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sickeninglyshoujo · 3 months

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a/n: i saw the renders (you know the ones) and became feral with need for dad!ghost, other cod dads coming soon, sorry to my friends for being forced to read me word vomit this in chat over four hours. ao3 link coming soon warnings: pregnancy talk word count: 1.8k

Simon doesn’t like when the baby wears the skulls but you do because it reminds you of him

When he grew up he equated the skull mask to terror, the baby only has positive thoughts about it and gets excited seeing it yelling out “daddy!” if she sees the motif in public, mortifying Simon and delighting you. Onlookers growing even more concerned when you coo back, “Yes, that is daddy!” pointing to the Halloween display of a grim reaper statue.

I can tell you that Simon is a master at baby rearing

Simon would absolutely carry the baby under his arm like a football once her neck is strong enough even if you don’t like it because it’s more comfortable like that

It’s second nature to him somehow

Even when you’re stressed about the baby and can’t get her to stop crying somehow Simon just comes over and says the one thing you haven’t tried because he can differentiate between her cries

You were afraid about introducing the baby to Riley, but Simon wasn’t. “They live in the same flipping house, he has t’ get used to her!”

“But not when she’s newborn! Let her get a little bigger first!”

“No better time than now! She’ll never be afraid of him then and he’ll protect her!”

“They call them malingators for a reason!”

“Riley is a well-trained retired soldier. He’s not going to hurt the baby.”

The first meeting had Simon holding the baby in his arms and stooping down to Riley’s level, Riley nosing at the baby’s sock-covered feet hanging from Simon’s arms, sniffing excitedly. You stood above Simon, wringing your hands together, ready to jump in between the two at a moment's notice.

“This is your baby sister, Riley,” Simon instructed the dog whose ears moved, listening to his master’s voice, “She’s your new assignment, boy.”

“Bloodthirsty, isn’ he?” Simon asked you with a grin as the dog yawned and stayed calmly seated, beginning to lick at the baby's booties.

“Shut it, Si.”

Riley is the baby’s shadow. If she so much as sniffles he’s darting across the house trying to find out what’s wrong. It’s like Simon’s watching over her even when on missions

Simon hates that the dog is named Riley because he thinks it’s stupid and is constantly begging to rename the dog. You refuse because you like the constant reminder of your husband. It doesn't matter that he shares the family name.

When you first bring the baby home from the hospital Simon is in constant awe at how tiny she is. Like a little doll he keeps telling you to the point he sounds like a broken record

Simon constantly worried about baby being cold 2k24 and always has a blankie in the diaper bag or draped over the baby carrier.

After missions he would look for you first when he came home before stripping off the dirt and grime of missions and now it’s the baby. He used to think you were his reason to keep trying to save the world and now it’s her. It only stings a little but that is soothed when you see the awe in his face when she coos at him from her crib

It isn’t long before Simon is trying to get you to agree to try for another “Jus’ one more love,” he'll mutter into your neck after the baby is put down for the night and you two have retired to your bedroom only to be batted away weakly

“Oh no, Si! No more babies and no more sex! Not if you’re going to talk like that!”

“But yer such a good mum. We should have a houseful.”

Simon would petition you to quit your job because it’s bad enough the baby has to deal with him being gone on missions they shouldn’t have their mum gone too

“I make more ‘an enough for you to stay home with her!”

“The money isn’t the point, Si,” You coo at the baby on your lap, “I don’t need to be a housewife and I like working!”

You giggle whenever the other 141 men are over because they will carry the diaper bag slung over their shoulder and completely at odds with their uniforms.

It heats your cheeks to watch your burley husband in full military uniform when you greet him on base, bouncing your baby on his hips, playfully pulling her hands away when she gets too close to a switch or something she shouldn't touch, particularly when other women notice him too

It would swell your chest with pride when you and Si were out with the baby and he’d get longing looks from women when he was doing dadly things like pushing the stroller or rifling through the diaper bag for her bottle or burp cloth.

“You have to have seen the way women look at you when you’re carrying the baby.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You’re practically tormenting them, Si! And me too! You’re all big and tough! You’re in uniform or in a compression shirt and then you’re holding onto her in just your arm while she can’t even wrap a hand around one of your fingers!”

Simon doesn’t understand your point, “I’m tormenting you?”

Heat flushes your cheeks, “I like watching you be a dad to our daughter.”

The baby has essentially four dads as all of 141 takes care of the baby when they come to visit on leave

You worry about them spoiling her, “She’ll get too used to being held Si!”

“Then damn well let ‘er!”

“What about when they leave!”

“You think they’re leaving?! Soaps brought a bloody duffel!”

Because when you have the baby Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz are all going to visit. Moving into your cramped guest room for easily the first month after the baby’s born, Gaz and Soap fighting over who gets the futon and who has to share the bed with the Captain.

They need to see the baby!

They never thought Si would settle down but that was before you and your endless patience with the grumpy military man set in his ways.

You didn’t miss when Price clapped him on the shoulder after Simon showed off the baby for the first time, “You did well, Son.”

“Thank god she got the missus’ looks!” Soap crowed, “I was worried she’d get L.t.’s ugly mug!”

“I was hoping she would Johnny,” you peer down at the baby in Simon’s arms and trace a finger down her cheek, “She did get his eyes though. You know those were the first thing I noticed when we started talking, Si? How sad your eyes were.”

“Don’ have “sad eyes”.”

“I thought you did. And you were wearing that silly skull balaclava too, so I couldn’t very well fall in love with your chiseled jaw or the cute scar on your lip,” Soap and Gaz howled in laughter, missing the dirty looks from Ghost (You did too, eyes entirely on your daughter swaddled in a soft terry blanket in her father’s arms)

“Hey L.t. let me give you a few more scars for the missus to kiss!” Gaz ribbed

You never minded patching Simon up after missions. It gave you an excuse to ogle your husband in detail. Even before you were married, he’d tried to wave you off when you’d dab at the blood encrusted cuts and then flush when after taking care of the ones on his arms, much less when he stretched and took off his shirt for you to do the ones on his chest too. Thankfully he didn’t notice your brain shorting as you forgot how to breathe when you saw how heavily muscled and tattooed he was, culminating in an audible gasp as your eyes took in his happy trail and Adonis belt.

“You ok?”

“Y-yeah just banged my foot on the tub.”

He’d later recount this to Soap who nearly banged his head on the wall at how dense Ghost was being

“An’ you wen’ home after that!”

“Yes Johnny, I had PT the next morning and had to ship out that night.”

He let out a string of curses, “The lass likes you and probably was hoping you’d stay the night wi’ her!”

“MacTavish,” Simon warned.

“She let you take off your clothes in her bathroom and then cleaned you up! Lasses don’t do that for cheeky cunts they don’ like!”

You miss him when he’s on missions of course, but it’s easier once you have Riley and then the baby. It’s like you have piece’s of him with you

Si is a beige mom but instead of beige it’s gray. You try and explain the importance of the bright colors in developing the baby’s eyesight but Si just mutters something about no baby of his is going to look like a muppet

Riley used to sleep at the foot of your bed but now he sleeps by the crib. You don’t know when he learned how to work door knobs but it happened somewhere between the third trimester and birth. Now you have to coax him into your room if you miss Si and want to cuddle Riley

You’ve given up on trying to keep Riley out of the nursery and instead just tut when you find dog hairs on the baby.

Riley is the ever-patient soldier with the baby, letting her pull on his tail and ears, tugging on (and sometimes removing) his fur, all while happily wagging his tail at being used as a jungle gym

When the baby starts toddling and skins her knees, Si can’t help but scoop her up before the first tear leaves her eye “Si you’re spoiling her!” “She hurt herself, I can’ just let her cry” “She hadn't even cried yet!” “She was abou’ to”

Simon is an over attentive dad because he doesn’t want his baby to suffer the same way he did

Si rolls his eyes whenever you tell him not to throw the baby in the air because he’ll drop her but he knows his reflexes are superhuman and he’d catch her

SI doesn’t baby talk and will discuss the finer parts of gun mechanics and maintenance with your infant as she gums on a teether.

When she’s older, Si buys her a pellet gun for Christmas and hides it from you until unwrapped on Christmas morning

By the time it’s in her hands you know you’ve lost

He ignores your dirty glance that says “We’ll talk about this later”

As she grows up she starts talking about joining the SAS like her daddy and you’re filled with fear while Si encourages it. Starts taking her training with him much to your horror, first on short jogs around the neighborhood, then to the gym proper to teach her how to throw a punch. She quickly becomes the star of the base, with all the men calling her “Recruit”

“Nothing dangerous yet Si I mean it!”

“She asks for it!”

“She is a child and you are her father! You’re supposed to be the voice of reason!”

“The voice of reason says she might as well be trained right if she wants it!”

a/n: likes/reblogs/comments appreciated please talk to me about dad!ghost i cant contain myself

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #grave writes

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cntloup · 3 months

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RetiredHusband!Simon x Wife!Reader HCs

18+ MDNI fluff, nsfw, pregnancy

After he retires, he'd settle at home. He does most of the housework when you're at work, but you love the times you spend with him doing mundane stuff, and you'd feel bad if you left all that work to him, so you have a laundry day when you both work together, but it almost always ends with you on the washing machine and him between your legs. Or your elbows on the washing machine and him behind you.

He's a great cook. He makes some simple but exquisite dishes. In the military, he had to tolerate the bland MREs (idk how they taste but they look awful), so when he was back home, he'd learn to make some tasty meals for himself when he was living alone. And then for you when you came into his life. Your mouth starts to water at the delightful smell the moment you walk into the house. If you mention that you've been gaining some weight because of his delicious food, he'd honestly love it. He'd constantly touch the plush of your hips and belly, lightly squishing them with his hands while kissing you. He's happy that you like his food and you're well-fed and healthy.

Maintenance and repairs. He's excellent with his hands and understanding how things work, so the moment you notice something needs fixing, he’s on it. Most of the time you don’t even notice it cause he’s already done it when you were gone. He wouldn’t let it bother you even a second. If you ever find him working under the sink or in the garage working on his car, you’re in for a show. The way his muscles flex while working with a wrench, or when he manhandles a heavy object, his dirty greasy hands, sweat dripping down his forehead and his shirt sticking to his body, his pecs and abs visible to your hungry eyes, get you drooling and squeezing your thighs together. He gets super cocky if he notices (he always does), even more than usual.

He makes sure to always have some fresh flowers on display in the living room and your favorites on your vanity table. Sometimes he stands by the door with a flower behind his back to give it to you when you walk in. He even learns how to make flower crowns and how to braid hair with flowers from youtube videos. After a few hours of grunting and groaning in frustration when he messes up, he finally masters the art. Only for his lovely wife.

At the end of the day, if you're both in the mood and not too tired, he makes love to you while holding your hand, your wedding ring glinting in the moonlight, a pillow placed under your hips so you'd feel more comfortable and he'd be able to hit that sweet spot inside you that makes those beautiful moans which he adores tumble through your lips. He praises you throughout the whole session, soft I love you's falling from his lips and calls you "my wife" and "Mrs. Riley" while slowly rolling his hips into yours.

He always cums inside. You love the feel of his thick warm cum inside your womb, and the thought of carrying his child makes you go absolutely feral. He'd love to have a family with you, the image of your belly swollen with his child stuck in his mind as his thrusts get harsher and more erratic, grunting out how he's gonna breed you. Your pussy flutters and tightly clenches down on him as the words leave his mouth.

After you announce your pregnancy, he’s glued to your side. And more handsy. He's always got a hand on the small of your back, your belly, randomly kissing your temple and forehead. He's just so happy to have you. And now you’re having a child?! He's over the moon! He's always by your side when you need him, rubbing your back and holding your hair out of the way when morning sickness kicks in, holding you in his arms when you cry, reassuring you and softly cooing praises into your ear if you’re nervous about giving birth and being a good parent.

If you still go to work while pregnant, he’s got everything ready for you at home. All the housework is done, your favorite food is ready on the table, bath is also ready with your favorite oils and bath salts. You won’t lift a finger at home. Not on his watch. When you walk through the door, exhausted and body aching, he’s there to carry you to bed for a massage. He'll rub the sore muscles of your feet and gently massage your swollen tummy. If he feels a kick, he’ll grin so wide and rub your belly to feel it again, but he stops if you wince in pain, mumbling “sorry” and kissing you so sweetly. He'll give you a bath, delicately washing your tired body, his hand resting on your belly and placing soft kisses on your lips in between your rants about work and what a tough day you had. He watches you with so much love and adoration evident in his gorgeous eyes while you talk, admiring you. He's just so happy to have a little family of his own :)

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

divider by @saradika-graphics

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ickadori · 5 months

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hi i’m going feral over the dynamic w uraume, reader, and sukuna. uraume hating reader but they can’t lie and say the way she looks at now BOTH sukuna and uraume as if he were the night sky but they were thd stars in it… still, they say they don’t like her at all! annoying as she is.

even if she’s left alone with them while sukuna is out. and especially if she’s needy and wow sukuna isn’t here to fix it. ugh, uraume HATES her. totally for sure, no lie at all.

sorry it’s just such an AWOOOOBARKBARKHOOWWWLL dynamic </3

[cws] fem reader. brief mention of sukuna treating his workers poorly lmao. poly. this mainly focuses on uraume/reader.

Uraume hates you, sparingly.

There are days where they grow so annoyed by you that they fear they may have to bind their hands to keep from squeezing at your throat. But there are also days where they find their interest mildly piqued by you, and can therefore tolerate you more than usual — today is one of those days.

They stand quite a distance away as they watch you cling onto Sukuna, your face twisted into one of despair as you beg him not to make you leave (ever the drama queen). He pays you no mind, one arm keeping you from falling over yourself while the other three pack your clothes away into a trunk.

“Ryo, I don’t want to go!” Ryo. Tuh. The first time you had uttered that shortening of his name, Uraume had prepared themself to finally see you be disciplined. It was terrible enough that you referred to him as just Sukuna, but to forego that as well and address him by such a casual title?

They had been sure that you’d be sporting a bruised face for a few days, or perhaps cradling a broken limb if the master was feeling particularly slighted, but instead, Lord Sukuna had only regarded you with low, hooded eyes and a ghost of a smile.

“Your wants are of no concern to me.” Sukuna says, and Uraume vividly remembers him asking them just the other day if you ‘wanted’ for anything.

Uraume was woken by a dark presence weighing heavy on their chest, and their eyes quickly open to see Sukuna looming over them, his own eyes narrowed into slits.

“Yes, my Lord?” There’s a slight waver in their voice.

“That woman…does she want for anything?” Uraume glances to the large, open window in their room, the sun still hidden away, and then slowly turns back to the curse.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“The date of her birth is approaching.” Uraume has enough sense not to gape. The King of Curses planning on getting a birthday gift for a human of all things — how absurd! “She claims not to want anything, but you know how women are.”

Uraume blinks at the pensive look that suddenly takes over his face, one hand raising to rub at his chin. After a beat of silence, Sukuna focuses his gaze back on Uraume.

“If you have no use for your tongue, then I’ll gladly take it.”

“Forgive me, Lord Sukuna, I was just recalling what she had mentioned in passing the other day.” He silently urges them to continue. “She frequently reminisces about the fountain in her village and how she wishes she could visit it again - I assume it holds some sort of sentimental value in it.”

Both parties are well aware that the fountain has long since been destroyed; the stone holding it together having been smashed the night Sukuna single-handedly pillaged the small village, and the water, once so crystal clear your face could be reflected in it, had been stained a deep, dark red with the blood of your friends and family.

“Shit.” Sukuna seems a touch distressed, and Uraume balks. It earns them a stinging on their chest, their sleep clothes staining red before their skin quickly heals itself. “Fix your face.”

“Forgive me, Lord Sukuna.”

He ponders for a moment. “I’ll have a fountain erected in the courtyard. I’ll send her away while it’s being built - you’ll accompany her.”

Shit.

Construction was set to start today, hence why you were being driven out of the palace, and Uraume had been tasked with taking you away to a neighboring village until the fountain was completed.

Before, Uraume would have been ashamed of themself for seemingly falling so low in Sukuna’s graces that they had been demoted to a mere pet sitter, but the Lord saw you as so much more. He trusted no one with you, and had killed plenty a servants for so much as letting their gaze linger on you a bit too long, but here he was trusting you, arguably his most prized possession, in their care.

It spoke volumes of how much trust Sukuna put into them, hence Uraume’s agreeable mood.

“You’re sending me off to my death, aren’t you?” You blanche, eyes darting between the two people in your room, and Uraume gives nothing away as they watch you with a neutral expression. “They’re going to cook me, aren’t they?” You let out a harrowing moan, even going so far as to drop your head into your hands, and Sukuna regards you with a painfully patient look.

“You would have done well in the story telling business - you’re highly dramatic.” You go limp, one of Sukuna’s arms quickly snatching you up, and another one comes down to snag ahold of your chin and turn your face up to him, large fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Enough with the theatrics, woman. You’re not being killed just yet.”

“Just yet?”

“The two of you are going on a trip. It’ll be no longer than two weeks.”

“A trip to where? The afterli—!” Sukuna spins you out of his arms, and Uraume acts quickly, their own arms shooting out to steady you. “Ryomen!”

“You may leave, Uraume.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Uraume had been attempting to pacify you ever since the two of you had finally reached your designation: an inn a bit of ways into the countryside.

You had annoyingly cried a good ways of the journey over, only stopping when you had fallen asleep on Uraume’s shoulder, and when you had awoken, you had stayed quiet as you sulked to yourself.

Dramatic.

The two of you were now in the bath, Uraume’s hand gently moving the soapy cloth up and down the expanse of your back. You were still quiet, something completely uncharacteristic of your usual self. Even when Sukuna left the palace for weeks at a time you didn’t act like this. Perhaps you really did believe that he sent you away to be killed…

A part of them wanted to pick at you for their own amusement, but another part of them was slightly…worried. A very minuscule part. A displeased you would inevitably lead to a displeased Sukuna, and Uraume simply refused to let that happen.

“Lord Sukuna’s business will likely be finished before two weeks.” Knowing his master, the man would ensure the workers hands didn’t stop moving until their fingers were worked to the bone - the project would surely take no longer than a week, at the latest.

You give no indication to having heard them, and Uraume rinses the soap from your skin, silently acknowledging just how soft and supple the flesh is. “Have you decided what you’ll have for dinner?”

“You mean my last meal?” You quip, and Uraume grasps the wooden bucket filled with water at their feet. “You have some nerve, Uraume. Bathing me and plumping me up before you drive the knife in. Just know that—ah!” You splutter as a wave of water comes crashing down against your head, and they reach around you to dab at your eyes with a dry cloth.

“I think a hearty soup would do you well. I noticed that your voice sounds a bit scratchier than usual. I suspect you’ll come down with a cold in a few days.” Uraume turns you so you’re facing them, and they pause when they notice the tears gathering in your eyes.

“Did he grow bored of me?” Your voice cracks, and Uraume tilts their head. Humans and their needless worries.

“You are a very silly girl.” You sniff. “We both know very well what has become of the people that bored Lord Sukuna.” Their hands move on instinct, thumbs flicking away the tears that slipped free. “Do you really believe that I would be treating you so kindly if my master had signed off on your death?”

“You dumped water on my head.”

“Lukewarm water. It could have been boiling.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy sound, and Uraume isn’t pleased to admit that they can see the appeal that Sukuna sees in you.

“Let’s quickly finish so you can eat.”

“Is it any better?” Uraume questions, careful of their strength as they push their fingers into the plush flesh of your waist. You had found yourself tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, and once questioned, you had complained about a stiffness in your shoulders and lower back, prompting them to undo your robe and attempt to work the kinks out…kinks that they had yet to find.

“Mm-nn,” you sigh, cheek resting on the pillow as your lashes flutter, and they add a bit more pressure, oiled hands sliding up the sides of your waist, fingers brushing against the sides of your breasts, before they’re pushing down between your shoulder blades. “It’s…it’s lower now.”

“Lower?” They let their hands slip further down, thumbs pushing into your lower back and moving in wide, slow circles. They can feel you wiggling underneath them from where they straddle your bare behind, and Uraume focuses their ministrations in that area. “I suppose you are a bit tense - is this better?”

“L-Lower.”

Their brows furrow as they shuffle back so they’re sat atop the backs of your thighs, only for understanding to settle on their features at the slick sheen between your inner thighs. Uraume hums, a single finger moving to trace down your slit. You gasp, butt jutting out, and they tsk with a shake of their head.

“What a roundabout way to say you want me to pleasure you.” You hide your face into the blankets, and they allow their finger to push past wet, puffy lips to get to your clit. “Lord Sukuna instructed me to give you everything that you desired, and if sex is what you desire from me, then you will have it. There’s no need to beat around the bush.”

After Sukuna had first demanded that Uraume ‘teach you how to take him’, he had also given them the task of satisfying you whenever he was not around. You had only come to them twice so far - once at the end of your monthly cycle, a time where you could frequently be found moaning in Sukuna’s lap and pawing at his chest, and twice when Sukuna had ‘punished’ you by refusing to mate with you, forcing you to come to Uraume as a last, desperate resort.

You don’t answer them with words but moans, short breathless sounds that leave you with every swipe of their finger against your clit. Their free hand moves to a plump cheek, and they spread you open, eyes taking in the way your drooling hole clenches around nothing and oozes slick.

Their finger moves from your clit to your hole, and they add in another finger before slowly pushing in, silently marveling at the way your walls greedily suck them in, a low squelch sounding as your arousal bubbles up around the digits.

“Uraume,” you gasp, voice heavy with desire, and there’s a stirring in their groin that they pointedly ignore. They pull their fingers back until they slip out of you and spread them apart, your slick webbing between the two digits, and then they’re plunging them right back in. “Uraume!”

“Does this please you?” Their voice is breathier, heavier, and your ass ripples with the force from their hand hitting against you. “Or would you prefer something else? Perhaps my mouth?”

You moan out something indiscernible, but Uraume decides to take it as an enthusiastic yes, a decision that they refuse to dwell on as they push your thighs apart and lay on their stomach in between them, thumbs keeping your lips spread as they lick a long stripe up your cunt.

You gasp and twitch, and they let you move as you see fit, simply adjusting their position to keep up with you. Their tongue flattens over your bud, nose nuzzled against your clenching hole, and the scent of you nearly overwhelms them.

They venture up a tad, tongue now thrusting into you, and the heat of your pussy is enough to make beads of sweat trickle down their nose to mix in with your essence. They push in deep, tongue rubbing against your walls and curling up before withdrawing, pools of your slick collected and messily gulped down.

Uraume now understands why they so frequently catch Sukuna with his head buried between your thighs, hands keeping you pinned as he feasts on your cunt. Their master has never once eaten a meal they’ve cooked for him with such hunger and passion, and Uraume hates to admit that nothing they make could ever amount to the taste of you.

Their hands move to lock around your hips, your movements preventing them from mouthing at you the way they desperately need to, and they pay no heed to the way you sob into the sheets, pussy tightening around their tongue as you come with a breathless shriek of their name.

You relax in their hold, and they let their tongue slip from inside you, the muscle once again parting your folds to give slow, gentle licks to your twitching clit. You weakly call their name, and they pull away from you with a wet, messy kiss to the sensitive bud, hands going back to massaging into your skin as they struggle to calm their racing pulse.

Your soft snores filter into their ears a few moments later, and they observe you as they’re smacked with a new revelation.

Uraume doesn’t hate you, not one bit.

#uraume x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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utterlyotterlyx · 23 days

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Shine

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Petty games don't work well with Azriel, but you never learn, do you?

Warnings - angstttt, pettiness, feral Azriel, possessiveness, lil bit of fluff, smut, oral m!receiving, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, shadow play, unhinged Az, basically just smut tbh

Tension and anger echoed about the study, it was so stifling that even Rhys had no option but to dart his gaze between Azriel and yourself as you both stood opposite one another, chest to chest, shouting at one another due to your sheer luck and dangerous stupidity.

It wasn't like you couldn't handle yourself, but you knew you had only returned from your latest mission in tact by the skin of your teeth and sweat on your brow. Azriel had known the severity of the situation when you had muted the bond, and that made him morph into a feral beast.

Cassian had received the initial onslaught of his anger, his cheek throbbing and bruising as he sat lax in one of the armchairs with a rag full of ice pressed to his skin.

Muting the bond was something he had forbidden you to do, no matter what, and you had gone and done it.

"I couldn't risk your tugging distracting me whilst we tried to get out of there," you shot, shouting up at his towering frame that cast a shadow over you.

Even his shadows had retreated behind him, occasionally begging their master to stop shouting at you, that their pretty love was alive and well, they begged him to hold her and love her, but he was too angry to even think of it.

How could you be so foolish? Azriel had told you not to make all of the mistakes that you had, and you hadn't listened to him, not for a mere moment. It was in that moment that he loathed your cockiness and wit.

Clenching his fists, Azriel's nostrils flared, you stood toe to toe with him, an act that not many lived to talk of afterward, new-born fire burned in your eyes, "You're so reckless, y/n. As long as I have a say in it, you won't see another mission until you learn your lesson."

Stoic. Final.

Rhys sucked in a breath at your face, a usually soft thing that had contorted into blind, psychotic serenity, even the High Lord shrank into his seat whilst Azriel slowly realised the gravity of his words, "Am I bad dog, Az? Are you going to rub my nose in my piss and tell me how awful I am?"

Darkness tugged at him, forcing him back a step, but your eyes didn't falter, didn't move from his face for a singular moment. It was too late to take it back, the underlying tone that told he that he was attempting to tell you what to do, so he stood firm. "You both could have died today because of your stupidity. Rhys would be mindless if he allowed you to step foot on another mission."

There was a cut in your brow that was leaking blood, arrows tipped with faebane were shot at you during your escape, one of which had grazed your brow. Dirt brushed against your cheeks, twigs were entwined in your hair, possibly from the fall that caused your scuffed knees; you had walked into the house limping, smirking to Cassian at the near death experience, and that made his anger roar even more.

The gaze of a thousand blades cut into Rhys and he winced, lifting his eyes from the desk to you. He couldn't deny how reckless your actions had been, you could have died, you could have left Azriel without a mate, both of them without you and Cassian.

Rhys' lips curled into a tight snarl, partly due to the anger of being pulled into one of your fights which left the city trembling, "This conversation can wait," he rose from the desk, hands flat and steady on the tabletop, "We leave for Autumn in two hours," he looked to you, "You should go and make yourself look more presentable. But as for you going on another mission, I do believe that you should take a step back for awhile, until you can understand how your actions impact the lives of your comrades."

You went to bark a reply, your shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession. Rhys simply held his hand up and you growled at the action, the predator inside of you not liking being silenced one bit before you turned on your heels and flung the door open so hard that one of the hinges ripped from the wall, not before glaring at Azriel like death was imminent on him however.

"Thank you for that, Az," Rhys sighed and fell back into his seat, making a mental note to get the door fixed and reinforced.

You were by far the most fierce member of the Inner Circle, war was your middle name, you relished in your brutality, and it had astounded them all time and time again just how vicious you could be. One winter solstice, many many years ago, Amren went as far as to gift you with a pair of ornate talons like they were pieces of jewellery, the bloodthirsty animal inside of you grinned at them, and you hadn't gone into any battle without them since.

Azriel was the only person who wasn't scared of you, so it made sense that you had discovered that you were mate. It had taken you a long while to accept the bond, you knew that you were a difficult thing to handle, but he seemed up to the challenge, and he slowly broke down every defence you had thrown up around your heart.

Throwing his head back and running his hand over his face, Azriel cocked his head toward Cassian who sat there wearing a shit-eating grin that he wished to wipe from the face of the earth, "You'll be paying for that later."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Each time Azriel stepped one toe over the line you had drawn, that being attempting to control you or hinder your movements, you would react in the pettiest of ways. Sometimes you would wear the skimpiest thing in your closet and walk about the River House in it to tease him, swimming in the dark eyes of Cassian or sultry words of Mor, and you'd continue to wear it until he would forcefully drag you into your shared rooms and fall to his knees before you, begging for a taste. Other times, you'd go as far as to paint the town red with Nesta and Mor, and he would find you grinding against another male in Rita's, drunk off your ass, and the male would freeze and simper away once he realised whose eyes had stalked him from across the room.

Every attempt to rile up your mate had worked, you had always pulled an apology from his lips the moment he was done fucking you senseless. Azriel hated your little games, he made it clear often, but he always played them.

From the fury in your eyes, Azriel knew that you'd be taking your pettiness to a whole new level that evening.

Using the excuse of your cut up brow, you had managed to buy yourself an extra hour of alone time whilst the rest of your family departed for the Autumn Court.

It was Eris' birthday, and the new High Lord had invited you all as a notion to strengthen the newfound alliance between the courts, and of course, Rhys had agreed. Pity for Azriel that Eris had always had a wandering eye for you, and you were certainly going to use that fact to your advantage.

Gold clung to you like a second skin, a tight and sheer strapless corset pulled against your chest, adorned in a design of vines and dainty flowers, the skirt was long and trailed behind your steps and it was just sultry enough that it exposed both of your legs, right up to the thigh, and one wrong move would expose your cunt for all to see, the only saving grace being the golden fabric that just brushed below it.

Nesta had chuckled low at the look in your eye as she had styled your hair into loose curls. No accessories were needed, the dress was a statement on its own. You had been saving it for yours and Azriel's anniversary which was three days away, but such vicious actions had led you to remove the custom made garment from its casing and wear it for the High Lord of Autumn instead.

Adjusting the straps of you golden heels, you floated through the house like a summer wind and winnowed right onto the front lawn of the Forest House, a feline smirk on your lips as you felt the bond sing at your presence. Music and laughter poured from the open windows and doors, fire lanterns illuminated the path, and the guards at the doors didn't even ask for your name as they opened them with their mouths slightly agape.

Eris was sat upon the dais, looking rather bored, and then his eyes found you and he sat upright in his seat. The act made the room turn to you, to the dress glowing in the candlelight, to your exposed skin poking from the sheer material that stuck to you.

Murmurs from the crowd were dim against the music playing from the band in the corner, and you felt all eyes on you, even the ones that were seething. Once you had sauntered to the foot of the dais, you flickered your gaze up through your long lashes and curtseyed, low, low enough for Eris to catch a glimpse at the delicious cleavage at the heart of the bodice.

From the corner of your eye you saw Cassian's mouth move, to which Azriel's head snapped in his direction in warning before it moved back to you. A smirk befell your lips and you rose, "I apologise for the lateness, My Lord," your words were seductive and you skin glittered in the light due to the shimmering oil you had placed on your hands and arms, on the calves that Azriel loved to trail kisses upward.

"Perfection takes time," Eris drawled, his whisky amber eyes fixated on you, you were by far the most radiant thing he had ever seen, and the most vicious, it made his senses sing, "I appreciate the time you spent readying yourself for me."

With a smirk, you walked from the foot of the dais, in the opposite direction of your family, and toward a table adorned with various flutes of sparkling wine, plucking one from the surface and drinking the sweet liquid as the room resumed its previous activities.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Feigning innocence, you peered up at him, doing your best not to grin at the redness of his face. Azriel looked oh so handsome, dressed in all black, the top two buttons of his silk shirt undone to give you a glimpse of his tattoos, "I'm drinking my sparkling wine."

"Y/N." Azriel's voice was low and demanding, it made your hairs stand on end and a sinful shudder crawl down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Sorry, Azzie," you suck out your bottom lip and turned around, facing the crowd who were stealing the odd glance in your direction.

Azriel moved behind you, his breath hot on the curve where your neck and shoulder connected, "I've never seen this dress," his fingers brushed against the chain-like material.

The look on his face was not one you wanted to miss when the words fell from your mouth, so you craned your head, turning your beautiful face over your shoulder, "I had it made for our anniversary," his eyes darkened, "Thought why it should be wasted in Velaris when it would be so appreciated here."

Light glittered over your face, making the shimmering powder on your cheekbones glow.

Azriel's nostrils flared and his fingers gripped your hip, no doubt leaving bruises swelling on your skin, "Our anniversary."

An innocent hum vibrated against your lips, "Yes. Seventy-four years this week. We were going to make it special. Shame."

Then you turned away from him as a familiar presence entered your consciousness. Eris stood before you, eyes low and darkened with desire, a sight that Azriel lowly growled at, "May I?" Eris offered his hand as the floor reset, and you didn't hesitate to take it, ripping yourself from Azriel's grasp and allowing Eris to lead you onto the dancefloor.

No one else dared to join you.

Surely, where fire met fury, people would burn.

Eris' hand stayed locked in yours whilst his other rested low on your hip, barely grazing the bare skin at your thigh, his lips brushed the shell of your ear as the music started, "Don't let anyone take away your shine."

The High Lord whisked you into a waltz, his steps perfectly matching and harmonising with your own, looking deep into your eyes the whole time. You had to admit it, Eris was beautiful, not as beautiful as Azriel, but still. For a moment, your forgot about the world as you waltzed in his arms, his fire colliding with the flame burning within you, and the entire room held a breath and could only watch the magnificence of it whilst wishing it was them.

The music slowed as did your steps, and one more twirl later, Eris bowed to you, your hand still in his, and kissed the marriage band on your ring finger, smirking against it slowly before rising and taking another step toward you, "I like your games, y/n," your heart began to race, "Do let me know if you'd like your fantasies fulfilled," his finger twirled your hair around it and he hummed in approval.

Then, Eris moved, taking your arm and leading you back to where he had taken you from, which was away from Azriel as he stood between Feyre and Rhys on the other side of the room, eyes wide and shadows dancing.

It should have been menacing, the look on his face, the crooked, unhinged grin and dark eyes that peered at you. All it did was make your cunt burn with need.

Perhaps you had pushed him too far.

For another hour, Azriel stalked you from the opposite side of the room, he was the predator toying with its prey, and he fucking knew it. The constant intensity of his gaze filled you with excitement and dread, until it had gotten too much altogether.

The halls of the Forest House held a chill, and your heels against the floor echoed about the vast halls and tunnels. You weren't sure how far you had walked, up a few staircases and down so many hallways that you were sure you had gotten lost.

That intensity still lingered.

Exhaling shakily, you stopped your walking and you spoke, "I know you're here," you turned on your heels as another pair of steps prowled down the candlelit hallway.

There he was, hair messy from raking his hands through it too much, eyes zoning in on you, his shadows poking up from his shoulders at the feeling of having you so close.

"As observant as ever," he purred, taking another step, and then another, "Did you really think you could wear that, a beautiful gift for our anniversary, to remember all the time that we have spent loving and fucking one another, for another male. Our enemy. And think you'd get away with it?" Another step, and your breath became caught in your throat, another step, and he was on you, his breath fanning over your face.

Backing into the wall, your heart lurched at the lethal speckles in his eyes, "Perhaps you should stop trying to take away my shine," you tried to speak as calmly as possible, but he saw right through it, and Azriel grinned.

Raising his hands, he caged you between them, then one of them moved to graze against your cheek, then the line of your collarbone, then down your arm and hip, until they lingered where your dress and thigh met, "Shine all you want, my mate, I won't stop you," his fingers dipped under the hem of the skirt, caressing your thigh, "But what I will not tolerate, is you wearing a thing meant for solely my eyes alone before others, and bathe in the sinful thoughts of them."

He was beyond pissed. It was hard to see anything but the Spymaster of the Night Court in those eyes.

Gulping hard, you had no choice but to shrink a little, like a bunny caught in the jaws of a wolf, from the lethal promise in his eyes, "I wanted, for once, to do what I wanted to do."

Azriel tilted his head and leaned down, a feathers touch away from your lips, "And what do you want now?" His voice was rough and low, a hush above a whisper, his fingers continued to rub soft circles into the skin beneath that golden hem.

"I want..." you looked into his eyes, into the eyes that engulfed every piece of you, "I want..." your back slid down the wall an inch or so just to put some space between you.

"I need your words, Angel," he cooed as his other hand moved from the wall to run down the side of your face and neck.

"I want you," the submissive tone in your voice made him melt, he grasped your wrist and pulled you down the hall, wind sifting through your hair at the speed of his steps, until he opened a door and pushed you inside.

The room was humming with the last of a simmering fire, the last licks of flame flickering across the room. Hands roamed your waist before he murmured, "I think I'd like you to keep it on."

Spice and cinnamon faintly clung to the air, mulled wide and ash. Then it dawned you, you were in Eris' room, you were about to be used in Eris' own bed. A sickly tempting realisation.

Azriel rounded your figure and smirked, he was enjoying toying with you, if you wanted to play, then he'd play.

The Shadowsinger moved across the room, sitting on a chair you knew Eris would have spent his nights reading in, and sat down, legs spread and slouched into the cushion. Tapping his foot against the wood in waiting, you stood there, you weren't sure for what, but your chest panted.

"Well? Come to me, Angel," he purred, smirking at you, you moved to take a single step but he tutted, "On your knees."

Fire spread through your entire body and you sank to the ground, dancing your palms along the wood as he watched on with that predatory glare, "You look so good crawling for me," his praise made your core pulse, and you knew that you were already glistening for him.

Kneeling before him, in the middle of his open legs, you felt the world shift, and you knew he was about to devour you. Azriel motioned to the best of his trousers and commanded, "Take them off," your fingers reached for the belt, unbuckling the clasp before untethering the buttons to his satin briefs and pulling them down to see his cock already hard and throbbing for you, your fingers delicately curled around him and he groaned at your touch, "With your mouth, Angel."

Azriel shifted his position, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his chest, to make himself more accessible for you.

Taking him between your lips, you swirled your tongue around the head, flickering the tip of you tongue over him. Deeper he went, and you hallowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head, Azriel's head was thrown back, his hand curled in your hair as he guided your movements, "You're so perfect, aren't you? Look at how pretty you look," a soft whine moved through you and you rubbed your thighs together, begging to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs.

Azriel continued to guide your head, meeting every movement to the lazy thrusts of his lips, both of his hands were in your hair now, he moaned, a breathless sonnet that made you moan, making your lips vibrate around his cock.

Within a moment, Azriel had removed himself from your mouth and scooped you up from the floor, not breaking his stare as your thighs pressed around his waist and he moved to the bed, "Do you know whose room this is?" Azriel grinned against you neck, he moved back, his face hovering before your own as his fingers moved between your folds, you jolted at the contact, "It's Eris'."

So he did know.

Azriel pressed his lips to yours and you gasped, his finger entering you, and he took the opportunity to nip your bottom lip between his teeth, "He thinks he can touch you like that, think of you like this?"

He was going to fuck your scents into the foundations of the castle, so that Eris would never to able to escape it, escape the untouchable state of your mating bond.

His lips were on you again, and he shifted his position, resting between your legs as his fingers continued to draw soft moans from your lips. Azriel pulled away, taking his time in removing the satin shirt from his body, unlacing the cuffs and drawing the garment over his shoulders, his wings flexed behind him the entire time to make you remember who exactly your mate was.

Azriel positioned himself and pushed into you, capturing your lips on his to silence your soft groan whilst he stretched you, until he was fully hilted inside of you. Then he began moving, rolling his hips back and forth, mumbling against your lips, "You're mine. All mine."

The skin on your neck was clouded in marks from his mouth, sucking and biting every part of you he could see as he rocked into you, slow and deep, trying to stay in control.

Whimpering beneath him, you took his face in your hands and looked into his eyes; his hair fell over your face and you brushed it away, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, "Let go."

It was all he needed.

Azriel pulled out of you, flipping you onto your front, and positioning you so that your back was arching in a perfect crescent moon, he wasted no time in pushing into you again, smirking against the walls that were already quivering around him.

This time, he wasn't gentle.

Your mate fucked you relentlessly, you were blubbering beneath him, feeling your walls spasm as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, moaning so loud that you were surprised no one had come in to investigate who exactly was getting fucked in the High Lords bedroom.

"Az, please, I'm going to-"

A familiar flutter passed over your clit, coiling around it and you clawed yourself right through Eris' feather pillows at the touch. The others flowed through your hair and down your sides, licking and caressing your skin.

Crying out, that white light blinded your senses as you came all over Azriel's cock that was slamming into you whilst his shadows took you to a whole other world entirely.

"That's my girl," his fingers trailed down the curve of you spine, furling in your hair and pulling you up so that your spine met his chest, burying his head into the nape of your neck, "Such a pretty dress, hm?"

Azriel didn't slow down, thrusting up into you, his fist curled in your hair and tugging on it to give him access to your neck and earlobes, "Mother above," you muttered through breaths, clutching onto the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Smirking against your skin, Azriel coaxed another orgasm from your body, commanding his best shadows to stay focused on that bundle of nerves that craved attention, "Eris won't ever be able to escape this, us."

"Azriel," the possessive primal instinct had consumed him, the need to mark what was his, right in the heart of his enemies den, "Please."

"Tell me what you want, Angel."

"I want you. Please."

"How could I deny you when you're being so good?"

This time, Azriel fingers moved over your clit, sending electric white heat through your body, raw and euphoric, and he slammed into you, moving with unwavering pace until you quivered around him tighter than you ever had before and he felt himself slip.

His movements had you begging as he fucked himself deeper inside of you, through his high that had him moaning your name. Then his movements slowed to a stop, and you stayed sat on his still throbbing cock, "I hope that Eris enjoys your message."

Chuckling, he pressed his lips to your neck, allowing his hands to float down the bodice of the dress that had got you to where you were, nestled on your mates cock in the room of his enemy, "I'm sure he will," his fingers drifted to your stomach, halting there with a smile, "We may have done it."

Looking down, your hands moved to the same position, slithering beneath his, "Do you think so?"

Azriel hummed against your skin, "I do," It was no secret that you and Azriel had been trying for a child for years, you knew it wasn't ever going to be instant, but you had hoped for at least two perfect glimmers of your love for one another in the entire seventy-four years you had spent together.

"I hope so."

"Me too, Angel. Me too."

Smirking, you pulled away and turned to face your beautiful mate who was still kneeling atop the bedspread, "Are we going to talk about that little scene in the hallway, and on that chair?"

Azriel mirrored your smirk, "What can I say?" he moved to you, connecting his lips to yours, his other half, his everything, Azriel looked to your swollen full lips, to your hair, to your eyes that were glowing in the dying light, he shrugged, "It's the dress."

Author's Note

👀

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schwarz-san · 9 months

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A Revenant for The Red Knight

Your typical Dp x Dc Summoning AU, but with a twist.

Jason is having a bad time.

The most of the family to be honest.

Why? Cultist. In Gotham.

One that worship some kind of All Powerful Eldritch Death Outer God from Beyond and plans to summon the Thing to this plane of existence.

The worst part? Most of the bats are being use as sacrifice. Wait no, the worst part is that Jason is the main sacrifice.

They did contemplate whether to use Jason or the Demon child, but end up deciding to use Jason instead. Something about being having essence of Death and the Multiverse in his veins and you know what? He's not gonna touch that with a ten foot pole. Nope.

The demon child is lashing out like the unvaccinated feral racoon that he is, Dick is trying to escape and so does Bruce as well as trying to make sense of the Summoning circle that the cultist were using. The replacement is snoring, the asshole.

Hah. Thats what he get for drinking five mugs of expresso instead of sleeping then gatting tranq.

Also, fuck Bruce for not calling Constantine or Zattana the moment they smelled something supernatural.

God, he hates magic.

The cultist started chanting by then, speaking in a language that no one understood—huh? Well look at that. He could apparently. He could hear them chanting in that unknown language and english at the same time, its over lapping. Weird, its like it was being translated especially for him since the others didnt seems to show any recognition with the words the cultist was using.

Except maybe the demon child, but the others? Nada.

"—Ruler of the inbetween, Heed our call. Defeater of the Dark Tyrant. Master of Space, The bridge between Every Realms, The Great One, The Balance—"

Thats a fuck ton of titles.

The circle began glowing green and fucking Lazarus waters began to pour out and thats not fucking good.

Pillar of unnaturally Neon Red Fire emerge from the Circle and destroyed the ceiling and shook the entire ware house.

A tall armoured figure emerge as the pillar of fire began to settle out. It was floating above the circle, looming over everything in a terryfing manner. Temperature began to rise as the being's Unnayurally white gaze fell upon them.

It was… a knight? A knight cross over a biker??? It also had guns which is weird and is that a fucking Bat Insignia on its chest?

Pressure from all side crash over them as the beings gaze intensified before vanishing all together the moment its gaze fell on jason.

After what seems to be eternity, the being finally spoke.

"Huh. His majesty was right, I really was that stinky and fuck up before he find me."

???

The knight biker then remove his helmet to reveal his own face with a domino mask with his color pallete just inverted.

The doppelganger then pull out his gun and began shooting down the cultist all against the other bats protest. One by one the cultist vanished in to tin air as if they didn't exist all together.

He snapped his fingers and the rope that tying the burst in the same crimson flames and vanished all together.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?!"

Or cultist used kidnap batfam and use jason as a sacrifice to the ghost king to summon him.

They summon Alternate version of jason who is a halfa and work as one of Danny's Fright knight: Red Knight.

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mimisempai · 2 months

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On the road to Season 3 - Day 98

If Aziraphale could have seen the way Crowley became feral on his behalf at that moment...

Master post : here

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #Mr A. Z. Fell #michael sheen #david tennant #😈😇#good omens 2 #GoodOmens3 #quiet gentle and romantic #ineffable husbands

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toxicanonymity · 4 months

Text

being bad and looking good.

2.8k, raider!Joel (dark) x f!reader | Raider Master SUMMARY: You look hot but get punished for acting up. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe P in V, possessive Joel, creampie, manhandling, angst, joel makes you cry, rough, spanking, choking. He's a bad guy, not a kink practitioner: no rules. He cares, and you enjoy the dique, but you're captive. A/N: HYPOTHETICAL because I didn't want to figure out where to place it in the timeline. Set vaguely in the past. This is for a lingerie ask as well as readers who have requested feral/mad Joel or sweet pea being bad. @javier-penas-wifexx420 @arcanefox207 IMMERSABILITY: Reader has hair that can be held/pulled. Joel can lift reader. Reader has no height/size, so fill in the blanks for whether he has to bend his knees to enter you, etc.

Joel lets it slip how close the abandoned mall is, and you can't stop thinking about going there. You want to get something for him. He always brings you things and you never have anything to give him other than food you've foraged and flowers for the trailer. One day, you insist it would be fine with Joel if you go to the mall. You make it sound like you've discussed it. Carter is skeptical, but he feels bad for you. He finally breaks down and agrees to take you.

When you're there, you're walking through the mall and notice Carter's head turn all the way toward a particular storefront as you walk by. You wouldn't have noticed it otherwise. He keeps the same stride, but you slow down to look.

It's a lingerie store. Most of the mannequins are bare or have clothes hanging off them, but there are huge, fading posters with women of all shapes and sizes sporting lace teddies, babydolls, bralettes, strappy garters, and the floor is littered with them.

Carter sighs when he realizes you've stopped at the store.

As he slowly walks back to you, scratching the back of his neck, you ask, “Do you think Joel would like it if I had something from here?” The question feels almost rhetorical, but there's that bit of insecurity, too.

“Uh, I dunno. Sure, I guess.” Carter doesn't seem comfortable. He agrees to let you go in for just a minute to see if you find something, but you have to stay in view. And you think you do. It's a two piece with a sheer, strappy top. The bottom is more modest than a thong, but it has a slit in the crotch that makes you clench your thighs together thinking about Joel.

—-

When you get home, you put it on in the bathroom so you can look at yourself in the mirror. You think it looks good, but it's not a full-length view. And you're not quite sure if it's fitting right. How much tit is supposed to be showing? How tight should it be? You put the flannel back on, but leave it open when you come out. You feel a little more covered than you are, since the nature of the fabric shows a lot.

Carter's sitting at the kitchen table casually shuffling a deck of cards. He looks at you for only a split second before his face hardens, and he abruptly looks away. “Jesus,” he drops the cards on the table, and the chair groans against the floor as he stands up. “The hell are ya doin’?” he awkwardly turns around, pulling up on his pants a little.

“I just wanna know if it looks-”

“--'m sure it looks great,” Carter runs his hands through his hair in distress as he looks out the window. Then, he tightly crosses his arms, and they stretch his sleeves even more. “Now get outta here,” he tells you. He rocks forward onto his toes, then back, waiting for you to leave.

Is he mad? You step further into the kitchen and try to meet his eyes in the reflection.

His voice is stern. “Go put some goddamn clothes on.”

“Sorry, I wasn't–”

“Now.” He means it. You stand there stunned for a moment with your lip quivering. He's never been angry at you before.

“NOW.” He points toward Joel's room, veins bulging on his hand and arm. He doesn't turn around to look at you, but you see the flush from his cheeks creeping onto his neck and ears.

You go to your room and sniffle as you button the flannel. Then you put on a pair of shorts, curl up on the bed, and cry.

–

After a few minutes, there's a soft knock on the bedroom door. “Ya’okay?”

You only sniffle, “I'm sorry,” in response.

Carter sighs. “I shouldn'ta snapped at ya, darlin’. But ya just – can't do that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Shit, you're a pretty girl, okay? But it ain't my business how ya look. . .in somethin’ like that.”

“. . .I know, I wasn't thinking.”

“Now, if you're dressed and wanna play rummy, I’ll deal. . .”

You smile to yourself through your tears.

—--

You dry your eyes and come out to the kitchen, but something in the air is different as you pull out a chair and sit down.

“Carter, please forget it,” you plead and try to get him to look at you. It feels like you broke something.

He finally makes eye contact and forces a little smile. Then he concentrates on the cards as he deals. “Two, two, three, three,” he counts the cards out loud for each of you as he deals. He finishes, and while you're studying the hand you’re dealt, it's quiet. In the corner of your eye, Carter's gaze falls to your now fully-covered chest, but he quickly pulls his eyes away and looks straight down, fidgeting with his cards. You feel awful. What if he can’t look at you the same? It was stupid to try to show him. Of course it would look good to Joel, he likes everything on (and off) you.

______

When Joel gets home, you're in the bedroom alone, sitting on the bed in the lingerie and flannel. As he enters through the kitchen, his boots are heavy on the linoleum. Your heart races with a moment of doubt - how are you going to explain this? But he bursts in the room grumbling, “goddamn Harold, tryin’ to get us all killed.” He takes his shirt off over his back, tosses it to the laundry, and looks at you. He pauses and devours the view for a few seconds before he slowly approaches, chest heaving.

He looms over you as you sit on the bed. He uses both hands to nudge the flannel off your shoulders, and it pools behind you. You take your arms out of it. He grabs a tit and rests his other hand on the nape of your neck, thumb brushing the curve of your skull. His chest lets out a low growl as he feels you. Then his fingers trail up the strap on one shoulder. He plucks it and it snaps against your skin.

Joel’s face darkens as he asks, “Where’d it come from?” When you don’t answer fast enough, his hand traces up your throat. A chill spreads across your chest. His thumb brushes the side of your neck, then slides over to lift your chin and make you look at him. “Where.”

“I wanted to do something you’d like.”

“Where,” he repeats, then clenches his jaw, waiting.

“You said the mall wasn’t far, so–”

He raises his voice. “You went to the mall? Where was Carter?”

“It’s okay, he was there, even found a part for the van in the parking lot.”

Joel’s nostrils flare, and he grips your jaw. “Carter took you to the mall.”

Your eyes water with panic. “No, it wasn’t his idea--”

“To buy somethin’ like this.”

“I wanted to get you something. I didn’t know they had this stuff —”

“He's got no business takin’ ya anywhere. And sure as hell not somewhere sexy.”

You're worried for Carter and grateful he’s not around. “I swore the mall was okay, that you wouldn’t mind. I didn’t know there was somewhere sexy,” your voice trails off.

Joel shakes his head, nostrils flaring. “You don't say what's okay. You don't KNOW what's okay. Get up.”

He forces you to your feet then turns you around.

“I thought you'd like it,” you sniffle. “You always do things for me.”

“He grabs your ass, lifting your butt cheek and lets it drop. He clicks his tongue. “well, I sure don't like how ya got it.”

“I'm sorry”

“Think ya need a reminder who's in charge here.”

“I know,” you sniffle in agreement, sensing what's coming. He sits down on the bed and manhandles you into lying face down over his knees. You feel a twinge of arousal even before he shifts your position and your hip brushes the hard shape in his jeans.

You hold your breath as he brings his hand back, then it lands with a sting and you yelp at the force. You bury your mouth in your arm as he brings his hand back again. He repeats it on the other cheek and you let out a muffled whimper that sounds more aroused than you should be.

“Like bein’ bad?” He asks, then spanks you again.

“No.”

His hand lands with a sting one more time and stays on your skin to grab the plush of your burning skin. “Ya like this?”

“. . .I dunno,” you whimper, unsure of the right answer.

He feels between your legs, his thick finger finding a damp slit in the cotton crotch of the lacy underwear. He slips a finger inside the garment, giving you a shock of need when his knuckle nudges your dripping hole. “Ya do, don't ya? Get up.” He grabs your arm and stands up, forcing you to your feet. He holds your hair and stares you down sternly. “This ain't for fun, baby, it's your safety” He lets go of your hair and looms closer. “Understand?”

You nod and reflexively back up. Something tells you it's not just about your safety.

“AND Carter's. You tryin' to make me hurt’m?” He asks. Joel gets closer and you keep backing up toward the wall.

“No,” you sob. “Please don't. He’s good, so good, he wouldn't even look at me. He respects you so much”

A new rage flashes across Joel's face and he lowers his voice. “He wouldn't . . .even . . .look at ya,” he mutters too calmly for your comfort. He takes a deep breath, looks you up and down again, puts his hand on your chest, fingers spread wide, and walks you harshly into the wall. His bare chest heaves. ”But ya gave him the chance, didn't ya,” Joel nods. You've dug your hole so much deeper.

“I was only thinking about–” Joel’s hand comes to your neck as you croak out, “--you.” You don't know what you were thinking. Joel doesn't either. He slowly shakes his head, nostrils flaring.

He pins you with his hips, and his hard cock digs into your front, making you gush.

“Forget who ya belong to?”

“No,” you whimper. “I’m yours.”

He pulls his hips back and quickly unfastens his pants. You bite your lip to keep from moaning at the sight of his cock. It nudges under the bottom hem of the lingerie top to reach your body. You feel his skin hit your lower belly, and it makes you weak with desire. “Only wanna be yours.”

He kicks your feet apart to spread your legs, and he brings his lips to your hair. “Then ya do what I say. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” you whisper, then he shoves his hand between your legs, using two fingers to spread the slit in the fabric of the crotch.

“‘s’for your own good,” he adds.

He nudges the slit with his cockhead. The fabric doesn’t open wide enough, so he rips the slit more, then you feel his tip at your wet little hole. He holds his cock in line, then grabs your ass and shoves up into you all at once, bottoming out. The force makes your back and shoulders drag up the wall. With your feet now off the ground, your knees bend, cradling his hips. He holds you by your ass, adjusts your weight, and your back is against the wall. You balance your arms around his neck. His thick cock retreats then punches into you again.

He's so thick, each time he pushes in, it feels like he’s taking up your whole body. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking past you. The grip of his fingers hurts enough to feel good, to feel his desperation, how much he has to have you–for him and only him.

He grunts and growls and breathes heavily, stomach heaving against you. “You're mine, sweet pea.”

“I am,” you agree.

“No one else can have ya.” His words get broken with the force of his thrusts. “No one else can see ya.”

“I know.”

You moan as he buries his length in you roughly, and he mutters “goddamn,” tightening his grip on your ass. You’re overwhelmed by the fullness of his cock, his skin against yours, his breath in your hair, his body pinning you there. All of it makes your insides swell with mounting pleasure.

“I love being yours,” you pant.

He fucks you in relative silence for about two minutes, the room filled only with the sounds of his brutish grunts and unbridled sighs, your little moans and whimpers, and the squelch of his stiff cock pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

He adjusts your weight and looks down at your body from time to time, letting your upper back rest against the wall as he rails into you. You’re reassured that he likes the fit, at least. Your legs wrap loosely around him.

The pressure in your lower belly builds with each grunt, each thrust of his cock. Soon, his breath becomes shaky and the drag of his cock quickens. Then he bottoms out sharply with a groan, drawing a sigh from you as he begins to pulse. He thrusts into you slower, more controlled, and you rock slowly against the wall. The rhythmic swell of his shaft within your walls and the warm seed spilling from his tip make you clench around him. You moan his name, tighten your legs, and he sighs as your cunt chokes his cock.

When his balls are empty, he slides out, and the fabric pulls with his cock as he withdraws and lets you down to the floor.

—-

Joel sighs, crams his wet cock into his pants, and fastens them again.

“You okay?” He asks, catching his breath.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna pay Carter a visit, down at the house.”

“Please, Joel, it was all my fault,” you beg. “Don’t do it.”

“Ain’t gonna kill’m. This time.” You still don’t like the look on his face.

You follow him across the room, reach for his arm, and your fingers land lightly on his inner elbow. He pauses, still without his shirt on, and looks down at your hand on his elbow. He turns around, reads your face, then goes over to the bed without a word. He sits and manspreads. “I was desperate to make you happy,” you plead, fidgeting with the hem of your top.

Joel scrunches his face. “Ya do make me happy, sweet pea.”

“He didn't even wanna take me,” you insist.

“Then he’s gotta learn to say no.”

You hesitantly come closer, unsure if he’ll turn you away, but he lets you between his legs, then you sit on his thigh and keep fidgeting with the hem of your top.

“He says no all the time,” you assure Joel.

“Does he,” Joel mutters skeptically.

“I made it like he would've been saying no to you.”

Joel shakes his head, looking at your mouth. “That ain't right, but he knows better, baby.”

“He yelled at me,” you offer, hoping it doesn't make things worse.

Joel's brow furrows and his tone sharpens. “Ya gotta stop lyin’, now. It's pissin’ me off.”

“I'm not! He was mad.”

“Oh yeah? What'd he yell?”

“Told me to go away and put on some clothes.”

Joel’s chin lifts to look at the ceiling and he takes a deep breath, then looks at you. “What the hell got into ya, huh?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Feel like I'm going crazy, stuck here all day.” Joel looks at you. “But you take good care of me,” you clarify, “and I love it here.”

But that’s not what Joel’s thinking about.

“Wanna fuck him? Suck his dick?”

“No!” You're on the verge of tears again. “God, Joel, please don't talk like that.” Your face is scrunched up in pain.

“Then don't act like it.”

“I was–okay, I get it.”

Joel is quiet for a few seconds, then asks, “What if I told ya to suck his dick?”

“No!”

“You'd say no to me?”

“I’d ask if I really have to.”

Joel's face slowly softens, like you found the only acceptable answer. “And why’s that?”

“Cause I only want yours.”

“Hm,” Joel nods.

“Please, Joel. Stay here, don't go to him. . .you can talk to him tomorrow.”

You put your arms around Joel's neck and study his pensive face. Then you bury your head in his neck and whisper “Sorry.” His hand slowly comes to your back. You dip your head and lightly brush your lips against his collar bone, then return your face under his jaw, and he nestles his head over yours. Your wet lashes blink against his skin, and his hand slowly slides on your back. Somehow, it feels like more comfort than you deserve.

“Ok, baby,” he whispers and wraps both arms around you.

----------

if you wanna know whether Carter sees sweet pea that way, check out he's only human.

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Their present-day story will continue, but I don't have an ETA, sorry. Unless the next one gets split up, it'll have fluff, two moods of smut, angst.

I appreciate all your comments that let me know what you enjoy and what curiosities you have. Thank you so much for reading, and thanks for your support. Love you all.

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