anything they need. You were always so protective over them. They were like your own children.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by your brothers screaming your name. Panic runs through your veins as you run to their room. Harshly flipping on the light. “WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?!” You yell. “Y/n.. we had a nightmare.” Bill says with teary eyes and a frown on his face.

You breath out and walk over to their bed. “Aw, guys..what happened?” You ask looking at them with a comforting smile. “We had a nightmare that…that you..died” tom said, his voice cracking at the end as tears run down his face. “Oh tommy, it’s okay hun.” You say as you climb into their bed

You lay down in the middle of both of them. Grabbing they both and pulling them twards you. They both cuddle up to your side as they sniff. You whisper comforting words to them. “It’s okay, I’m here.” “It was just a bad dream, it’s okay.”

You rub both of there backs and hair as there eyes clear up. Their sniffling stops as they lean into your comforting touch. “T-thank you y/n, I feel better.” Tom says, closing his eyes and smiling.

“Yeah thanks sissy… I love you” bill says snuggling into your side more as you giggle. “I love you to guys..go to sleep now, I’ll stay with y’all.” You say as you kiss their heads. Your eyes also drooping with sleep.

You soon hear soft snores from the boys as they sleep peacefully in your arms. After knowing their safe and calm. You soon fall asleep as you embrace your sweet brothers.

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A/N: thank you so much to @deepcyclestarlight for requesting this! It was fucking adorable and fun to write!! I love you guys and thank you all for all the support of my last few posts. It means the world to me <3333

#bill kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz

[moonlight-presence]

could you do pietro maximoff smut? i just don’t see him get enough love..maybe him being jealous because someone (could be anyone) be is being too touchy?

Better than her

(Pietro Maximoff X Reader)

Category: F/M

Fandom: Marvel- Pietro Maximoff

Relationship: Pietro Maximoff X Reader

Words: 3 041 

Summary: Pietro gets jealous of a waitress who is being too fond of you, so he decides to prove he can please you better than she ever could.

Warnings: Dom Pietro Maximoff, Jealousy, Blowjob, Doggystyle, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Crying, Use of the word slut, Hair pulling, Dirty talk, Pietro has a big dick

Translation for the Russian word:  cолнышко: little sun. 

MATURE CONTENT 18 +

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

You stare at Pietro, his burning eyes looking straight at you with hardness. You drink the last sip of the red wine both of you ordered, and shift your gaze to meet the waitress at your side.

She has curly brown hair, near to her scalp, and almond eyes. She tilts her head at you, a big smile on her plump lips, as she hands you the bill. Pietro watches her actions with amazing precision. You already know what´s happening inside of his head but you play along nonetheless.

"Did you enjoy your food, ma´am?", she asks, her voice dripping with shameless seduction. You grab the bill and hand it over to Pietro, your eyes never leaving the waitress´ face.

"It was really good, yeah.", you reply as Pietro takes out his credit card and gestures for the waitress to take it. The dark-shinned woman doesn't seem to notice so you signal towards your boyfriend for her to notice.

"You gonna take my payment or what?", he says with a thick Russian accent. You snap your head towards him and widen your eyes but Pietro doesn´t seem to care as the waitress grabs his credit card with an annoyed expression.

She waits for Pietro to pay and then takes out the receipt and hands it to you, that big smile back on her lips. You glance at Pietro who is already getting up and then look at the woman again.

"Thank you so much for everything.", you say with sweet words as you get up. She follows you with her eyes.

"You are quite welcome...", she whispers and then places her hand on your shoulder gently. You see Pietro tensing up, his whole body feeling like a brick as the waitress hands you a piece of paper, "I would love to have coffee with you sometime... Have a nice night."

She slips her phone number into your pocket and gives you one last smile before turning around and leaving. You part your lips at the bold action and look at Pietro.

Oh boy...

"Pietro, I-"

"Save it.", he cuts you off, his hands already grabbing your body gently. You sigh and wait for him to lift you quickly, the whole restaurant doesn't have time to notice this as he starts running towards your house.

You are used to his powers but it´s still very strange so see everything in slow motion as he sprints through the city. His grip on your thighs is a bit rough but you don´t say anything.

He takes a turn and, before you realize it, you are already home in your living room. He puts you down and walks towards the kitchen in complete silence. He usually isn't this quiet and you already know that he is aching to say something.

You follow him as Pietro takes one bottle of beer from the fridge and opens it with ease. His silver hair is slightly messy from the run so he fixes it with his hand, his eyes facing the counter.

"Are we gonna talk about this or?", you ask as he takes a sip from the alcoholic drink. You are now standing next to him but he isn't looking at you like he usually does.

"There´s nothing to talk about, Y/N.", he simply states with another sip. You groan in frustration and move closer to him.

"Bullshit. Pietro, look at me...", you ask and he, surprisingly, does. You can see jealousy behind his eyes and you can´t help but feel a little bit bad about leading on the waitress... But you did love it when he was jealous.

"Are you mad at me?", you ask and he chuckles slightly but there´s no amusement behind his action.

"I don´t know, should I be?". You know he is playing games with you... Fuck.

"Oh my God, are you gonna give me a straight answer or what?!", your voice comes out a bit rougher and Pietro puts down the bottle.

"Perhaps that waitress will give you all the answers you want, uh? Why don´t you fucking dial her number and go meet her for coffee?", he asks with sarcasm. You feel your face heat up with both anger and shame.

You take out the piece of paper with her phone number from your pocket, and then rip it to pieces in front of him. He watches this but doesn´t say anything.

"I don´t give a fuck about her, alright? I am not dating her, I am dating you.", you state as you throw the pieces of paper to the floor.

"Really? Is that why you were giving her "fuck me" eyes back at the restaurant, cолнышко?", the sudden Russian nickname sends shivers down your spine but you shake them off.

"I wasn´t giving her any "fuck me" eyes, Pietro! She means nothing to me. She is nothing to me!", you scream with annoyance.

"I don´t believe you. I saw the way she was looking at you... The way she fucking touched your shoulder.", his hands move to the place where you had been touched by the woman. His hands were warm against your bare skin.

"Pietro-"

"I bet she could fuck you real good, uh? I bet she could make you scream her name, right?", he begins saying with anger, his hands moving down his body.

"N-No... That´s not true, baby.", you say with a whisper. You feel him pull you towards him, your chest hitting his with harshness.

"No? Prove it. Show me how much you want me.", you look into his eyes and feel his grip on your lower back. His body's heat is burning against yours making the whole situation ten times more intense.

You can feel his cock hardening against your belly, the bulge on his jeans getting bigger as he waits for you to do something.

You give him a small smirk and, without breaking eye contact, get down on your knees. You take your time taking off his belt, your fingers working their magic as Pietro looks at you with hunger.

You pull his jeans down, his boxers now exposed in front of your face. You finally break eye contact and look at the outline of his hard cock. The shaft is pointing towards his belly button and the tip is creating a small stain on the black boxers.

You press your palm against his shaft and he exhales through his mouth and curses in Russian. You smirk at the action and grab the hem of his shirt, your fingers slowly lifting the material to expose his silvery happy trail leading to his cock.

"Somebody's excited...", you whisper and gently squeeze his cock. Pietro let's out a dangerous chuckle and then you feel his hand grip your hair.

"You are not in control tonight, baby.", he warns and then tugs your hair a bit making you hiss. You curse at the pain and let out a small moan before nodding.

You decide to finally pull down his boxers, his cock now freed and leaking pre-cum. You lick your lips at the sight and grab the shaft, your hand hardly managing to hold all of him. You have always been amazed by how big Pietro is...

"What are you waiting for? Start sucking.", he says and then shoves your mouth against his member. You open your lips and take all of him inside, well, most of him.

You feel him moan deeply and gently buck his hips into your mouth. You try your best not to gag but it's getting difficult. You hold his hips for support as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat roughly.

"Thought you wanted to suck me off... Guess you would rather suck that waitress off, uh?", he says, and you breathe through your nose and hollow your cheeks.

Pietro curses again and pulls your hair making your head move away from his cock. You gasp for air and try to ignore the saliva that's dripping down your lips.

"Such a slut...Fuck.", he says and then pushes your head towards his cock again.

This time you are more prepared so you manage to control the whole situation much better. You start swirling your tongue around his shaft, especially the vein surrounding it, and Pietro let's out a louder moan and bucks his hips.

He grips your hair with more force and starts thrusting your head against his cock as if you were just a hole to him. You could feel your jaw aching, tears slightly covering your vision but you were determined. You wanted to please him.

You inhale through your nose and hollow your cheeks deeper, the extra suction making Pietro bite his lip. You look up at him and almost whimper at the sight- his pale cheeks are pink and his lips are flushed as he watches you with hunger.

You want to make him cum, you want to watch that pretty face twist in wave after wave of pleasure. Fuck, you really did love when he got all jealous and possessive of you.

"I bet you are loving this... You flirt with that girl and then suck me off, all in the same night. Fucking unbelievable...", he teases you with still a bit of anger. You manage a small nod and he starts thrusting faster inside of you.

You know he won't use his super speed simply because you would die if he did...However, his pace is as quick as it can get, which is quicker than most humans manage.

You can feel his muscles contracting to signal he is gonna cum. You can't breathe properly anymore, your throat is sore and your panties are getting soaked.

You start taking him deeper and then you put one hand around his balls. Pietro moans your name like prayer as you squeeze them while you lick his pulsing cock.

Suddenly the grip on your hair gets insanely tight and then you feel him stilling. You look at him and watch as he throws his head back and bucks his hips as strings of cum shoot down your throat.

You nearly choke but manage to swallow most of it as he rides away his orgasm. His thrusts start getting sloppier and soon he is pulling you away from him.

"Look at me.", he orders and you do, "Open."

You open your mouth and show him a small bit of cum you still haven't swallowed. Pietro puts his finger on your lips and slightly rubs them.

"Swallow.", and you do, gladly.

He licks his lips and then grabs your neck before pulling you up. You meet his lips and kiss him harshly, your tongues mixing. Pietro cups your clothed ass and gives it a harsh squeeze.

"Take off your clothes and put your hands on the bed, ass up.", he murmurs against your mouth. You break the kiss and nod before quickly going to do what he asked.

As soon as you are fully naked, you put your hands on the mattress and part your legs, your dripping core and ass facing the bedroom wall.

You hear Pietro walk towards you, he is no longer wearing any shoes so you guess he must have gotten naked as well.

You wait in anticipation as he puts his hands on your ass. His fingers are quite calloused but you don't mind.

"Are you this wet because of me or because of her?", he asks with a dangerous voice. You look behind you and arch your ass.

"I don't know...", you lie just to stir him up. You smirk teasingly at him but Pietro simply gives you a death stare and then a deep dark chuckle.

"You wanna play this game? Okay, let's play.", he whispers before parting your legs wider, making your muscles ache, and then rubbing the tip of his already hardening cock against your entrance.

The best thing about having sex with a superhero was that he had more stamina than a regular human. He could get hard much quicker and could fuck you for how long you wanted him to.

Pietro interrupts your thoughts with a thrust of his hips. Your mouth falls open as his cock buries itself inside of your walls. You put your face against the bed and moan his name as Pietro starts fucking you.

You gasp at the sudden action and grip the sheets as your boyfriend picks up the pace. His cock is nearly hitting your stomach, your clitoris being stimulated by the roughness as he hits your g-spot with amazing precision.

He knows exactly how to please you and that can be dangerous. Well, not really dangerous, more like exciting.

"Oh fuck... Fuck, fuck.", you moan as he grabs your hips and starts matching your body to his thrusts.

"You like that?", he asks as his balls smack against your folds.

"Yeah...Feels so good.", you moan as your heart nearly explodes inside of your chest. Sweat is starting to drip down your back, your arms aching a bit because of the awkward position.

"You think she could make you feel this way? You think that girl could make you this fucking wet?", he growls and you shake your head, your eyes leaking a bit and your lips parted with pleasure.

"Answer me!", he shouts with another harsh thrust. You whimper and try to breathe in.

"N-no... You are the only one who does this to me. Baby, you feel so good.", you tell him making Pietro groan and curse under his breath.

You feel him grab your right thigh and lift it slightly. Your chest rises from the mattress, your hands nearly lifting too as he puts your foot on the bed. Your other leg is still on the floor.

You moan at the new angle making Pietro thrust deeper. You feel the bed sink as he puts one leg on the bed, his body now sideways as he guides you into the new position. This new shift makes his cock go deeper into you, and you cry out as you feel that sweet high of pleasure almost exploding inside of you.

"Fucking take it. Take all of my cock like a good girl.", he teases and the nickname almost makes you cum.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck... I wanna cum. Oh my God... Your cock feels so good inside of me, baby.", you moan breathlessly.

"Yeah? You gonna cum?", he asks and you nod rapidly. He digs his fingers into your waist and you cry out at the pain.

"Cum for me, slut.", he says and you shut your eyes and let yourself be taken by pleasure.

Your whole body starts shaking, your legs almost giving in as waves of pleasure rush through you. Your mind feels foggy and you moan loudly his name over and over again, his cock guiding you through your orgasm.

You let your arms fall down and then your chest hits the bed. Pietro stops thrusting as you come down from your high. You feel so fucking good but exhausted too.

"Was that good?"

"Y-yeah...", you whisper, and then Pietro rubs your sweaty back and starts thrusting again making you widen your eyes.

"Then cum for me again.", he says as he picks up the pace. You feel tears drip down your cheeks as your abused clit occasionally throbs with immense pleasure.

It feels really intense, way too intense, like your body is trying to build up any sort of energy to cum again. You aren't sure if you can but you don't want to disappoint Pietro... Especially because his hard cock is already pulsing inside of you.

"She could never make you cum like I do... You are mine. I am the only one who gets to see you like this. You hear me?!", he asks with deep moans.

"Y-yes... Yours... Pietro...", you say with small whimpers. He starts thrusting harder and harder, his chest heaving with every movement.

"Cum for me. Come on, cum all over this cock. Fucking do it.", he encourages and you shut your eyes and feel a new strange wave inside of you.

You part your lips and start moaning loudly, maybe too loud but you don't care. Your walls start convulsing, your whole body numb with the new sensation as you feel a new rush of pleasure run through you.

You can't hear anything or see anything. Pietro stills inside of you and then his cum fills you adding an extra feeling to the experience. Your legs give out and he grabs your body up making you stay in position.

It feels like ages before he stops thrusting, his softening cock slipping out of you. He lets your body fall on the bed and you whimper and feel something drip down your thighs. Did you... No way...

"Fuck... You squirted all over me, baby...", Pietro whispers as he lays down next to you.

You roll over onto your back and look at him with tired eyes. You can't believe you actually squirted... All because of him and his jealousy.

"Fuck...That felt so fucking good.", you whisper and Pietro chuckles and kisses your sweaty forehead.

"Don't ever try to make me jealous again, you hear me?", he says with an amused voice. You chuckle and look at his eyes.

"It's quite funny, though...", you tease making him roll his eyes playfully.

You bury your head against his chest and close your eyes, your body too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

This night is one to remember...

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu smut #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff fanfiction #marvel smut #aaron taylor johnson

[seresinhangmanjake]

Signed Away: Part 3

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader Series

Summary: You find out about the contractual marriage your parents arranged with Jake’s when you were a baby. You’re plently angered by it, but Jake doesn’t seem too bothered. He might even be happy.

Notes/Warnings: typos, i’m sure, cursing, fluff, eventual smut, angst, contract marriage, loss of rights, feelings of being trapped, poor parent/child relationships. Italics are a flashback. This is planned out to be ten chapters of similar length and an epilogue.

As always, comments can make my bad days worth getting through, so i’ll never not appreciate them. Reblogs and likes make me smile uncontrollably, but no pressure :)  

Masterlist

Words: 1639

Your fork pushed the salad around the pale china plate, weakening the freshness of the lettuce until it wilted and drowned in the peppery dressing. You couldn’t focus. The food in front of you just was a blurred mass of color, nothing you cared to put in your mouth. You were too exhausted from the tension, the awkwardness, and it crushed any appetite.

The plate was eased out from in front of you, leaving your fork hovering in mid-air until the smoky aroma of your family chef’s expertly grilled steak filled the room. A wave of guilt crashed over you, knowing you wouldn’t be sinking your teeth into the meat either.

“Thank you, Allan,” you mumbled. He squeezed your shoulder and you glanced up to be met with pity.

He knew. You didn’t know why you felt a flash of surprise. Allan had been working for your parents long before you were born. Unlikely that your mother ever pulled him aside to explain the fate of your future, but by now the news was hard to ignore. Your engagement had been announced in the damn paper just days before.

He gave you a quick nod before placing a plate in front of your father.

“A shame your parents couldn’t join us tonight, Jake.” Your father’s voice broke the air of uncomfortable silence. It was appreciated to hear anything other than the bubbly chorus of your carbonated water, even though you had little intention of contributing much to any conversation. “Across the pond, are they not?”

“Bill, I already told you—”

“Deanna, let me talk to the boy. Go ahead, son.”

“Uh, yes.” Jake’s knee bumped yours as he shifted in his seat. The brief friction of his jeans burst a buzzing hum along that spot of your skin. Your heartbeat pounded behind your ribcage, fingers tightening around the handle of the fork “Visiting my aunt.”

Your mother took a generous sip of her wine. “Do they still intend to return next week?”

Jake nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s good. Amelia and I have a lot of planning to do. Flowers, venue, guest list, the dress.”

The sharp stab of a pointed-toed heel to your shin forced you to look up. Your mother’s eyebrows were tipped down in the center, painted lips pinched. Clearly, you’d missed something. “What?”

“The dress.”

“What about it?”

“Surely you’re excited to find the perfect one, right Darling?”

Her words came out gritty through clenched teeth. A hefty pause weighed down the already thick air of the room and you suddenly wished the bubbles of your drink never ceased their popping.

“I doubt you’ll have to worry,” Jake said then looked at you. “You’ll look amazing in anything.”

You couldn’t tell if he truly believed it or if the deafening silence was getting to him the way it did for any guest stuck between you and your mother. Your father was the only one unaffected, continuing to work away at his steak.

It was sickly sweet, the smile your mother shot Jake. “Jake dear, you don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not ly—”

“She needs to understand how important it is to look appropriate for such an event.”

You silently snorted before plastering a mocking grin across your face. “Believe me mother, I already understand everything I need to know.”

“Are you giving me attitude, young lady?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

“Y/N, you are such a—”

“A what!”

“An ungrateful little—”

“Jake,” your father’s voice boomed, dousing all others. “You like bourbon, son?”

You froze at the thought of being left with your mother. Jake must have noticed the rigidity of your body because his fingers lightly gripped your lower thigh under the satin tablecloth, giving a brief squeeze. It was far more comforting than you cared to admit, and gave you a sense of protection, as if from his fingertips a barrier spread and formed around you in attempt to keep your mother out. He was on your side in this, and maybe you would have to start acknowledging that.

Then his head turned away from you and toward your father. “Yes sir, but—”

“Come,” he said, already standing and rebuttoning his suit jacket. “Let us leave the women to their business.”

-----

He didn’t want to leave you. An invisible force tugged at his sleeve, begging him to exit the confined space of your father’s office in favor of returning to you and taking you somewhere safe were you might be able to take a decent breath. But he didn’t need your father hating him. Both his and yours placed an extremely strong value in respect, and escaping the den wouldn’t be doing him any favors in the long run.

The extended hand invaded Jake’s peripherals. He blinked then accepted the glass offered to him, but before he could thank you father, the elder said, “You like my daughter.”

Jake took a drink of the amber liquid, letting the familiar burn wash down his throat.

“And I see how you try to hide it in front of Y/N,” he continued. “You don’t wish to scare her off and you’re wise to recognize that it would.” Bill gestured to the nearest seat as he sat in his own armchair behind the cherry wood desk. Jake sat and your father stared at him, hard, for long agonizing seconds. Then he set his glass on a coaster, leaned back, and rested clasped hands on a rounded stomach. “Make this work, Jake Seresin,” he said.

“I was under the impression I didn’t have a choice, sir.”

Bill smirked, perhaps expecting such a response, or perhaps not but appreciating the quick agreement. Again, beats passed. Bill took another sip of his drink, Jake watching intently with each movement of hand on glass, glass at lips, hard swallow, glass back on desk. “I am not like her mother. I do care about her feelings, despite how it may appear. So let me rephrase.” He paused. “Make her forget the circumstances of this situation. Make her happy.”

It would be rude to laugh, so Jake kept his mouth shut, taking a lengthy drink until the impulse passed. Making you happy was all he’d thought about for the past month. It was you who didn’t want him to. “She’s stubborn, sir.”

Your father released the laugh Jake had held back. “She is. I’ve been watching her run her mother ragged for nineteen years.” The laugh settled and his tone fell into seriousness. “But you are a determined man by nature. Am I wrong in understanding you once wished to be a pilot?”

Jake’s gaze dropped to his drink. It was nearly empty. He’d need more. Much more. “No, sir.”

“See, a man who would choose such a career path is a man who knows how to get what he wants,” Bill said. “Getting my daughter down the aisle, while no easy task, will be doable for you. You have my full trust in that.”

-----

“Well, you missed dessert,” Deanna snapped, following a scoff and a roll of her chocolate brown eyes. Her polished nails looked like vulture talons perched on slim hips and the sneer on her lips made Jake wonder how you could possibly be born from someone so unappealing. “Now she’s out back. Being a brat.”

Bill replied, but Jake didn’t hear it. He was too focused on the gentle swaying of your body as you occupied one of the swings of your childhood swing set. He couldn’t begin to count how many times he’d been in the swing beside you as a kid, taunting each other to see who could fly higher. He was too young then to recognize that a five-year-old you was much smaller than he was at nine, and had you fallen you’d surely have broken a bone. You, on the other hand, were so competitive and determined to prove yourself that you’d have risked a damaged limb without question, and often did.

Jake slipped out the sliding glass door without notice, wet grass smushing under the press of his steps. “Are you alright?” he asked, but when you didn’t answer, didn’t look up, he crouched down and rested his crossed arms atop your knees. “Hmm? Tell me.”

A tear fell, splashing on the surface of your thigh.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jake reached forward and brushed the salty liquid from your skin.

“I hate that she gets to me,” you whispered, then meeting his eyes, you said, “You know what she told me while the two of you were off drinking that overly expensive crap? She said I’m so fucking fortunate to have you because not another man will want to marry me if this is the type of person I want to be. And then she promptly reminded me that even you have to do it. You’re not choosing me on your own.”

“Y/N, I consider myself lucky.”

You shook your head.

“Yes, I do.”

He knew you wouldn’t believe it, not by his word alone. Regardless, if you’d allow him, he wanted to protect you, take care of you, put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wouldn’t happen overnight, neither would gaining your trust, but he could try to start somewhere.

“I can get us a place,” he said.

“What?”

“An apartment or something. I have money, and I know a guy who owns a nice building. We could probably be in in the next couple days if you wanted.”

“Why would you do that?”

The corners of Jake’s lips tugged upwards when the little wrinkle between your brows softened and smoothed to match the rest of your silky skin. He tucked some hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing along your cheekbone, and said, “I don’t want to leave you here.”

 Wedding Countdown: 589 days

tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @princessphilly @kkrenae @castle-bookworms-world @xoxabs88xox @blackwidownat2814 @acupnoodle @callmemana @zippitydoda @asteria33 @the-mouse27 @111angelnumbers111 @shanimallina87 @creativitybeware @roosterscock 

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