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ficbrish · 3 months

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Stay A While

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 21st - Hair Pulling, Masturbation]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood]]

Summary: Astarion wants to linger the morning after one of their initial trysts.

Takes place in Act I.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Where do you think you’re going?” Astarion’s droll tone harbored a tinge of excitement.

Vistri froze in her tracks, but answered with her back still to him, “Surely the others are waiting.”

He clicked his tongue with a slow shake of his head. “Back to camp,” he observed dryly, drawing out the word camp, then giggled, “How droll!”

She turned to face him; not an agreement to stay, just to hear him out. His pointy-toothed grin charmed her more than she’d like to admit.

“What’s the rush, darling?” he asked mischievously.

The only rush she felt was her pulse, but she couldn’t say that even if he already sensed it. Admittances such as those were for late nights spent together—Well… They said those sweet things all the time, and to anyone, but it was different when they actually meant it. Truth belonged to the midnight hours and their illusions, where it could hide in the dark. But it was simply out of place under the sun.

Vistri crossed her arms, suppressing a creeping smile, “I’m guessing you have other ideas?”

Admittedly, Astarion was curious. The tadpole gave him freedom, a new lease on undeath, but Vistri opened up entirely new pathways of pleasure. He woke up feeling the best he’d ever felt after drinking her blood. Only to be topped when they added a fuck into the mix. In a bit over a tenday, Astarion had a few of the best mornings of his life. He didn’t think it was possible to feel any better. Unless…

Light filtered through the trees, adorning him in spotty shadows. Rays of sunlight hit the side of his face, making one of his eyes sparkle like a rich ruby as the other was cast into darkness. He held up his hands innocently and made a show of looking side to side, “I don’t see any search parties.”

Ah, to never be found. Oh, to stay in this little grove and fuck ‘til death.

Vistri raised her brow, tentatively interested, “Say there were. Just how disappointed would you be?”

That was his cue to walk towards her, “Be careful of the way you talk to devils, girl. You might entice one. The sun may be high in the sky, but you’re never safe alone with a monster.”

The word, monster, stuck itself in Vistri’s mind like mud on a boot. She tried to scrape it off and put it on Astarion, but she couldn’t. She looked into his scheming, slanted eyes and said, “I’m not afraid of you under the moon either.”

He uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around his waist, “You little fool.”

His mouth was so close to hers, Vistri felt dizzy, “I’m no fool.”

They were nearer to each other now than they’d been all morning. Vistri always fell into her trance on his chest and came back to the present with her face against dirt. He never held her after the sun rose, never kissed her good morning or farewell. It wasn’t like he’d set a clear boundary; he just never did any of those things, and she wasn’t going to be the first to do them. Whatever this was existed for the sole purpose of trading themselves for a bit of ecstasy, and they were simply each other’s catalyst. And that was fine. It’s the way she wanted it to be. It’s the way things always were. There was nothing special about this time, about him.

Astarion smirked. She tried to move away but he held her forearms against his sides in a firm grip.

“You’ve only survived thus far because I chose it.”

She continued fearlessly to meet his gaze. It was a misplaced confidence, like she had no concept of a reality where he’d actually ruin her. So much trust she laid on his unworthy shoulders, if it wasn’t foolishness, it had to be self-destructive.

She laughed at him. A real bitchy, mocking laugh, “Oh, you chose it?”

He grabbed her throat, tilting her head back with his thumb, “Yes. I chose not to rip you apart. Every. Time.”

“Pity.”

“No, not a pity,” he purred dangerously, “You’ve been so worth it.”

Vistri fought herself and lost. Swept up by a sudden rough current, she immediately gave over to drowning. She just let go, let it happen, and took a terrifying leap at his kiss.

Astarion moaned in pleasant surprise. He had a few more moves queued up before going there himself, but he didn’t mind the way she leapt in first. Her tongue was otherworldly, like it had been spilled out of Sune’s gossip at Loviatar’s tea party, salacious and indecently lush.

Nothing in the world compared to the way he felt. Like the sun, he colored all the greys in Vistri’s world. He felt like everything fascinating, and thought she was worth keeping alive. Someone, who felt as good as he did, deemed her worthy of life.

He was so grateful to himself for obeying his impulses. Astarion didn’t know whether she’d deign to touch him like this in the daylight. Come to think of it, she was the very first person he’d touched in 200 years under the sun. Yes, he’d pulled a blade on her then, but she was still the very first. And his first true drink. And the first fu—

“Oh, shit!” Vistri pushed him away, remembering herself and their unwritten rules made of habit, Sorry!”

Their kisses were only meant for teasing, their touches only meant for petting. She wasn’t supposed to love him at the end of her lips. Unless it was for pretending.

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered, bringing her mouth back to his.

She felt her knees grow weak. Stupid knees. Backstabbing cunts.

“I kissed you,” she protested.

“And I kissed you back,” he went in for more.

Vistri eventually broke away again, “But we don’t kiss in the mornings.”

“And I usually don’t drink in the mornings,” he spoke into her neck, “But I think… I think we can do whatever we want. Don’t you, darling?”

He could take her blood, “I want you to drink me.”

He could take her body, “And ravish me.”

He could even take her heart, “Just make it hurt for me, lover. Would you?”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled it until she cried out. His voice dripped with a bright, shiny toxin, “Oh, I can make it hurt, if that’s what you like.”

She tried to nod, but his grip was too tight on her scalp, so she just begged, “Please.”

Astarion licked her neck from base to chin, then crashed into her mouth after whining, “Gods but you make a mess of me!”

Lines like that were usually bullshit, it’s why he said them so readily. But as it tumbled out of him now, it felt real. Maybe he was just that good of an actor, and he’d really begun to believe his part. That would be so much more convenient if it was. He picked her up, overcome with a desire to possess her. He didn’t own her, didn’t belong to her, but he could steal her away from gravity. She wrapped her legs around him, and he moaned deeply; tangled in her lips, in her hair.

The others were definitely going to have to wait. That or just start the day without them.

Vistri felt her back press into a tree, just like on the first night. She kissed him and felt every star she’d ever seen. That night, she thought it had to be a fluke, a trick of the bad wine. But Gods! It was still there. It was screaming. Her heart broke whenever he pulled away, and mended only when his lips were back on hers.

He chuckled, “I’ve got you right where I want you, little pet.”

“Where’s that?”

“At my mercy.”

“You did try to warn me.”

“I’m not a nice man to be alone with.”

Her smile messed up the kiss. He was so adorable. And he was right. So right. Vistri shivered as he nibbled at her ear. It felt a lot like love, but it wasn’t. Great fucks pierced the soul like great works of art. But that wasn’t care, it was an appreciation for expertise. Sure, Astarion felt indescribably right, but that didn’t make him her god. She’d just finally met her match.

He unbuttoned her corset to fondle her breasts. She twitched whenever he brushed her nipples delicately with his fingertips, and he giggled like a naughty fey each time. The line between reaction and performance was beginning to blur. She didn’t know anymore whether she twitched on cue because he touched her or because he liked it.

“I don’t want you to be nice. I want it to hurt.”

He pulled her hair again, smirking as she let out a sound that was something between a moan and a yelp. The harder he pulled, the more she felt like his. She didn’t want to want that, and yet it possessed her, like a sob forcing itself out.

“More,” she pleaded.

“More?”

“Aren’t you a bad man? And I a fool alone in the woods?”

He let go of her hair and spoke onto her lips, “Oh, you’re not alone, darling. You’re very much not alone.”

His hand took hers and brought it to the front of his trousers. Grasping and gasping, she felt him. How hard he was; thick enough to break her. The anticipation made her shiver as he kissed her again.

“Use me,” she sighed, “However you’d like.” It was the only way for her to say, I’m yours.

She gave herself so willingly, it was intoxicating. Not like it was anything he wasn’t used to, but it was new, startlingly so. He melted into the feeling of being wanted by someone who knew what he was, of being wanted by her. The world grew smaller, more manageable. All he had to be was the salve to her desires. Hers wasn’t an itch; it was a death wish.

Astarion felt something pull on him, and for a moment froze, thinking of Cazador’s compulsions. Noting his twitch of fear, Vistri took her words for the cause. Fuck. Simultaneously, they asked the same question through their eyes; Have I been found out?

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, saving them both any need to explain.

“Will you watch?”

“As I hold you tight,” he offered.

It was overwhelming. Astarion didn’t want a performance, not the kind she was used to, but something candid, completely her. He wasn’t asking her to curate his pleasure, he demanded she create her own. She never showed anything like it to anyone before. Accustomed to one type of role, she stepped into something unfamiliar. And not even a role, but the actor in their bed alone at night.

Vistri’s hand travelled between her legs. She felt Astarion spread them further apart, holding her steady with a grip on each thigh. She was close to him again, held and admired; the only thing he wanted in the moment. Her fingers traced his lustful expression onto her soul, encircling herself in his web with every stroke. Determined to trade her life for a little death, she exposed her aching need to be coated in his poisons.

She closed her eyes.

“Open them, darling. I want you to watch me, as I watch you.”

Her breath skipped with her choking heart as she met his gaze. Astarion looked as raw and exposed as she felt. His eager fangs rested on pouting lips. She leaned forward to lick them.

“No, no, dear. You’ve got to earn that,” he cooed, “With your ecstasy.”

She moaned stupidly, “Okay.”

Vistri was everything his hand had been slapped away from these past 200 years. She ran through his thoughts entirely on her own. His body forced him to comply instead of the other way around. Sure, he was using her at the end of everything. She was by no means the first to surrender, but there was something sweeter about hers, and not just because she was his to savor. This time he was actually having fun.

“Does it feel good, dear?” he grinned.

She tossed her neck and sighed. Her eyes closed for just a moment before snapping open again to obey him, “Yes.”

Astarion kissed her neck, and she moaned, leaning into it. He whispered into her ear, “You think you’re in control, but I’ve got you tangled up.”

“You do,” she panted, “You do. All yours.”

“My, but you put on a show,” his warm tongue wrapped around her lobe. His breath gently broke over her skin.

It was like watching her layers peel back in a way he hadn’t seen before. Reading her eyes, Astarion watched them become saturated with the whole of her. The void in them brightened from her dim presence, and the light grew with her gratification. Shy at first, she stepped and then stomped into herself. Until there it was in those violet depths, the core of her on a silver platter, ready for him to devour.

Vistri let his name slip lazily from her lips.

“Do you call out my name when you’re alone?” he chastised.

“S-Sometimes. Once. Accidently.”

Astarion licked her throat, desperate to eat her up, “I’ve yet to call out yours. But I’ve thought of you.”

Her free arm tightened around the back of his neck. Her breathing got faster.

“That’s it, my darling. You’re so close. Now give it to me. Be a good pet and cum for me.”

Astarion could feel his own blood throbbing as she fulfilled his wish. His eyes were open, greedily watching, but seeing nothing. There was just a great feeling, like when their tadpoles bent reality to the other’s experience. Her eyes were shut tight as if in begging prayer, and all he could do was stare blindly into her abandon.

Her cries, only loud for being close to his ear, pierced his heart. At the end of them, he finally allowed himself to kiss her. It was his turn to let her name slip slowly out of his lips.

“I earned it?” she asked happily.

He nodded, chuckling, “Yes, I think you’ve earned it.”

Vistri closed her eyes and kissed him again. She felt him undo his laces, then helped him pull down his trousers. Alone in the woods with the naughty rake indecently arrayed; she knew she was wiser than that. Giving herself to Astarion was a decidedly stupid thing to do, and that only made her want to disappear further inside him.

He nestled himself against her soaking, warm, soft, “Oh gods…”

“Astarion!” she cried out as he tore through her with a hard stroke. Her lips trembled from the sanctity of his name. It was a spell that brought everything out of her chest, even the dust tucked between her ribs.

He cracked her open.

The more they took, the less they were sated. He wasn’t near enough. He wasn’t in her skin.

Maybe they’d never go back to camp. The others would have to carry on themselves while the two of them stayed here, tangled up in each other until they inevitably sprouted tentacles, out of the artifact’s reach. And what would that matter? Astarion never wanted to be anything other than buried inside Vistri ever again. That was his new identity now, just his pulsing cock deep between her thighs.

“Drink me.”

“In a moment, love,” he said, then tousled a little with her tongue, and spoke again, “I quite like this as it is. Feeling you.”

It was more the desperate growl in his voice than the words themselves that made her tremble. It sounded like she meant something to him, even though she didn’t. Pretending it was real made her eyes roll back. Or no… it had to be the devilish thrusting of his hips. It had to be—

“Astarion!” she shouted so suddenly; birds took off in terror from their branches. Her staccato cries and their warning calls formed a cacophonic duet, like ritual music for the purchase of her soul.

He sunk his fangs into her neck, just below her ear, as the squeezing and pulsing around him coaxed his throbbing self to bursting. He rolled deeply into her as he let himself go, overtaken by a blinding wave of ecstasy. It felt like it would never stop, stunning them both, wave after wave. Even after it stilled, Astarion tenderly moved himself in and out of her. The mess he made dripped between them. Regardless of any overstimulated shiver, he savored the feel of his spill in her.

“You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”

She nodded emphatically, panting as her breath fought to settle her pulse. He rested his forehead against hers, and they lingered there, head pressing into head. They were both so dizzy, they had to get hold of their bearings, remember who they were.

How long could they stay there like that until the other had something to say about it?

It didn’t matter that his arms grew tired. They could fall off before he let her go. Astarion shut his eyes against welling tears. His disobedient forehead softly nuzzled hers; subtle enough to sneak passed his own notice. Catching himself, he cleared his throat.

“Time to go back?” she asked, tone heavy with a sense of sorrow.

Astarion reached for one more kiss. Saying goodbye until their next, inevitable tryst, they clung so vehemently to each other it couldn’t be paid attention to; couldn’t even be muttered about.

Arms wobbling, he finally set her down.

She immediately started to collapse under her weight. He stopped her fall.

“Easy now!”

“I’m all right.”

“You can’t even stand.”

She smiled dazedly, “Bloodless times two.”

“Gods, you’ve gone all silly. Look at you! You’re barely alive!”

“No, you’re barely alive.”

“Ha-Ha. Very funny,” he huffed, scooping her into a bridal carry.

“Weeee!”

He couldn’t stop himself laughing. It wasn’t even funny.

“You’re ridiculous—Stop squirming! I’ll drop you, and if I drop you, I’m leaving you.”

“Arsehole!” she pouted, “You’d leave me behind?”

“I’m sure Karlach or someone would come get you, but I’m tired. We can only do our best, darling.”

“You’ve had two separate helpings of my blood, you’re not tired.”

Vistri closed her eyes for a moment, just to savor this rare occasion of him holding her after. His arms felt as solid as she was wibbly. His chest felt like the stars as a pillow.

“You put me to work just now. I’m exhausted, and on top of that, now I’m carrying you all the way back to camp.”

“Whose fault is that Mr. Fangs?”

“Yours!”

“Mine?!”

“You turned back ‘round when you should have marched on.”

“You asked me to!”

“Darling, I’m a villain!” he chuckled, “You’re supposed to say no. Right my wily ways.”

“I quite like your wily ways.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him the way she did now, with lackadaisical joy in their eyes.

“Astarion?”

“What?”

“You’ve stopped.”

“What?—Oh, right. There was a stick.”

“A stick?”

“Had to maneuver around it.”

“Took a while.”

He blushed, “Sounds like somebody wants to get dropped.”

“No! Please! Don’t drop me,” she giggled.

“Drop you?”

“No! Don’t drop me.”

“But you said please so nicely.”

“No!” she laughed, “Don’t drop me!”

“Shush! I have to pay attention to our surroundings, my dear. I want to give a good description for the others to find you.”

Vistri squealed, hysteric. Astarion crushed her tight against him.

“Silence, girl!” he teased in a booming voice, “Otherwise I’ll observe no great detail, and the only landmark the others will know to look for is ‘somewhere by a tree that has leaves on it.’ And then they’ll never find you, and then I’ll never get to shag you again. Would you like that tragedy to come to pass?”

She blushed in his arms, “…No.”

“Good. Then leave me to my concentration.”

She nodded her agreement and didn’t utter a sound.

“Oh, never mind that! Please say something. I grow bored so easily.”

Vistri chattered away as Astarion brought them out of the woods. Totally wrapped up in conversation, they forgot what a sight they made when they eventually showed up midday.

“Where the hells were you?!” Karlach growled. She’d be happier to see him if Vistri was walking vibrantly by his side rather than carried like a ragdoll with two big bite marks on her neck.

“Don’t light your pants on fire,” Astarion said, “Where’s Shadowheart?”

The cleric tore out of her tent, “What have you done to her?!”

A huge smile broke over Vistri’s face, “Shadowheart! Come give Mummy a kiss.”

In a fury, she grabbed hold of Astarion’s tunic, even with Vistri limp in his arms, “I will repeat myself only once, Spawn. What have you done to my best friend?” Her voice was lethal.

Vistri’s was not, “Bloodless times two!”

Shadowheart let go of his shirtfront to bury her face in her hands and sigh deeply, “Just put her on the ground.”

“That’s a good cleric,” Astarion smirked.

She glared up at him, kneeling to treat Vistri’s condition, “Good clerics stake vampires.”

“Then let’s call you… a good, nuanced cleric!”

“Whatever.”

Vistri sat up like a galvanized corpse once Shadowheart muttered her spell.

“Wow! Thanks, Shadow. Owe you one.”

“Owe me plenty.”

Vistri chose to ignore her and smirked at Astarion, “My, my… You look more powerful than ever before. My blood suits you so well.”

He gave a little turn, “Doesn’t it?”

“Very,” she confirmed, surveying his form. She lost her train of thought until Shadowheart elbowed her side.

“Right!” Vistri said, addressing everyone, “Let’s go slay a hag or something!”

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #vistri #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #full fic #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #stay a while fic #BrishFics #smut #angst #fluff #lemon

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vistarion-astri · 4 months

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Summary:

Oct 27th - Wax Play

Notes:

Dark Urge Vistri. Act III Lower City camp. Night after the graveyard scene. bg3 endgame spoilers Dark Urge spoilers tw/cw: Blood

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #durge x astarion #astarion x durge #astarion #astarion ancunin #smut #fluff #lemon #prompt fill #one shot

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ghostofaboy · 7 months

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Well, I set a goal of five for my first Kinktober and I've hit that.

I still don't have fics planned for each day yet but I'm happy I've hit my first goal.

#absurdthirst kinktober list #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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pedropascalsx · 7 months

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Kinktober - Day Two: Virginity.

Frankie Morales × F! Reader.

Summary: You and Frankie take the next step in your relationship.

Warnings: P in v, Loss of Virginity, Oral (f) rec & feelings.

Word Count: 951!

A/N: Day two and I wrote a little bit of our favourite pilot. I hope you enjoy soft and sexy Frankie!

Thank you AGAIN to @absurdthirst for your amazing prompt list! And for looking over this one as well as yesterdays. I appreciate you so much 🩷

Your thighs shake as his tongue laps at you like a man starved, his arms holding you in place as you come apart for the second time at the expense of his tongue.

“Frankie,” you whimper as he continues to work you through your high, alternating between licking and sucking your clit as your fingers grip his hair tighter and tighter. With another breathy moan of his name you start to gently push his head away, the overstimulation becoming a little too much as you tremble beneath him. “You are incredible.” You say with a giggle.

“And you’re fucking delicious,” he murmurs, before peppering a few kisses on your thighs and rubbing his patchy beard against your soft skin.

“I want this,” you say, noting the trepidation in his eyes and the way his hands are a little less steady than usual. “I love you, Frankie.”

“I know,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “I love you too. Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?” His hands grip the backs of your legs as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“I promise,” you say, lifting up your hand and gently rubbing soft circles into his cheek.

“Lift your hips,” Frankie says, before reaching over for a pillow, and placing it gently underneath you. “We’ll go slow, and I’ll stop if you need me too.”

“I know, baby.” You watch as he calculates every move he makes, not rushing and ensuring that you’re ready to take him. He gently slips a finger between your slit, and gathers up some arousal, generously coating two fingers before pushing them inside of you.

“So fucking tight,” he hisses. His pupils are blown wide with lust as he watches his fingers pump in and out of your dripping core, focusing on finding that spot. “I fucking love this pussy,” he murmurs as start to flutter around his digits, and your eyes start to roll back into your head. “There it is.”

“Oh, Frankie,” you choke out, as he drags his fingers against the spot inside of you. Exploring you in a way that no one else has before. “Oh, fuck!”

“I know, baby girl, I know,” he soothes, as the softest moans spill from your perfect lips. “Once you’ve cum on my fingers, I’ll give you my cock.”

He begins to twist his arm a little, pushing a little deeper as your walls greedily grip onto his fingers and he knows you’re already getting close. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, as he looks you up and down. He takes in every curve and appreciates every mark, scar and every single inch of you. “How did I get so lucky?”

You can’t respond, your body doesn’t let you, instead every part of you tenses before your body is awash with pleasure. Every receptor in your body is on fire in the most incredible way, as he repeats the same motion over and over until he knows you can’t take anymore.

“Frankie,” you murmur, desperately to feel more of him, “Make love to me.”

“With pleasure,” he says with a wide smile. He gently removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan that you feel everywhere.

He pushes down his boxers and reveals his painfully hard cock, the tip bright red and begging for relief. “Promise me again, you’ll tell me if it gets too much,” he says, not taking his eyes off of yours. “Promise me, baby.”

“I promise, Francisco.” You shift closer to him, and you watch as he exhales deeply.

He’s slow, he takes himself in hand and drags the tip of him through your folds. He watches the rise and fall of your chest for a few moments before his eyes flicker back up to your face, and he studies it without blinking as he presses himself against your entrance. You give him a small nod and a wide smile and he pushes just the tip of him inside of you. The gasp you make is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, and after a few moments he pushes himself in just a little more, relishing in every moment until he’s filled you to the hilt.

He’s in no rush to move, his mouth spills an endless amount of praises and sweet nothings as you get used to the size of him. And then he slowly begins to rock his hips, his lips now pressed to yours as he swallows every delicious moan and whimper.

Every snap of his hips is so perfectly controlled. Each one designed to give you pleasure while remaining soft enough to not overwhelm. “I love you,” you murmur softly against his lips, as he responds with a kiss that steals your breath.

He knows he isn’t going to last much longer, not with the way you keep squeezing him like a vice. So he keeps focusing on that spot inside of you determined to make you see stars before he fills you up for the first time. “I love you, baby,” he says before slightly increasing the pace, and that’s when he knows he’s got you. You clamp down hard around him and yell his name, before flooding his cock and he immediately follows suit, painting your walls with thick ropes of his pleasure. “I love you, I love you so much,” he repeats over and over as you milk him dry.

The moment you’ve both come down from your high, he gently pulls himself free and captures your lips with a bruising kiss.

“That was perfect,” you say, lips brushing against his. “I love you so much, Francisco.”

“I love you more.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #CKT23 #my fanfiction #my fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

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you know you never stood a chance - chapter three

you know you never stood a chance series

three: cover up where you've been

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Joel catches you working at the brothel again and decides to do something about it.

Warnings: qz!Joel comes with his own warning, Joel is mean/bad at feelings, protective Joel, look he's a complicated man ok, prostitution (we support sex workers in this house), dub-con, free use but it's dub-con due to the power imbalance, spanking, one (1) pussy spank, unprotected p in v

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 31: Free Choice (Free Use), Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst, who I would like to thank for inspiring me to write again for the first time in literal years.

also on ao3

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Joel is snarling before you even realize who has come through the door.

You scramble back on the bed at the sound of a man yelling. Your brain doesn’t register him, only a steady siren telling you to make yourself as small as possible.

He doesn’t see it for what it is, only sees you back in this fucking motel room in a pink robe. “I don’t like repeatin’ myself, girl. I told you not to come back here. Then I hear it from Jenkins that you’re down here whoring yourself out?”

“Joel, I—” you start to whisper from where you’re sitting against the headboard, knees drawn to your chest.

“I don’t want to fuckin’ hear it,” he says. “Get over here, face down, ass up.” When you don’t move right away, he snaps his fingers. “Now.”

You flinch at his tone but obey, positioning yourself the way he had put you the last time you met him here.

With your face buried in the mattress, you can only hear as he unbuckles his belt. His hand cracks down on your ass, and you yelp, lurching forward.

“Ya wanna be a whore? Fine,” he says. He spits into his hand and strokes his cock before shoving it into your cunt.

It’s too much. You’re too dry, and he’s too big. But you don’t protest more than a sharp cry, weaving your fingers into the sheet and holding on like it was strong enough to hold you back.

“Fuck, you’re tight, princess. Not getting a lot of business?”

You don’t bother with an answer; he doesn’t really want one.

He pulls almost all the way out and adjusts his grip on your hips before slamming all the way in. You bite your lip, but his cock forces a scream from you, anyway.

He sets a ravaged pace, nothing like he’s done to you before. Tears burn down your cheeks, but you stay silent, stay pliant.

Apparently, that’s not what he wants. He slaps your ass again, bringing his hand down until you can’t hold back any longer, a wretched sob tearing free.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to be treated like a fuckin’ whore.”

“Joel, please.”

He pulls out and flips you onto your back before thrusting back in. You cover your face with your hands, unable to bear looking up at him through the tears.

“This what you do with all the men who come in here to use your cunt? You hide and cry until it’s over?”

“No, please.”

“Please what? You want me to touch you?”

You nod, finding that you do. Even though you hate this. Even though this isn’t the way he fucks you, isn’t the way he takes his retribution. Maybe if he touches you, it’ll hurt less.

His hand reaches between you to rub at your clit. It doesn’t last; he doesn’t get a reaction. You just take it but can’t seem to feel it.

“Stop fuckin’ hiding from me,” he says, wrenching your hands from your face by the wrists.

He freezes, cock buried to the hilt, both wrists still wrapped in the bulk of his hands.

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened?” you mutter, turning your head to the side, taking your blackened right eye out of his direct line of sight.

He moves to hold both wrists in one hand, bringing the other up to turn your face back toward him.

You wrench your chin away from his hand, which he brings up to scrub over his face, sighing and shaking his head.

“I warned you, darlin’, the creeps that have to come here to find a girl aren’t going to be nice to ya.”

You glare up at him, trying to keep your mouth shut. You paid him back; you owe him nothing. Not even an explanation. Especially not an explanation.

“Just get what you paid for and get out, Miller.” It’s soft, strained. Your throat is still sore, as is practically everything else.

“You were bein’ such a good girl. Comin’ to me when you needed something, not lettin’ yourself get beat and used for a pittance.”

The tears have subsided, now, but the humiliation stings anew. “She left.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“My sister. She left. That FEDRA creep she’s with got a transfer, and she went with him.”

“You’re kiddin’ me. After the shit you went through takin’ care of her?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, fingers twisting the bunched up sheets.

“You shoulda come to me first, instead of comin’ here.” He knows, though. His knuckles trace the curve of your cheek under the bruising. Double the rent wasn’t something you could fix with pills or ration cards. He pulls out and tucks his still-hard cock back into his jeans.

“The fuck are you doing?” It’s easy to let the embarrassment turn to anger.

“Get dressed; we’re leavin’.”

“Like hell we are. I don’t want your fuckin’ pity, Miller. Take what you came here for and get out.”

“I plan on it, princess. I just ain’t doin’ it here. Get your shit, and let’s go.”

You scowl. It would feel better to argue, but you have a feeling it isn’t going to get you anywhere. You don’t have to go with him. But you already know you will.

So you pull on your hoodie and sweatpants, resigned to following him. The walk back only takes fifteen minutes, but it’s the longest, quietest fifteen minutes of your life.

On the fourth floor landing, you automatically turn to go down the hall to his apartment, but Joel keeps going. You have to double back and jog to catch up with him by the fifth floor. Your brain still hasn’t caught up when you stop outside your door.

You must take a second too long for him because he sighs and plunges a hand into your sweater pocket, only for it to emerge seconds later with your key in its grasp. He unlocks your apartment, and you follow.

Grabbing your backpack from the floor by the entrance, he moves about the apartment, shoving things in with little consideration. You stand in the middle of the living room, the sight of Joel in your space not making sense.

“Go on, I ain’t packin’ your clothes and shit,” he says like you’re supposed to know what’s going on. He stands up straight and puts a hand on his hip. ”What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, you sure as shit can’t stay here, sweetheart. If you don’t get your things now, they’ll just keep ‘em.”

When he finishes ransacking your kitchen and living room, he comes in to find you staring into the bathroom mirror.

“Your couch is nicer than mine, I’ll come back for it tomorrow,” he says before stopping in the door frame. “What’re you just standing there for?”

You hadn’t seen it yet. The bruise. Your eye. It’s shaken something loose like phlegm from your lungs. You reach a hand up to it and gently prod at the discoloration.

“It’s not that bad. I got a cream you can put on it,” Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, leaning back a little. The tight set of your lips makes him think you might cry, which he doesn’t know what to do with. “Hurry up,” he says, instead, and leaves the room.

His words sink in a few moments later. You go out to find him puttering around in the kitchen, making himself lunch.

“What do you mean you’ll come back for my couch?”

“S’nicer than mine. We can trade the old one for somethin’ else.”

“That clears up nothing, thank you.”

“What?” he says through a mouthful of sandwich.

You slump into the metal folding chair that sits at your tiny, two-top table and bury your face in your hands for a minute. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Not much to it. Ya can’t stay here, obviously. You won’t make it on the streets. I got the room, so.” He shrugs and takes another bite, like it’s really that simple to him.

“I can’t owe you that much, Joel.”

He sets down his sandwich right on the countertop, though you can’t remember when you’ve had time to clean it last, and crosses the whole three steps to the other side of the kitchen. With two curled fingers, he lifts your chin to look at him.

“Ya ain’t gonna owe me, sweetheart. S’just gonna be that much easier for me to take my payment, y’know? You keep your job, and when I’m home, you’re mine.”

You swallow and nod, a wave of nausea threatening to spill.

“What’s got you lookin’ all scared? It’s a better deal than you were getting at the whorehouse.”

He’s not wrong. It’s a much, much better deal. So you nod, and stand up, knocking the chair back with a clunk against the table. You make a bag of sorts out of your blanket and stuff your clothes into it.

You stare at your sister’s bed, stripped bare. She won’t know where to find me, you think. But you know she won’t even look.

Joel makes room for your meager belongings, but you don’t get time to unpack. Pent up from stopping halfway at the motel, he shows you exactly how he means to get his payment when he pushes you down across the bathroom counter and tugs your pants down so they pool around your ankles.

His cock slides in a little easier this time, though not by much. But this time, when his fingers find your clit, you moan. Now that you’re not afraid, you can appreciate just how good he is at manipulating your body.

He’s got one foot on the toilet seat, thrusting up into you. His other hand curls around to cup your tit, thumb flicking against your nipple. He moans when you reward his efforts by clamping down around his cock.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, pinching at it so you gasp and tighten again. “See? So much easier than that fuckin’ brothel. All you gotta do is take whatever I give ya, whenever I want.”

You nod against the cold laminate, tilting your hips so he can slide in just a little deeper. He pushes in enough to hit just right so you can topple over the edge to your climax.

He groans and works you through it. “Give me another one, I’m not gonna last,” he says, doubling his efforts. It doesn’t take much, and you jerk against him. He drops your breast in favor of pushing your shoulder blades down as he pulls out and cums on your ass, beads rolling down your thighs.

“Atta girl,” he says with a slap to your cunt as he turns and leaves the room.

next chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #qz!joel miller #kinktober 2023 #the last of us fic #tlou fic #joel miller smut #you know you never stood a chance series

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noxturnalpascal · 4 months

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My 2023 Fanfic-Wrapped

I only really started reading Pedro fanfic in April or May, I got started on some of the well-known fics on AO3 that were recommended on tiktok. However, one of them brought me to tumblr (because I wanted to see more from this author, I wanted to see their moodboards and their sneak peeks). And I haven’t left since.

I even decided to try my hand at writing as well. It’s been a LOT of fun. (My masterlist is here if you want to see all the weird shit I wrote so far). Thank you to everyone who has supported me in all my efforts and to all the friends I've made.

I wanted to create this list to highlight some of my faves this year. If you haven’t read these, they all come highly recommended by me.

I'll be reblogging everything on this list throughout the day. If you’d like to reblog this post and add some of your own favorites from this year - PLEASE DO!!! I would absolutely love to get new recs!! Let’s share the love!!

In no particular Order - Here are some of my favorites from the year!

Fave Writers (I’ll read anything they write)

@toxicanonymity (joel miller masterlist) Personal Faves: NightWalks!Joel, Vamp!Joel (both Ongoing)

@theywhowriteandknowthings (masterlist) Personal Faves: Creep - Joel, Princess and the Duke - Dave York (Ongoing)

@chloeangelic (masterlist) Personal Faves: Love Me Back - Joel, Seeking What is Desirable - Joel (Ongoing)

@goodwithcheese (masterlist) Personal Faves: The Layover - Frankie, Paranoid Heart - Javi P (Ongoing)

@beskarandblasters (masterlist) Personal Faves: Me and My Husband - Din Djarin, New York or Nowhere - Bodega!Joel (Ongoing)

@absurdthirst (masterlist) Personal Faves: Kinktober 2023 Oct 15th - LactationKink!Dieter, A Marriage of Convenience - Regency!PeroTovar, (they have SO many good ones)

Fave Ongoing Series

Mall Rats (Jackson-era!Joel) by @strang3lov3

Oh! Honey (Monster!Joel x Mortician!Reader) by @lincolndjarin

Hard to be Soft, Tough to be Tender (Pimp!Joel) by @iamasaddie

On the Waterfront (Chubby!Mafia!Frankie) by @beefrobeefcal

The King’s Queen (Royalty/ArrangedMarriageAU!Javi G) by @wardenparker

From Eden (PlantShopOwner!Joel x Married!F!Reader) by @5oh5

A Lover’s Pinch (Professor!Joel x Student!Reader) by @hier--soir

Into the Beat of the Night (Bi!Frankie x afab!gn!OC) by @perotovar

Fave Finished Series

A Stranger’s Heart Without a Home (Jackson-era Joel) by @morning-star-joy (This is the one that brought me to tumblr. Doni created this beautiful story and it has a very special place in my heart.)

Late Night Texts (Post-Colombia Javier Peña) by @undercoverpena

Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband (Married!No-Outbreak!Joel) by @netherfeildren

Something New (SexWorker!Frankie) by @prolix-yuy

Something Wretched About This (DrugDealer!Joel) by @covetyou

Pioneer Frankie (A series of stories about Pioneer!AU!Frankie) by @frannyzooey

Trial & Error (No-Outbreak!Joel helps Tommy & reader get pregnant) by @thetriumphantpanda

Pleased to Meet You (Meeting Francisco Morales - twice) by @intheorangebedroom

Fave Characters

Husband's Best Friend Joel Miller (with Married! Reader) (HBF!Joel) by @gracieispunk

Jackson-Era Vampire! Joel Miller (A Secret Worth Keeping) by @multiversed-daydreamer

Soccer-dad No-Outbreak Joel Miller gets a racy text from an unknown number (The Right Wrong Number) by @proxima-writes

Demon! Ezra (with Witch! Reader) (In Every Lifetime) by @xdaddysprincessxx

Protective Jackson-Era Joel Miller (A Safe Haven) by @joelsgreys

THROUPLE Frankie x Joel x F!Reader (Catalyst Masterlist) by @ezrasbirdie

Sleezy Gas Station Joel *MC* Miller (Meet Me in the Back) by @atticrissfinch

Porn Star Joel Miller (with Porn Star Reader) (I Know it When I See it) by @bageldaddy

Fave Dark/DDDNE Fics (These fics aren’t being put in the corner but they do come with some very special warnings so I wanted to separate them)

Trick or Treat? (DDDNE Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader) by @morallyinept

Bullet For You, Darlin’ (DDDNE Dark!Raider!Joel Miller) by @kewwrites

Online Friends (Cherry Bomb) (Dom!Joel, online/phone sex) by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Blessed Be the Fruit (Dark!DubCon! Joel Miller - Handmaid’s Tale AU) by @romana-after-dark

Red Light (Dark!Obsessive!DubCon! Landlord Joel Miller) by @kiwisbell

The Burglary (DDDNE burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller) by @milla-frenchy and @aurorawritestoescape

I don't know man.... I just know I like it

Menuet (It’s an animal/shapeshifter/monster fucking thing (Pero Tovar) that fundamentally changed who I am as a person) by @psychedelic-ink

Liquid Gold (Joel - and Tommy? - help Pregnant!Reader out when an issue arises) by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Get a Grip (Watch Model!Joel Miller x Manicurist!Reader Hand/GloveKink!) by @bonezone44

Mother Who Provides (Mommy!Kink Joel gets breastfed) by @pedge-page

Goodbye 2023, See you all next year!!!!

#fanfic wrapped #noxturnalpascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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gosmigenergy · 7 months

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KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Two

FROTTAGE / SEXUAL FRUSTRATION / VIRGINITY

( Triple Frontier Boys x F!Reader )

Summary: After a conscious decision to stop dating, your friend invites you to fight night where more than one person catches your eye.

Rating: 12A?

Warnings: Mentions of dating/bad relationships, allusions to a non-monogamous relationship, language, drinking, teeny bit of masturbation, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.4k

Notes: When @absurdthirst announced their Kinktober 2023 list, I actually got inspired to start writing and I’m now taking the plunge by posting them online. It’s been a few years since I wrote smut so bear with me. If there is anything spoken in italics, it’s Santiago or Francisco speaking in Spanish, I didn’t want to just Google translate and butcher it. My brain also didn’t do this in numerical order hence why there is no Day 01 though this story seemed more of a fitting start.

I may not complete the entire list so be ready for sporadic updates, enjoy!

(P.S. Hi Moyra!)

The story of how you ended up in an open relationship with four, rather handsome guys was a simple one.

You were lonely and horny but also indecisive.

Your notable chastity came after a series of shitty relationships and dates with men. After being ghosted, catfished and caught up in a quick partnership with a toxic dom, you had pretty much given up on the male species. Except, once a few months had passed, the sexual urge came back, you couldn’t fathom the strength to go out and find people but there is only so much a toy can do.

“A cage fight? What are we going to do at a cage fight?”

“I don’t know,” your friend spoke with a tone that indicated she knew something you didn’t. “But there will be plenty of men.”

You roll your eyes, she was desperate to get you back out there, she also knew you well enough to know fighting your sexual nature was soon going to become a struggle and she couldn’t handle the idea of another crap hook up for you.

“Fine.”

That evening you found yourself outside of town, in front of a sorry looking hanger with your friend waiting for the rest of the group, watching the slim picking choices of men.

“If I wanted a frat boy, I could have just gone to that one bar.”

Your friend scoffed, “Frat boys are not the only option here.”

They weren’t but they seemed to be the better option.

Every other man you saw, you wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. Amongst the Frat boys was portly bikers who could barely remain on their bikes, those who you could only describe as rednecks and guys so terrifying, the idea of approaching them didn’t even come to the forefront of your mind.

“How long do you think the girls are going to be?”

“Fashionably late,” she shrugs.

“There’s a strong possibility they’ll miss their guy.”

You have flashbacks to when you went to a concert and they arrived so late, they only made it in time for the main act. The pair of you had sworn never to attend anything with them unless you had your tickets and could make your way to the venue without them. Tonight, you were both a little worried about how they’d be when they turned up and in an event like this, they’d stand out in the crowd.

You hugged your frame, bobbing up and down on the balls of your feet.

“Could we just get them to message when they’re here?”

“We’ll give them another 20 minutes.”

The flurry of people thickened and you stood to one side to allow everyone to pass without having to go around you. You were watching the time pass by on your phone when your friend’s announcement interrupted you.

“They’re here.”

“Thank fuck.”

You raise your head, about to look passed the incoming audience when you caught sight of someone.

He has his head ducked low underneath a baseball cap, his outfit in shades of navy and grey, hands stuffed in tight jeans pockets. Under the brim, his brown eyes flicked up to yours like he knew he was being watched. A smile came to his lips, brightening his five o’clock shadow, the moment between you was brief.

He carried on walking and you kept your eyes in front, swallowing as you felt his gaze still on you.

“Are you ok?” Your friend queried.

“I’m fine.”

The temperature rises in your cheeks.

“Uh-huh.”

In the venue, the group of you squeezed into a middle row on one side of the cage. The rest of the girls had already arrived a little bit ‘squiffy’ as they put it and on the second round of drinks, you’d offered to head to the overcrowded bar.

You had spent the evening rejecting offers from all sort of men, the cheesiest chat up lines plugged to you in every kind of way - ‘when do you get in the ring’, ‘what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this’ etcetera, etcetera. Your mystery man was nowhere to be seen and you think he was just a figment of your imagination.

Pushing your way through the throng, you manage to grab onto the trim of the makeshift bar and haul yourself forward. You lean your weight on your elbows and wait patiently for one of the bar staff to finish serving another drunkard.

“So, what’s a little girl like you doing in a place like this?”

The way they said ‘little girl’ made your skin crawl, even the guy next to you clocked your discomfort.

“Out with friends and would rather be left alone, thank you.”

“Aw, come on, I just want to talk.”

“I’d rather not, I’ve had plenty of men try and talk to me tonight and I told them the exact same thing. Please leave me alone.”

There was movement behind you but you thought it best not to make eye contact. You felt the air pass your shoulder as the guy next to you threw up a hand and caught the other man’s wrist that was inches away from your body.

“Hey, she’s already asked you nicely to leave her alone.”

Oh god, was a fight going to start because of you?

The growing tension had your heart pounding and your knuckles became white as you held your nerve.

“Who are you, her boyfriend?”

“If I was, would it stop you harassing her?”

The man behind you mumbled something incoherently before squirming out of the guy’s grip and staggering away.

“Thank you,” you finally look his way, giving him a smile.

He smiled, giving you a gestured nod, “You’re welcome.”

Even in this light, he had baby blue eyes and delicate freckles along his cheek bones. His upper body was wide, holding it’s own against wave after wave of people coming in to wait along the bar.

“You have some pretty quick reflexes, are you sure you’re not meant to be in that cage?”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, not my kind of thing. How about you? That look could have knocked him dead.”

“There’d be a lot bodies on the floor if it worked,” you quip. “I’m here as chaperone to the group of forlorn looking girls waiting for their man.”

His smile broaden, digging dimples into his cheeks.

“And who might that be?”

“Benny Miller,” you shrug.

You’ve been invited to watch him fight but actually have no fucking idea what he looks like, the girls have just been swooning about his ridiculous six pack.

“Really? He’s going to be thrilled.”

“You think?”

“I’m his brother, of course I know.”

You cock your head, eyebrows arching, maybe you could understand the fascination with this fighter if his brother is anything to go by.

“Oh god, how many Millers are there?”

His laugh is contagious.

“Only the two of us. If you count brothers in arms, there’s four.”

You should have guessed with those reflexes he was some sort of military.

Just as you’re about to speak, a bar man appears and he allows you to order your round first, five shots should come quickly. Juggling to get a grip of five tiny plastic glasses in two hands, you flash him another smile.

“Thanks…” You falter, “Sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”

“Will.”

You introduce yourself and thank him again before slipping into the stream of people, excusing and apologising to anyone who got in your way.

“You were gone a while,” you friend said inquisitively after taking a shot of sour cherry flavoured liquor.

You hum, “I got harassed at the bar and Benny Miller’s brother stepped in as my knight in shining armour.”

She laughs, checking quickly to see if the other girls heard.

“What is with you tonight? First that guy at the entrance, now the brother.”

“His name is Will and I haven’t seen that other guy since.”

It was nice to know he wasn’t imaginary.

There were a few rounds before Benny’s, the girls squealing and looking away as two guys beat the living daylight out of each other. They shouldn’t have been there, too much blood, too much violence and too much sweat from the crowd washing over them and it wasn’t like they could talk either.

The break came and as the other girls insisted on another drink, you politely excused yourself to breath some cool outside air.

You refused the offer of a cigarette when you stepped out the doors, eyes flitting to see if there was an empty bench or some patch of grass where you could escape the huddle of people congregating. Wandering around, you found yourself at the side entrance of the hanger, a lone person leaning a brick low barring wall.

There couldn’t be any harm sitting with him, he seemed harmless enough.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

The man glanced over, brown curls flicking from under his cap.

“Go ahead.”

You side, jumping to rest your ass before taking a massive swing of water from the fountain you’d discovered on your way out.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

“No offence but you don’t seem one for violence.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You look too sweet and innocent,” he shrugged.

You hum, “Who says I’m innocent?”

He laughs, dropping his head before taking a swig of beer, eyes in front of him.

“I apologise.”

“That’s ok, I get what you’re saying, it’s been pretty brutal so far.”

His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, “I’ve seen worse.”

“Well, for the sake of the girls I’m with, I hope Benny Miller don’t get the shit beaten out of him.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t.”

He sounded so sure and that’s when your brain made the connection to what Will said earlier.

“You’re one of his brothers in arms, aren’t you?”

The man leaned back, placing one hand on his thigh, the little target tattoo on his hand stretching. He faced you now with a furrowed brow and parted lips, his eyes dark as you could see his mind working out how you knew.

“I bumped into Will at the bar.”

His expression seemed to soften.

“He told you about me?”

“Not specifically,” you winced, trying not to hurt his feelings. “We just got talking.”

The corners of his lips twitched, “He did mention meeting a pretty girl at the bar.”

You had to look away, your cheeks and chest immediately on fire, a spark that travelled your lower belly, spreading with desire. Will said you were pretty and he just clarified the comment, your friend was right, what is with you tonight?

He was just about to speak until the heavy swing of the door made you jump, he barely moved an inch.

“You better get you ass in here, Benny will lose his shit if you ain’t there to walk him in.”

For a brief moment, you couldn’t see who was attached to the voice but it was smooth.

They step out from behind the door and you saw the edge of a blue bomber jacket and the navy peak of a cap, his soft slopping nose and the five o’clock shadow along his sharp jawline.

Oh no.

It was if he caught something out of the corner of his eye, like he saw his friend and wondered why there was another person sat next to him, who was the other person sat next to him. His one eyebrow was arched, his lip straight until he recognised the face.

“Didn’t I catch your eye earlier?”

“I’m sure it was the other way round,” you remark wittily.

He smiled, nodding, “Agree to disagree.”

“If you say so.”

“Are you going to chat up all my guys tonight?”

He points between you and the other guy.

“I think you’ll find they keep chatting to me.”

He laughs, nodding again.

Both of the men shared a look, understanding each other though no word was exchanged, it was annoying yet somewhat enticing.

You wished you could know what they were thinking.

“Come on, Fish, he’s going on in a couple of minutes.”

He got up from the wall, abandoning the empty cup but he glanced one last time at you.

“Fish?”

“Nickname,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s Frankie to everyone else.”

You tell him your name and he smiles, nodding as he walked away. Frankie pats the other man on the back, stating ‘hermano’ and sauntering away, readjusting his cap before he disappeared into the venue.

Slipping off the wall, you went to say goodbye before he gestured for you to come through the back.

“Thanks.”

The door slammed behind him and he followed you, body unbelievably close, his breath mixing with the heat contained in the hanger.

“So, do I get to know your name?”

Glancing over your shoulder, he still has that soft smile, eyes roaming what was in front of him that caused goosebumps to arrive on your skin.

“No.”

You walked passed rows of lockers and tired wooden benches before he stopped, letting you walk a little further.

“Go to your left and follow the corridor to the double doors.”

You nod, “See you in there?”

His smile grew, “Sure.”

Following his instructions, the corridor felt like it went on for miles, the music muffled through the brickwork, the only sound your shoes squeaking on tiles. You were trying to wrap your head around what was going on, how had you met three guys in one night who all knew each other and seemed, to you anyway, to be caught in your gravitational pull? Or was your friend right, were you just that ridiculously horny after months of your own hand or toys?

You shake your head, taking a deep breath before joining civilisation again.

“They wanted to get closer,” your friend said, rolling her eyes.

“Aren’t we technically in the splash zone now?”

“D’you think they’re bothered?”

She was right, the rest of the girls were far too gone to even worry about being covered in sweat, beer and possibly blood, all you prayed for is none of them got ahead of themselves and flashed the fighter at the worst time.

After Benny’s name got introduced over the speakers and the match started, you finally saw the other three from the group, distorted opposite by the wire hexagons that followed the cage. Even they were sensible enough to sit several rows back, they cheered and backed Benny the whole way through and when the opportunity arose, fleetingly looked to you.

A heat washed over your body.

“They said this is the way!”

The girls were giggling, tottering up the corridor as fast as they could in heels. You and your other friend held back, mostly to ensure you weren’t connected to the fangirls who were trying to find a battered and bruised man.

You pretended you didn’t know where the locker room was though you were there moments earlier, you couldn’t face the queries from your friend.

“He’ll be in here,” a friend beckons everyone over.

“And I’m out,” you hold your hands up. “I’m not sneaking into the boys locker room.”

“Really? I thought you’d quite like a photographic memory for tonight.”

You shake you head, “I have the internet for that.”

She laughs, nudging your hip.

“I’m just going to see how this all plays out.”

“Sure.”

She pushes you away and you stagger to an empty space on the wall, leaning against it and allowing the cold to spread across you back. Tipping your head back, you close your eyes, taking a breath.

“Don’t want to join your friends.”

A familiar voice breaks the silence.

“Do you always hang round in the shadows?”

He scoffs, “No.”

“I’d rather not be associated with,” you wave a hand. “Their actions.”

He moves to the wall opposite you, copying your stance, his smile curling as he can hear the chaos in the distance.

“You know it’s a shame,” he looked at you through the corner of his eyes. “He would have liked to have met you.”

You scowl, tilting your head.

“You’ve been talking about me?”

“Will and Fish are quite enamoured with you.”

“And you?”

Your heart was pounding, the blood rushing to your head. You were nervous to hear his answer, tongue sweeping over your dry lips and all he could do was smile, breaking eye contact.

“I don’t think you could handle me.”

You hum, “I like a challenge.”

He pursed his lips, cocking his head to one side.

“You look too sweet for me, honey.”

The way he said ‘honey’ was intoxicating, smooth with a hint of his Spanish pronunciation, it made your heart flutter. You push yourself off the wall and take a few steps over to him, folding your arms across your chest, standing tall.

You look him up and down, your expression scrunching, you’d seen someone like him before not exactly like him but they all appear the same.

“Maybe that’s just what you need… A good girl who’ll do as she’s told.”

He turned to face you, eyes almost black and you swallowed. His smile crocked into a smirk, he noticed the falter in your otherwise firm stance. Moving his body close, he leaned forward, hands placed to his hips. He brought his lips to the shell of your ear.

“Then give me your phone.”

You do as you’re told, unlocking the screen as you hand it over.

Taking it in one hand, he gives you space and taps away before giving it back. You check the details on the phone.

Santiago Garcia is a new contact.

“Give us a message if you need anything.”

You blinked at the screen then up at him, his face had softened.

“I’ll hold you to that, Santiago.”

He winked and walked away, out of your vision, he shooed the girls away.

—

“So, did ask her?”

The guys had driven to a late night diner after the match, part of Benny’s post match routine was stuffing his face with a load of carbs.

“Not quite,” Santiago took a bite of a fry. “I gave her my number.”

Benny practically made a raspberry noise like a child.

Santiago shook his head, throwing his hands up, “The balls in her court.”

“You should have just asked her.”

Frankie took a swig of his coffee, “This isn’t the kind of thing you just walk up and ask, she would have run a fucking mile.”

Benny pointed with his fork, “This is why I should have done it.”

Frankie burst into laughter, Santiago and Will shaking their heads, he has no fucking idea.

“What?”

“There’s no way she would have taken the offer from you,” Will was trying to contain his laughter, cheeks turning a faint hue of pink. “I trust Pope, the balls in her court now.”

Benny ladled the last of his food onto his fork, “Do you think she’ll bite?”

Santiago was praying to every god that you did even though he was far from religious. This is the first time back since he felt anything, it was unusual that he found himself vying for attention with the other boys.

This was new territory for him and he’s done a lot of shit.

He thinks back to the conversation with you, he didn’t expect what came out of your mouth and it was like the lure of a siren to a sailor. It’s why he reconsidered you as an option. Sure, you cracked a little when he got close yet who wouldn’t and that’s when he guessed you may have seen it before.

His fingers have been twitching to check his phone all night.

“You’re guess is as good as mine.”

And you were laying in bed contemplating whether it was too early to message him.

After the fight, you thought you’d just go home and crash, you thought wrong.

Stripping off, you decided to take a shower to get rid of the grime from the night. You had an idea you were wet, you just didn’t realise how much your arousal had pooled. There was so many factors you could blame - several matches where two sweaty, semi dressed men were in close proximity to each other, three men’s eyes watching you and your eyes met, Santiago centimetres from your face.

The water fell soothing down your skin and you settled two fingers against your clit, rubbing gently. Closing your eyes, you pictured the fine details, the blonde of Will’s hair, the wideness of Frankie’s hand, the musk of Santiago’s aftershave.

You dragged your fingers along your folds, gasping as you sunk them into your burning cunt.

It was embarrassing how quickly you came to the thought of them, you hands reaching for the cool tiles of your bathroom as your legs threatened to give way. Your breath was shaking, your body vibrating as the warmth travelled up your spine.

“Fuck.”

A message popped up on your phone from your friend, hoping that you had a good night, the winking face emoji a hint to the boys. Messaging now seemed desperate, your teeth grazed you lip.

Rolling over, you prayed that sleep would take you.

You decided against messaging Santiago in the morning, you were groggy and unmotivated with suggestions of a possible meet up would fall on deaf ears. It was in the afternoon, after some good food and a walk in the fresh air that you felt ready.

‘And when you say anything, what did you have in mind?’

That was the question that lead you to the bar tonight.

As it was a dive bar, or so you and your friends believed, you didn’t wear anything fancy however it didn’t mean you under dressed. You wore a dress that accentuated the curves of your body, hiding it with an oversized jacket and trainers. Taking a breath, you pushed through the doors, the vision of Santiago stood at the bar ordering.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“I’m fashionably late,” you retort, taking a note out of your friends’ books.

He laughed, “What are you drinking?”

He bought you a drink and you went to join the boys at the table, finally being introduced to Benny.

“I was kind of insulted you didn’t want to meet me but I’ll forgive you.”

The five of you talked about everything and anything, you learned that Frankie was a pilot, Santiago chased cartels for years after being in the military because he couldn’t stand still and the Miller brothers spent their youth on a family farm. After food and another round, Benny decided that it was the perfect time to get the conversation rolling on to why you were here.

“Are we gonna do this or not?”

He was straight to the point.

“Christ, Benny,” Will could have kicked him under the table. “Always thinking with that dick of yours.”

You guessed the implication would be something sexual, you got that from Santiago last night but his text gave you nothing, actually the whole evening gave you nothing. It was just nice to be in the company of four very different yet very attractive men who hadn’t push any boundaries.

Frankie lifted his cap and ran his fingers through brown curls, his focus pulling to Santiago.

“You want to start? You’re better with words.”

It’s also more his kind of thing, is what he left out, but it wasn’t easy.

Your eyes flicked to every man around the table. Frankie couldn’t make eye contact, Benny glanced between you and Santiago while Will seemed to be the calmest of the lot.

“We got talking yesterday about a girl we saw at the fight and it turns out we were talking about the same one. Now, the guys haven’t really done this before, I’ve shared before but not quite like this —“

“Wait, did you just say shared?”

It was alarmingly hot all of the sudden.

“Yes, I did,” he rubbed the scar along his neck.

Frankie chuckled to himself, “I guess there is no easy way of saying it.”

Santiago could see your mind working overtime, the knot in your brows tightening. Your lips opened before you stopped and thought over your words again.

“Do you guys want a five way?”

You wouldn’t complain if they did.

Benny and Santiago’s brows seemingly raised.

“Not quite, sweetheart,” Will lowered his tone, closing in on you so his frame blocked the rest of the bar from your vision. “We’re thinking more, we share you out evenly, four ways.”

You blink, tongue running over your dry lips, just the thought alone had settled between your thighs.

“So, a different guy every night?”

“If you want,” Benny chimed in.

Santiago shrugged, “I was thinking more of a weekly schedule.”

That would make sense.

Your mind was processing the concept, it could be good, yet it could also be bad, catastrophically bad. That’s what happened with that dom, they made all these promises, that they’d buy you all these rewards and gifts if you did what they wanted, they never came. They had you running round in circles, doing a load of shit you thought you wanted to do when in actuality, you didn’t. They manipulated you until you finally said no and then they gaslighted you into thinking it was all your fault when it never was.

Could these guys do that too?

“What are you thinking, querida?” Frankie broke through the silence.

“Just the string of bad relationships that came before this,” you take a swig of your drink, catching his puppy dog eyes. “Not that I’m saying this is a bad idea, it’s just…”

You chose your words carefully.

“I’d need to see the terms and conditions.”

He nodded, “That’s fair.”

“I’ll get the papers to you in the morning,” Santiago joked.

“I better not see any spelling mistakes or the deal’s off.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Will’s my copywriter.”

You tried to keep the upper hand but you broke, the smile cracking on your lips.

“Sooo, is that a yes?”

Benny’s eyes were darting from person to person, this conversation was too cryptic for him, he wanted a firm answer.

“It’s a maybe.”

He pouted, nodding, “I’m taking that as a positive, celebratory shots on me.”

The rest of the boys groaned as he slipped out of the booth towards the bar, Will apologising for his brother’s enthusiasm given the fact you didn’t give a solid ‘yes’. You thought you’d pretty much ruled men out and then suddenly the universe had gifted you four of them.

Maybe this was the end of that dry spell, the possibility of your sexual awakening and more and honestly, you didn’t mind at all.

#kinktober 2023 #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #reader insert #santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales #will ironhead miller #benny miller #slow burn #kinktober #first time posting #im gonna post this and log off

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Happy Kinktober Lovelies! 🖤

I've got some delicious Kinktober recommendations for you if you're interested in reading some kinky fics this month... 👇🏻

First Kinktober Masterlist - It's @palioom 's first Kinktober and I am so excited for this! 🎉 Can't wait to see what spicy surprises await us! I just know this is going to be amazing and all kinds of 🥵.

Haunted Hoedown - @psychedelic-ink made a shorter Kinktober called Haunted Hoedown this year (their previous Kinktober's have been 👌🏻) and there are some incredible stories on this spooky, smutty list that you simply MUST read. 👻

Kinktober Masterlist 2023 - @lincolndjarin is dropping Kinktober this year too, and I'm excited to read each day all these little stories that are guaranteed to make you drool into your candied apples. 🤤🍎

Cowboytober - @anabdaniels has created an Agent Whiskey specific Kinktober and I am here for it, sugar! I love this concept of just focusing on one Pedro Boy for the whole month. Can't wait to see what our favourite cowboy will get up to this smutty season. 🤠

Kinktober Masterlist 2023 - @absurdthirst 's Kinktober stories never fail to whet the appetite and theirs have been some of my favourites from last year, so I am chomping at the bit to read a new kinky tale each day from them this month! 🥲

Adding @ghostofaboy 's Kinktober Masterlist here too. I particularly love the way he writes Frankie in his Rock Bottom series, and day one of his Kinktober is a Frankie delight! Looking forward to all he has in store for us this month. 🥵

Check out @odetodilfs for their absolutely delicious M!Reader Kinktober fics, starting off with Javier Peña. Love the way he writes. 🥵

Although I won't personally be writing for Kinktober this year, I will be posting a spooky/smutty story on the 31st for Halloween, featuring not one, but THREE of our Pedro Boys.

Have a guess in the comments as to which three you think it might be... 😏

Please check out the writers mentioned for their Kinktober Masterlists. Don't forget to re-blog their work to show them all the love.

If you're a writer taking part in Kinktober this year, lemme know. Would love to read your work!

🖤

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misspearly1 · 2 years

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Miss Pearls Kinktober 2022

This is my first Kinktober ya'll and let me tell ya, I am very excited. I'd like to give a very special thanks to Keri, (@absurdthirst - kinktober list), Lua (@starsandskies - kinktober list) and LeeAnn (@the-purity-pen - kinktober list) for providing these prompts. I really appreciate the work you put into creating these for us ❤️

Pre-Warnings (Please Read): There are three fandoms in this Kinktober. (Joel Miller/ Arthur Morgan/Pedro Pascal Characters). All are completed with Female readers (you, Y/N). And lastly, some fics are big with plot, others are small with very little plot. The first fic will be automatically posted tomorrow morning at 7am 🥰

Day One: Size Difference - Joel Miller

Day Two: Thigh Riding - Arthur Morgan

Day Three: Threesome - Joel Miller & Arthur Morgan

Day Four: Breast Worship/Nipple Play - Marcus Pike

Day Five: Window/Balcony Sex - Javier Pena

Day Six: Sleepy Sex - Frankie Morales

Day Seven: Anal - Pero Tovar

Day Eight: Cockwarming - Ezra

Day Nine: Anonymous Sex - Din D'jarin

Day Ten: Creampie - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Day Eleven: Orgasm Denial/Edging - Joel Miller

Day Twelve: Face Sitting - Joel Miller

Day Thirteen: Spanking - Joel Miller

Day Fourteen: Rough Sex + Aftercare - Arthur Morgan

Day Fifteen: Monster Fucking - Max Phillips

Day Sixteen: Restraints - Marcus Pike

Day Seventeen: Rough Sex - Frankie Morales

Day Eighteen: Accidental Stimulation - Din D'jarin

Day Nineteen: Titty Fucking - Pero Tovar

Day Twenty: Double Penetration - Max Phillips

Day Twenty-One: Daddy/Mommy Kink - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Day Twenty-Two: Lingerie - Joel Miller

Day Twenty-Three: Sex Pollen - Joel Miller

Day Twenty-Four: Sex Pollen - Arthur Morgan

Day Twenty-Five: Lactation/Breeding Kink - Arthur Morgan

Day Twenty-Six: Bath/Shower Sex - Din D'jarin

Day Twenty-Seven: Mirror Sex - Frankie Morales

Day Twenty-Eight: Hate Fucking - Pero Tovar

Day Twenty-Nine: Public Sex - Joel Miller

Day Thirty: Hunter/Prey - Werewolf!Joel Miller

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littlemisspascal · 6 months

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New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

Catching up on fics. Wonderful A+++ job to every writer who participated in an October writing event, whether it be a single fic or one every day or any number in between 😊💜

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

@criticallyacclaimedstranger Frankie Hungry

@tropes-and-tales Frankie Kinktober Exhibitionism

@frenchiereading Frankie Mouthfuls of You

@theewokingdead Frankie Breaking Free

@whatsnewalycat Frankie Like a Moth(man) to a Flame(thrower)

@guess-my-next-obsession Frankie A Soft Place To Land

@oogaboogasphincter Marcus P Deceits of the Devil / Joel Lovesick

@whataperfectwasteoftime Marcus P Forgive These Bones I’m Hiding

@foli-vora Marcus P Used By You

@say-al0e Marcus P Choices

@the-blind-assassin-12 Marcus P Unfinished

@beskarandblasters Din Me and My Husband + Tell Me How It’s Lookin’, Babe/ Joel Thick Skull Never Did Nothing For Me

@spacegay-official Din Pain For Pleasure

@lamamasjamas Din NEXUS

@flightlessangelwings Javier Kinktober Free Choice / Marcus P Kinktober Food Play

@undercoverpena Javier Anytime / Frankie It’s the Sniffles

@mandoalorian Javier Tolerate It

@swiftispunk Joel Creep It Real!

@toomanystoriessolittletime Joel Claimed / Dave Sneaking Around

@thirtysevenodddogs Joel RED

@ozarkthedog Joel A Quiet Storm

@tieronecrush Joel Trick or Treat

@wardenparker @absurdthirst Dieter Red Lipstick / Marcus P Mother Knows Best

@popcornforone Dieter More Than Friends

@novemberrain-writes Dave Whumptober Words Carved Into Skin / Joel Whumptober Blood Loss + Whumptober Left Behind / Din Whumptoer Whipping

@absurdthirst Marcus M Kinktober Glory Hole / Joel Kinktober Cuckolding / Javier Kinktober Pregnancy / Whiskey Kinktober Hotdogging / Din Kinktober Free For All / @storiesofthefandomlovers Dieter Crashing the Party + Marcus P The Wolf in the Woods

@sirowsky Marcus M Recovery + All Hallows Quarrel/ Pero Temple of Love + Grumpy Pumpkin/ Javi G The Haunted Toaster / Dieter Like Father, Like Son

@ghostofaboy Whiskey Kinktober Blackmail / Whiskey + Frankie + Marcus P + Dave Kinktober Group Sex / Frankie Kinktober Gape/Fisting + Kinktober Public Sex / Pero Kinktober Aphrodisiacs / Din Kinktober Tentacles

#my library #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales #joel miller #din djarin #marcus moreno #javi gutierrez #dieter bravo #dave york #marcus pike #pero tovar #agent whiskey #javier peña

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ficbrish · 6 days

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A Tumble

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 19th - Biting/Scratching, Piercings, Marking]

[[TW/CW: Injury, cptsd, blood, gore, alcohol, food, scar trauma]]

Summary: Vistri falls in battle, and Astarion wants to savor her survival.

Early in Act II, a while before the confession.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri!” he shouted her name so sweetly the other night, and now it crawled out of his mouth as something misshapen and wretched.

It wasn’t the first time Astarion saw her fall during a fight. She was a sorcerer; her type only ever brought robes and the raw, unlimited fury of the weave to battle.

Dropping to his knees, he sent another fiery arrow after the shadows and knelt beside her fallen form, like a paladin at the altar of their god. Vistri was crumpled like a rag, unmoving.

The others could handle themselves—She needed someone now! Astarion left the rest of the fight for them to finish up, wrenching the pack off his back and reaching into it with trembling hands.

Too many scrolls. So many fucking scrolls! There was one for poison, another for grease traps—for gods damned spiderwebs!

None for revival.

“Get up! Gods damn you!” he cried, still searching through his pack, “Get up!”

There was blood on her neck, but it was wrong. It wasn’t from his fangs at her invitation. The shadows did that to her.

The darkness in these woods was of a different kind; thick and overbearing, like the moment just after something horrible happened. The very air around them clung to their throats with every breath, coating their airways with heavy gravity. Such a perpetual night was hard to get used to and threw off all their senses, even for the vampire and the drow.

A ragged draw of breath by his knees stopped Astarion’s heart mid-beat. Vistri’s stillness had been deceiving. Quickly, he stuffed the scrolls back in and pulled out a bright-red potion instead.

Gingerly, reverently, he lifted her head up into his lap, mumbling prayers to gods who never answered. Astarion dabbed a bit of the serum onto Vistri’s lips, coaxing her to drink the rest. As she did, magic and dragon blood rapidly closed her wounds.

A bit of color came back to her periwinkle cheeks.

Vistri coughed, “Hello dear.”

He sighed into the sight of her living eyes and bent over to kiss her. Their lips were upside-down, and despite the inherent silliness of such a position, Astarion kissed her with ever grateful fervor. Vistri laughed and kissed him back as if she hadn’t just been ripped open and unconscious.

Feeling something creeping up behind him, Astarion unsheathed a knife from his thigh and excused himself, “Wait here a moment, love.”

He set her gently to the side and rose quickly with a twirl. His blade stuck immediately into the belly of a shadow cursed Harper, burrowing deep in its gut, and twisting for a mortal wound—Or mortal again. Face to face with the old corpse, Astarion stared into its blank, rotten eyes. The death on it was rank, stinking of at least a hundred years. Not having seen his reflection once these past two hundred, it made him wonder whether he had those same dead eyes.

One glance back at Vistri allayed him of those fears.

“Come back to my side at once,” she pouted, arms crossed.

In his rush to oblige, Astarion stabbed the undead creature through its brittle skull. Its face shattered and the whole decayed body shook with renewed lifelessness, collapsing on its own weight. It toppled over and crashed into his shoulders like a perverse greeting.

Regaining his balance on his back foot, Astarion pushed the rotting cadaver off him with a disgusted, “Eugh!”

His trousers were going to tear at the knee if he kept sliding on them, but it got him to Vistri’s side that second faster.

Which was worth it, “You blasted!” He kissed her about a million times, grumpily and gratefully, “Hag!”

“Hey!” she protested as he clung to her cheeks.

Astarion interrupted his flurry of pecks to chastise her, “Stop dying, then!”

“I didn’t die! Exactly...” she stubbornly insisted, refusing to ever take anything serious, seriously. “I just fell over!”

“You almost died!—Not that I care anything about it.”

Vistri couldn’t help but smirk at the way he turned his face away like a miffed housecat. His tones and expressions overflowed with shifting emotion, painting the loveliest picture of his heart, before settling into bitter denial. She might not have many memories, but Vistri was sure she’d never had this much fun with anyone else before.

“There’s something so dashing about the way you pout.”

Her little compliment made Astarion’s expression shift dramatically once again. He tried his best to frown, and faced her again just to turn his nose up, “Don’t try to flatter your way out of my concern.”

“Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t!” he scoffed.

“Oy! Children!” Karlach called out, emerging from the gloom with her flaming greatsword flung lazily over her flaming shoulder, “Lend a hand next time, will ya?”

She and Wyll were strutting towards them out of the near dark, obviously smug about having felled the last of the foes on their own.

“I am no child!” Astarion spat, “I’m over 200 years old!”

“Act like it then,” she winked cheekily.

Ally or not, he was ready to jump up and fight until Vistri reassuringly squeezed his hand. Reaching to him through their tadpoles, she explained, Karlach’s only teasing for fun, love. It’s a rough and tumble thing! She wouldn’t be teasing if she didn’t respect us.

Astarion dropped his shoulders. He knew that sort of thing. That’s how they all talked to each other all the time. But something about the way she said children reminded him of a much colder heart. If it weren’t for Vistri’s interference, he would have acted out of line.

Perhaps out of embarrassment at that recognition, Astarion decided to compensate with an extra level of what was expected of him.

“You hear that, my dear?” he quipped, sheathing his knife, “Karlach thinks we should act more… adult.”

Demonstrating his obvious innuendo, he scooped Vistri by the waist to bring her closer. In full view of the others, Astarion had his way with her tongue.

“Ah, love,” Wyll remarked dreamily, pretending to appreciate their display.

“Don’ know if I’d call that love,” Karlach groaned, “More like bragging if you ask me.”

With a teasing grin, he countered, “What is love if not life’s greatest braggart?”

“Should write that down, mate.”

“Really?” Even though it was only in jest, Wyll was a bit flattered, “You think so?”

Karlach winked, “I’d say you were a poet, and ya didn’t even know it.”

The lovers paid their banter no mind, hearing nothing but the breathing and humming singing across one another’s lips. There was nothing else in the world. To Astarion, it was all taste; savoring Vistri’s very existence. She’d come so close to disappearing; her soul slipping though his very fingers...

Her lips were warm. They were so warm.

“Um, guys?” Wyll cleared his throat, “Can we go now?”

Vistri hummed dreamily as she tore herself away, and spoke still gazing into Astarion’s flustered face, “If I can yet stand on two feet.”

“If you can’t, I’m sure prince charming down there would be happy to carry you.”

Karlach guffawed, the very idea of him carrying anyone absolutely hysterical to her, “As if!”

Astarion stood up abruptly with an offended stomp, “As if?!”

“Come on, Fangs! Be real about it! Carry someone? All the way back to the inn?”

Before she knew what was happening, Vistri found herself swept up and thrown over Astarion’s shoulder like a heavy sack. She squealed with a mixture of terror and delight. Her head still light after her injury, the world spun.

“I’m not as useless as I may seem!” Astarion grumbled, tossing her around a bit as he adjusted his hold.

Exchanging raised brows, neither Karlach nor Wyll argued. But they were irritatingly smug about their silence.

Shrieking was common in the Shadow Curse lands, but Vistri’s was startlingly out of place. It had laughter and happy shock ringing brightly through it, “Your face is right by my bum!”

“Is that a bad thing, darling?”

“But what if I fart?!” she asked, breathless with laughing abandon.

“Don’t you dare!” he scowled.

Her ribs felt weak, “Quit jostling me about then!”

Knowing their antics could go on forever, Wyll accepted that their leader was distracted and turned to lead the way. As they walked back, he and Karlach stuck close, leaving the lovers to trail behind them in their own world.

He leaned in with a teasing comment, “Aren’t they sweet?”

Snickering, Karlach nodded back in sardonic agreement.

In a sense, they were sweet, both all charm on the surface and poison underneath. They just fit!

Mirrors don’t always fall in love, but those two fools obviously had. Everyone but them seemed to accept that fact. They were too smart to be clueless, but if they were aware, they stubbornly fought it like doomed fingers desperately grasping the edges of a cliff. As dangerous as they seemed to think it was, the worst that could happen was happiness. Such a blessed doom was sweet.

But they were loud! A constant buzz, bickering by daylight and shouting by moonlight. Annoying as they were, it was a good thing they were easy to poke fun at.

Impressively, Astarion managed to carry Vistri the whole way. She may have cast Feather, but they left out that detail when he bragged about it to the others back at Last Light. He was determined to prove everyone wrong about his strength—They should see how he was normally, before the tadpole traded away some of his powers for sunlight. He was a fearsome thing, and everybody should know it!

Vistri thought it was quite an impressive feat regardless. She’d smiled the whole way over, bouncing awkwardly, enjoying the warmth of his back. His hands strongly grasping the back of her thighs was a bonus.

She also managed not to fart.

After he paraded her around like the village braggart toting fresh-caught venison, Astarion finally set her down. There was a strong sense of regret when she left his arms, as if they’d lost something precious. Trying to pay that no mind, they stood blankly across from each other. Not knowing what to say or how to address one another.

“Well… Thank you,” she said, breaking their brief silence.

“For saving your life, or for carrying you?”

“Oh, there’s a list?” she chuckled.

His smirk was equal parts mischief and self-satisfaction, “You’ve been incurring a lot of debts lately, my dear.”

Vistri pretended to be startled, “Have I? Oh my! However shall I endeavor to pay them?”

Lifting a thoughtful finger to his chin, he mused, “Hmmm, what a dilemma!”

Imagining what naughty thoughts hid behind his sly, teasing eyes made Vistri shiver with something delicious. Her feeling wasn’t apparent from the outside, but Astarion had a sense of her growing anticipation regardless. He made her wait for as long as he could bear, then said, “How about I think on it a while? Best not to make any rash decisions.”

“Take your time,” she giggled, “Just make sure to get back to me with something goo—” Her stomach gave a loud, obnoxious growl.

She blushed at its interruption.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion said, “We should fix that, shouldn’t we?”

When they returned to camp, Vistri noticed he was being uncharacteristically subservient and sweet. He refused to let her do anything other than sit by the fire while he fetched her a bowl of something hot. He even brought a blanket to throw over their legs and sat there with her as she ate.

Vistri gazed at him, startled.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head to clear it, answering, “Nothing,” and started eating.

It was a very plain stew with fish and beans, but it was everything to her on a night like this. Or was it even night? They had no sense of time in the Shadow Curse lands.

Astarion dipped his finger into her bowl and licked it.

“Hey!”

“Just wanted a taste.”

Her glare turned into something heated at his smile. Looking at him now, you’d never think his face held any worry. Well, minus the dark circles. And the haunted depth of his eyes… Whatever! In little flashes like this, he was brand new. No more heaviness. Vistri may have grown up with a sorcerer’s might, but she never felt more magical than when such an expression sat on his face.

“Oh, I’ll give you a taste,” she stated suggestively, tilting her neck to be perfectly clear about which kind.

Astarion was practically salivating.

“Oy! You two!” Karlach warned, “No blood where we eat—Including robes, Gale!”

“It was one time! And it was only a splatter on the hem!”

She rejected his excuse with an arm-wave and a chuckle.

Again paying their companions no mind, Vistri and Astarion remained locked in a stare. Sharing a paradox, their look was as intense as it was casual. It said, I’ll eat you up, as much as it whispered, Hey there.

“Make room for me,” Shadowheart demanded from above, standing over them with a bowl of stew in hand. She placed her spoon between her teeth, waiting for them to scoot over.

They moved to the side, so she could come sit in the middle.

“Thank you,” Shadowheart said, taking her place. They all worked together to adjust the too-small blanket across them. Once they were comfortable, she turned to Vistri, “Heard you fell out there.”

“She did!” Karlach answered before anyone else could.

Shadowheart pretended to be shocked, “And to think she insisted on leaving the cleric back at camp!”

“Fangs was there though. Quick responder, that one was.”

Shadowheart turned to him, teasing, “Are you blushing, Asti?”

“No,” he scoffed, “Vampires don’t blush!”

Everyone could see that he was contradicting his point.

Vistri mischievously chimed in with, “Yes, they do.”

Karlach and Shadowheart burst into laughter.

“Yes, yes! It was very dashing of me to save you!” Astarion rolled his eyes, “Want me to regret it?”

“You know,” Gale started, “It is a quite common misconception that vampires don’t blush. Cursed undead they may be, but!” His finger shot up on the word, but, “They still have all the same systems they had when they were alive. How they work though, now that’s the tricky part of it all. Because it’s different per classification of vampi—”

“Gale!” Astarion interrupted.

“What?”

“You’re not helping me, my friend.”

“Ah, right.”

Vistri found his irritation too delicious to drop, “Blood rushes to other places of yours, darling. Why not your face?”

Astarion leapt across Shadowheart to tickle her in payback. Shrieking, Vistri wiggled away from his reaching hands. Stuck in the midst of their struggle, Shadow’s bowl got knocked to the ground.

“Children!” she shouted in grief over her spilled stew.

Gale sighed, standing up, “I was getting seconds anyway.”

“Oh no! Shadow! Your stew!” Vistri gripped apologetically.

“Yes, Vistri! My stew! Your antics murdered my stew!”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t upset her,” Astarion scolded, “She almost died today!”

Everyone paused to stare at him, startled by his voracious outburst. His tone came out of an aching heart, and there was a sorrowful tremor to it. Vistri was shaken by his sincerity; Shadowheart by his audacity. The others were just vaguely thrown by his display of giving a shit about anybody who wasn’t himself.

He cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” Vistri insisted to throw the focus off him.

Pretending he was totally cool this whole time, Astarion smirked, “I made sure of that.”

She scratched her nose to hide her smile behind her palm. It wasn’t right that everyone got to stand there and watch them have feelings.

Shadowheart, still trapped between them, had suffered enough, “I’ll just go catch up to Gale.”

“Really now! That’s not necessary!” Vistri protested.

“Yes, it is,” Astarion said, grabbing her close as their friend vacated the space between them. With his arms around her waist, he covered her cheeks in a series of pecks.

She squealed delightedly, “Get off! I’ll drop mine too!”

“Balance, dear. You’ve got this.”

“No,” she shook her head laughing, “No, I don’t!”

“Fine,” he let go of her.

She leaned against him, and he threw an arm around her shoulders. Vistri loved the relaxed weight of it. The pressure on her shoulders seemed to calm her, and his warmth, the magic of how he always felt—Against his chest, under his arm, nestled against him—

“What are you smirking about?”

“Hu-What?”

“You’re thinking about something, I can see it, but I can’t hear it. Care to tune me in?”

She really, really didn’t.

“Maybe I was thinking about you,” she smirked.

“Hah!” he tossed his head back, “Good one.”

It was a tried-and-true trick of hers. Wave a secret in people’s faces, and they go searching for anything but that. She silently congratulated herself.

Vistri attempted to sound cheekier than relieved or self-satisfied, “Hah, indeed!”

“Say you were thinking about yours truly…”

FUCK!

“What would you be thinking about?”

Arsehole!

Vistri made a show of pretending to think really hard about it, to buy herself some time to think of a way around it, “Hmmmmm…”

Astarion, just trying to make a bit of a game, helped her out, “Could it be my… mesmerizing stare?”

Hoping to distract him, Vistri tackled his lips.

He chuckled as she broke their kiss, “You taste like fish stew.”

“I hate you!” Vistri shrieked happily, slapping his arm.

Even with that scowl on her face, she leaned into him just as before. Nobody really bothered them, so they just sat there as she ate, staring distantly at the fire. They spent the rest of the evening (if it was really evening) like that, peacefully snuggled until it was time to wash up.

Because of his scars, Astarion preferred to bathe alone. Once Vistri learned about them, however, he altered his habits to allow for one companion.

Alone in the shallows of the shadowed riverbank, his heart ached on his lips and found hers. Moaning, groaning, teeth, and tongue.

It was, take me and you’re mine. It was life again after centuries of destitution.

“Fuck,” Vistri muttered as he pulled away.

Astarion’s eyes were serious, “Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” she stated it so vehemently, it was half a laugh. She gave a serene sigh as he cradled her chin.

“And what do you particularly desire?”

To be loved by him across centuries. To never want or need anything else ever again because together they’d be whole. They’d keep each other safe from the world, and the world safe from them.

“I want you to take and take until there’s nothing left of me.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

He shook his head slowly, “I’d like to leave a little something for later, if it’s all the same to you.”

She moaned as he kissed her again. His hands traveled from her waist to her thighs.

“I’m hungry,” he growled. Nestling the bridge of his nose into the crook of her throat, Astarion could already feel the warmth of her blood on his tongue in anticipation. He reached out for her skin, tasting her on the tip of it.

On the side with her tattoo, that blue rose.

“Darling, have I ever mentioned how much I love this?”

It set her trembling in his arms. It wasn’t just his touch, and gods, was his touch… Vistri shivered. Astarion’s tongue reached out and kissed her skin. His warm breath melted her like chocolate over a raging fire pit.

And his words rang in her ears, bouncing around between layers of consciousness, “... how much I love this…”

This dhamphir was in her head. Louder than the other screams.

“... lovely blue rose…” he muttered, referring to her tattoo as he kissed it.

She could feel his tongue tracing it. Lingering over every line. He first kissed the petals. Licked along them like a painter, bringing their design into existence with his warm, wet strokes; Vistri his groaning canvas.

And it was torture for him too, to linger on her neck like this. His fangs ached for a taste of her beating heart. Drowning under Vistri’s spell, he longed to sup on her lifeblood like it was coming up for water. Astarion refused his reflex to indulge, burying her groans under his.

With his hands snaking up her back, Vistri sighed, surrendering herself to his embrace. Throwing her head back in delight, exposing her neck, she called out his name, “Astarion.”

He kissed her throat. The side of her neck.

Vistri begged, “Bite me.”

“Let me ask you this,” he said, just to linger there a little further, “A riddle.”

She whined, just slightly, under the spell of his torturous anticipation. It made his smile wider.

“What is it that every rose has?” His voice broke directly over the one inked on her neck.

“I don’t know,” she murmured thickly, guessing, “Thorns?”

“Yes,” he moaned, eliciting a moan from her in response. Clinging to his body, shivering. He had Vistri exactly where he wanted her.

He wanted her.

“I think yours is missing a few. Would you like me to add them?”

Throwing back her neck a little further, stretching it as far as it would go, she echoed, “Yes.”

He knew he could fuck her, right there and now. Vistri gave herself completely.

In whatever way he wanted.

Tracing down the stem, licking every line of leaf, just as he’d done with the petals, Astarion worked at making their longing worse; determined to drive them both to madness.

He swallowed, and licked his lips. Aligning his mouth along the stem, he dragged his fangs across her goosebumps so they sat in place. Then he sank himself into her, drinking down the trickles of her heart’s river.

His bite left two weeping crimson thorns along the rose’s stem.

“Shall I add more?”

Vistri shook her head, “I think we should get back to your tent as soon as possible.”

Squealing with poorly withheld laughter, they rushed out of the shallows, their movements slowed through water’s thickness.

Approaching the shore, they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder, with Astarion a bit ahead. He cheated anyway, despite already winning. As his knees broke the surface of the bank, he gave her a playful shove backwards.

“Bastard!” she shouted, and it was met with a high trill of laughter from Astarion, who was halfway across camp by the time she made up the stolen distance.

He took one look back to catch her delicious frustration, then closed in on his target. Breathlessly, he yanked open the tent flap.

She was sitting right there.

“Misty Stepping is cheating!”

“Shoving me backwards is cheating!”

Growling, he tackled her. They laughed as they rolled, still naked and dripping, over his tattered blankets.

For some reason, Astarion’s mind superimposed the brightness of her current expression with the shocked stillness of earlier this evening. It sunk all his features and dulled the sensation of power he��d just drank from her.

“Astarion?”

He smoothed the hair off her forehead with two damp palms. It looked like he was about to say something important.

Then he kissed her. Diving ungracefully forward, catching his lip on her tooth. But he didn’t care, and righted his mouth between hers without further thought, with the same intensity.

How fragile life was. It was easy to forget that after two hundred years of wishing to be rid of it.

It took just a slight tap of his thighs to spread hers wide apart for him. He reached down to drag a nail slowly up the inside of her legs. They obeyed his every touch, belonging to him.

“Fuck me and have another bite,” she offered, grinding against him.

Who was he to argue with that?

His hand clamped over her mouth as she cried out. Its sound broke muffled by his fingers. In almost the same movement, Astarion turned her head to the side and gave her rose another pair of thorns.

Vistri licked and sucked the fingers held against her lips as he drank her down. Her head grew lighter as his thrusts grew rougher. Until the sensations made her eyes roll back in her head. Until his sides were red and raw from her grasping scratches.

I love you, rang so loudly across her consciousness that it whispered into his. Too many feelings, guilt and a long-dead dream among them, stirred up from the dust of his heart for Astarion to pay it any attention. Instead, he sharpened his focus on the familiar rolling of their hips.

More of her blood would stain his blankets, but they didn’t care. Her neck dripped past their notice, leaking down the side of her rose and pooling behind her.

Astarion just wanted to take what he didn’t lose.

“Cum for me again, pet.”

Like a spell’s evocation, his words had a physical effect. Vistri started pulsing around him, clenching her legs around his waist in a vice grip.

“Shit!” he sputtered. His control ran away with hers. The push and pull of his hips started to slow, lazy with pleasure as he spilled into her.

Locked in their embrace, they both shook from a mighty force, like blades of grass trembling in a rough breeze.

Coming back to reality, they looked around at everything but each other.

“Are you all right?” Astarion remembered to ask.

She was grinning stupidly, “Great.”

He smiled back until he noticed the mess.

“You’re like a leaky peach!” he scolded her in concern. Haphazardly, he grabbed the nearest sufficient bandage, and pressed a stained, silk pillow to her fresh wounds.

“Don’t fret,” she insisted, “I just need a bit of wine.”

Halsin fussed at him about that a few days ago, but what did the wood elf know about that anyway? A druid too? Health freaks, the lot of them! Halsin be damned, wine was good for anything! Astarion turned hurriedly to fulfill her request, grabbing a nearby bottle.

“Thank you,” she said after he popped the cork and passed it to her. She took a deep sip.

“Better?”

Vistri still felt rather dizzy but nodded anyway, hoping to ease his concern. Then, suddenly struck by an idea, she adopted a playful tone, “Although…”

“What is it?” he asked, eager to make her more comfortable.

“I could be better,” she smirked.

Astarion was happy to play her game, but a bit confused about where she was going with it. Vistri seemed satisfied enough, even though they’d been a bit brief tonight. She frowned, and he tried so hard to read it. Her pout was teasing, but not in a heated way. Her relaxed eyes were dreamy with affection and twinkled with fey-like mischief.

“I don’t know what it is, but I’m missing something.”

“Oh?”

“Hmmm, maybe if you moved a bit to the side?”

His version of “a bit” was a very conservative estimate. Vistri frowned. So Astarion inched just the same but in the other direction.

“No! The other—That’s it,” she directed, “A bit more. No, more.”

Scooting closer and closer at Vistri’s behest, Astarion was eventually pressed up against her side.

“Better?” he asked, grinning with amusement. Still wondering about her intentions.

“Yes, but not quite… Better, but I could be better.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

“Please! Now, lift up your arm.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, but stop making that face.”

“What face?”

She chuckled, “I don’t know, whatever that face was you were just pulling.”

“I was not pulling a face!”

“You were! Now shush and lift your arm back up!”

Vistri did the same thing, beckoning Astarion to move further and further into a position she had in mind. Pretending it wasn’t quite right and adjusting him until it was.

Until he held her tight, his arms around her shoulders.

“Better now?” he whispered.

“Better now,” she said. But her words caught in her throat, and she coughed at the end of them.

“You okay?”

“Throat’s just dry,” she nodded, sitting up, “Pass me the wine again, love.”

“You have it next to you.”

“Right.”

He took a swig after her, and they both settled back into their cuddle.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked.

Vistri nodded. She wrapped her arms around his, pulling him tighter and sighed, “I feel better now.”

This time, they let the moment sit for a while. At least until it was too painful.

“I know your secret,” Astarion whispered naughtily against her shoulders.

She panicked, wondering what manner of secret he knew.

He giggled before he got his words out, “You farted on the way over.”

Blushing and laughing at the same time, Vistri struggled in his arms, shrieking, “You liar! I did not!”

The more she struggled, the firmer he held his grasp, “Yes, you did.”

“No!” she gasped, kicking at the air, “I did not!”

Even his tone was smirking as he teased, “A little toot by my ear.”

“I hate you!”

Astarion ceased his own laughter to plant kisses along her spine, on the back of her neck. Enough of them stilled her. Instead of fighting, she melted into him.

“Do you hate me now?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said. Then he took a risk, “Because I don’t hate you either.”

His words gave her wings, but she ripped them right off.

“You should.”

“Yeah, well… That goes both ways. Next time you run into a vampire, hate it for your own sake.”

Vistri chuckled, “That goes both ways too! Next time you camp with someone who dismembers a bard, run!”

They giggled. Then silence took over again, neither knowing what to do when they weren’t fucking or killing anything.

Speaking about nothing was more bearable than anything else. So they traded mindlessness back and forth. It looked like a conversation, but nothing was said. But speaking just to speak, they were discovering, was its very own thing.

His head nestled against hers, Astarion began casually nibbling on her earrings as she droned on and on about the creepy shadows. He closed his eyes, savoring the sound of her voice, not really listening. He was at peace, and so was Vistri, with the white rabbit on her shoulder nibbling away at her ear.

The gentle pressure calmed her. Vistri hadn’t ever felt anything like it. Eventually, she liked it too much to speak.

Focusing on the sensations of each other turned into its own type of meditation, which eventually faded into proper trance. Not a typical reverie or void, they recovered from the day within that awareness of one another.

Astarion existed through the slight breakage of breath across his wrist.

Vistri was the cursed heartbeat at her back.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #prompt fill #vistri #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #full fic #astarion x durge #durge x astarion #a tumble fic #BrishFics #angst #smut #fluff #lemon

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vistarion-astri · 6 months

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Summary:

Oct 10th - Kissing, Crying

Notes:

Dark Urge Vistri Act II (before the romance lock-in) tw/cw: cptsd, blood, gore, alcohol

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #balders gate 3 #BrishFics #astarion x durge #durge x astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #smut #lemon #prompt fill #one shot

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ghostofaboy · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 - October 1st

Day 1: Sex Toys/Strap-on, Mutual Masturbation, Muscle

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 735

Warnings: Sex Toys (obviously)

absurdthirst’s Kinktober List | Ghost of a Boy Masterlist

Staring down at the package in his hands, Frankie’s heart skipped a beat. He’d totally forgotten about his drunken, late-night shopping session online a couple of weeks ago. The one born of beer, frustration and porn. The one that had found him on a reasonably priced site selling sex toys. He remembered ordering a couple of things before the whole spending spree was lost to the morning light.

However, now his parcel was here, and excitement crept up the back of his neck. Pulling open the nondescript box, Frankie grinned at the contents. A bottle of lube, a cock ring and a purple silicone dildo. Grabbing all three, Frankie left the box on his sitting room floor and headed straight for the bedroom. His cock was already twitching at the thought of using his new toys.

After washing the dildo and quickly pulling off his clothes, Frankie settled on the bed. The cock ring was safely tucked away in his nightstand, ready for its time another day. For now, all he wanted was to be filled up. It had been so long, and his only other dildo just wasn’t scratching the itch the same way it used to. This new one was only slightly longer but definitely thicker and roughly the same size as a real cock.

Frankie was already fully erect now, with the tip of his cock gently nudging against his stomach as he lay on the bed. His skin prickled with anticipation as he lifted his knees up and slowly eased in two lube-covered digits. Frankie often used his fingers when jacking off, so it didn't take long for his body to relax enough to take a third, leaving him quickly ready for his new toy.

Head already fuzzy with arousal, Frankie applied some lube to the dildo before placing its bulbous head against his entrance. Slowly, he began to push it into his waiting hole, feeling the delicious burn as it stretched him open and filled that aching need. Then, just as lazily, Frankie pulled the dildo back, almost completely out, before repeating the action. The pace was relaxed as Frankie relished the fire building in him. It had been so long since he allowed his time for himself and so long since he truly acknowledged what he really wanted.

Pumping the dildo into himself, Frankie let his head drop back onto the pillow as he let out a soft moan. This wasn't as good as a real cock, but it would do for now. It would get him where he needed. His own cock lay on his stomach, untouched and leaking, throbbing each time the dildo fucked into him.

He wasn't going to last long, but Frankie didn't care. This wasn't a marathon, not this time. He could do that later with the cock ring and edge himself. But not tonight. Tonight was about scratching a very particular itch, one that he realized had been distracting him for weeks.

With his thighs beginning to ache and tremble a little from holding them up, Frankie began to pick up the pace, pounding the entire length of the dildo into his hole and pulling a growl from his throat. Plunging the dildo again and again into his ass Frankie set a new frantic tempo as the shaft disappeared into his body.

A deep, hungry need began to overtake him as Frankie chased his climax. Moans and gasps filled his bedroom as his red burning cock bounced on his stomach, smearing precum over the smattering of hairs there. Reaching up with one hand to pinch his nipples as he felt his peak approaching, Frankie tweaked the sensitive skin, adding to the red-hot pool about to overflow.

Frankie continued with his desperate pace, faltering every other thrust as he writhed on the bed as whimpers and hisses fell from his lips. Then, with one final plunge and with the dildo buried deep within him, Frankie let out a loud cry and arched his back as he came, shooting a thick rope of come over his stomach and chest.

Stars swam behind his eyes as Frankie squeezed them tightly shut, riding his high for as long as he could before flopping back down onto the bed, breathless and spent. Glazing down at his glistening sweat and come-covered body, Frankie felt a smile tugging at his lips. Perhaps this weekend would be better than the last.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales

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pedropascalsx · 7 months

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Kinktober - Day Seven: Somnophilia.

Dave York × F! Reader.

Summary: Dave wakes you up in the most delicious way.

Warning: Fic contains consensual somnophilia.

Word Count: 654!

A/N: Prompt from @absurdthirst’s list! And a massive thank you to Keri for helping out where I was stuck. Hope y’all enjoy.

The rise and fall of your chest paired with the soft moans of his name made his entire body shiver. You’re asleep, and you’re clearly dreaming about him, his name and the most delicious noises slip from your lips with ease as he watches your lips curl up into the most beautiful smile.

With your chest pressed up against his he can feel every breath you take, each breath gently coating his skin and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He tries to ignore the way his cock twitches against his stomach, hard and crying out for some relief as you tempt him sweetly in your sleep.

You had spoken about it before after Dave had teased the way you moan his name in your sleep, and he affectionately began referring to you as his dirty little temptress and that’s when you started to plead with him… “You have my consent,” you murmured against his lips, “Awake, asleep… whenever. Fuck, Dave, I want you to wake me up just to overwhelm me… Just to take what you need from me.”

Your words feel like ice water being dumped over him as he replays them over and over, he had considered it before yes, but tonight he isn’t sure he has the strength to deny himself.

He gives himself a few tugs, swiping his thumb over the head and massaging the droplets of precum that had started to drip into his shaft before sighing loudly and replaying those delicious words. ‘You have my consent.’

He reaches over and gently drags a finger through your slit, groaning at just how wet you are from dreaming about him alone.

He knows that he’s too thick to just slip himself in, even with the amount of slick dripping from you. He turns himself slightly and then slowly presses a finger inside of you, pumping it softly over and over before curling it up against that spongy spot. The moment you stir, he freezes, letting a few moments pass by before resuming his motions.

His cock twitches impatiently as your moans fall more freely, and his name is the only word left to hang in the air. He twists his wrist a little more as your walls flutter against his digit, before adding a second and then a third and pumping them faster and faster until you clamp down and cry out so beautifully in your sleep.

Comfortable that you’re stretched out enough to fit him, he coats his cock in the arousal you dripped down his fingers and his hand. Dave slowly brings himself closer to you, dragging the tip of him through your folds just to hear you cry out again, before pressing himself against your entrance.

With the softest snap of his hips he pushes just the tip inside of you, studying your face before slowly inching himself in until you’re filled with him. He moves your leg a little higher and starts to rock back and forth, hissing as he finally gets a little relief as your walls flutter against him.

He groans your name as he starts to build up his pace, needing you to wake, so he can capture your lips and steal your breath in more ways than just one. “Baby,” he growls against your ear, and groans as you just stir again, “Fuck, baby,” he growls from behind his teeth before fucking you even harder.

His cock shreds up something devastating inside of you, and you wake with a scream of his name, clamping down and flooding his cock with your cum as he smashes his lips against yours.

Groaning in relief as he stiffens, filling you with his cum in thick ropes. You had told him that he could wake you up to overwhelm you and from the dazed look of bliss on your face, it had been a hell of a wake up alarm.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #dave york #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york imagine #dave york fanfic #the equalizer #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fanfic #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #CKT23

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

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you know you never stood a chance - chapter one

you know you never stood a chance series

one: you know you never stood a chance

series masterlist | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When QZ!Joel finds out you're planning to take up prostitution to earn enough rations for your sick sister, he makes sure he's the first one to pay you a visit.

Warnings: Prostitution, dub-con due to power imbalance, Joel Miller is bad at feelings, kind of mean!Joel, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), inexperienced reader, mention of cordyceps, brothel

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 9: Cumshot/Prostitution from this list by @absurdthirst

also on aO3

“Come in,” you called through the door, trying for your best laid-back, confident voice.

It wasn’t very successful. Joel rolled his eyes and opened the door. You were knelt on the bed, looking soft and demure—except for the way you were wringing your hands.

And the way the sweet look fell off your face when you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” You snatched up a pillow, hugging it over your torso like he hadn’t already got a good look at you through the sheer fabric.

“Gardening. What do you think I’m doin’ here?”

“This isn’t funny, Miller. Get out.” You grabbed another pillow and threw it at him.

He deflected it away from his face. “Jesus, woman.”

“You’ve had your laugh; you can go now.” You stared at the dingy Berber carpet of the shitty old motel room. It had probably been shitty before the whole world fell to pieces. The peeling wallpaper had sickly yellow stains to match the cigarette burns that pockmarked the single tufted armchair in the corner.

“Didn’t laugh,” Joel said gruffly, tossing something at you.

You had to drop the pillow to catch the bottle of water, nearly fumbling it, and looked up at him. “What’s this for?” you asked warily.

“It’s for drinkin’.”

“Ha ha. Look, can you not—don’t fuck with me right now. Why’re you here?”

It’s then, as you took a careful sip from the bottle, that Joel got a good look at your outfit.

Periwinkle tulle had been sewn roughly into an approximation of a dress, like something out of a Victoria’s Secret magazine had been poorly described to a seamstress who had never heard of lingerie. Actually, now that he thought about it, there was a good chance that was exactly what happened.

It had crooked, lacey ruffles on the top and bottom and did not suit you in the slightest. “What the hell are you wearin’? You raid a JoAnn’s?”

“Hey, I tried my best,” you said, bottom lip quivering.

“Ah shit, sweetheart, I didn’t—”

But you smirked. “Wow, you were really about to apologize, weren’t you? I shouldn’t have cut you off; go on, I want to hear Joel Miller say ‘sorry.’”

“Wasn’t gonna,” he scowled.

“Right, sure. Anyway, nah, they got a box of this shit in the office. I don’t know who makes it, but they want us to look extra dolled up or something.”

“Take that shit off. I can’t do this with you lookin’ like that.”

The smirk slid off your face. “Can’t do what?”

“Can’t fuck you, sweetheart. Isn’t that why you’re here? I paid for ya’, after all.”

Your stomach churned like the angry sea you had only read about in Moby Dick. You felt about as well as a sailor might have, too. It’s not like you had any misunderstandings about what would happen if you worked a shift at a whorehouse. But with your sister sick and unable to work, you’d been out of food for two days. So.

He looked at you with something too close to pity, so you pulled the dress over your head and threw it on the floor, staring right at him and daring him to say anything. And he did, but it wasn’t what you were expecting.

“You got pretty tits, sweetheart.”

“Thank you… ?”

“What was your plan here? What if it wasn’t me? You just going to let some old creep come in here and do whatever he wanted to ya?”

“And you’re not an old creep?”

He rolled his eyes and sat down on the chair, tugging at his boots. “This ain’t your first time, right?”

“Obviously not,” you snapped. It wasn’t. But he didn’t need to know there had only been the one time. You hadn’t found the experience worth repeating, but the guy seemed pretty happy so you figured you could just lie there and let them do whatever.

“You know how to suck cock?”

You flushed and shook your head. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, rubbing at his forehead for a few seconds.

“Okay, alright. ‘Nother time, then.”

You were too nervous to clock what he said. He rose and walked over to the bed. You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he knew he had to wreck you. He couldn’t walk out of this room without ruining you for every other person who dared to lay hands on you.

He set his hands on your hips, and you flinched, so he rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs until you relaxed a little. When you had adjusted to the weight of his heavy palms, he slid them and cupped a breast in each.

“Damn, sweetheart. These are real nice.” He fondled them like that for a minute, enjoying the heft in his palms, before rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. He was rewarded for his efforts when a small moan slipped out of you.

He tore his eyes away from your chest to check your expression. Though your lips were parted and eyes glazed, you still looked afraid. “S’all right, honey, I’ll go slow.”

He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth while he rolled the other between his fingers. You moaned again, louder this time, and he took that as permission to give the other breast the same treatment. When you finally started to ease up, to lean into his touch, and he felt more assured that you weren’t about to cry, he stepped back.

“Turn around, hands and knees.”

The apprehension filled the lines of your face quickly, but you turned around, relieved he wouldn’t make you look at him.

He ran a hand across your bare back, pushing your shoulder blades down with one hand and your knees apart with the other until you were arranged how he liked. You tensed, holding your breath and waiting for him to push in.

Instead, you felt a gentle hand on your mound. He cupped it before parting your lips, sliding his fingers through. You were damp, but nowhere near wet enough to take him. Not without a whole lot of pain, at least.

“Got a real pretty pussy, too. You’ve been holdin' out on me.” He circled your clit with the pad of his middle finger for a few seconds, watching you squirm, before he pulled his hand away.

“Anyone ever tasted you? You ever taste yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Shame.” It was a puff of hot breath over your cunt, followed closely by the warm, firm pressure of his tongue.

You wailed. You might have been embarrassed if it hadn’t been the best thing you’d ever felt, beating the record he had set seconds ago with his finger.

He didn’t ease you into this. It took no time at all for his skilled tongue and thick fingers to pry an orgasm out of you. He had worked one finger in you by the time you fell apart, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

You wriggled when he didn’t let up, trying to lurch away, but he pulled you back with a hand on your hip. “Hang on, let me open you up good.”

It was intense, and you were loud, swearing up a storm. When he eased another finger inside, you pushed back against his hand, grinding your hips. He sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue, until you came again, this time with a low groan pulled from deep in your chest, sinking back onto his fingers. He slid another one in, pumping furiously until the second orgasm turned into a third, and you were shaking apart.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, stroking soothingly along your spine and drawing his fingers from you. He wanted to push them between your lips, to watch your eyes go wide as you sucked your juices from him, but decided he better not push you too far. Not today, at least.

“You ready for me?” he asked, unzipping his jeans and letting them fall around his ankles.

“Please, Joel.”

And goddamn, if that wasn’t the sweetest sound. “Yeah? You want my cock now?”

“Please, please fuck me, Joel.” You were pushing back against him, grinding your ass against his erection.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll take care of ya.” He held you in place with one hand and notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance.

You cried out as he pushed in slowly. “Oh my god. What the fuck. Why are you so fucking big?” You didn’t even mean to be complimenting him. The one dick you had before had certainly not felt like this, like you were being pried apart.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“That’s easy for you to say; you’re not being — oh fuck,” you broke off as he pushed in further.

“Not being what, honey? I didn’t hear ya.”

“Not being fucking split in two by some fuckin—”

He knocked whatever insult you were gearing up for out of you in a strangled breath as his hands gripped tight to your hips and pulled you back on his cock.

“Almost there, don’t worry. I gotcha,” he murmured, reaching around to rub at your clit. It didn’t take much to get you off again, and when your body shook and convulsed, he slid his cock in all the way.

He had planned on giving you a moment to adjust, but you started gently rocking yourself back and forth on it like a fuckin’ handwritten invitation. He began pulling almost all the way out before slowly sinking in, letting you part around him. His groan had you arching your back.

You thought he’d fuck rough. It might have been easier if he had. When you realized he was serious about it, that he had paid real fucking ration cards for access to your body, you figured he’d use you, cum, and leave.

Instead, he took you apart with precision. You wondered if he was a musician before, the way his fingers seemed to know right where to go, just how to thrum your body to draw out sounds you didn’t even know were inside you.

The rhythm he set was fluid and deep. You felt like you might explode, each stroke leaving you with fewer coherent thoughts. He hefted you against his chest, thrusting up into you and reaching around to your breasts.

It was a little overwhelming. Your whole body electrified, just the brush of his arm against yours sent waves of too much too much coursing through. All the while, his hips rolled into you, and yours mindlessly sought him back.

He was getting close, his thrusts a little sloppy. He held you to him with one hand cupping a breast and slid the other down to press against your clit. “Cum on my cock,” he growled in your ear.

It didn’t take long with the steady pressure and the way his cock nudged something inside you that made you twitch with every thrust. When you came, he shoved you down into the mattress, pulling out to cum over your ass.

You must have dozed off for a minute, because the wet washcloth landing on your back brought you abruptly into the world.

“Clean up, drink that, and get outta here.”

You glowered at him, head spinning from the sudden shift. He made you off-kilter and vulnerable, which was not an option, so you snarled back, “What, you think you’re my only client? I’ve got other men to fuck today, Joel.”

He finished tying his boots and stalked over to you, bending down to get in your face. “No, you don’t. You’re gonna go home like a good girl. And next time, you come straight to me. Understood?”

“What?”

“You still cockdumb? Poor thing.”

“Fuck off, Joel.”

He pressed the water bottle into your hands. “Next time you need cards this bad, you don’t come here. You come to me.”

“I’m not taking your handouts, Miller.”

“I’m not offerin’em. But you keep comin’ here, doin’ this? You’re gonna catch something worse than fuckin’ cordyceps. Or get yourself knocked up. We can make this same little arrangement if you need to.” He tilted your head up to face him. “Understood?”

“Fine,” you spat.

He stood up. For a moment, you thought he might say something else, but he just shook his head and left.

next chapter

*title from "Stood a Chance" by Taking Back Sunday

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #qz!joel #pre-tlou #kinktober 2023 #you know you never stood a chance series

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