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ringsofsaturnnnn · 5 months

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i'd like to play roulette with the red chips, please 🥺🙏

and may i also have a cosmopolitan 🍹😌

(i hope i did that right HAHAHA)

.˚ 💛┊..⃗. 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 ⌇

MDNI | h.nagachika x fem!reader

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) :: pet names, oral (fem receiving), piv, praise, unprotected sex, edging, use of ‘daddy’ and ‘slvt,’ unprotected sex (let me know if i missed anything!)

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: mack i’m fr so glad you requested hide. i love him sm 😭💛. i’m sorry this took so long. i reallyyy hope you like it!

𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥

tag list :: n/a

“honey, i’m home!”

those three words were always your favorite to hear. while they were simple, they meant a lot to you. it meant that your husband, hide, had returned home to you yet again.

being a member of the ccg wasn’t exactly the safest job in the world. you knew why your husband worked for them, but it still didn’t make you worry any less.

getting up from the couch to greet him, you flashed him a smile. “there’s my pretty girl.” he cooed after kicking his shoes off. your eyes roamed his body, taking in his features. he always looked so damn good in that uniform..

“honey?” his voice pulled you from your thoughts. blinking and shaking your head, you laughed slightly. “oh, sorry. i was uhm..” trailing off, you couldn’t help but look away. you didn’t necessarily want to admit to your husband that you were checking him out.

“admiring me?” he finished for you. he reached out and cupped your cheek with his hand. moving your head, he forced you to meet his eyes. swallowing, a small blush covered your cheeks. you went to speak, but every word that you thought of died on your tongue as you looked into his eyes.

“come on, angel. use your words. aren’t you going welcome me home?” he teased, a soft chuckle escaping him. the sound was like music to your ears as you looked at him. “w-welcome home.” you stammered out, repeating his words. “oh, come on. that’s it? no, ‘i love you’ or anything cute like that?”

hide had always loved messing with you. he enjoyed how flustered you got. “i-i..” leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips to silence you. “don’t worry, i’ll get you to use your voice.”

“hide!” a soft moan escaped your lips as he continued to draw lazy circles around your clit with his tongue. your fingers gripped the bedsheets tightly as you threw your head back. you could feel him smirk before he pulled away. “yes?” he chuckled, licking his lips.

“s-stop teasing.” you whimpered. he had been edging you for a good ten, maybe fifteen, minutes now. all you wanted was to cum, but he was denying you the satisfaction. “aw, my pretty girl wants to cum?” there he went teasing you again.

nodding your head, you looked at him. “please.” your voice was shaky as you gently bucked your hips. “ah, ah.” he shook his head, his blonde locks falling over his forehead. gently pinning your hips to the bed, he looked down at you with those chocolate brown eyes of his. they were always so warm and full of love.

a soft whine escaped you as you looked at him with pleading eyes. “don’t whine, sweetheart. i’ll let you cum.” he smiled at you before burying his face between your legs once again. he was quick to slip his middle and ring finger inside of you, his tongue immediately latching on to your clit.

“a-ah!” you squeezed your eyes shut as he immediately began pumping his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt. his tongue swirled around your clit, making you clench around his fingers. you could feel him chuckle, which made your eyes roll into the back of your head. “h-hide! fuck!”

it wasn’t long before your fingers found his tangled, messy locks. gently tugging on them, you felt that familiar feeling start to build in your stomach. you prayed that your husband would finally allow you the release you so desperately craved.

“p-please,” you cried. “please let me cum!” you could feel yourself hurdling towards your climax. “go ahead, angel. you’ve been a good girl.” he murmured around your clit. with a soft squeal, you felt yourself cum around his fingers. your fingers gripped his hair harshly.

hide gently pumped his fingers in and out a few more times, helping you come down from your high. once he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers out, watching as a string of cum followed. “such a good girl. came so much for me.” he praised. bringing his fingers to his mouth, he immediately licked them clean.

your chest rose and fell with every breath, your eyes still closed. after a moment, you opened them. hide was kneeling next to you on the bed, a smirk decorating his features. a bulge was noticeable within the tight confines of his navy blue slacks. “a little hand, love?”

you were quick to sit up, your hands immediately reaching for the belt that held up his slacks. “so eager.” his tone was teasing as you fumbled with his belt. after a few more minutes of you fumbling, hide decided to help you out. his fingers made quick work of removing his belt, the sound of the leather sliding out of the fabric making you drool.

the second his belt was discarded, you quickly undid his slacks and pulled them, along with his underwear, down. his dick immediately sprang free, the tip red and already oozing precum. “look at what you did to me angel. you’re just too damn pretty.” pressing a kiss to your lips, he carefully pinned you down to the mattress. while he kissed you, he finished discarding his pants.

“‘m gonna fuck you so good.” he murmured. you whined against his lips, spreading your legs to give him easier access. “that’s a good girl.” he chuckled as he slowly slid into you. a pornographic moan escaped you, your eyes immediately squeezing shut.

“taking my dick so well, pretty girl.” he praised as he slowly started thrusting in and out. the bed dipped under the pressure of bodies as he started to move his hips faster and faster. “a-ah!” your arms had looped around his neck as he pushed his hips flush against your groin.

resting his forehead against yours, he couldn’t help but press another sloppy kiss to your lips. “so fucking deep!” you cried against his somewhat chapped lips. he continued to roll his hips against yours, allowing every inch of him to fill you up. “and so b-big!”

that had hide chuckling. “yeah? but you can take it. i know you can, pretty girl. you always take my dick like a champ.” he groaned. hide couldn’t help but praise you, especially when you were a sweaty mess underneath him. while he loved how you looked no matter what, his favorite way to see you was fucked out underneath him. it made the long, grueling hours of working for the ccg worth it if it meant he could come home to his perfect girl.

“i-i’m gonna cum, honey. where do you want it?” soft pants escaped him, his body sticky with sweat. you only whined, not giving him a direct answer. leaning down, he whispered in your ear. “if you don’t tell me, i’m going to cum in this slutty little pussy and you’re just going to take it. take it like a good girl.”

his words made your eyes roll into the back of your head, your hips bucking harshly against his. “d-do it! cum in my slutty cunt, daddy!” you whined as you felt yourself come undone on his dick. the second your velvety walls squeezed hide’s already sensitive dick, he came. “o-oh fuck!” he gasped.

he thrusted his hips a few more times, carefully working the both of you through your climaxes. as you both came down from your high, you couldn’t help but let out a giddy giggle. “what’s got you all giggly, cutie?” hide asked.

“oh, i’m just glad you’re home..”

dividers & main picture made by :: @strrynigghts

#: ̗̀➛ crow club specialties #˗ˏˋ saturn’s stories ´ˎ˗#˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ mack moot #hideyoshi nagachika #hideyoshi nagachika smut #hideyoshi smut #hideyoshi nagachika x reader #hide nagachika #hide x reader smut #hide smut #hide nagachika smut #hide tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul smut #tokyo ghoul #hide x you #hide x reader #hide x you smut

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heejayy · 1 month

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Step sibling fics make me gag, yall enjoy reading that shit? It’s honestly disgusting…and don’t give me that bs it’s a preference or it’s fanfic- YOU LIKE READING ABT FUCKIN YOUR SIBLINGS?! SEND EM TO PRISON! 😭🤢

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bucker3911 · 7 months

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#spencer reid #mgg #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler #dr spencer reid #kinda wanna make him whimper #yes im tryin to hide that in the tags #you didn't see anything #criminal minds #cm incorrect quotes

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pedgito · 5 months

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𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter.

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different.

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows.

You care.

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.”

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you.

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol.

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around.

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles.

You’ll take it.

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart.

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart.

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same.

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood.

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away.

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse.

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible.

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation.

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it.

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat.

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part.

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave.

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air.

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You.

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea.

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do.

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul.

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know.

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #my writing #posting this and hiding for another six months #pedrostories

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crystalflygeo · 1 year

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Sweet torture ft. Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: bondage/shibari, muzzle, oral sex (m!receiver), dom/sub dynamics, reader doms in this one ayyy, sub!zhongli, TEASING lots of it, masturbation, sex toy, improper use of geo (lmao).

notes: What did I just write?? We just don't know. I am sorry I saw one (1) fanart of Zhongli wearing a muzzle and went b a l l i s c t i c. Also.... dom!reader hella. This is so filthy and I'm so sleepy.....

It was torture. You were torturing him.

Zhongli groans, muscles tense as he feels your fingers gently stroking his member. The sudden touch makes him jerk, but the intricate ropework laced around his arms holds him nicely to prevent any more movements and instead keeping them tied at his back.

He couldn't touch you, kiss you, hold you...

A sweet yet deliciously devilish laughter comes out of your lips.

And then you lean down and start giving small kitten licks to his dripping cockhead before your hot, wet mouth starts slowly enveloping him, bobbing your head with lewd wet noises and purposefully drooling all over him. Messy. Obscene. Painfully driving him mad with lust.

“Darling, please.” He moans hoarsely.

You pull back with a smirk “Hmm? Are you about to break your own contract? My dearest Zhongli?”

He huffs and growls, shaking his head.

As easily as he could break out of these ‘restrains’ he had made a deal with you, so all he could do was toss his head back and endure.

And oh… you could definitely see the appeal of being the one in control.

The lord of Geo. The mighty Prime of the Adepti. Bound and muzzled like a feral beast. Squirming under your touch.

You kiss down along the side of his impressive cock, lightly tracing a vein with your tongue and making it twitch. “Hmmm… seems like you’re all ready for me.” Zhongli gasps as your fingers follow the fine trail of hair from his bellybutton down, teasingly. “It’s my turn.”

For a moment he thinks the torture is over and you’re satisfied with your small game. You’ll release his arms, or at least take off the horrible muzzle (“no biting tonight, dearest.”) and allow him to eat you out to his heart’s content.

How wrong he was.

Zhongli’s eyes widen then he scowls and jerks into his restrains again, shuffling on the bed when he sees you pull out one of your toys. He glares at you. You wouldn’t.

You smirk in response. Watch me.

“Relax…” You smile, sickly sweet. Leaning back onto a pillow and spreading your legs. “Just enjoy the show, darling.”

You start by teasing your entrance, gently, slowly. Caressing and pinching at your clit and slowly easing the oiled tip of the object into you. A rather special geo construct of Zhongli’s own creation. Sweet irony.

“Hmmmm…Ah…”

He snarls, glaring at the offending object as you slowly feed the fake cock into your pussy, inch by inch stuffing you as you let out a quiet moan. He knows you wouldn’t be satisfied with such a… crude and lacking replacement, no. He knows you ached for him, his warmth and thickness that could fill you so much more, satisfy you so much better.

You bite your lip and whine as it bottoms out.

“This one is… hah… rather accurate huh? … hng!” You mewl, squeezing your eyes shut as you start pulling it out only to push back in. “A-ah- fu-!”

He tries to keep calm. By Celestia, he tries. But the sight of you, naked and sweaty, presenting yourself so freely and displaying your pleasure, makes it excruciatingly difficult. You rock your hips and moan his name, high-pitched. Getting more and more used to the intrusion and thus increasing the speed.

“Z-Zhongli, baobei” You keen. “Wouldn’t you be a dear and apply a bit of resonance?”

A growl. “I would rather have you myself, my love.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Of course. But don’t you want to see me come undone first? We do have a contract and for now you have to do as I sa-a-y Ah! Oh fuck-!”

You bite your lip, whining, eyes rolling back and hips moving on their own when the geo construct indeed starts buzzing low on your hand and inside your pussy. The sensation drives you up to the edge of that high, delicious simmering heat all over your body and pooling at your navel. Feel so good, so good-

“Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli-”

You come with a cry of his name as your body arches away from the mattress, high-strung with pleasure, free hand clawing at the sheets. For a few seconds you lie there basking in the afterglow, chest falling and rising rapidly until you sit up and slowly pull the toy out, shuddering at the wet squelch.

Your gaze sets on the man in front of you, looking absolutely pent-up with sexual frustration. Cock pressed up hard against his abs and smearing tacky precum everywhere.

You scoot up to him with a playful smile, eyes half-lidded as you sit upon his lap. You brush your hand down before bringing it back to run a slick-covered finger over the muzzle, the metal turning shiny and no doubt getting impregnated with the scent of your arousal. You see him open his mouth and pant slightly, sharp fangs on display, nostrils flared, eyes half-lidded and pupils brown wide as he chases the path your finger makes.

Oh, he is absolutely drunk on you.

You place your hands at his shoulders for leverage and this time (finally!) slowly envelop his cock with your warm pussy.

“Now’s your turn…”

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marvelfilth · 11 months

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Heaven in hiding (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: smut, bottom!Natasha, top! Reader, mention of human trafficking, typical red room stuff

Summary: when it's time for Natasha to go through the final training course you're the one she comes to.

Masterlist

You walk down the dark halls, concrete walls seemingly closing in on you with each step. Today is one of the bad days. Although one could argue that in a place like this all days are bad, you know better. Bad days are a norm, days like this make you want to dig up a hole in the ground and disappear in its depths.

Heavy footsteps following you down the hall promise to make the day even worse.

"Dreykova."

You stop and wait for the man to reach you. Surprisingly, the man isn't alone. You let your eyes wander for a second, taking in Natasha's slumped form. She hides it well from the guard beside her, but there's a slight shakiness to her breath that tells you she's in pain, and the way she favors her right leg makes you worry. You can't help but be proud of her though, even injured, she managed to keep her footsteps silent.

"Today she's assigned to you." He roughly pushes Natasha to you, and turns around without any other words.

You wait until he is out of sight before continuing your way to your room, not sparing another glance to the woman trailing behind you.

"Slower," she breathes out.

You hesitate for a second, but after a short look in her direction you slow down significantly, eyes darting to check for the cameras. You pull her to your side, taking most of her weight when you realize you're in a blind spot. "What happened?"

"Bucky," she hisses and it's all you need to know.

You two are the only ones to know the Winter Soldier by name, brief moments of sudden clarity in his butchered mind allowed you a glimpse into the man he once was. But no matter how bad you felt him, you were ready to shred the man limb by limb every time he hurt Natasha while training.

"I'll have a word with him." You squeeze her side and take a step forward, untangling yourself before rounding the corner. The cameras on the upper part of the wall blink red.

She sends you a look, barely keeping up with your stride. "Don't. He won't remember anything the next day and you'll just get in trouble." Her words are almost inaudible, but to your enhanced hearing they sound clear as day.

You barely manage to hold in a scoff, but don't refrain from rolling your eyes.

You'll get in trouble either way.

After rounding another corner you finally reach a deserted part of the building, right where your room is. Your eyes dart both ways and your ears strain to hear anyone approaching, thankfully, there's no one there.

With one last look down the hall you open the door to your room, holding it for Natasha to come through first. She does so very slowly, finally letting the pain she felt all this time show on her face. Your jaw clenches and you let go of the door, scooping Natasha up in your arms and letting it fall close behind you. You take a second to make sure it's locked before settling her on the bed.

"You didn't have to do that." She mutters, but there's a spark in her eyes that tells you she enjoyed it.

You chuckle and walk around the room collecting everything you might need to treat her injury, from ice to the chocolate bar you hid in your dresser, reserved for moments like this.

Her eyes widen at the sight of it and she doesn't pay attention to what you're doing with her ankle, happily chewing on her guilty pleasure. "Thank you." She manages to say between bites, just as you finish wrapping up her injury, putting the bag of ice on top.

"Anytime," you whisper, falling back against the bedsheets.

It's quiet, only interrupted by occasional crunch of the wrapper and Natasha's contented little sighs and your mind wanders to the plan the two of you formed in the past months.

The plan to get out.

It's easier said than done, to be honest it would be much easier to just jump off a clip, but you'd never let Natasha get hurt, so you're stuck with the harder option.

Bucky helps. You don't know how, but he's been gaining more and more consciousness with every passing week. The last time they wiped him was almost six months ago and you can't help but worry they'll do it again soon, causing your plan to crumble. The sight of Natasha's sprained ankle makes your worry increase tenfold.

You stew in your thoughts, failing to pay attention to the way the redhead slowly turns serious, a solemn expression on her face.

With a nudge to your side she has your full attention and you feel a sense of dread fill your stomach at the haunted look she sends you.

She takes a deep breath. "I saw Dreykov this morning." Her eyes are welled up with tears and suddenly you start to realize the reason why her mood changed so drastically. "It's time."

You sit up, gripping the fabric below you hard enough for it to tear. For a long moment you don't move, simply breathing in and out to try and calm your racing heart. You're overwhelmed by panic and you can't even imagine what Natasha feels like, so you push your feelings aside and turn to face her.

"I'll get you out before it happens." You manage to whisper before jumping to your feet, ready to put your plan in motion months earlier. She catches your arm before you take a step away, pulling you back on the bed.

"If we do this now we're both dead." She punctuates her words with another tug at your hand. Your eyes lock on hers and even though you know she's right you still shake your head, easily escaping the grip she has on you, ready to jump back on your feet. "Stop it," she huffs, and climbs on your lap, wincing in pain.

This time you comply, not wanting to hurt her even more. You lean back on your hands, giving her space.

"Then what do we do? Do you want me to kill them all?" You ask, looking away when a single tear trails down her cheek.

The sound that escapes her throat sounds more like a choke than a laugh. "Then we'll die even sooner."

Her arms circle your shoulders and suddenly she's pulling you snug against her, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. Your hands wrap around her waist instinctively, keeping her from falling over.

"I want to ask you something." Her lips brush against your heated skin. "Something very important."

Your grip on her tightens. "Anything."

She exhales against your collarbone, her eyelashes flutter against your skin while she works up the courage. You tense up, slightly worried about what it might be, but you know you'll agree to anything she says.

She pulls away, putting some distance between you, one of her hands trails up your body to cup your clenched jaw.

"They took everything from me. I can't let them take away this part of me too." Her voice is shaking and her lips tremble. Tears stream down her face freely now, overflowing her vision.

You nod, gears in your mind already turning to formulate another plan, one that would save her from being taken apart by some man.

You're the only woman in this facility allowed to forgo the teachings and only because you're not a Black Widow. If your father had his way, he would've turned you into one and eventually sold your body to some billionaire, but before he could even think about getting his hands on you, Madame B. already had serum running through your veins, making you a much more useful asset. You hate what she's done to you, knowing she did so with no good intent, but at the same time you're grateful she saved you from what Natasha is about to be faced with.

You don't dare ask who your father chose to teach her what he calls the art of seduction. You have a feeling it's Bucky.

Your brows knit in concentration as you struggle to remember tomorrow's patrol schedule, the plan of underground passages leading to the helicopter pad already burned on the back of your mind. The only missing piece is Bucky. You can't do this without his help.

"No." She cuts off your train of thought. You blink rapidly, confused. "That's not what I meant." She adds, closing her eyes. What she says next makes you choke on your breath.

"I want you to have it. I want you to have me," she whispers, her cheeks flaming red.

You sit there, stiff as a board, your mouth slacked and your heart galloping, as she licks her lips nervously, glancing away. Her arm tightens around your shoulder, nails diggings half moons on the burning skin below your training shirt. She patiently awaits your answer while you struggle to form a thought, your eyes fixated on her glistening lips.

"Y/n?" She breathes out. "I understand if you're uncomfortable. I just… I had to ask." Suddenly she's too small, folding in on herself, head falling down in shame and embarrassment and all you can do is stare.

Stare at the way her chest rises with each ragged breath she takes, stare at her flaming red hair, so pretty and soft even in the dim light of your room, stare at the way her green eyes seem brighter than they ever were before, shining with a flurry of emotions. You think you see a flicker of hope.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat awkwardly.

There's a smile forming on her lips, a gentle pull at the corners of her mouth, so beautiful that it takes your breath away. "Yes. You're the only one I've ever wanted."

You nod, fixated one the way her smile widens, lighting up her face. "Okay."

Suddenly she's moving fast enough to make you dizzy, pushing against your lips with so much force it makes you tumble back on the bed, pulling her down with you. You kiss her back with just as much vigor, tugging at her bottom lip in a silent question. She gasps, allowing you to slide your tongue in the warmth of her mouth, meeting her tongue in a heated dance.

Her nimble fingers work through your clothes quickly, pulling them one by one in a span of seconds. You follow her lead, taking your time getting her naked, making sure to pay attention to each revealed patch of flawless pale skin, kissing and licking every inch.

You rise to your elbows and push her back on the bed, claiming the spot between her bent knees as you kiss down her stomach to the waistband of her pants. You make sure to be extra gentle in taking them off, paying attention to her swollen ankle. You exhale when you finally have her only in her underwear, patiently laying against your sheets, lips swollen, her hair a tangled mess.

"Are you sure?" You ask again, tracing circles on her hip bone, your other hand sneaking behind her back to rest on her bra clasp.

She barely manages to utter a quiet yes before she's pulling you down to claim your lips in a desperate kiss, her nails digging at the skin of your back when you finally take off her bra, palming her full breasts. She moans, arching her back into your touch, her head falling back against the pillow to reveal her throat. You pull away just for a moment, admiring her lean body, before diving back to leave marks on her throat, gently rolling the skin of her jugular between your teeth before sucking it in, your tongue leaping out to soothe the burn.

Her hand tangles in your hair in a desperate attempt to pull you down to her breasts and you comply, leaving a trail of hickeys in your wake.

The cry she lets out when you finally suck on her hardened nub is almost heavenly. She writhes below you, panting hard as you take your time playing with her peaks, alternating your mouth and fingers, twisting and biting, licking and tugging. Her legs are snug around your waist now, trying to relieve the tension with futile humps against your crotch.

You hum against her chest, rising just enough to make sure she heard you. "I'll give you whatever you want, pretty girl."

Her eyes squeeze shut. "I want everything, please. Everything."

You nod and hook your fingers on the waistband of her panties, tugging them down, watching in fascination how her wetness clings to the fabric. She makes a move to rub her thighs, but you beat her to it, palming her heated center, your fingers teasing her entrance. She cries out and clamps her thigh around your hand, restricting your movement.

You bend over her, holding your weight on one arm. "You have to spread your legs for me, baby." You cup her face, your thumb disappearing between her lips as she sucks it in eagerly.

Her legs spread wide open and you let out a sharp breath, sliding down her body. She's absolutely breathtaking, so wet and puffy, ready for you to take. You place a kiss on the inside of her thigh, then another one and another, your finger still teasing her entrance. She's shaking from tension, her knuckles white from how hard she's pressing her hails in the soft skin of her palms. Your movements are excruciatingly slow as you map the trail leading to her gushing center, sharply inhaling her sweet scent.

She whines and sneaks a hand down, fisting your hair, tugging you to where she needs you most. You go along with the movement, finally placing your lips on her swollen clit, gently pushing a single finger inside her at the same time. She lets out a loud cry, pressing you hard against her and begs you to continue, barely coherent in her words.

You hum in delight, thrusting in her slick pussy and lapping at her nub, sucking it in with each push of your finger, she moves her hips to meet you halfway, tugging at your hair. You try your luck and slowly push another finger in, paying extra attention to her pulsing bud of nerves. She welcomes you with a loud moan, throwing her good leg over your shoulder, her heel digging into your back.

"Harder, please," she whimpers. "I'm so close."

You chuckle against her, and curl your fingers inside her, thrusting against a spongy spot hard enough to make her legs shake. One last lick on her clit and she moans, her whole body tensing up, her grip on your hair ironclad, as she clenches around your fingers, her wetness coating your chin.

You ease out gently, placing gentle pecks to her folds, doing your best to clean her up, avoiding her sensitive bud. She tugs you up, eyes closed, and pulls you in a slow kiss, tasting herself on your lips.

Her eyes sparkle when you pull away, her lip trapped between her teeth. "More?" She asks shyly, trailing a finger down your jaw.

"More," you say, before pulling her in for another bruising kiss.

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow smut #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #natasha romanoff #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x you #heaven in hiding

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arlerts-angel · 8 months

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— ˗ˋ aot boys' favourite nsfw phrases ˊ˗ —

a/n: i thought it was time to show some love to the other boys ft. eren, jean, levi, armin, erwin, reiner and bertholdt 🫶🏻 —support banner by @benkeibear ❤︎

cw: use of names (pretty, baby, princess, girl) and the word pussy ⟡ enjoy! ♡ minors kindly do not interact <3

eren: "that's it pretty, just like that."

jean: "one more baby, i know you can."

levi: "i'll tell you when i'm done fucking you, got it? say yes sir."

armin: "such pretty noises for me."

erwin: "you're making daddy proud, princess."

reiner: "your pussy was made for me."

connie: "atta girl. taking my cock so well."

bertholdt: "look at you, so pretty taking my dick."

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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Hide and Seek

homelander x f!reader 18+ 6.2k, predator/prey, consensual non-consent, dirty talk, cockwarming, outdoor sex, oral sex, there's a lot. check ao3 for full tag list. shout out to @mari-thesimp and @whatevermonkey for the prompts that inspired this fic!

Summary: You ask Homelander to chase you through the woods and thoroughly ravish you, making sure to ignore any protests. He takes the role very seriously. AO3 Link.

Nothing could have prepared you for the reality of this moment. The chase had sounded like such lighthearted fun in theory. A jaunt through the forest with your superpowered boyfriend never far behind, pursuing you through the woods. Upping the ante by agreeing to do it at night seemed, at the time, like simply removing the training wheels. You were wrong. The pound of your heart nearly drowns out the sound of branches and woodland debris snapping under foot as you run blindly through the woods, the moon above barely serving illumination through the dense tree canopy. What you hadn’t realized at the start of all this was that your body wouldn’t know the difference between running for your life for fun, and running for your life for real.

A blast as sharp as a gunshot whips by overhead, bowing the trees with the force of it and startling a scream out of you. The startle causes you to lose your footing, and your momentum is too great to catch yourself. You hurdle forwards, rolling end over end into the mess of brambles, landing flat on your back, gasping for breath. You hear the thud of something landing in the distance. You lay there a moment, brain frantically recalibrating while you stare up at the dense tree cover, trying to catch your breath. That’s when a new sound cuts through the ambient sounds of the forest; someone whistling a cheery little melody. Shortly after that, you begin to hear footsteps. “You made it further than I thought you would,” Homelander calls into the night, his chipper tone replacing that jaunty whistle. “But c’mon. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

You scramble to your feet, bracing against a tree to look wildly around yourself. It’s too dark to even make out his silhouette, but what you see instead turns your insides to ice. Maybe twenty feet away, two glowing red eyes cut through the black of the night, peering around until, abruptly, they lock onto you. The glow of them is just enough to illuminate the way Homelander’s lips pull into a sharp smile. “Got’cha.” Immediately, you take off running. There’s no thought behind it, nothing but the pure animalistic panic to escape. He may be the love of your life, but that was terrifying. The dense treeline breaks into a clearing, and you run for the path of least resistance, even as your muscles scream. A small hill near a babbling stream catches your eye, and though every breath you suck back makes your lungs burn, you push yourself to it, desperate for a place to hide. You skid to a stop just beyond the hill, and then hurl yourself back against it, clamping both hands over your mouth, screwing your eyes shut as you desperately try to quiet yourself.

The agreement was that Homelander would not utilize his x-ray vision. Your only hope was that the sound of the stream might mask the thunder of your heart beating in your chest. In this state of flight, you find it impossible to gauge the passage of time. It might be seconds that pass, it might be minutes. You can’t fathom it. Either way, it isn’t long before you begin to hear heavy booted footsteps crunching through the underbrush. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Homelander's voice rings out, that wicked smile audible in his tone. "You can come easy, or you can come hard. You're mine either way." You bite into your own hand, tucking yourself further in against the grassy mound. His words hurl you into a dizzying haze of panic and excitement, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting, unsure if you should be running from or towards the honied voice calling you from the shadows. Abruptly, the sound of footsteps stops, and you are left with nothing but the thrum of your heartbeat, and the burble of the stream.Time passes, but still you hear nothing. Tentatively, you peer out around the edge of the mound, into the clearing where you heard him approaching. Seeing nothing, you cautiously rise to your feet and crane to get a better look. Empty. There isn’t a trace of him anywhere. There’s more light in the clearing, lending a touch to your bravery. You don’t need the cue of his eyes to see him here, but the fact he’s disappeared somewhere into the treeline worries you. You glance down to the river. Perhaps your sound-based subterfuge was successful, and he believes you kept moving forward. You take the opportunity to backtrack, and hopefully throw him off your trail. After all, if you get back to the cabin by yourself, you win this little game.

Not wanting to run the risk of him hearing you, you pick up a modest trot back towards the thicket you had emerged from. Reaching out to brace your hand on a passing tree, you scream when a crimson gloved hand closes suddenly around your wrist, another hand catching you around the waist and yanking you backwards, lifting you clean off your feet, and up into the air with him. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Not so quick. We haven’t even gotten to enjoy the view together yet,” he says, his words warm huffs in your ear, prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. You thrash against him with everything you have in you, but you may as well be pounding against pure steel. He’s unyielding. Homelander drops back down onto the ground, and with unbelievable ease, spins you around to pin your back against the tree. Slotting his thigh between your legs, Homelander lifts you with just that. Effortlessly catching both of your wrists in a single hand, he traps them up above your head. He leans forward, his knee braced against the tree. “There’s my girl,” he purrs, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. Any other day, you would lean into it. The rumble of his voice when he calls you his never fails to make you melt. Right now, however, the two of you are playing a game, and you aren’t going to be the one to ruin it.

You yank your face away from his hand, leaning as far as you can to the side. “Let me go,” you gasp, still thoroughly out of breath. “Mm, nope, no. That… That I don’t think I’ll ever do,” he says, catching your jaw tight between his leather clad fingers, yanking you back to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes, which flare a dim crimson. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.” Homelander kisses you hard, swallowing up the cry you give. You nearly succumb, you almost kiss him back before you remember yourself. Instead, you twist as violently as you can in his grasp, trying anything you can to gain leverage, but nothing works. He has you lifted off your feet, and he’s pressed in too close for you to utilize your legs against him. Meanwhile, he relishes your struggle. You can feel him smiling against your lips, followed by the hot wet press of his tongue. You yield to him only for the opportunity to bite down hard on the appendage. It’s soft beneath your teeth, but it doesn’t give. There’s nothing you could do that would damage him.

Homelander hums a delighted little noise, breaking the kiss. His smile is like that of a wolf, fangs and all. “Now you’re really getting me excited,” he says, punctuating it with a slow grind up between your legs, startling a moan out of you. He lets go of your face in favor of dragging his hand down your body, cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing, making you keen. “I was gonna be a gentleman and take you back to the cabin, but if you’re gonna behave like a fucking animal–” he says, his rich, molasses sweet voice veering into a rough growl as he rips your shirt wide open, exposing your chest to the night chill, “–then I will gladly fuck you in the dirt like one.” Struggling against him only intensifies the friction of his thigh against your pussy, your clit throbbing against firm muscle behind the confines of your pants. You turn your head away as he kisses down your throat, wringing a gasp out of you when he bites down. You feel him chuckle against your skin, dragging his tongue over the stinging mark, his soft hair tickling along your jaw. “So, what’ll it be? You gonna behave for me?” He asks, drawing back to meet your stare. The question makes you ache, worsens the throb of your clit against his thigh. His perfect blonde locks are set askew now, giving him an untamed look. You feel as wild as he appears. Heart thundering in your chest, you make a play without a second thought, and you spit in his face, spattering the corner of his mouth and his cheek.

For a split second, Homelander looks sincerely shocked, his eyes wide. Slowly, he begins to laugh. The sound of it rolls chills all the way down your spine. You’ve never heard him sound this menacing. His tongue darts out to lick away the mess of it from the corner of his mouth. Pulling one of your hands down from above your head, he uses your palm to wipe it clean, turning his face to nuzzle into your hand, despite how you try to close it from him. When he looks at you, his pupils have reduced the blue of his eyes to a thin ring, making his eyes look almost completely black. His sharp grin has turned him wholly into a predator. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, voice pitched low. Faster than you can track, he dips down and hauls you up over his shoulder with ease, that abysmal eagle pauldron digging into your side as he carries you back into the clearing. You ball up your fists and pound on his back with every ounce of strength you have in you, twisting against his grip on your legs, but nothing fazes him. “Scream all you want, sweetheart,” he laughs, giving your ass an indulgent smack. “No one to hear it but me.” Homelander hurls you forward, and though you hit the ground much more gently than you braced for, the motion is no less disorienting. Sprawled on your back, you move to roll over, but a sudden weight on your thigh stops you. You look down and see his muddy red boot pressed firmly there, pinning you. Above, you hear the familiar sound of him unzipping his pants. Once his cock is free, Homelander grips it with a heated sigh, staring down at you through heavily lidded eyes. His lips are parted, and you can see the sharp edges of his canines glinting in the light of the moon. “Look at you, such a fucking mess,” he says, pumping his cock in slow, even slides of his hand. He’s already fully hard, the engorged head of his cock leaking drops of precome with every stroke. You can feel how bad he wants you in the way he watches you, the way his breath hitches. He looks like a wild animal drooling over a fresh cut of meat.

You writhe beneath him, but the weight of his boot alone is more than enough to keep you in place. “Please,” you whine, fighting to keep the desire out of your voice. “Please don’t, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone–” “Ssshhhhh, shhh,” Homelander hushes, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. “I know you won’t.” Reaching out, Homelander bends at the waist and lifts his boot off of you just before he catches a handful of your hair, maneuvering you up onto your knees. The way he handles you is exceedingly gentle. He has no need for rough or forceful movements when his strength can bend steel. You have no choice but to move with him. “I’m gonna give you one chance to redeem yourself, alright?” Holding you steady, Homelander guides you to his cock, arching your head back with his grip in your hair. “Open up, pretty girl,” he croons, the only warning he gives before shoving his cock between your lips, smearing precome along your tongue, all the way to the back of your throat. The salt-sex taste of him is immediately intoxicating, and though you gag at the sudden intrusion, you suck him down without meaning to, reflexively swallowing. “Ffffuck, ah, hah, that’s it. Mmm, such a natural little cockslut. Taste good, sweetheart?” He asks, positively destroying you. He’s never called you anything like that before, but the ease with which he says it now makes it sound like the hundredth time. You want to hear it again. You make a sound that’s close to a moan, pushing your hands against his thighs, digging your nails into the padding of his suit. Letting go of his cock, he cups the side of your face, and picks up a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking your mouth shallowly.

With his thumb, Homelander caresses your lips, following the line of them where they stretch wide around his dick. He’s entranced by you, watching with endless intensity. Your jaw is slack, drool coating his cock as he fucks your mouth. “Ohhh, fuck. Fuck, look at you. Wanted it all along, didn’t you? I can smell your pussy, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me.” He fucks deeper, and you stifle the gag this time. Your eyes well with tears that collect on your lashes, weighing them down against your cheeks. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels so good, you lose yourself briefly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be putting up a fight. This time, you let yourself gag when he pushes in deep, and you try to pull off of him, fighting back against the hand he’d flattened at the back of your skull. “No, no, sshh, not yet. Almost there,” he says, tightening his grip in your hair, his voice fraying as he begins to come apart. He starts thrusting faster, adjusting his hands to hold either side of your head, using you so thoroughly that you feel like a fucking toy in his hands. Your breaths become shallower, short little gasps between the frenzied snaps of his hips. “Aaalmost there. That’s it, take it, taking it so fuckin’ good. Knew you could, baby.” Between the praise and lack of air, you’re starting to feel lightheaded. You’re not fighting against him anymore, but instead gripping his thighs for dear life, eyes rolling back into your skull. You feel like you’re floating in and out of your physical body, barely tethered to reality.

Homelander comes with a choked-off noise, shoving you all the way down onto his cock. You don’t even taste the come, you just feel the heavy pulses of his cock against your tongue, the heat of it sliding down your throat, warming you from the inside out. Just when you’re starting to feel like you might pass out, Homelander pulls out of your mouth, holding you as you cough wetly. You gulp down breath after breath, gradually coming down from your delirium. Homelander strokes your hair through it, breathing heavily through his own aftershocks. “Now there’s a redemption arc,” he says through a breathy little chuckle. He lets go of your hair so that he can tuck himself loosely back into his pants. Before you can get any ideas, Homelander knocks you backwards, visibly pleased by the easy way you sprawl out on your back, still dazed. Crouching down, he gets a good grip on the hips of your pants, and with a swift outward pull on either side, rips them clean apart, along with your underwear, leaving just the scraps of them hanging off your thighs, fully exposing your pelvis. Inhaling deeply, Homelander’s smile is downright predatory. “My turn,” he says, hooking your legs up over his shoulders, leaving just your upper back touching the ground below. He takes hold of your hips, and lifts you up to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he moans like a man mad with hunger as he drags his tongue through the slick mess of your cunt, closing his lips around your clit.

You arch your back with a cry, pushing into the wet heat of his mouth. He’s ruthless in the way he feasts on you, plunging his tongue into you and lapping up every drop he can coax out. When he’s gotten all he can, he goes back up to your clit and sucks, swirling his tongue over it, reducing you to a whimpering mess. He laps at your clit until there’s more sweet slick for him to drink up from your pussy, fucking you with his tongue, demanding more. Homelander gets his wish when you come, an explosion of pleasure that radiates through your entire body. Your thighs lock up on either side of his head, squeezing him tight, but all he cares about is the rush of your release that spills down his chin, wetting him so thoroughly the excess drips onto the ground below. He swallows every drop that he can. He groans with it, licking eagerly between the quivering lips of your cunt. Your orgasms have always driven him insane, the flood of endorphins making you taste fucking exquisite. Suddenly the ground falls out beneath you as Homelander stands up, leaving you hanging in his grasp as he devours you, your moans of pleasure rapidly dissolving into broken sobs, overwhelmed with sensation. “S-stop,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his wrists. “Too much, please, it’s too much.”

Homelander’s only response is a rough little shake of his head, nuzzling into your pussy, lapping up the aftermath of your orgasm and rapidly hurdling you hot and heavy towards another one, your hips convulsing against him entirely of their own accord. “Please, oh god, please stop!” You cry, voice raw. You hang helplessly in his grip, squirming with nowhere to go. He’s got you dangling precariously on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, the sensations so intense that they almost burn. “S-stop! It’s too much! Please!” You have a safe word, you and he both know you could save yourself if you wanted to, but the reality is that you don’t. It feels good to beg for what you know he will not give you. You’re starting to feel dizzy, hanging upside down, gasping for breath as he continues to gorge himself on you. He drags his tongue up and down, drawing deft figure eights before sucking your clit, pressing his tongue firmly to it. You come again, and this time the experience is so overwhelming, you scream.

Falling limp, all you can muster are weak, oversensitized noises. Your body spasms involuntarily while Homelander licks you through the aftermath of your orgasm, milking every last drop of it. He finishes with a refreshed, wet exhale, audibly licking his lips of the mess while you dangle in his grasp. Gingerly, he lowers you back down onto the grassy forest floor, slipping out from between your legs to loom over you. Your brain is so addled, it takes you ages to realize that he’s kissing you, licking your own flavor into your mouth. You whimper when you feel his ungloved fingers brush your overstimulated cunt, the contact making you jolt. He clicks his tongue softly. “Look what you did,” he murmurs between kisses, plunging his fingers into you, despite your weak protest. You’re so wet, the slide of them is a frictionless ache. You whine into the press of his lips. “You went and got me hard again,” he sighs, as if you’ve inconvenienced him. “Now I have to fuck your pretty pussy.”

Homelander’s fingers pump in and out of you, the sound of it obscene and wet. Your breath hitches, and you try to protest, but his gloved hand falls over your lips, silencing you.

“Shhh, shh. Save it, sweetheart. Save it for my cock.” His fingers sink in deep, and your lashes flutter, eyes nearly rolling back into your skull. Already, you’re aching to feel him deeper. All you can do is whimper into the warm leather of his glove, squirming under the weight of his hold while his fingers work you open. While it’s a reprieve for your thoroughly used clit, the expert way he crooks his fingers inside you already has you fighting the climb of another orgasm. So much so that when he slips his fingers out, you whine, the sound of it bordering on a sob. Nothing happens for the next couple of seconds. Uncertain, you open your eyes, and find Homelander staring down at you. There is a slight tenseness to his expression, an expectation you can see in his gaze as you meet it. His hand is still over your mouth, but his other hand has settled on your thigh, thumb stroking your bare skin in minute movements. You can see the question written in his eyes clear as day; You okay?

The way he looks at you settles something warm deep in your core, chasing the night chill and leaving only the heat between your bodies. You break character for just a second, and give him a slight nod. In an instant, Homelander flips like a switch back into a stranger, the change subtle and yet glaringly obvious to you. You gasp when he pulls his hand from your mouth to flip you over, the smell of fresh grass pungent as he pushes your head down, lifting your ass up into the air. “That’s better,” he purrs, effortlessly slipping back into character. The cold, dangerous edge to his tone makes your stomach clench in a giddy blend of anxiety and excitement. With one hand braced on the back of your head, Homelander grips his cock in the other, and guides it to the soaked, velvety lips of your pussy. He drags the head of his cock up and down, smearing it through the wet mix of his saliva and your own slick. You jerk involuntarily when he rubs it against your sensitive clit, whimpering.

You feel overworked, but Homelander has made it clear he’s only just getting started. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on the thick head of his cock, moaning a low cuss under his breath. His powers protect him from pain, but not pleasure, and you’re not the only one affected by the aftermath of your release. Regardless, he moves his bare hand to your hip, and holds you steady as he sinks the rest of the way into you in one slow, agonizingly good slide, finally reaching that aching itch deep inside you. “Nnnngh, please,” you moan, screwing your eyes tightly shut. “Please what?” Homelander prompts, giving a deep little thrust that startles another pitchy sound out of you. “Go on, beg for it. I want to hear you beg for my cock like a good little slut,” he says, the low snarl of his voice–his words–paired with the heat and weight of him inside you making you delirious. He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, the wet slide of his fingers making you cry out, writhing against him. He rocks you back on his cock, fucking right into your cervix. “No sense denying it now. So goddamn wet for me. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a cheap whore. Beg. Beg me to fuck you stupid.”

Whatever few strands you had left tethering you snap. The degradation, the truth in his words, the transcendent agony of pleasure taken too far all tip you over the edge of sanity and reason. Shame and arousal burn you in equal measure. “Please fuck me stupid,” you obediently beg, tears gathering in your eyes not from pain, but sheer overwhelm. You barely get the words out. Homelander starts to fuck you in earnest, groaning at your plea, at the complete crumble of your resolve. “Use me.” The noise Homelander makes at that is animalistic, caught somewhere between a groan and a growl. He shifts his hand from your head to your shoulder and grips tight, gloved fingers biting into the meat of you as he yanks you back onto his cock, picking up a relentless rhythm that punches the air right out of your lungs with every snap of his hips. All the while, his fingers grind against your clit with every thrust, surging you up towards the release previously abandoned.

“Fuck,” Homelander rasps, practically trembling with restraint. Despite the brutal way he’s fucking you, you know it’s nothing compared to what he could do. You can feel pressure building rapidly between your thighs, each thrust like the strike of a match inside you, igniting more and more heat. You can’t move, pinned between his hand on your shoulder and the crack of his hips against your ass. All you can do is endure him as your orgasm builds, whatever scarce breaths you can manage to inhale leave you as sharp little whimpers. “Don’t fight it. Feels good, I know it does. You’re taking me so good. Fucking made for me. C’mon, do it. Let me feel you come on my cock.” Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice as wave after wave of mind blowing pleasure rolls through you. You hear Homelander give a choked off noise as he fucks you through it, your cunt seizing around him so tightly it catches him off guard. He doesn’t stop, instead moving faster, reducing you to a keening mess, limp in the grass. He uses you until on a final thrust, you feel him still, followed by a rush of heat so intense it nearly feels a burn inside you. Your whole body shudders, and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all.

Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of Homelander pressed against your back, sinking down against you, grounds you. You whisper the safeword you’ve been diligently holding onto, and just like that, the game is over. Homelander pushes a hand through your hair, kissing a trail from your neck to your ear, gently adjusting your head on the ground. He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, bent over you, the wet weight of his cock still buried deep and warm inside you. He’s panting softly in your ear between kisses, the breaths catching every so often, still reeling from his own release.

Tenderly, he lifts off of you, and withdraws from inside you, hissing a soft breath as he does. The mess he left inside you trails hot, wet streaks down your thighs. You wince at the loss of him, nearly collapse without his hands on you, but he holds you steady with a hand on your hip while he adjusts himself.

You’re practically dead weight as he rolls you over, hovering over you with a hand in the grass, next to your head. You smile up at him, lazy and still dazed. He returns it, the corners of his eyes crinkling generously as he strokes your cheek with his bare knuckles, analyzing your expression. “Was I good?” He asks, the tone of his voice leagues and miles away from what it had been. He sounds tentative now, curious, a little hopeful. “Good?” You echo, borderline offended he would use such a meager word to explain the most intense sexual experience of your life. “That was… you were… amazing,” you tell him breathlessly, mustering the strength to push a hand into his mussed hair, your lids feeling heavy as you blink. “I can’t feel my legs, and I think you bruised my cervix,” you admit, to which he looks sheepish, but you continue, “And I’ve never felt more incredible in my life.”

Homelander visibly preens at that, his eyes narrowing, lips curving into a small smile. He leans in to nuzzle at your neck, inhaling deeply. You offer a few more strokes through his hair, but the muscles in your arm protest enough that you drape it over his neck instead, sighing. He takes that as his cue to scoop you up into his arms, your limbs dangling like cooked noodles. He floats to his feet, settling back down on the ground with you nestled snug against his chest. “C’mon,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” ~~~~~~ Back at the cabin, Homelander is quick to start a hot bath running. The only garment of yours to survive was your bra, but even then, you and it are thoroughly grass strained. Homelander helps you sink into the oversized jacuzzi bath, chuckling at the exaggerated moan you give as the heat washes over you. It feels like heaven on your aching legs. The water sloshes to and fro as Homelander joins you, sliding up to you right away. Baths have always been both of your preferred methods of aftercare, where you can recover from his strength and he can luxuriate in this intimate form of pampering. Automatically, Homelander pulls you in to straddle his lap, the water making you both feel weightless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you go about wetting his hair, massaging his scalp. He moans when you begin to work in the shampoo next, dragging your nails all the way down to the back of his neck. He’s much leaner without the suit. You sweep your hands down his shoulders, following the trail of wiry muscle to his back. His body relaxes gradually beneath your touch, breathy little sighs escaping him. He makes you feel like you’re playing an instrument, and you know precisely where to touch to draw out the right note. Neither of you speak much during the bath. Your limbs are heavy, muscles tired, and the narrow space between your bodies feels too quiet and intimate for words.

You take your time conditioning his hair, and he wrings soft moans from you when he massages wash into your shoulders, mindful of how they ache. He’s deft with his hands, impeccably aware of his strength. It thrills you a little every time you remember how different he was in the woods, how wild and brutal he had felt. Once you’re both clean and satisfied, the bed calls your name as hypnotically as any siren. You’re the first to slip under the covers, immediately relieved to be off of your feet, your legs still shaky. Homelander follows shortly after. He’s always been clingy, but tonight especially, he’s practically glued to you. When he slides into bed, he doesn’t cuddle in next to you, but instead lays himself over you, nestling between your legs so that he can rest his head on your chest. You smile down at him. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” he rumbles, moving his hand to rest near his face, just over the beat of your heart.

Silence hangs heavily in the air. Sensing there’s more to it, you press, “Do you want to talk about tonight?”

Homelander is quiet for a moment longer. “You were scared.”

“Being chased was scary, yes,” you admit, combing your fingers through his hair. “That was the intention, though.”

“Were you scared of me?”

You pause. There’s something vulnerable in his voice—anxiety, perhaps—that he’s halfheartedly trying to mask, but you see through it. You give yourself time, wanting to answer the question with the thought it deserves, but Homelander doesn’t take the silence well. He lifts his head to scrutinize your expression, brows pinched. “You were scared of me.”

“You scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of you,” you correct him, settling your hand over top of his. “I liked it. In the same way I like movies that make me scream, or roller coasters. You scared me, and I loved it,” you say, bringing up both hands to cup his face, emphasizing your words by pulling him into a kiss. He moves easily, pushing into the kiss, needy for the assurance you offer. Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you ask him, “Did you like it?”

Homelander licks his lips, sliding his arm under you as he settles back in against your chest. “Yeah. It was… fun. Raw. I didn’t know you could act like that. Might have to get you a role in Vought’s next production,” he says, giving your collarbone a playful little nuzzle. “No thanks, I’d rather be waterboarded,” you reply with a laugh, earning a low chuckle from him. You stroke him from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his neck, and then back up. “I’m glad you had fun. I know that I was asking a lot of you with it.” He’s quiet for a moment, head resting heavy on your chest. He rubs his cheek against your skin. “I really liked it. But if it goes too far, and you see something in me that you don’t like, and I see you scared of me, even when we’re not playing, it…” the sentence trails off. You feel his grip around you tighten reflexively, and you can only imagine what awful scenario he’s playing in his mind. “John,” you call gently, though your tone is firm, catching his attention immediately. He tips his head back to look up at you. “I promise you, there is nothing you would do to me that could change the way I feel about you. I love you. I worship you, John. That’s what love means to me. Reverence. You didn’t want to hurt me tonight, did you?”

“No,” he answers quickly, enraptured by you, by your words. “But I did.” “Only as much as I asked you to,” you soothe, stroking along the side of his face. “You would have stopped if I said the word, right?” Homelander nods, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You checked in on me, too. If anything, all tonight did was show me how much I don’t need to be afraid of you.”

Looking at you, there is a magnitude of emotion in Homelander’s eyes that is difficult to put into words. You realize immediately just how badly he needed to hear every word you’ve said. He has always thrived on your words, on your loving deeds, but tonight they scrape him particularly raw. There are times when you think the depths of his need for you scares even him. Homelander kisses a path from your collarbone to the space between your breasts, slow, deeply affectionate. Where you most easily show your worship in words, he shows his in touch. He strokes a hand down your side, to your outer thigh, squeezing it against him, like he simply cannot be close enough. “Come here,” you murmur, nudging him with your leg. “Let me warm you.” Homelander glances up at that, his lips twitching in a small, pleased smile. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirm, encouraging him with another little nudge. Of all the tricks you’ve introduced him to, this has been his favorite by far. Licking his lips eagerly, Homelander shifts, lifting himself to grab the lube from the bedside table, dispensing enough to slick his cock up. He uses what remains on his fingers in you, sliding his slick fingers into you with ease, earning a sharp little inhale from you before you relax into it. Once you’re properly wetted, he carefully slides his cock into you, less than half hard, but that isn’t the intent. Though you’re still tender, once he settles against you, the fervid weight of him inside feels divine. Having him inside always feels as though you are kindling a live flame within you.

“Mm, that’s it. Feel good?” You ask, kissing his forehead. Homelander nods, slotted against you as perfectly as a matching jigsaw piece. He turns his head to kiss your breast, transitioning quickly from that to closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking gently. You flex your grip in his hair, sighing in pleasure. “I still need to rest, you know. We can’t all have super stamina,” you remind him with an amused little smile.

“So rest,” he says dismissively, gaze flickering up to meet yours. He kisses your breast reverently before placing his head back down, staring up at you with such utter contentment, you feel the warmth of it to your core. “I can be patient.” In other words, he’ll wait as long as he can before the temptation grows too great. The thought of waking to him taking advantage of you like that broils a little fire of your own in your gut, and you laugh softly, nodding. “Okay. Wake me in a few hours. Be creative,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. Homelander’s lips curl deviously. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Eventually, your exhaustion wins over the giddiness of what’s to come. Homelander is a comforting weight against you, the heat of him chasing any and all chill from you, and you drift into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever known.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #smut #oh my god it's DONE #not to toot my own horn but i am supremely proud of this one haha #my writing #hide and seek

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

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Series summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

ch 2: A SCREAM AND A SLICE

ch 3: THE ROCKSTAR AND THE RED LIGHTS

ch 4: FAMILY VALUES

series trigger warnings: blood, character death, murder, smut, p in v, drinking & smoking pot, themes of misuse of prescription pills, character killer, stranger things canon events, light mentions of domestic abuse, neglect, etc.

BUY TICKETS

PROMO FLYER

part 1 summary: a movie night with friends ends with a very scared Nancy and you and your best friend getting high in your room, when the lights flicker across town— you + Eddie brush it off as nothing— because Hawkins Indiana has always been a little strange.

FLICKER

The popcorn bowl in your lap is nearly empty, only brown kernels left to shift noisily as Eddie’s hand scrapes around the bowl in chase of one last piece of the buttery snack.

Your eyes are glued to the screen, breath hitched in your throat as you watch Michael Myers stalk down the street. Even though you’ve seen it a dozen times, it still gets to you. Something about the rubbery, expressionless mask he dons as he chases and slashes through people's skin just rubs you the wrong way.

“Ohhh fuck!” Eddie gleams, Michael’s knife cutting through Annie’s throat, “did ya see that?!”

“Trying not to,” Nancy muffles, her face buried into the broad shoulder of Steve, small hand clasped around her eyes, Steve’s arms pulling her closer into him.

Movie nights in the Wheeler basement were a typical Friday for your group of friends. Something that you weren’t sure would continue to happen after you, Eddie and Steve graduated this past May. Being waitlisted for your dream school put your endeavors on hold and neither one of them had any grand plans of leaving Hawkins, especially since Steve and Nancy had rekindled their on-again-off-again relationship.

Currently they were on again, and dipping into near pornography whenever they thought no one was watching or listening.

“I gotcha,” Steve purred into Nancy’s mouse brown hair, rubbing her back, “c��mon Munson, turn this shit off.”

“No!” You and Eddie both say at once.

He smirks at you. The same dimpled closed mouth grin he had given you since you were thirteen years old. He clears his throat, “It’s almost over anyway.”

Eddie’s love for movies and music came at a young age. Anything to keep his mind busy while his parent’s fought. Anything to keep the noise of the screen door slapping shut as his mom fled their trailer again, his dad hot on her heels and swinging a fist through the dark night trying to make contact. Anything to drown out the noise and squeal of her tires kicking up rocks and dead grass against the aluminum trailer as she sped away, this time for the last time— without him.

He was your friend before his mom had left and any of that had started, and he had spent more nights sleeping on your couch than he had his own bed. You were comfortable with Eddie in ways that girls shouldn’t be with their best friends who were boys. But you could care less. It was always, and forever would be, platonic between you and Eddie Munson.

Reaching over the laps of both Eddie and Steve, you tug Nancy’s shirt until she peeks over Steve’s collar. You mouth bathroom? And she nods, getting up and following you, trying not to trip over a very drunk Robin or passed out Johnathan.

The light in the bathroom does absolutely nothing for Nancy’s complexion, playing on the peaked look of her skin and illuminating dark circles under her eyes that you normally had not seen. She sits on the sink and holds her arms against her chest as you finish up, washing your hands next to her.

“How can you guys watch that stuff?” She half whispers and sniffs, rubbing a petite hand under her red nose.

Drying your hands, you shrug, hanging the towel back up on the hook, looking back at your reflection and fixing your smudged eyeliner, “it’s just a movie Nance,” you say to her through the mirror, “besides, the possibility of something like that happening in Hawkins, are pretty damn slim.”

She shakes her head of ill thoughts, “yeah, o-‘f course, I just,” a chill runs through her, tickling her spine and making her skin goosebump, “the thought of it is… scary.”

“I think that’s the whole point.”

Opening the door, Steve audibly gasps at the next jump scare, and Eddie claps along hooting and hollering as Michael’s next victim joins the dead.

“I hate Halloween,”she mutters to herself, hopping down from the sink following you out to your friends.

Nancy spent the remainder of the movie with a lamp on, reading over her English paper for Mrs. Click’s class that was due in a few weeks, huffing in disapproval at either the movie or her paper you weren’t sure.

Robin wedges her way onto the couch with the four of you, whisper yelling about how stupid the characters are and how none of it makes any sense.

“You’re ruining it Buckley, shh!” Eddie says, placing a ringed hand over her mouth. And you can’t help but laugh at them both.

Robin licked the flat of his palm, her signature move, and Eddie squealed in disgust, “fucks sake Robin.”

“Aww,” Robin says, squeezing his cheeks with her long chip painted fingers, “don’t be jealous Eddie-bear.. you probably won’t know this but that smell is puss— ow!”

Your elbow digs into her ribs, “shh!” you sneer,

The ending credits roll and Eddie’s on his feet, ejecting the tape and slotting it into the paper protector. “Who’s up for the second one?”

He groans when the entire room yells no. Pouting and shoving the tape into his backpack. “What about you Byers?” he asks, kicking Jonathan’s leg to bring him back to life.

“Huh?” he asks through a yawn, rubbing his shocking red eyes, “nah man I’m cool, need to get home, mom is working late and Will’s by himself.”

He tosses the pillow he was using into the arm chair and trudges up the steps, saying see ya laters and thanks as he leaves.

Eddie shoots you a wink and you stand reaching for the blankets you were cuddling with and fold them neatly onto the couch.

Robin stumbles up the stairs behind Jonathan, trying to score a ride so she doesn't have to walk the three blocks to her place completely drunk.

Steve pulls Nancy in his lap. She’s whispering to him with tears brimming her bright blue eyes, but you can’t hear what she’s saying.

“Yeah, c’mon” he whispers against her hairline, holding her up so they can both stand, “still have your toothbrush at mine… hey, we’re going to my place,” he announces to you and Eddie, just turn the lights off and we’ll see you tomorrow for opening day right?”

The Annual Hawkins Halloween Carnival was in town, and after two years of working the county fair in Roane County, you had all been asked to work at the carnival this fall.

The carnival schedule was the weekend before Halloween to the weekend of Halloween.

Seven days of thrills and chills. Pumpkin carving, face painting, a corn maze that seemed to go for miles, the best food in the Midwest, and finally the usual carnival rides with a sick twist of Halloween themed frights.

Orientation was last week Saturday and Sunday a grueling 7am-7pm both days. Mr. Creel went over expectations and rules for you as staff to follow.

It seemed easy enough. You and Eddie were put on rides just like you had been all summer. Nancy and Argyle were in charge of games, Tina and one of her cheerleader friends were doing the pumpkin carving.

Steve and Robin would be set up in a small booth sponsored by Scoops Ahoy from morning until 5 pm, later taking over on rides for Eddie while he and Corroded Coffin made their debut on stage at night.

Steve was still pissed that they were insistent on him wearing the blue sailor uniform, even though the mall burned down last July— they managed to have Mrs. Sinclair sew the outfit for him.

Jonathan would help Argyle and Nancy with the nickel and dime games, ones designed to have parents shell out pockets of change to have their kids possibly win a stuffed animal that wasn’t even worth an entire dollar.

Billy Hargrove— who you were certain fled town after the mall fire, was apparently still in Hawkins and now in charge of the haunted hay ride at night and the corn maze during the day.

Him and Eddie used to be close during his senior year, but it all fell apart and you weren’t really sure why. When you asked, Eddie would shrug it off, claiming he had changed after graduation, and that was that.

You were surprised that the staff was minimal even though the festival was bigger and had more events going on than the summer carnival did, but you didn’t want to jinx your chances of working for it next year. Rumor was, Creel paid double for the Halloween event, Eddie called it the chance of a lifetime, and you knew it’d be stupid to mess it up by asking questions.

“Thanks for letting me stay again,” Eddie mumbles after you toss him the sleeping bag from your closet, “didn’t know he’d be home tonight.”

After you had drove home from Nancy’s you had barely gotten into your room when your phone rang, it was Eddie and he was at the payphone outside of Benny’s.

It’s me, can I stay over?

you didn’t think twice, telling Eddie yes and hanging up the phone.

His dad had been released from county two weeks ago after Eddie finally scraped enough bail money together to get him out. He swore this was the last time he’d do it but you knew better than that.

Eddie was a lot of things but he wouldn’t let his dad rot in some cell. Even though he deserved every single second of being there.

Al Munson had been in and out of jail since you could remember, petty crimes this and grand theft auto that. He was hardly a stable male figure for Eddie.

But to the doe eyed boy with brown curly hair— Al hung the moon.

It nearly killed Wayne Munson to see Eddie stick up for his old man, but he still offered his home to Al whenever he came through town on his next stunt, bleeding Eddie’s pockets dry and taking every emotional spark left in him when he tore out of the driveway, just before the blue and red lights could follow.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug tossing him one of your pillows, “you know you’re more than welcome here, anytime.”

Even though your parents hated the idea, you moved into the old apartments across town the week after graduation. Full of naive wonder and wanting some privacy you worked all the hours you could between Meldvald’s and Bradley’s Big Buy, earning just enough to have a couple hundred dollars left to go into savings after rent.

The faucets leaked, the paint was chipping and probably poisonous, the front door didn’t even lock properly, but you could care less: it was freedom.

Eddie grabs the hem of his shirt and drags it over his head, revealing his tattooed chest and silver bar nipples, wincing when his shirt grazes the new piercing. His curls tickling his shoulders.

“I know,” he grunts, unclasping his belt and chain from his jeans, tossing them to the floor beside his makeshift bed, “I just worry one day you’ll get sick of pitying the Munson charity case all the time.”

He scoffs when you throw a pillow at him, “what I’m serious!”

“Knock it off, Bam Bam, you’re my best friend, I’m never getting sick of you.”

“oh Christ, listen—” he began, shaking his head in disgust and holding up a ringed hand to stop you, “this game only goes one way, babe, and that’s me calling you the same name I have since we were six.”

You roll your eyes, a sudden heat to your cheeks that lately was becoming more and more prevalent each time Eddie used your nickname or an endearing name someone would use for a girlfriend.

But that was just how Eddie was, he even called Ms. O’Donnell “honey” once to ace a test but all he got was a big fat ‘F’ and a week’s worth of detentions.

Eddie reaches into his pocket for the plastic film, “besides, you only keep me around because you can smoke for free,” he says, presenting the pre-rolled joints and his trusty zippo.

“Ooh, and he brings gifts? you shouldn’t have,” you mock in a terrible accent, fanning yourself with your hand as if you were a true southern bell, “it's not even my birthday, mister.”

Eddie gets into the bit, sitting cross legged on your bed and dumping the contents of the bag onto your comforter, the skin of your knees touching, “well it’s not every day a lonely feller like me comes across a lady lookin’ as fine as you.”

Giggling he licks the end of the paper to seal it tight and you lick your own lips in greedy anticipation. You loved movie nights with all your friends, but there was always something special about being alone with Eddie.

It was calming, but maybe it was just having him around that made the stress of bills and everything else just fade away. He had that special way about him.

Holding the joint and lighter up for you his eyes locked with yours, and you swore his cheeks went pink, “ladies first, princess.”

—-

Across town, Steve was spending the evening with his lips on Nancy’s neck, huffing when she gasps when the bed creaks from his movement.

“Sorry— I’m still a little freaked out.”

Steve brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, “there’s nothing to worry about honey— I promise, I’ll keep you safe. You know that right?”

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “I-I know that, I’m— it’s just this time of year that always gives me the creeps.”

Nancy Wheeler had gained minor popularity when she struck the fancy of the king of Hawkins High. She wasn’t used to it, finding the glory of being Steve’s girlfriend suffocating.

“Well I’ve got somethin that isn’t creepy,” he coos into the shell of her ear, “in fact, you always seem to like it.”

“Steve..”

He shushes her with his lips, and like she always did, Nancy found herself giving in to him.

—

Fingers twirled between the bouncy rings of a telephone cord, Robin waited patiently— well as patiently as she could— for Vickie to pick up.

Their relationship was secretive, only her closest friends knew of Vickie and Vickie didn’t tell a single soul about the nights spent tangled in the corn powder blue sheets with the pretty freckled faced clarinet player.

They had a system. Vickie dealt the cards and made the rules, while Robin had a hand of jokers and mismatched suits, only she didn’t—couldn’t— see it for what it was.

The phone rang and rang, and would continue to ring. Hard to answer the phone when you’re too busy being pressed into the mattress with your feet on your boyfriend's shoulders.

—

“Yeah mom, I’m home now.” Jonathan answered annoyingly into the phone, “… W—No he’s asleep.. I’m sure he did… yeah, fine..I’ll go check.”

The phone would have stretched easily into the small bathroom down the hallway of the Byers’ home so he could check that Will had taken his nightly medication, but instead he let the phone slap against the floor in a clankety thud.

Jonathan Byers had been the man of the house since his dad left in seventh grade. He cooked, he did the laundry, and worked part time wherever he could. His mom was barely able to keep it together since Lonnie had left. And most days, she couldn’t. Somehow the last year she had gotten worse.

She was rail thin, and never ate a thing. Absent minded. Constantly writing things out and scribbling nonsense onto scraps of paper. Strewn across the living room, the kitchen, any surface available.

She was always worrying if Will would be okay, but never reciprocating that same kind of love and care to Jonathan.

Joyce Byers loved her boys equally, but the youngest was given more attention, maybe it was because he was her last baby, or possibly because his father had rarely ever acknowledged his existence. Still, the relationship between mother and son was broken off, string rolling in on itself when it came to Jonathan.

The pills in the slot marked ‘friday’ were gone, just like Jonathan knew they would be. His brother took his medications religiously, never ever skippinga day, he had it clocked down to the hour, minute, and second— the same time every single day.

A routine he had since last year.

Jonathan looks back at his gaunt expression when he shuts the medicine cabinet, smiling fake and toothy, taking the usual freebie from the hoard of pills his mother was prescribed but never took.

His lips under the faucet he swallows the white oval pill down.

Will wasn’t the only one with his own pill routine.

—

“Eddie, turn the lights off already it’s fuckin 2 am,”

Without fully waking you throw a pillow down to where he was laying, it wasn’t unusual for him to get high and pass out with the lights still on, but it was annoying beyond belief.

A muffled groan is heard from beneath the tossed pillow before Eddie wrestled it from his face, “the fuck are you throwing shit at me for?”

“you left the lights on again.”

Head on a swivel Eddie looks from you, to the ceiling to the switch, “open your eyes Helen Keller, they’re not on.”

the sting of light is still shining bright in your face and when you peel your eyes open you see that he wasn’t lying. Your room was dark, but the street lamp was glowing brighter than usual.

Your toes curl around the plush fibers of your rug and you pull the cord to open the blinds. Eddie’s weight shifts onto your mattress as a loud yawn escapes his lips, followed by a scratching noise that you’re hoping is his nails against his skull instead of his balls.

“what the fuck?”

The street lamps up and down your street were buzzing and glowing in an emberred haze. The glow of yellow was straining brighter than could be deemed possible and it was pulsing with an ominous flicker.

You were tantalized by it’s beauty, like a moth to a flame hypnotized by the menacing doom— you couldn’t look away, and for a split second the welcoming sunshine of the lamp turned blood red, a warning of terror before being blown to bits and shattering to the ground below.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie jumps behind your shoulder, “what the hell was that, you saw it right?”

You definitely had, it’s illuminating shadow still glowed bright when you blinked your eyes. You have heard of electric surges, currants going hot when wires were overloaded. But flickering like that then burning red before burning out? It was almost like a fallacy, something Eddie probably would have made up for Hellfire, it simply couldn’t have been true.

You rubbed at your eyes like a tired child, “told you that second joint smelled funny,” you said sitting on your knees facing him and shoving his shoulder, a look of shock on his face.

He scoffs and shoves your shoulder back, rolling his eyes playfully, “it’s a new strain Rick concocted himself, red…red somethin’…” he lays partly on the bed and stretches his body to the floor fumbling into his jeans pocket in search of the cellophane plastic of the baggy.

“Ah, here,” he says, shoving the bag into your hand, your thumb rubs over the black sharpie written in boy chicken scratch hand writing.

You read it the same time Eddie says it.

“Redrum.”

♡ hope you enjoyed, comment what you think will happen next; reblogs are appreciated

♡ part 2: A SLICE & A SCREAM ♡

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