#i’m not sorry for any of the images you see here

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 4]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Description: The line up ended with people thinking you died. However, your recovering at Hilltop with severe injury's. How will the rest of your family react to seeing you again, even Negan?

2.1k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [Happy ending, fluff <3]

(Daryl Dixon x reader) Masterlist

Rick POV

They decided that the Saviors had to go. Headed to Hilltop to gather support. Rosita also said there was something there for them that had to be seen to be believed. He was hoping for good news for once. With finding out they had Sasha and even the whole Carl stunt, and the two Alexandria lives lost, with them also taking Eugene, he was due for a break.

So to his surprise he saw Daryl turn the corner. He was surprised but the only thought he could think of was you.

“Thank you, for being my family.”

Guilt ate him. He still moved to embrace his brother. He knew what it felt like to lose something like that. He also felt responsible for bringing you. He knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help thinking if he didn’t… Daryl seemed broken to see him. Knowing him for so long as he had, never thought he would see the gruff guy simply crumpled at the sight of him. It made him tear up a little at the thought.

He looked more beaten than the last he saw him at Alexandria. He was holding up better than he thought he would. Everyone else hugged him but Rick had to say something, “Brother I’m so sorry… Y/N… if I didn’t- she wouldn’t have been there if I didn’t ask her to come.” Daryl only smiled at your name mentioned, ok that unnerving him. Maybe he wasn’t doing as well as he thought. When Rosita seemed shocked to see him he was confused, ‘Wasn’t this what she was talking about?’

Daryl pulled out Ricks gun handing it to him, Daryl finally talking in a breath after all the attention. “Wasn’ your fault. You should know-“ Carls loud gasp made Rick turn to his son. He was looking over Daryl’s shoulder, tears starting to brim in his eye. It was hard to get tears out that boy so, Rick followed his eye line.

“No, I’m not a walker-“

You. Jesus leading you by his arm. The sounds of people stuttered gasps at the sight of you, making their hearts drop. Carl had run into a hug. Daryl chuckled, “Ya, that’s what I was gonna mention.” Rick put a hand to his mouth, an attempt to hold himself together. He put a hand to Daryl to walk past him to you. He had mentally beaten himself up about you. Feeling like the blood was on his hands. You were like a little sister. He joined Carl to hug you. Soon following Michonne and Tara.

“It’s good to see you all.” You looked well… beaten to hell. But it was a drastically better image than the last they were left with of you. When everyone pulling away from you, you seemed to struggle to find your center of gravity. It was Daryl that was behind you with a arm around your waist as you half leaned back into him.

It was Michonne who panicked thinking you were going to fall, “Are you ok?” You gave a small smile and shrugged, “You know, just brain damage.” You sighed at the still serious faces pointed at you. Rick could hear it in your speech, the weird places your voice would fluctuate.

“I’ll be ok, the worst of it is over. I’m just… relearning somethings again.” Your eyes now red from tears shed from happiness of your family back, “Long story short, took the hit-t to the hand, didn’t blackout immediately. But later woke up -later in the truck.” Rick closed his eyes soaking the information in. “I’m so sorry if I just let you stay at Alexandria you wouldn’t have had to go through any of it.” The face you gave him was like that you’d give at a child dissolvingly, “You didn’t hit me with that bat.” That silenced everyone for a moment into thought. It was Jesus that pulled his focus back.

"Why are you all here anyways?"

Your POV

They were going to fight the saviors. They need the support from Hilltop and that lead them here, Gregory's office. He was a coward that much you knew. Maggie was at a constant stand off with him your whole time here. It was Daryl's voice pulling you out of thought, "So what your just gonna wait till they decide something isn't enough and start killing some of you?" Daryl shock his head, "As long as its not you though, right?"

“She made it out of it can’t you just take that as a win and count your losses?" Gregory pointing to you next to Daryl. "See I’m happy that your little girlfriend-“

“Wife.”

Everyone’s eyes widened and just looked to each other before just accepting that little info letting you continue. “If you would like to remain not knowing what being beat-t half to death feels like, I’d suggest-st listenin to them.” Gregory’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, “Are you threatening me after my hospitality to you?” You tilted your head to the side 'Jesus really was the one to help', “Not at all. That-t day will come at the hands of your buddies you’re so found of.” It was clear this prick of a man lacked a back bone. He wouldn’t change his mind. You were going to get worked up if you argued any longer so you waved your hand in front of you before slowly walking out the front door. You were done with it. The others could deal with it.

It was later that Jesus said he knew of another place that they could ask. You were going to go with at the suggestion of a doctor. That's what lead you in the back of a car, Rick driving and Michonne in the passenger seat. Carl was staring at you from his place next to you, "Go ahead and ask." You turned to him with a knowing look. Carl perked up and tried to look away like he wasn't caught, "Nothing, just still can't believe your here." You hummed, "How's little Jude." That got him talking, completely forgetting his originally thought as he gushed about his baby sister. It was Rick to ask the next question, "So its Mrs. Dixon now is it?" Your attention turning to the man in question. He had taken his motorcycle, you didn't want him to worry you'd fail off. You looked at Rick in the review mirror. You were slightly bashful, "Bout damn time I know." That caused laughs to ring in the car. Maybe everything was going to be ok.

Meeting this 'king' was a experience. A man with a tiger was a very big first impression. The big thing to put everyone at ease was that Morgan had been here. Rick however was a little unhappy of him trying to talk about is peace stuff. "They killed Glenn and Abraham, right in front of us... Among a few at home like Olivia and Spencer. Hell I only found out Y/N didn't die with them." You were uncomfortable with eyes looking to you. 'Didn't die with them...' Survival guilt had been eating at you. But, it seemed to snap Morgan into a apology.

You felt a hand slipping behind your back, Daryl. He try comforting you and you appreciated it. The Kings decision was made in the morning, and like Hilltop didn't go to plan. It was offered that you and Daryl could stay. With your injurie and Daryl on the run Rick agreed. Much to a displeased Daryl at him not having a choice he wasn't to apposed to you being there.

The place was rather nice. Guy name Jerry offered some cobbler and it was one of the best things you had in a while. You had meet with the Doctor while Daryl try getting Ezekiel on board, by Ricks request. Daryl found you at the table with your cobbler. He sat next to you looping a arm around your back. He had a displeased look on his face. "I found Carol." You look up from your plate to him, "She ok?" He made a face that said not really, "She doesn't know about everything that happened yet. I just couldn't say anything." He looked down ashamed. She did seem a little out of it the last you saw here. You nodded at his statement, "She around?" Daryl shock is head, "On the outskirts of the place."

You both remained silent until you broke it, "I see you want to help. You can go you know?" Daryl only scoffed at the suggestion, "Nah." You smiled, "I can try and convince-ce the King. While you fight the fight." He gave you a look that told you he was struggling to leave your side.

"I'll be here."

You raised you eyebrows to him, "Your eating yourself alive by not doing anything. I see that." He inhaled and started to nod, "Assholes need to pay for what they did." You patted the hand that was around you, "Always so passionate, one of the many reasons I love you." He grunted, "uh-huh knock it off women." You loved making him fidget at your words of praise. "That anyway to be talking to you wife?" He finally looked down at you with a small smirk, "Sure as hell made it known earlier." You shrug with you now the one being bashful.

That evening you waved Daryl off to get into the fight. With promises to kick his ass if he got hurt. You spent your days mostly with a doctor trying to heal. You were getting there. You didn't have anything much going on other then that. One of the few things to happen was seeing Carol. She seemed surprised to see you and embraced you, "Morgan told me what happened." She looked ashamed, "He said you almost died to." You nod, "Closer then I ever been." Your voice seemed close to normal again, you still put most of your focus in walking. Carol looked you up and down, taken notice to your hair growing back in the place that was shaven. Your face still some colors of yellows and greens.

The war had its ups and down but you had won it in the long run. By the next time Daryl saw you were moving independently. He retold his story's to you. The knowledge of Carl passing saving someone and his role in the win. His talk with Maggie about 'Glenn and how he would have likely had like his death mean something.' Mentioning Aaron took in a baby Rick found in a saviors outpost. Also mentions of Morales someone from the old quarry days and how he killed him. He expressed his dislike for the decision Rick made to keep Negan alive. You didn't like it much either but life went on. Daryl took you to Alexandria not wanting you to deal with the Sanctuary. You wanted to talk to Negan but said nothing to Daryl about it.

You have a foggy remembrance of the guy. Early one morning you went to confront him. He was laid down facing the wall. So you stood quietly leaning against the wall opposite to the bars. He turned at the feeling of a presence. "If your here to kill me I think there is a line." Ah right, smug asshole. You step closer to the bars, you could feel Negan's demeaner drop. "What? Looks like you saw a ghost..." He only look you up and down considering maybe he had lost it, "Well if it isn't the little Plague herself." That's right, he had called you that before trying to kill you. "I killed you if I'm not mistaken, Daryl sure as hell tried killing me for it." You nodded, "Well you seemed to have missed." You turn to leave getting what you wanted. The information you forgot and scaring him, you turned before leaving, "Or did you?" He sat there thinking maybe he ha lost it and imagined you.

That made you smug about it the rest of the day. If you couldn't kill him, you'd make him feel like he had one foot in the grave just like you thought you were.

The end.

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

My Masterlist for more Daryl ( Masterlist )

Lost a little motivation to write most parts in here, its stuff y'all already knew so.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff

[casualartisanninja]

This was a long time coming.

So, first of all I’m sorry that this took me so long to make, but there was a lot of information to sift through. I’m not planning on coming back to Tumblr in any capacity beyond this but the truth needs to be out there. (And if you're curious about the profile picture/description/etc, I had to dress this blog up a bit so it didn't look like a bot and trigger any algorithms.)

Content warnings for this post: 

Heavily discusses kinks and has screenshots of fetish art

References grooming/pedophilia accusations

References transphobia/harassment accusations

This is going to be an EXTREMELY long post with lots of screenshots, so the rest is under a cut.

Edit: Here is the end of the post so you can read it all at once. https://www.tumblr.com/casualartisanninja/747977941832613888/loose-ends

The incident in Hobqueer’s server

I think a good place to start would be the spark that set off this whole chain reaction. 

I’m not sure how long I’d been in that server for when the NSFW in general incident happened. But one thing’s for sure - I didn’t start the conversation about NSFW topics. Like I mentioned on the Reddit post where someone had found me and started accusing me under my comment on the Janitor.AI post, I saw the people there discussing mpreg and oviposition. I looked at it and thought “wow the rules are a lot more lax than I initially thought!”. Yes, I know, looking back, that should’ve been a huge red flag. I also know that, looking back, I should never talk about NSFW in the general chat- even if everyone else is doing it. “If so-and-so jumped off a cliff” and all. I’m really sorry that I did that, and it was definitely a lesson for me.  But I really wasn’t thinking about that at the time. It wasn’t my intention to hurt anyone, and I especially wouldn’t have done it if I knew minors would be there. I know it wasn’t an 18+ server, and it was just a frankly idiotic move on my part. I just saw “Sniper pregnant” and pictures of the mercs with big bellies, and let my better judgment and reasoning get clouded.  However, the way that they’re portraying this incident is extremely intellectually dishonest. Gabriel failed to mention in his callout post that those minors were looking at and sharing fetish art of the mercs, leaving out most of the context for those. Thankfully one of my friends from Chipspeech (who I’ll leave anonymous) joined the server to check and see if the fetish art was still there. It was. Hobqueer and the moderators never deleted any of the discussion, and worst of all they left the fetish pictures up in full view of everybody. One person, who later admitted to being a minor in a dm, even gave a pretty graphic description of a tentacle hentai/mpreg comic. Be warned, this contains NSFW content. I blurred the names of anybody who isn't mentioned in this post.

I've run out of room for images, so I have to add the rest in another reblog. This will be a very long thread with a lot of images, so please bear with me.

#mavisposting #xxcherenkov-gremlinxx #allegations #accusations #explanation #debunking #tf2 fandom #chipspeech fandom

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 2 - Storm Before a Storm

Towa: --.

???: …This yours?

???: Oh, a flier for Magicians’. That’s nostalgic.

Towa: (Huh, that voice… nonono, wait, wait…)

???: …Hey.

Towa: (No way, this can’t be real, is it really…?)

Masumi: ?

Towa: O-Oshi… w-wa- uwagh…

Masumi: What?

Towa: (Oh God, his face is so cool… I can’t look at him directly… but I want to. Huh, but what is he doing here… I’m seriously gonna die of an oshi overdose…)

Chikage: Are you alright?

Towa: P-Probably not…

*Collapses*

Masumi: Wait--.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Towa: …Nm?

Izumi: Thank goodness. Are you okay?

Towa: I…

Izumi: You collapsed near our theater. One of our troupe members had to carry you here.

Towa: Collapsed…

Towa: (One of their troupe members… near this theater…)

Towa: W-Wait, this is…

Izumi: Hm? This is MANKAI Theater-- MANKAI Company’s, our theater company’s theater.

Towa: !! This is… this is it? For real!? Like I’m not dreaming!?

Izumi: Whoa.

Masumi: Hey, don’t just touch her without permission.

Towa: A-Aaauh~... so cool… you’re still so cool even when you’re looking at me… I wanna take a pic… I wanna burn this image into my eyes…

Masumi: What?

Tsuzuru: Masumi, how is he?

Itaru: Oh, he’s awake.

Sakuya: Are you okay? Do you need us to get you some water?

Towa: !!

Towa: The actual legit Spring Troupe…!? With all of its members…!!

Citron: Could you be a fin of ours?

Tsuzuru: You mean a fan?

Towa: Citron-san mispronouncing something and Tsuzuru-san correcting him live…!

Itaru: You make it sound like you’re getting to peek behind the curtain.

Towa: U-Um, I’ve been a fan of MANKAI Company for forever…!

Towa: I really love the whole company, but I’m especially a Spring Troupe oshi, um… ah.

Towa: Uwaah, I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous in front of all of you!

Itaru: Nice, got any particular oshi within Spring Troupe?

Towa: --.

Masumi: ?

Towa: U-Umm, I got addicted to MANKAI Company because of your performances in Magicians’, especially Masumi-kun’s…

Tsuzuru: Masumi, say thank you.

Izumi: Why don’t you do something like shake his hand?

Towa: Huh!? No, wait, I don’t have a handshake ticket or anything, but are you sure!?

Itaru: Nah, we don’t have a system like that.

Izumi: C’mon, Masumi-kun.

Masumi: …Nice to meet you.

Towa: Uwaahh… you’re always so cool… I’m never washing this hand again…!

Citron: That is unclean!

Towa: A-Ah, right! Masumi-kun, can I get your autograph!?

Masumi: …Annoying.

Towa: That’s the only other thing I want…! It’ll be like an heirloom…! Please! Without proof, this moment will just be like an illusion…!

Chikage: Leaving evidence with a signature?

Itaru: I mean, it tracks.

Izumi: He’s kept that flier with him all this time. Please sign it for him, Masumi-kun.

Masumi: Ughh…

Towa: Ah, my name’s Towa! “To” like peach and “wa” like peace!

Masumi: …Here.

Towa: Thank you so much! Thank you so, so much! Um, um, um, can we take a selfie together!?

Masumi: What?

Tsuzuru: He’s sure coming on strong.

Citron: It is unusual to see someone be so influenced by Masumi!

Sakuya: It’s kinda nice.

Izumi: Hehe, this kind of opportunity doesn’t come by often, so why don’t you take a picture with him?

Masumi: Why does it have to be me…

*Camera clicks*

Towa: Thankyousososomuch!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: Well then, get home safely.

Chikage: Be sure to rest as soon as possible if you start feeling unwell.

Towa: I’m really sorry about everything. Thank you so much.

Itaru: Later.

Towa: You’ll always have my support, so keep up the good work!

Masumi: Yeah, yeah.

Towa: (Aaahh… I wanna bring this atmosphere back with me… but I need to get home…)

Towa: (Ummm, which direction is the station in again…?)

Izumi: Do you not know how to get to the station?

Towa: Ah, I’ll just look at my app while heading home, so I’m good!

Sakuya: I’m guessing you don’t live around here, right?

Towa: I recently just moved away from the countryside… and I’m attending a high school around here in the spring.

Towa: That’s why the only way I’ve ever been able to see MANKAI’s performances is through streams…

Izumi: I see.

Tsuzuru: That’s the great thing about the streams. It means kids like you who live far away from us can become fans.

Towa: Until I saw MANKAI’s Magicians’ performance, I had only seen plays at school events.

Towa: Back then, I was kinda just eh about it, but then I got smacked in the face with your performance of Magicians’ and was completely blown away…!

Towa: It was so much fun, I was like man, this is the best thing ever!

Towa: And then the more I learned about Masumi-kun and Chiakge-san and your theater company and Veludo Way, the more obsessed I got…

Towa: I can’t believe that I’m really here standing on Veludo Way, the place I’ve always dreamed of being, and that the Spring Troupe I’ve only seen through a screen is really right here in front of me.

Towa: I was also so excited to have gotten to see some theater live during a street act. I’m so glad I found the courage to come here…

Chikage: So you collapsed because you were so moved by it all?

Masumi: Fair enough.

Citron: We are also happy that you are happy!

Izumi: It’s amazing that you moved to Tokyo for high school. Was it for any reason in particular?

Towa: Umm… it’s really nothing that special or anything…

Towa: I don’t really have anything at all right now… I was hoping to find something like that here…

Towa: Ah, right. Are there troupe members at the theater even when they’re not performing?

Izumi: Yeah, we’re in the process of planning a new event for Spring Troupe. We were having a meeting at the theater since that’s where it’s going to be held.

Towa: Gotcha… Veludo Way really is amazing.

Towa: The troupe members really do exist here, doing all kinds of activities and doing theater right on the street during street acts…

Sakuya: It really is a fun place, isn’t it?

Towa: Yeah! I wanna experience even more live theater. I can’t wait to actually see a MANKAI Company performance live!

Izumi: --.

Izumi: Hey, why don’t you come to our next event?

Towa: For sure! I’ll get going now!

Citron: Make sure you do not get glossed~!

Tsuzuru: It’s lost.

Towa: …Ah.

Itaru: He’s impressed by every little thing.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

#a3! #a3! translation #towa ichinoe #sakuya sakuma #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #itaru chigasaki #citron #chikage utsuki #// towa having a mankai play that rewired his brain he’s just like me fr #also PLEASE listen to the voices for this chapter the noise towa makes when he meets masumi is SO funny

[gayvampyr]

i don’t know what else to say except that AI art is no longer simply a source of creativity or a wonder of human creation. it has become actively hostile and destructive toward the very thing it pretends to uplift and celebrate. it is void of any human element, any soul or ounce of emotion or self-expression. continuing to use AI art knowing that it comes from theft and robbing artists of their livelihood is disgusting. they need your support now more than ever. stop giving these thieves your money and admiration.

[Image descriptions courtesy of @cryptid-deity: a series of screenshots from Deb JJ Lee’s twitter, @ jdebbiel.

Image 1 is a tweet that reads, “this... this is fucking sad. I don’t know what to do.” Included with the tweet are two images; one is a screenshot from a private text message conversation, the other is a collage of AI generated art that was sent to Lee in the text conversation.

Image 2 is a screenshot of only the text conversation, which shows multiple messages that were sent to Lee. There is a collage of AI art, then a text message that reads, “Sorry to bother you. It looks like someone on an AI subreddit is making a custom model and it reminds me a lot of your work. He isn’t telling anyone where the images are being sourced from.” Following is another collage of AI art, followed by the message, “Here’s another one.” The last message is a link to the subreddit.

Image 3 is another tweet that reads, “Oh so it *was* me,” with the word ‘was’ between asterisks for emphasis. The tweet includes two screenshots from the subreddit.

Image 4 is one of the subreddit screenshots. It is a post that reads, “Dreambooth model release! Say hello to kurzgesagtish!” Under these lines is a Reddit message that reads, “Sorry, this post was deleted by the person who originally posted it.”

Image 5 is the other subreddit screenshot. This post reads, “Results I got with a custom dreambooth model.” This post has the same deletion message as the former.

Image 6 is another tweet by Lee, which reads, “For comparison, here’s my art vs artist. I’m gonna cry.” Included is a collage of 8 works by Lee, which frame a photo of them. They follow up this tweet with another tweet, which reads, “If I see anyone I know using AI Art, they are dead to me.” The tweet includes multiple comparisons between Lee’s original art and an AI generated art piece based on it, judging by the subjects, colors, and lines.

Images 7, 8, and 9 are the examples from Lee’s tweet.

end description.]

#tweets #ai art #10k #top posts #ai artists #20k #25k #30k #40k #50k

[valeskafics]

"Bunny" - Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x District 12!Reader

Summary: Life in District 12 starts looking up when Coryo meets you.

Word Count: 3,000

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, innocence kink, overstim, loss of virginity, tummy bulge, p in v sex, fingering, oral f receiving, hair pulling

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The first time he sees you, you take his breath away. You’ve come to the Peacekeepers’ base, carrying a basket, looking completely lost. You’ve got to be around his age, he thinks, eighteen or nineteen, but your face is so soft and sweet, so very innocent as you look around the base, like a fish out of water. You’ve clearly come to see someone, perhaps a brother or, hopefully not, a boyfriend. He walks up to you slowly, leaning against the wall beside you, a wry grin on his face.

“Looking for someone in particular, sweetheart?”

You startle slightly, gazing up at him, relaxing when you see that he doesn’t seem to mean you harm, “Oh, hello… I’m looking for my brother.”

Your voice is just as he thought it would be as you tell him your name. Soft, lilting, soothing to his ears. He feels like he could drown in it.

“I’m Coriolanus. Call me Coryo. I’m sure I can help you find him,” Coryo offers, gazing deep into your eyes, barely resisting the urge to brush an errant strand of hair off of your face.

You shake your head, voice sheepish as you protest, “Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m sure you’re really busy, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Such a sweet little thing. He could just eat you up. Like a wolf hunting a sweet little bunny in the meadow, he has his gaze trained on you, mouth watering as he looks at your plump lips.

“It’s no trouble, don’t worry. The base is pretty empty right now. Let’s see about finding your brother. Do you know where his barracks are?”

You shake your head, staring up at him helplessly, “It’s my first time here. I don’t know where anything is.”

Fuck, he’s going to enjoy this. A poor little bunny wandering into the wolf’s den without a clue just what she’s walked into. You seem so small and helpless. Like you need him. Coryo has never truly felt needed in his life, so this is quite the ego boost. He rests a hand on your lower back, leading you deeper into the base. You look up at him, sweet and unassuming, asking if he’s sure this won’t get him into trouble. How sweet, you’re worried about him.

“You won’t get me into trouble, bunny,” he promises, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease, “It’s my job to help.”

You tilt your head, gazing up at him curiously through your lashes as you repeat, “Bunny?”

Coryo chuckles, nodding, “It suits you, doesn’t it? A little bunny who needs help finding her way.”

He resists the urge to say more, watching as you avert your gaze shyly. You’re adorable, so timid and innocent. Coryo wants nothing more than to cup your sweet little face in his hands and kiss those soft, plump lips, watching as you gnaw on the lower one nervously. But he wants to take this slow.

“I’m sorry, but did you say you know where my brother might be?” You ask, shifting your weight from foot to foot, fiddling with your hands.

They’re delicate, soft for someone who lives in the mining district, he muses, and so much smaller than his. He wonders how they’d feel in his own or running down his chest, or stroking his-

He clears his throat, a smirk creeping back onto his lips, “I’m pretty sure I do, but first, I need you to tell me something.”

You nod, eager to please, meeting his gaze, “O-okay, sure.”

Coryo leans in, his face only a hair’s breadth from yours, inhaling your scent, so very intoxicating to him, before he questions, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You blink owlishly, a bit taken aback by his query, but you shake your head, “No…”

He hums in acknowledgement, brushing your hair off your shoulder, “Then…” He murmurs, voice trailing off, “Would you like one?”

“Uh,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze, “I don’t know. Most of the boys here are ones I grew up with. Kinda hard to date someone you see as a brother, you know?”

“I don’t think you see me as a brother,” Coryo says smoothly, his breath fanning against your cheeks, watching as your lower lip trembles ever so slightly, “Do you?”

Your voice is barely audible as you mumble, “I hardly know you.”

He chuckles, nodding in understanding, watching as you fluster at his very presence, “You’re adorable. Have you ever even had a boyfriend before?” You bite your lip before shaking your head, a silent admission that you haven’t. Coryo raises an eyebrow, “Really? Ever been kissed before?” Another shake of your head. This is too damn good. He leans in even closer, “That’s a shame. You look like a girl who should be kissed. And often.”

You look up at him, lips parted slightly as you question, “I do?”

“Yes, little bunny,” he murmurs, “I think you do.”

As if on cue, your brother calls out to you, stealing your attention away from Coryo. You step away, though you continue looking at him, as if you don’t want to leave.

“Thank you,” you say in that adorable voice, “For keeping me company.”

He nods, watching the natural sway of your hips as you walk over to your brother, glancing back at him over your shoulder every so often, quickly looking away when you see that he’s already staring at you, “No problem, little bunny.”

He sees you sooner than anticipated, at the Hob where some have gathered to watch the Covey perform. You’re across the way, dancing with some of your friends, giggling and smiling, your hair swaying as you twirl around to the music. You’re so beautiful and innocent, the moonlight shining down on that pretty face of yours, your laugh sounding more enchanting than any music the Covey could ever write. He watches you all night, but you don’t sense his presence. He takes care to keep himself hidden in the shadows, watching as you turn down boy after boy who asks you to dance. It’s as if you already know you belong to Coryo, he muses.

As the night begins winding down, one by one, your friends leave, heading to their respective homes, as do you after waving goodbye to them. Your home is quite far away, Coryo notes, in the Seam, near the edge of the woods. You seem a bit skittish as you walk, remaining blissfully unaware of his presence as he follows you from the shadows, watching over you like some kind of dark guardian. When you get to your home, he watches as you rummage through your dress pocket for your keys, frowning when you don’t find them. You even look beautiful with your nose and eyebrows scrunched up in distaste, he thinks, such a precious little thing.

He can’t resist you any longer, stepping forward, pressing his front up against your backside, reveling in how perfect you feel against him as he whispers, breath tickling your ear, “Hello, bunny.”

You gasp, grabbing your chest as you turn around to face him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see who it is, “Oh, Coryo! You scared me!”

He smirks, leaning his forearm against your doorframe, caging you in between him and the entrance of your home, “Did I?” He asks, voice low and husky.

You swallow thickly, nodding, your back pressed against the door, “Are you on duty.”

He shakes his head, “No. And I believe there was something you and I were going to do, bunny.”

“We were?” You ask, furrowing your brow, looking so adorably confused, “I don’t remember…”

Coryo leans in closer, his nose running along your cheek as he inhales your natural scent, voice growing lower, “You’re a pretty little bunny, aren’t you?”

“Thank you,” you reply, taking a tremulous breath, gazing up at him, a bit dazed.

“A little naive, though,” he teases, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips moving to trace the Cupid’s bow of your lips, “You don’t realize how easy it’d be for a man to take advantage of a sweet little thing like you.”

“Oh, I know everyone around here, no one would do that,” you say, quite confidently.

“Is that so? What about me, bunny?”

“You’re a Peacekeeper. You protect people,” you say softly, “Right?”

Coryo laughs darkly at your answer, his thumb pressing down on your plump lower lip, watching as your lashes flutter at his touch, “I’d do terrible things to you, bunny,” he whispers against your ear, hot breath fanning against your neck, “And I think you’d love every moment of it.”

You shiver at his touch, looking into his eyes. He can tell that you’re nervous by how your body is shaking. But behind that, he sees it. The excitement. The curiosity. A little rabbit who’s walked into a snare.

“What kind of terrible things?”

“Do you really want to know?” You nod slowly, staring up at him with wide eyes as he responds, large hands cupping your face, “I would make you scream my name. Have your entire body trembling. Have you begging for me to never stop.” Your knees buckle slightly, and you likely would have fallen to the floor if it weren’t for him pinning you up against the door. Your every reaction is so visceral, it turns him on like nothing else, his cock rock hard in his pants. You’re just begging for him to ravish you, looking at him like that. You turn your face away shyly, seeming as if you’re trying to gather your thoughts, but Coryo won’t have that. He turns you back to face him, “Look at me.” So soft. So pretty. So perfect. He smirks, “I would kiss you right now if you begged me, little bunny.”

The tension between you two is palpable and all is silent save for the noises of the night for a long moment before you finally whisper, “Please?”

He shakes his head, his grin a bit malicious as he insists, “Beg me for it. Beg me for a kiss.”

“P-please,” you plead breathily, your voice shaking, “Please kiss me?”

God, you sound so adorable when you beg. He leans in slowly, every second feeling like an hour as he moves his face closer and closer to yours. He can feel your sweet breath on his lips, his own hovering above yours before finally kissing you. He hears you gasp, your breath catching, as he kisses your soft, smooth lips, so sweet, so ripe against his, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he runs his hands along the curves of your body, squeezing every inch of flesh he can grab. He pulls you flush against him, grinding his cock against your thigh, listening to your sharp intake of breath as he does.

When the two of you finally break apart for air, your voice is barely above a whisper as you question, “Do you want to come inside?”

He nods, gaze intense as he murmurs, “It’s a cold night. Let me come in and warm you up, bunny.”

Coryo watches you, your fingers trembling as you manage to get the door unlocked and let him inside. As you close the door, locking it once more, he steps right behind you, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging on it, making you let out the sweetest little noise of surprise, his cock grinding against your ass, his strong chest against your back.

“Can you feel how bad I want you?” Coryo asks, his free hand moving to your thigh, sliding under your skirt to squeeze at your flesh, “Can you feel it, bunny?”

You whimper softly as he rubs your cunt over the fabric of your panties, the sound driving him nearly insane with need, “Yes…”

The noise you let out as he presses his fingers against your clit is so sweet, he thinks he could listen to it forever and never get tired. Your head falls back against his chest as he presses his lips to your neck, teeth grazing against your sensitive skin.

“C-Coryo, please…”

“Please what?”

You’re already begging. And he loves it. Your voice is flustered as you lean into his touch further.

“I, I don’t know… I…”

“I could show you more,” he rasps against your ear, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind it, “I could make you feel things you’ve never felt before. I can make you mine. Let me show you how much I want you, bunny. Let me show you everything.”

You nod wordlessly, whining softly as he slides his fingers beneath the fabric of your panties, teasing your wet pussy, flicking your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. You buck your hips up against his hand, wanting more, wanting to feel him.

“You like this, don’t you, little one?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

You let out a yelp of surprise as he pulls his hand away, dragging you toward your bed. He pushes you back onto it, staring down at you with his icy blue eyes, every bit a predator going in for the kill. He shrugs off his uniform, smirking to himself at the way you stare at his bare body in wonder. He’s probably the first man you’ve ever seen naked, he muses as your gaze lingers on his abs, his chest, his cock…

And he’s going to make sure he’s the only one.

Coryo feels no small amount of satisfaction as your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, the way you tremulously inhale as he pulls your dress over your head and tosses it aside. You lay there before him in just your white cotton panties, crossing your arms to hide yourself from his gaze. But he’s having none of that, taking your wrists in his hands and fixing you with a sharp look.

“Don’t hide yourself from me, bunny.”

You watch as he slides your panties down your legs, eyes wide as his fingers trail along your inner thighs.

“My perfect little doll,” Coryo murmurs, “So delicate. And all mine.”

He pushes two long, thick fingers inside you, knuckle deep, making you gasp as he begins pumping them in and out of you. He curves them in a come hither portion, your eyes wide, chest heaving, lips parted as he fucks you with his fingers without mercy. You turn your face away, only for him to grab you by the jaw, forcing you to watch his fingers disappearing inside your tight, wet cunt. You’re so shy, he loves it. He loves seeing the little faces you make, hearing the sweet noises you make as you reach your peak on his fingers, your toes curling as you cry out his name in the throes of ecstasy.

“Watch my hands, my fingers,” he demands, still holding you in place as he continues, your entire body shaking as he continues, the wet squelching noises making you want nothing more than to shy away, but Coryo won’t let you.

He wants you to watch as he makes you come undone once again, your soft whines of, “It’s too much, Coryo,” spurring him on as you squirm away.

But he’s not letting you go. He just moves his fingers faster and faster, making you cry out his name once more, your second peak hitting you harder than your first. But he gives you no time to recover, his mouth pressed against your wet cunt within moments as he gazes up at you, his tongue replacing his fingers, moving in and out of you, tasting your sweetness. You stare at him, entirely dazed, eyes rolling back as he lifts your thighs over his shoulders, his face moving side to side as he laps at your folds eagerly. Your entire body quivers, Coryo growing achingly hard, wanting nothing more than to bury his cock balls deep inside you, but wanting to make you come once more before he does. And when you do, your arousal coating his tongue as you mewl his name, the sound so sweet in his ears, he thinks he could cum from that alone.

Coryo moves to lie above you, supporting himself on his forearms, his dog tag dangling, tickling your neck as he slowly sheathes himself inside you, just the tip at first, making you moan his name as his cock stretches you open. Your arms move to wrap around his neck, clinging to him as he bottoms out inside you. For the first time, he’s grateful for how short his hair was cut, because otherwise, he wouldn’t feel your nails raking against his scalp as intensely as he does right now. He begins to rut against you in earnest, making you whimper and cry out his name, squealing with each snap of his hips.

“My little bunny,” he snarls, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust, “All fucking mine.”

“Yours…”

He glances down at your stomach, smirking at the sight of the outline of his cock against your stomach, one hand moving down to press against it, making you nearly scream his name. He pushes your knees to your chest, fucking into you faster and faster, sweat beading at his temples as he moves to bite down hard on your neck, staking his claim. He feels you squeezing around him, your back arching off the bed as you give a choked sob of his name, reaching your peak once again, his own climax coming moments later, filling you with his spend before collapsing against you, crushing your body against his own.

And with the way you cling to him, the way you nuzzle up against him, he knows that he can never let you go again. You’re going to be his sweet little bunny.

He’s going to make it back to the Capitol, sooner than later, and you’re going to be on his arm.

His little plaything, his doll.

For him and him alone.

His bunny.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coryo snow x reader #coryo snow x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #coryo smut #my writing #coryo oneshot

[hoshigray]

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐦 | ryōmen sukuna

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: totally not writing this to compensate for the fact I haven't posted the Gojo fic yet, hahaha–sorry...Anywhooo, happy jjk Thursday, a lil something for the sukuna devotees~☆ okay, i go suffer irl now, && ty for 3.7k, loves, mwah!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - double penetration (he got 2 dicks) - cowgirl dp position - scratching - cervix fucking - choking - clitoral play (pinch) - tiny praise - he lets you ride him, but still in control (it's Sukuna, cmon now) - pet names (brat, human, pet) - mention of tears and drool.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k

When it comes to dominance, Ryōmen Sukuna knows he radiates that role. As long as there’s air in his lungs, he’ll ensure that dominance never leaves his side. Anything outside of that is practically unfathomable to the King of Curses. He expects everyone to kneel before him and turn his way. Anything that happens outside of that will be dealt with expeditiously. 

His aura is suffocating to those around him, humans and curses alike. Every step this large, brawlic creature takes in his path must be noticed within three seconds max. Bowed heads of his subjects meet the ground he walks on — he expects nothing less than that. The smell of fear suffocates them, yet it fuels him. It’s what subjects him from everything and everyone else; that’s what he wants. 

Sukuna is a dominant man in every aspect. And you are not subtracted from this at all. You may be the thing that he sees precious value in and holds you up on a pedestal higher than all — for him to look at and him alone. 

So, when it comes to you, Sukuna is the dominant role, in and outside his chambers…However, on the rare days he lets you be confident and take control, he lies on his back on the futon with a devilish grin. “Don’t disappoint me, brat.”

Here you are, straddling on top of the four-armed creature, with both the tips of his cock harboring inside your holes before you gradually descend. Your body trembles as it takes every inch of the girth limbs, feeling full despite not reaching halfway down the bases. You use slow breaths to keep you steady, your hands on his stomach where the large tongue teasingly licks your wrists. 

You’re allowed ten seconds to adjust to his lengths merged with your body, and that’s it. Any more than that and Sukuna’ll wrap this up himself, wasting this opportunity to show what you’re made of. He’s immensely impatient, and you know this as a fact. So, with a few breaths, you start moving your hips and propel yourself in up and down motions. 

The overwhelming feeling of both his cocks bullying your insides is efficient to have you teeter off sanity, the tips grazing the gummy walls of your cunt and anus. With trenched brows and chewed lips, you try to find a rhythm that satisfies the both of you — more so him than you, even if you’re in a position centric to you. “Ahhhh, hahhhh, ‘kuna…You feel ‘o good…Mmmmh…”

“Hmph, you think I’m lying here to satisfy yourself, human? Mmmph…“ Sukuna grunts at the way you sway your hips around, his dicks contracted by your holes perfectly. Good, you’re doing what you’re supposed to. He brings two of his hands to your wrists to keep them on him while the other two rest on your hips. “Shit, pick up the pace, pet. Show me you really want me.” 

You do as you’re told for your sake, your ass increasing the speed of your motions. Hushed pants become louder and louder when the cock in your chasm brushes your cervix with precision. The jabs get more and more accurate, and tears well up in your eyes from the contact with your tender canal. 

And Sukuna watches you with all fours of his eyes, taking in the entire image of you becoming a mess on top of him. He can see the drool from the corner of your lip stream down, and he knows you want to wipe that down, not wanting the King of Curses to see such indecencies. However, he absolutely doesn’t care. If anything, it amuses him. Your nails digging into his pecs, your stomach trying to shy away from the tongue from his abdomen every time he teases it with licks, and the tears rolling down your cute cheeks. It all makes him snicker, and a flame inside him ignites a carnal feeling he’ll indulge in later on. 

Your tempo dials up, grinding your hips down, making him purr. Not moan — purr. You can feel it vibrate within his body through the tip of your fingers. Your body jolts when your clit brushes up against his pelvis. Oh, that felt so good, holy shit. You lean your body down and grind it more; the electrifying sensations from the motion deepen your haze. “Ahhnn, ohhooo—Nnngh!!”

“You only attend to yourself in front of me, huh?” Suddenly, Sukuna brings a large hand to your neck, his thumb, fore, and middle thinner big enough to wrap your neck and clog your breathing. The action has your anus and cunt clench around him desperately. And he sneers. “Dare cum before me, and you’ll be lucky to be alive when I’m through with you tonight.” 

That is no threat to be taken kindly — even if you are his little dove, you are no fool to disregard the orders from the King of Curses himself. You’re quick to deescalate the tension, controlling the speed and angles of his cocks to churn your insides further. The constant pokes to your cervix prompt you to keep going — your wails fill the space of his traditional-style chambers when Sukuna’s dark nails pinch and pierce the skin of your hips. The constriction around your neck turns your erotic bliss into high stakes, and your mission now is to bring the behemoth below you to climax. You take the reins be damned; you do as you’re told when you’re told, no matter what. 

More purrs and groans from Sukuna result in your appeasement, throwing his head back to the pillow with eyes sewn shut to concentrate on both your holes. The tighter you clench on his cocks, the more his orgasm climbs up. “Hnngh!! Fuck…Take it, brat.” He grips your hips as he bucks to your leaky entrances, his balls smacking up to the sweaty skin of your ass. It takes you aback, your screams only making him rut harsher into you for his dicks to explode their loads into you. White, milky jizz fill your velvety texture and spill down to the hilt of his nether limbs. 

Sukuna finally removes his hand from your throat — your silent permission to chase your own high as he experiences his. Thank God, because yours hits you in seconds when the hand he removed travels down to your clit to pinch, and you come instantly. The fluttering agitation from your puckered chasms clamping around his pulsing girths has him his, and your shaky arms do what they can to keep you upright despite your climax. 

He watches your trembling figure during the fleeting moments of his climax – his intense red eyes examine you like a piece of art. And when your orbs finally open to look at his, he greets you with another wicked chortle. “That’s a good pet,” he brings one finger to attend to the tears from your eye. And you smile at him with breathless satisfaction.

Sukuna is always and forever will be a dominant man. But on those rare occasions when he allows you to take the reins, he expects nothing but a good job. If so, he’s not opposed to having the change again.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – header edit made by me + dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna fanfic #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines #jjk fics

[peachesofteal]

you satisfy the urge to see Ghost with little babies and simultaneously make me want more of him with little babies

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

He sleeps like the dead on and off for the almost three days.

Uninterrupted, undisturbed, face buried in a pillow, television cranked as loud as he can get away with, the noise one of the only things capable of lulling him to sleep and keeping him under when he’s not on an op or in an active engagement zone. He gets up to eat, use the bathroom or shower, climb the four floors to the roof to smoke, but otherwise, he sleeps. He eats, and sleeps, and repeats this very simple routine, as he always does when he’s here, until it’s interrupted one night, by the tap of a hesitant knock on his door.

The sound freezes his blood, every nerve ending in his body lighting up in alert, muscles priming for an offensive position. He finds the one of many guns stashed in the flat on his way to open the door, mask slipping over his face, holding the weapon tucked carefully behind his body as he looks through the peephole to find… you. The girl from the roof, the baby, Emmaline, in your arms, your eyes nervously darting down the hallway before looking back to his door expectantly. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out immediately when he opens it, peering up at him with exhausted eyes. Emma is against your chest, and one of your hands cradles her head, the other under her bum, while you bounce her up and down while also rocking back and forth. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse but, is there any way I can ask you to turn your TV volume down a bit?” You try to smile but it straightens into a grimace and then your eyes dart to the ground before looking back up at him. “We uh, share a wall.” You tilt your head to the left, to the unit next to his and his eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I’m not trying to be that neighbor but-“ Jesus Christ. You share a wall with him? His mind drifts to an image of you asleep in your bed, tucked up under your covers all sweet, lashes laying delicately on your cheeks.

“Of course. It’s not a bother.” The baby cries in response, a broken wail making her lower lip tremble and you pat her back soothingly until she quiets, little hiccups coming from her mouth while she rubs her face into your shirt.

“Thank you.” You’re still bouncing, still swaying, and he’s mystified, watching you stroke a gentle finger through her fine curls. She yawns sleepily against you, and the tension leaks from your body a bit, spine slumping slightly, shoulders relaxing a notch. You look down at her, checking for something he doesn’t understand, before raising your radiant, tired face back up to his. He really, really wishes he wasn’t holding a handgun behind his back right now. “They told me, when I rented… that you weren’t around much. I thought it’d be a good fit since…” you gesture with an eyebrow towards Emmaline, and he nods.

“I travel for work.” His voice sounds more raspy than normal, a byproduct of too much sleep, something you look like you’d probably kill to have. Fuck. He’s been blasting his television while you’ve been up with a screaming baby for two bleedin’ days.

“Right, well I hope we won’t be too noisy for you, when you are home.” A door slams on third floor above the two of you, the bang of it swinging shut too loud and you tense, something bleak flickering across your face before it’s chased away with a half-forced smile. “Anyway… thanks, again.”

“Of course.” He repeats it, like it’s obvious, and then just as you turn away, he remembers something: “I’m Simon.” You glance back at him, timid smile tugging at your lips, your own name falling from your mouth like you’re giving him a gift.

“Oh, and you know Emmaline already.” You lightly tease, and he nods, his own lips lifting in an almost smile behind the mask in response.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Spellbound

you might be void of feelings i fear i haven’t felt for anyone

synopsis// by no means did you hate soulmates, you just hated that he was your soulmate. not like megumi was ecstatic that he was your soulmate either. but that’s fine, both of you found someone else to keep you company.

status// finished!

updates// everyday unless said otherwise

warning// dating app!au, soulmate!au, college!au, no curses!au, enemies(?) to lovers, profanity, megumi and y/n are edgy pieces of shit <3, kys jokes, crack humor? i’m going back to my cringe 2020 smau roots with reaction images id say i’m sorry but i’m not, if any characters or dynamics r ooc take that up with the universe not me !!

☆ this smau wasn’t inspired by a song but the title was!! ‘twas inspired by spell strike by provoker, so besides the title and lyrics on here the song holds little to no relevance :) ☆

you might be the only one

might be the only one for me

feeling 1. young and stupid

feeling 2. child of divorce

feeling 3. no schedule just vibes

feeling 4. six feet under

feeling 5. this is my fight song

feeling 6. success rate

feeling 7. lone wolf

feeling 8. dumpster fire

feeling 9. retail therapy

feeling 10. be normal

feeling 11. the enemy has been defeated

feeling 12. enemies to lovers irl

feeling 13. exorcism

feeling 14. shut ur up

feeling 15. winner

feeling 16. hip hip hooray

feeling 17. swiped right!

feeling 18. silly little mystery

feeling 19. for no reason

feeling 20. i guess so

feeling 21. sigh of relief

feeling 22. relationship territory

feeling 23. don’t hmu

feeling 24. major in loser

feeling 25. fight club

feeling 26. jigsaw

feeling 27. ghosting

feeling 28. cold shoulder

feeling 29. before marriage

feeling 30. meant to be

feeling 31. a hunch

feeling 32. survival of the fittest

feeling 33. he knows

feeling 34. so close yet so far

feeling 35. (disrespectfully)

feeling 36. regressing

feeling 37. take pity

feeling 38. telepathy

feeling 39. betrayed

feeling 40. two birds with one stone

feeling 41. dead end

feeling 42. mass hysteria

feeling 43. an apology

feeling 44. baby’s first reciprocated love

feeling 45. psychological warfare

feeling 46. jealous

feeling 47. a facade

feeling 48. learning to coexist

feeling 49. with you

feeling 50. useless E information

feeling 51. good idea

feeling 52. break the peace

feeling 53. enjoy the peace

feeling 54. revenge

feeling 55. tolerable

feeling 56. catastrophic

feeling 57. fumbled

feeling 58. easier than you think

feeling 59. no downtime

feeling 60. caught red handed

feeling 61. for good

feeling 62. replace megumi with megumi

feeling 63. delicate

feeling 64. best bet

feeling 65. valid question

feeling 66. devils incarnate

feeling 67. patience is a virtue

feeling 68. grow and change as a person

feeling 69. megumi truthers

feeling 70. knock on wood

feeling 71. come find me

feeling 72. cryptic

feeling 73. more than aware

feeling 74. see the future

feeling 75. trying to be nice

feeling 76. why do you hate me

feeling 77. knight in shining armor

feeling 78. perfect paradox

feeling 79. idgaf war

feeling 80. stay like this forever

feeling 81. baby bird

feeling 82. found your way back

feeling 83. heart racing

feeling 84. loverboy activities feeling 85. megumi this megumi that feeling 86. protect you feeling 87. flirt back feeling 88. wingmen feeling 89. in love with megumi allegations feeling 90. more broken feeling 91. gets shirtless again feeling 92. 1 new message!

feeling 93. protecting your peace

feeling 94. tired of waiting

last feeling. a kiss and a fight

epilogue/bonus feeling. spy

#smau #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen smau #jjk texts #jujutsu kaisen texts #jujutsu kaisen text posts #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi smau #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro smau #megumi fluff #bimbos jjk smaus #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[barefoothighlander]

cherry

summary: ghost finds out about your side gig

simon ‘ghost’ riley x camgirl!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), smut, unprotected pinv, porn/nudes, masturbating (m+f), rough sex, choking, praise, licking?, tattoos, mention of scars, blowjob, fingering, sex on camera, biting, rank kink if you squint, ooc!ghost

a/n: I got a req for a 141 member/camgirl!reader x ghost but I can’t find it so I’m so sorry if this was ur req but it’s here now! fair warning I know very little about sex work so I hope this is mostly correct

Ghost's brain is in a fog, his eyes wide as they watch the screen, he turns his phone off in a panic, Soap had sent him a link, a simple text that would change everything about your relationship, sure he had thought about you before, you were beautiful, talented, and braver than any soldier he had met.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't pictured you, bent over with your ass in the air, waiting for him to fuck you but he kept it professional, maintaining a strictly platonic relationship with you around base.

It can't be a coincidence, the woman in the video has the same tattoo of a cherry, on her right hip, directly above her ass, it's the same tattoo that he'd seen a hundred times when you'd tugged your sweater off when you'd stretch and your shirt would ride up a little. He can't see your face, covered by a balaclava which he found ironic, but the woman bears a strikingly familiar body type to you.

He paces around his room for a minute, comparing you to the woman, before deciding to watch the video again, strictly for research purposes.

He shifts his hips in his seat as he feels his cock twitch, he's entranced by the noises that are falling from your lips, your moans going straight to his length, he watches you fuck yourself using a toy, stuffing it inside your dripping core like he so badly wanted to. He palms himself over his jeans, desperate to gain some friction against his erection, he watches your breasts bounce up and down as your slick drips down the toy, coating it in a sheen.

Without thinking he unzips his pants, groaning as he wraps his fingers around his length, biting back a moan as his thumb runs over his leaking tip. He strokes his cock in time with your movements, imagining that it was him you were moaning for, that it was his cock stretching you out, making you feel good.

A string of curses falls from his mouth as his orgasm hits him quickly, spilling onto his stomach, coating the skin in his warm spend. He drops his head back, catching his breath before looking back down, the realization of his actions hitting him as he shuts his phone off.

He blatantly avoided you at work the next day, practically running away every time he saw you, it was like a Pavlovian response, every time he saw you he saw the woman in the video, his mind flashing through the images as the blood rushed to his cock. He'd have to run to the bathroom to jerk off, needing to get rid of his erection quickly, he felt like a teenager again having to excuse himself in the middle of meetings.

During one of the team's conferences you had dropped your file, bending down to pick it up, his eyes glued to your lower back as your tattoo peaked from your shirt, squeezing his eyes shut, willing his mind to behave.

It had to be you, he was sure of it, what he didn’t know is if Soap had caught on yet, or how many others he’d sent the link to, it made him mad, he hated the thought of anyone else on the team seeing your body, he’d grown slightly possessive over you throughout the years, requesting to be paired with you on missions, always keeping a close eye when the team went to the pub in case some stranger tried it on with you.

In a strange way he was offended that you’d never told him, he thought you were close enough, he knew about your life outside of the team, where you lived and what you did with your free time, hell he knew how much you made with the 141, it didn’t make a lot of sense to him why you even needed to have some sort of side gig.

It plagued his mind for days, deciding if he should bring it up to you or not, the last thing he wanted was you to be uncomfortable with the fact that he’d seen the video, but he was curious.

He couldn’t chalk it up to simple intrigue anymore, sitting in his flat his fingers clicking on links that lead him toward your entire page, he couldn’t fight the temptation, the boxes that asked for his information staring back at him as he subscribed, the new access to your videos making his cock twitch in his jeans.

It was like he was watching an entirely different person, such a stark contrast to your personality at work, he thought he knew you but apparently not, he craved you, your touch, your body, he had to do something about it.

It took him till noon the next day to even speak to you, spending the morning awkwardly staring at you, turning away when you’d notice, he was always confident in his work, but this, it was something that felt so far away.

“What’s with you?”

Your words take him by surprise, whispered in a meeting room whilst Price spoke about assignments, concerned eyes gazing at him, he felt his throat dry, unable to ask the question he wanted to as you wait for a response.

“I’ll tell you later”

You nod with furrowed brows, receding into your chair and turning your attention to your Captain, your thoughts about Ghosts nervous state playing in your mind.

You wait for him after the meeting, watching as the room empties for a moment alone with him, you’d always been concerned for his welfare, knowing enough about his personal life to check in with him every once and a while, but he’d never been antsy, avoidant of you completely, it worried you.

“So what’s wrong, you’ve been steering clear of me for a week”

“Right, well um” He scratch’s the back of his head, his eyes drifting from yours.

“Out with it Lieutenant”

“Soap sent me a link”

“Okay?”

“Well, I’m not positive but, do you, make videos?”

“Videos? What kind of videos”

“Porn videos”

“Oh” The words ring in your ears, you’d never thought anyone you knew would find them, “Yes, I do, is that a problem?”

“No, not a problem” He waves his hands in defence, “Just unexpected”

“Why is that unexpected?”

“Just doesn’t seem like something you’d do”

“Does Soap know?”

“He knows of one video, not sure he thinks it’s you”

“Okay”

He nods, turning his eyes to yours, there’s no embarrassment behind your gaze, no shyness.

“If you don’t mind, keep this to yourself”

“Of course”

“How did you know, that it was me”

“The tattoo”

“The one above my ass”

He nods

“So you watched the video”

It’s his turn to be embarrassed, his cheeks flush under his mask, visions of your naked body flashing in his mind, forcing the blood to his groin.

“I did”

You eye him up and down, watching him fidget under your gaze, “What’d you think”

“Pardon?”

“About the video, what’d you think” Your relaxed state has his heart beating fast, you’ve been exposed entirely to him and you’re asking his opinion on your body, he can’t lie, no matter his response your friendship is changed forever.

“Good”

“Good? That’s all”

“What do you want me to say, that I watched it more than once, that every night for the past week I’ve stroked my cock thinking about you”

“Only if it’s true”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me”

“Didn’t know how you’d react”

“I never would’ve thought of you differently at work, except now you’re all I think about”

“And that’s a bad thing”

“If it didn’t give me a hard on during work it would be fine”

“During work?” You smirk a little at his words,

“I can’t help it”

“I can”

His body freezes at your response, your tone is serious,

“What are you saying”

“Meet me at my flat, 6pm” You wait a moment to gage his reaction, his body tense as he blinks at you, stopping for a moment before nodding.

It was like the rest of the day couldn’t go by fast enough, rushing through meetings and paperwork, watching the clock tick as he sat in his office, your proposition was everything he had been dreaming about, damn your friendship, the way he saw it there were two outcomes, either your sex is strictly professional and for the benefit of your friendship, or it becomes a regular thing, moving past any sort of platonic arrangement, god he hoped for the second one.

He was oddly calm now, the elephant in the room dispersed, he could talk to you like he always did, as a friend, he’d never had an issue with casual sex but more often than not his endeavours began and ended in a single night, using them as an outlet for his stress and moving on, this felt different, he knew you, he liked you, as soon as the clock hit 5 he was on a mission to get to you.

Stopping at his flat after work to shower quickly, changing into civilian clothes and tossing on his balaclava before making his way to your flat. He sat in the driveway for a few minutes, working up the courage to knock on your door before his phone buzzed.

Get out of my driveway, come in

There was no escaping now, you knew he was here, your words dragging him from his car towards your door, he didn’t even knock, you opened it standing there, eyes staring up at him as his mind froze.

“Bloody hell”

Whatever he was expecting, this was not it, your body clad in a black lacy set, sheer stocking that ended at your thighs carrying his eyes toward your sex, barely covered by your panties.

“You like it?”

He can’t form words, settling on a simple nod as you smirk, grabbing his hand and dragging him into your house, from the angle that he walks behind you he can see the rest of the set, the thin black string that connects from the front of your panties, the little bows that hold your bra together, he just wants to reach forward and untie them.

“Sit for a second”

He does as you say, resting on the couch as his eyes are glued to your form, “I have an offer, you don’t have to say yes but I need your full consent before I do it”

“Okay?”

“Would you be down to record us, for my page”

“Like, I record you?”

“More like we record us”

“You want to record us having sex?”

“Only if you’re okay with that, I wouldn’t show your face obviously, and I’d keep it completely anonymous, plus you’d get half the revenue”

“Okay” He doesn’t even think about it, honestly the idea of being able to watch himself fuck you over and over had his pants already tightening.

“You’re sure?”

“Let’s do it”

You wait a few minutes, having him sign a few papers and establishing any rules you may need, offering him an out at any time in case he was uncomfortable.

“Are you clean?”

“Clean?”

“When’s the last time you went to the clinic?”

“Oh, clean, yes I’m clean, I get checked every month”

He’s safe, responsible, a new piece of information that makes you happy, you didn’t know a lot about his sexual endeavours but this was a checkmark in your books.

“Okay, you ready?”

“Is there anything specific I should do?”

“Whatever you feel like, pretend the camera’s not even there, it’s just us”

“Okay”

“And remember, if anything’s too much or you want to stop at any point, say Delta"

"Got it"

He watches you cross the room, leaning to adjust the camera, his eyes focused on the red light that clicks on, it's pointed toward the bed. He stands still as you move back to him, positioning yourself directly in front as you stare up at him through your lashes, you rest your hands on his chest, moving your fingers toward the bottom of his shirt as they find their way underneath it, bunching the fabric as you push it up.

He keeps his stare on you as he lifts his arms, helping you to take his shirt off, his breath heavy as you press kisses on his sternum, your soft lips trailing across his chest. His hands find purchase on your waist, holding you, his breath hitching as you part your lips, flattening the muscle on his skin and licking small lines over his scars, you kneel lower, your breath ghosting over his skin as you keep your eyes on his, your tongue tracing a line down the centre of his abs as you make your way toward his hardening cock.

His hands move to hold your jaw, his chest rising with every breath as your fingers make quick work of his zipper, undoing it to reveal the outline of his length, you palm your hand over it, causing a groan to fall from his lips.

Satisfied, you tug at the waistband of his underwear, his cock springing free to slap against the skin of his lower stomach,

"Need to taste you"

he peaks an eye at the camera, the two of you clearly out of view, you were doing this just for him because you wanted to, his cock twitching as your lips near it, flattening your tongue to lick the precum from his tip, his fingers tightening in your scalp.

You hum as you swallow, the salty taste mixing with your saliva, parting your lips to allow the head of his cock in, his hips jerking as you close around him.

You work him in your mouth, using your hand for the length that couldn't fit, your spit soaking his cock as you move back and forth on his length, small moans falling from his lips every time you flick your tongue over his head. You stare up at him, nodding to the best of your ability, letting him know he can move, his grip tightens in your hair, tugging your head lightly back as he thrusts into your mouth, your hands resting on his thighs for balance as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat.

The room fills with the sounds of your gags, the corners of your eyes wet from the tears that prick them as you stare at him, god he could cum from the sight alone.

He pushes his cock deep into your throat, holding you there for a moment, your nose pressed against his pubic hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. He pulls back with a pop, allowing you a breath of air before he kneels down, his arms locking under your legs, lifting you from the floor as turning to drop you on the bed.

His thumb runs over your spit-soaked cheek, his dark eyes pinning you down as his body cages you against the bed, your legs moving to wrap around his waist before he sits back, his stare devouring you.

He teases a finger down the valley of your breasts, pulling on the fabric of your bra, his palms kneading over the flesh as you reach behind you to undo it. He grabs your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head with one hand, using the other to reach behind you, tearing at the fabric and pulling it from your chest.

He watches as your tits fall free, your nipples peaked from the cool air of the room, his fingers pinching at them as you let out a whimper,

"So perfect"

Your arousal is pooling in your panties, your hips squirming, trying to gain any friction they could as he paws at your flesh, your hands stuck in their position, unable to touch him.

"Please"

"Please what?" His accent is thick, his voice dripping with lust as he watches you squirm under him,

"Please stop teasing, fuck me"

"How bad do you need it?" His hand moves down, cupping your clothed sex, he can feel how bad you need him, your slick soaking through your panties.

"Need you so bad"

"Good girl" His hand releases you, moving to grab your leg, flipping it over so you're on your side, he tugs your panties off, tossing them across the room as he gains view of your glistening pussy, your slick coating your thighs.

"So wet already, this all for me?"

"All for you" You wriggle your hips, begging him to touch you as you bend your knee higher, giving him a better view, his hand's paw at your ass, kneading the flesh as you groan.

He slides two fingers between your folds, collecting your slick before smearing it across his length, positioning himself between your legs and lining himself up.

He glides his head between your folds, coating himself before pushing his length in, groaning as you squeeze him. The stretch of him is like nothing else, his size burns in the best way possible as he pushes deeper, inch by inch until he bottoms out.

"Bloody hell, feel so fuckin good baby"

Your hands reach for him, and he grabs one, holding it against the bed as he leans over your frame, his cock stretching you out as he holds it still, allowing you to adjust to it. You move your hips, letting him know he's okay to move and he pulls back, thrusting in with nearly every inch as you moan.

He sets a brutal pace, the sound of skin hitting echoing in the room as your fingers squeeze his hand, his other roams your form, his fingers circling over the tattoo on your lower back, smirking to himself.

He grabs your waist, tugging you onto all fours and your chest falls against the bed, your cheek pressed into the sheets as he fucks you from behind, his thrusts forcing your body forward with every stroke.

He grabs your hips, tugging you against him in time with his thrusts, his cock driving impossibly deep inside you as your ass smacks against his lower stomach, he snakes a hand around, his fingers circling your clit causing your back to arch, allowing him even deeper, your pussy swallowing him.

"You like that baby, s'that feel good"

"Yes, fuck, more"

His fingers swipe across your clit, rough pads rubbing at the bud as the fire in your stomach ignites, the band stretching out as works you toward your orgasm.

"Cum for me love, soak my cock"

You clench down on him as you come undone, your orgasm tearing through your body leaving your vision blurry and your legs weak, his fingers working you through it as his arm holds your waist, keeping you up.

"Fuck, just like that angel, so goddamn tight"

You're at a loss for words, the feeling of him taking over your body, consuming you as you come down, your juices leaking from your cunt, soaking his cock and the sheets under you.

He pulls from you and you whimper, his hands flipping your body so your beach is against the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes into you, his cock fills you entirely, stuffing his length into your weeping cunt as he leans over your form, his arms next to your head, pressing you against the mattress as he snaps his hips against you.

You trail kisses over his exposed skin, your nails digging into the flesh of his back as you cling to him, your heels pressed into his hips, begging for more.

"More please, need more"

His hand moves over your skin, settling on your neck as his fingers squeeze at your pulse point, your breath caught in your throat as you moan.

"You'll take what I give you"

He begins thrusting slowly, dragging his cock along your walls, your pussy clenching around him as he slowly fills you with every thrust. You squirm under him, heels digging into his flesh, urging him to go faster but he remains slow, languid strokes that force you to feel every inch of his cock inside you.

"Been dreamin' about this for too long, gonna take my time, work you open till you're a mess on my cock"

His hand moves to your clit, slowly circling the bud, keeping you on a high but refusing to let you cum, he takes pleasure in your whimpers, the way you try to move your hips under him but he's much stronger, intent on having you his way.

Your orgasm builds inside you, slowly taking over your nerves as he keeps his slow pace, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat as your body crumbles beneath him.

"Please, need to cum" You manage through strangled moans,

"You can do better than that"

You lock eyes with him, your heavy lids obscuring your vision, "Please Sir, let me cum"

"That's it"

He snaps his hips into you, forcing a yelp from your throat as his pace quickens, his fingers flicking over your bud as your second orgasm surfaces, his cock driving into you, keeping you on your high as your limbs squeeze around him, your hips twitching as he fucks you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your mouth open as quiet moans fall from your lips, the hair on your forehead stuck in a layer of sweat as you fall apart, he doesn't let up, elongating your orgasm until your legs are trembling around him, your skin on fire from the sensation.

"Such a perfect little pussy, so good for me"

His hand releases your throat, settling on your waist to pin your lower half down, driving his cock into you using his weight, his head slamming against your cervix as your body becomes putty, melting against him.

You're a babbling mess under him, spit from your mouth pooling at the corners of your lips as he fucks you,

"You all drunk off my cock baby, c'mon you can take it"

He grabs your legs, pinning them against your stomach, your heels resting on his shoulders as your fingers grab at the sheets, your brain foggy as his cock glides into you with ease.

"That's it, take it, take it all, knew you could"

Your body moulds to his, his length stretching you out to fit perfectly like it was made for you, he leans over you, lifting his mask just slightly to reveal his lips,

"Open"

You do as he says, flattening your tongue as he spits into your mouth, it drips down the muscle, trailing to your throat before you swallow, he grunts above you, pressing his chest flat against your legs as he buries his cock into you,

"Cum in me, please, need to feel you"

The thought has his brain sparking, his abs tightening with every thrust as he nestles his head against your neck, his grunts flooding your ears, you paw at his flesh, nails dragging against the skin as you lean your head up, digging your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you pressed against him.

You kiss lazily at his neck, your spit smearing on the skin as his strokes get sloppy, his muscles tensing around you,

"M'gonna fill this little pussy up, stuff you full of my cum"

All he can hear are your moans, silent pleas for him to continue,

"Gotta give me one more love" His fingers find their way to your abused clit, your body twitching as he makes contact with the nerves, your head falling back against the pillow as his thumb rubs the bud.

"One more baby, you can do it"

Your body is mush, he drops one of your legs, allowing you to dig your heel into the bed, your fingers digging into his flesh trying to ground yourself as he brings your orgasm quickly.

You sob as you cum, your pussy soaking his thighs as you gush around him, squeezing his cock as your limbs begin to feel like static.

"Fuck, just like that, so perfect"

He buries his cock in you, his cum flooding your walls as you come down from your high, your combined spend leaking from your hole as he gives a few shallow thrusts, forcing his seed deeper.

He pulls from you slowly, eyes glued to your core where his cum leaks, dripping down onto the bed, your limbs falling against the mattress as your chest rises with every breath.

He stands from his spot, crossing the room you see him click off the camera, the red light turning off before he moves away, leaning into the bathroom to grab a cloth, dampening it before moving back to you.

He carefully spreads your legs, wiping around your core to clean up the mess, avoiding your sensitive clit as he runs the cloth over the skin, tossing it aside and reaching for the glass on your side table.

He moves beside you, his arms resting around your waist, tugging you against him so you can drink, gulping down a few sips before releasing a deep breath, resting against him. His fingers trace lightly over your skin, soothing the muscles as he holds you,

"You doing alright love?"

"Perfect" You don't bother to open your eyes, just resting your head against his firm chest as your fingers hold his forearm, you can feel his heartbeat, slowly returning to normal as he sits with you.

"It's getting late, did you need anything"

"Stay"

"You want me to stay?"

You nod against him, humming quietly to yourself as he smiles lightly under his mask, "Okay"

He shifts in his spot, lowering himself down and letting you curl against him, tugging the blanket over the two of you as you nestle your head against his chest, your fingers splayed over his stomach while his arm holds your waist, keeping you close. He rests his chin against your head, listening to your breaths even out as you grow tired, your legs tangled with his as he closes his eyes.

It was one of the best sleeps he's had, laying next to you, letting your warmth consume him as he slept, he wouldn't tell you but he had woken up an hour before you did and just stayed there, his arms holding you, watching you sleep, you were so peaceful, so soft, he didn't want to leave.

The next few days at work were strangely normal, with no awkward encounters with each other, you didn't treat him differently which he liked, he'd been trying for days to think of an excuse to come over again but he couldn't come up with one good enough. A smile spread on his lips when you texted him,

Videos up, here's the link, we should do it again sometime x

That was it, his excuse, he'd be at your beck and call whenever you wanted him, he needed more. He clicked on the link, eyes glued to his phone, it was strange watching it, knowing it was him in the video, that he really was doing those things to you that he'd imaged so many times, he had so many ideas about what to do next, things to try, he'd just have to muster up the courage to ask you.

His train of thought is interrupted by another text, a link from Soap,

Check this one out LT, Lad in the videos got tattoos like you

He glances at his forearm quickly and back to the screen, shit.

#simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #mw2022 #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course &lt;3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

[jointherebellion215]

His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you. 

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.” 

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!” 

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it. 

A life with your love was within reach. 

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever. 

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no. 

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love. 

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it. 

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done. 

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face. 

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform. 

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth, 

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his. 

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd harkonnen #feyd x you #house harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha fanfiction #dune #dune part two #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune 2 #austin butler character #austin butler x reader #austin butler fandom #jada writes sometimes #hadestown #inspired by hadestown #hadestown au #kinda #eurydice!reader #feyd rautha x female reader #feyd rautha x oc

[moonstruckme]

Steve x black cat! reader pls. I feel this paring is always necessary 😌

Thanks for requesting!

Steve Harrington x black cat!reader ♡ 625 words

You glower at your boyfriend through the dark lens of your sunglasses. “Don’t come near me with that.” 

Steve smiles cajolingly, approaching with the sunscreen nonetheless. “C’mon, babe, you didn’t come out here just to sit under this umbrella all day.” 

“You know I did.” You dart your stare pointedly to where the pale rocks are growing little puddles of lake water underneath his feet. “If you come over here and drip on my book—” 

“Put the book away,” he coaxes. And he’s convincing, all shiny skin and even shinier smile and his pretty hair stuck damply to his forehead and the back of his neck. One tiny strand curls inward over the curve of his cheekbone, and you want terribly to slick it back in with the others but any affectionate gesture right now would feel too close to giving in. “Lemme put some sunscreen on you so you can come swim with the rest of us.” 

“I’m fine here.” 

“It’s really nice out there.” Steve sits down next to you like a mirror image, his hands by your feet and his feet next to your butt. “The lake’s not too cold or anything, you might like it.” 

You suck your teeth. “I’m just trying to enjoy my book, Steve.” 

He angles his head. “What, you don’t want to spend time with me?” 

You angle your head right back, deadpan. “Don’t.” 

“You know, Max really loves you,” he says, squirting a dollop of sunscreen into his hand and starting to smooth it up your calf. You wrinkle your nose at the smell. “She thinks you’re the coolest. Beats me why, but it’d probably make her week if you went out there.” You’re quiet, and he goes on, encouraged. He works the sunscreen over your knee, hands chaste and purposeful as they run the length of your thigh. “Plus, you know, you can read your book anytime, but these warm days are only gonna last so long before it’s freezing and snowy outside again.” 

“I like when it’s freezing and snowy,” you say, setting your book down on top of your bag before one of you gets sunscreen on it.

“I know, but you won’t be getting the gun show when I’m all hidden under ten layers, y’know?” 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, and you look away from him, biting down on your smile. You feel more than see your boyfriend’s answering grin, spreading like a blight over his pretty face. He starts on your other leg. 

“And if you come hang out, I’ve got an ice cream sandwich in the cooler with your name on it.” He brushes his thumb over the side of your knee sweetly. “Been saving it for you.” 

You soften. A bit. “You could bring it to me here,” you point out. 

Steve shakes his head, frowning as if he really doesn’t know who’s making these rules and wishes he could change them for you. “Can’t, sorry. Frozen treats are only for those of us out there braving the sun.” 

You cross your arms. “You make it sound so pleasant.” 

He takes one of your arms in his hands, disentangling your defensive stance to continue slathering you in sunscreen. “It’s really not bad,” he says. “Between the ice cream and the cool water, you can pretend it’s winter if you want.” 

“Steve!” You both look out towards the lake, and Robin is waving him over. “Stop flirting with your girlfriend and come back here. We need more people to play chicken!” 

Steve gives you a pleading look. 

“I’m not getting wet,” you tell him firmly. 

He grins and takes your hand, lotion-slicked palm sliding against your own as he pulls you up. “You won’t on my team, don’t worry.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x self insert #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fandom #stranger things x reader

[javiscigarette]

Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around. 

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit. 

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes. 

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go. 

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout. 

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal. 

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride. 

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him. 

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.” 

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match. 

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby” 

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs. 

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. 

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind. 

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.   

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you. 

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point. 

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”. 

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you. 

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process. 

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks. 

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath. 

 He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch. 

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you. 

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip. 

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock. 

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his. 

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust. 

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth. 

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty. 

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back. 

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh. 

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work. 

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back. 

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there. 

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first. 

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.” 

— 

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest. 

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure. 

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest. 

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise. 

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck. 

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls,  his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him. 

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.” 

— 

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge. 

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now. 

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile. 

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants. 

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye. 

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking. 

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house. 

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him. 

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion. 

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist.  Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days. 

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control. 

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily. 

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight. 

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter. 

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare. 

“What was the plan there?”  Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack. 

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe. 

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

 This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next. 

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it. 

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him. 

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you. 

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier. 

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.  

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot. 

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans. 

He wants more.

“Faster.” 

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did. 

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that. 

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down. 

Joel of course isn’t any help. 

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself” 

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him. 

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.” 

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well.  He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits. 

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack.��

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up. 

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty. 

“And what if I wanted dessert?” 

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck. 

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side. 

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition. 

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him, 

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute. 

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you. 

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention. 

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him. 

Still nothing. 

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it. 

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence. 

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair. 

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest. 

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside. 

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet. 

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them 

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-” 

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response. 

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls. 

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp. 

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?” 

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess.  And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy” 

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling. 

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again. 

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing. 

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly. 

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off. 

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so. 

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation. 

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either. 

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least. 

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes. 

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt. 

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response. 

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button. 

“And for dressing me up” 

Another button. 

“Making me feel so beautiful” 

And another. 

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting. 

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper. 

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. 

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer. 

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure. 

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need. 

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.” 

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after. 

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them. 

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Turn around” he instructs simply. 

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress. 

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself. 

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect. 

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up. 

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure. 

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases. 

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline. 

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel” 

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained” 

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm. 

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?” 

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat” 

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag. 

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.” 

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it. 

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips. 

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Bein’ so good for me.” 

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip. 

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue. 

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions. 

“Swallow it.” 

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements. 

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle. 

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Good girl. Now stand up.” 

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement. 

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs. 

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly. 

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago. 

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house. 

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips. 

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening. 

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it.” 

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen. 

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch. 

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad” 

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still. 

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you. 

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-” 

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you. 

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. 

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that. 

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed. 

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.” 

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away. 

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean. 

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”  

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him. 

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in. 

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his. 

And it’s exactly what you asked for. 

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling. 

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya” 

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric. 

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?” 

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer. 

“Red” you whine. 

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?” 

You immediately shake your head

“No.” 

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace. 

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off. 

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that” 

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices. 

“Get those tits out, angel.” 

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops. 

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him. 

“Play with ‘em for me.” 

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper. 

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time. 

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him.  “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” 

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that. 

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead. 

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.” 

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress. 

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.” 

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock” 

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him. 

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven. 

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm. 

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good” 

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills. 

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull. 

Joel turns his head to look at you. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now. 

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too. 

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face. 

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?” 

“Mhmm.” 

You grin and scoot closer into him. 

“That sounds like a lot to handle” 

You squeal when he pinches your hip. 

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again. 

Thank god you got that promotion. 

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

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

[proxima-writes]

the right wrong number

pairing: pre/no outbreak!joel miller x soccer coach!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6k

summary:

When Joel receives a dirty text from an unknown number, he gives into his curiosity and messages back.

He doesn’t expect the number to belong to his daughter’s summer camp soccer coach.

dear reader:

this work is a request and a birthday gift for my sweet baby @mydailyhyperfixations , who’s been one of my biggest supporters since i started posting my work on tumblr. ily, and i hope you love the fic! special thanks to @cutesyscreenname for helping me with some lil details to finish this surprise. support and mdni banners by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (undefined, but references are made), pre/no outbreak!joel miller, identity porn, wrong number au, sexting, dom/sub dynamics, use of ‘sir’, pet names, praise, thigh riding, semi-public sexual activity, spanking, safe word discussion, dirty talk, p in v. let me know if i’ve missed any!

Unknown Number: I had a really good time at dinner tonight!

Joel stares at his phone in confusion. It’s past midnight and he’s been sitting on the couch nursing a beer and watching Indiana Jones. He’s been in the same spot since Sarah went to bed a couple hours ago. His phone beeps again.

Unknown Number: It’s too bad we didn’t have time to visit Noir.

Joel raises his eyebrows. Noir is a bar in downtown Austin known for its calendar of speciality kink events. He’s seen it come up in his Google searches of local bars and had considered going to an event or two but never worked up the courage. His kinks remain between him and his porn search history.

Unknown Number: Wanna see what you missed out on?

[Photo 01.jpg]

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the image attachment. He nearly drops his phone when a photo of a woman fills his screen, sweet curves hugged by black lace on white sheets. He should absolutely tell her that she has the wrong number. His fingers type across the screen.

Damn, seems a shame something that gorgeous is going to waste.

Unknown Number: Who says it has to go to waste?

Joel swallows nervously. He’s already hard in his jeans, cock pressing urgently against his pants. He palms himself, trying to collect his thoughts.

Unknown Number: I’m feeling a little needy over here.

[Photo 02.jpg]

Against his better judgment, Joel opens the second photo and has to bite back a groan at the image of the woman’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the panties, fingers hidden from sight behind lace and silk.

You want me to tell you how to play with that pretty pussy?

Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he presses send. This is a colossally stupid idea. This is a stranger, and he’s not the intended recipient of these messages.

Unknown Number: I’d really like that, sir.

Fuck it, Joel thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Start by circling those fingers over your clit. Nice and slow.

And when you feel like you could cum, I want you to go even slower.

Unknown Number: It’s too slow. I want more.

Be patient, baby. And aren’t you forgetting something?

Unknown Number: Sorry. I want more, SIR.

Joel presses a hand to the bulge in his jeans, the pressure offering little relief.

Now don’t start being a brat, sweetheart. You won’t like the result.

Unknown Number: Oh yeah? What would you even do?

I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the edge of the bed, ass ready to be spanked red.

Unknown Number: Fuck, that would feel so good. Bet your hands would feel amazing marking me up.

You still being a good girl and following my instructions?

Unknown Number: I think I forgot. Could you remind me, sir?

You’ll have to ask more nicely than that.

Unknown Number: Could you *please* remind me, sir?

Joel runs a hand over his beard before reaching for the forgotten beer on the coffee table and taking a swig.

You’re supposed to be teasing yourself for me. Nice and slow.

I want you to pinch your nipples until they’re nice and tight, too.

Unknown Number: Like this?

[Photo 03.jpg]

Joel bites his lip as he opens the third photo. You’ve got your bra pulled down to expose your nipples, hard and perfect and begging for his mouth. He unbuttons his jeans, tossing his phone on the couch only long enough to shimmy the denim down his thighs and free his leaking cock.

Just like that, baby. Such a good girl for me.

Unknown Number: Are you touching yourself, too, sir?

Of course I am, baby.

Unknown Number: Can I see, sir? Please?

Joel’s hand falters as alarm bells blare in his head. He should absolutely not open his camera. And he should definitely not find the perfect angle that doesn’t show his face. And he certainly should not grip his cock around the base, holding it steady as the shutter sounds and a new photo is saved to his camera roll.

No. He shouldn’t do any of that.

[Photo 04.jpg]

Unknown Number: God, your cock would feel so good in me right now.

Joel’s right hand moves at a steady pace up and down his length, left hand fumbling to type a reply.

Why don’t you fuck your little fingers and pretend it’s me, then?

Unknown Number: Won’t fill me up nearly as much, sir.

Be a good girl and follow my directions, baby.

Unknown Number: [Photo 05.jpg]

He opens the photo and his cock pulses in his fist. She has her underwear shoved to the side, two fingers plunged into her glistening pussy. His mind reels with an image of this faceless woman writhing on the bed reading his words, thinking about his cock stretching her open and he has to bite his lip to just keep the responding moan trapped in his throat.

Unknown Number: Can I cum, sir? Please?

Since you asked so nicely, yes. Make yourself cum for me, sweetheart.

Joel sets the phone aside on the couch, closing his eyes as he pumps himself with a tight fist while he imagines your desperate pussy clenching around your fingers. He cups his palm over the head of his cock as his release hits him like a freight train, hips flexing from the couch to chase the lingering sensations of ecstasy from his hand.

He stands, pulling his pants up without bothering to fasten them so that he can wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Guilt settles on his shoulders as he dries his hands with the dish towel while he stares at the couch where his phone is lit up with another message from a stranger he had no business seeing that much of.

He approaches the couch and sits with a sigh, running a hand over his face before picking his phone up to read her message:

Unknown Number: Easily my best orgasm. Hope it was for you, too. Don’t be a stranger xx

Feeling like an asshole, Joel deletes the thread and the wrong number for good, but it’s fine.

It’s not like he’ll ever meet her, anyways.

——————

You’re on the phone with your best friend, telling her about how the last guy you went out with about a week ago, a guy named Jeremy you met on a dating app, still hasn’t reached out to you again despite what you’d thought was a successful date.

“So he just never reached out to you after you sexted him all night?” She asks. “Men are so weird.”

You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your duffel bag of equipment. It’s the beginning of June and the summer soccer intensive camp for junior league starts today. You’ve got a full registration for the girl’s 13-15 division and you’re excited to get back on the field and help these girls do their best in a sport you love.

“Nope. Maybe I came on too strong? I don’t know,” you reply.

“You did come strongly. At least, that’s what you told me,” she says with a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll meet a hot dad coaching this year.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking someone’s dad.”

“Never say never, babe.”

“I gotta go find my damn cleats. I’ll talk to you later,” you tell her.

“Fine, I expect a full run down of every DILF you meet today.”

You hang up as she laughs, tossing your phone into your personal bag that you keep separate from the gear before you go in search of your cleats from your room.

——————

Joel and an over-excited Sarah sit in the parking lot of the soccer field that her summer camp is being conducted at, ridiculously early at Sarah’s insistence because she didn’t want to be late on the first day. They’re the only car in the parking lot so far, having apparently beat even the coach, and Joel sips at his travel mug of coffee in the hopes that it grants him energy.

Another car pulls up and parks beside his truck, loud music blaring from the open window. Sarah waves excitedly.

“That’s the coach,” she explains.

Joel watches you get out of your car and pop the trunk. You start pulling out bags of soccer balls and stacks of orange cones, bags of agility equipment and strength training aids. He opens the door to his truck and jogs over.

“Hey, you need any help with that?” He asks. You look over at him in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great,” you reply.

“I’m Joel Miller, and this is my daughter, Sarah,” he says, gesturing to the young girl. She gives a little wave and he extends a hand out to you.

You give him your name, shaking his outstretched hand. “Y’all are a little early,” you reply, hefting a bag over your shoulder.

“My dad’s always late but I didn’t want to be late for camp,” Sarah says. Joel narrows his eyes at her.

“Not a problem. You can help me set up the cones,” you tell her. His daughter gives you a bright smile and he almost forgives her for throwing him under the bus. “I’ll grab these two bags, you grab the cones, and Mr. Miller, could you grab the balls, please?”

Joel fights back his childish laughter at your request, grabbing the bags as instructed. “Just Joel, please.”

You smile at him and he feels a bit blindsided by how it makes his heart beat faster, his palms a little sweatier. You’re very pretty, fresh faced and ready for a day of work, wearing one of those quick dry workout shirts that clings to your curves and a pair of shorts that show off your strong legs. Some traitorous part of his brain wonders what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Alright then, Just Joel. Let’s go.”

——————

“Thank you for the help,” you tell Sarah’s dad. You’re trying very hard not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his biceps or the broad expanse of his back as he sets down the two bags of soccer balls and places his hands on his hips.

He’s a handsome man, older than you by at least a few years, with tan skin and dark hair and kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at something Sarah says. His daughter has the same brown eyes and olive skin, her dark curly hair pulled into a bun.

Of course the first parent you meet this summer is a hot dad. It’s like you’ve spoken it into the universe.

“Not a problem. Glad I can be useful if I’m goin’ to be here this early,” he replies with a narrowed glance at Sarah, who is suddenly very interested in the stack of cones she carried to the field. “Anythin’ else you need me for?”

“Let me get you the game schedule and contact sheet.” You open your bag and pull out your folder of materials you like to give to parents, assembling a stack of papers for him. “On top you’ve got the emergency contacts sheet. Fill that out with your contact information and an alternate’s information, too, just in case I can’t reach you or someone else needs to pick Sarah up. You’ll want to have Sarah bring that back tomorrow.”

You flip the page. “The second page is just a welcome letter. It’s got my phone number on it, feel free to text or call if you have any questions or if Sarah can’t make it one day.”

“And then last we’ve got the camp schedule. The girls will have two tournament days where they’ll play against some nearby summer camp leagues. You can sign up to bring a snack by filling out the piece at the bottom. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t suppose I do. You’re very organized,” he says, taking the packet from you. You can feel your cheeks heating.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Well, I gotta finish setting up.”

“I won’t get in your way.” He calls out to Sarah and the young girl runs up to give him a hug goodbye. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

——————

Joel Miller is the first at the field in the mornings helping you set up for the day and last parent to leave at pick-up, after he’s loaded your trunk up with the equipment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grins at you.

His daughter is a great player, quick on her feet and smart as a whip, picking up the footwork skills you teach like they’re second nature. You’re telling Joel as much Friday afternoon in the second week of camp when Sarah bounds up and asks if you want to get ice cream with them.

“That’s a great idea, baby girl,” Joel says before you can decline. You blink at him and he gives you that lopsided grin that’s been giving you butterflies since the first day on the field. “But if you order mint chocolate chip, you’re buyin’ it yourself.”

“Good news, I’m a plain ol’ chocolate kinda gal,” you tell him with a laugh.

“Me, too!” Sarah says.

“I’ll follow you guys,” you suggest. Joel gives you a quick nod, herding Sarah into his truck and taking off toward town.

You follow them to a little ice cream parlor, the kind that sells old fashioned sundaes and thick milkshakes with red and white striped straws. You park beside them, watching as Sarah hops from the truck with a wide grin on her face and her dad comes around, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Your heart feels warm looking at them.

Once inside, Joel and Sarah end up ordering a sundae to split while you get a small cone of chocolate ice cream. You try to tell Joel not to pay for you, but he hits you with a look that has your mouth going dry, any argument disappearing as all your blood rushes south and makes you ache between your legs.

“I’ll go get us a table outside,” you offer, licking at your treat. You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes track the path of your tongue.

You watch the busy foot traffic while you wait for the Millers to join you, the warm Texas air wrapped around you while you enjoy the slight breeze and your cold dessert.

A deep voice calls your name and you look around, finding a familiar face on the crowded sidewalk.

“Jeremy, hey. How are you?” You ask as the man approaches. It feels like forever ago that you went to dinner together and looking at him now you think he’s handsome but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel.

“I’m good. Been busy. I gotta say, I was a little bummed I didn’t hear from you after our date. Thought we had a good time,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t…hear from me?” You ask nervously.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. Thought you said you would text me when you got home.”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

The bell dings above the door to the ice cream parlor, Joel and Sarah emerging with a sundae piled with whipped cream. Jeremy looks toward them, then back at you.

“I’m guessing another date is off the table?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

Joel looks between the two of you, brow furrowed as he sets the sundae on the metal table and Sarah takes a seat, digging in immediately.

“Jeremy, this is Joel and his daughter, Sarah. She’s in my soccer camp this summer. Joel, this is my friend Jeremy,” you introduce. Jeremy holds a hand out to Joel, who shakes it briefly, brows still pinched.

“I better get going. Nice seeing you, let me know if you want to get together again,” Jeremy says before turning to leave. When you glance at Joel, his shoulders are drawn up and jaw clenched tight as he stabs his spoon into his ice cream.

“What do you guys have planned this weekend?” You ask to break the silence. Sarah perks up and begins to tell you about how her Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother, is taking her to a local carnival. You listen and nod along despite the fact that your thoughts are stuck on Jeremy’s words.

If it wasn’t Jeremy on the other end of your conversation that night…who was it?

——————

As the three of you walk back to your vehicles, Joel’s still thinking about that man who’d been talking to you at the ice cream shop and how it made his blood burn hot to hear him mention going on a date with you. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shook the guy’s hand, any information about the guy going right over his head. He didn’t even taste the ice cream or hear the conversation you and Sarah had about the weekend, lost in his thoughts about how between early mornings helping you prep for camp and late afternoons at pick up have all somehow allowed you to burrow into his heart.

A hand wraps around his bicep, halting him in his steps. He glances at your concerned face and suddenly all that tension leaves him in a rush. Sarah says her goodbye, hugging you around your waist before hopping into the truck, leaving the two of you alone.

“You okay?” You ask, taking a step closer.

“I’m great, sweetheart. Get home safe,” he says, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth. Your tongue pokes out, tracing your lower lip. He takes a step back before he’s tempted to lean in and chase the taste of chocolate and you.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Bright and early.”

——————

Sarah spikes a fever Sunday night and spends the night curled around the toilet while Joel coaxes some water into her and keeps her hair out of harm's way. When it seems that the worst of her nausea has passed, Joel leaves her to rest in her bed while he goes downstairs and grabs the contact list you’d given him at the beginning of camp.

He starts a text, letting you know that Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp, at least for today. When it’s sent, he heads back upstairs, armed with a sleeve of crackers to deliver to his daughter.

Maybe he can squeeze in a little bit of sleep for himself.

——————

Hey, it’s Joel. Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp today.

You stare at the text, mind reeling. Not because a parent is texting you, that’s pretty common and you hope Sarah is doing okay, but because you already have a thread with Joel.

One where you’d called him sir and told him his cock would feel so good inside of you because you’d thought you’d been texting Jeremy. Your cheeks feel so hot you worry spontaneous human combustion could actually be a thing.

What are you even supposed to do in this situation? Do you tell him about it?

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Oh, also, you’ve sent me a picture of your dick.

You delete the last line immediately, hitting your phone against your forehead like doing so might make your thoughts make sense.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Any chance you can make good on that promise and bend me over the bed?

You delete the last line again with a groan.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet with me after practice this week? Or sometime this weekend?

You hit send before you can back out, tossing your phone in your bag as you get ready to head out the door.

——��———

Joel wakes later in the morning and reads your text message. His mind races with what you could want to talk to him about. Maybe you noticed how he reacted to your friend and wanted to tell him you’re uncomfortable? Or maybe something to do with Sarah?

Fuck, he thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He reads the message a few more times but it doesn’t reveal any additional clues. He types out a message, pressing send before he can overthink the contents.

She seems to be doing better. Should be back to camp tomorrow. I can meet you somewhere for dinner on Friday after camp? My treat.

——————

Joel’s text plays on a loop in your brain for the rest of the week. Unlike the previous weeks of camp, he and Sarah don’t show up early. In fact, he’s been dropping her off almost at the last minute and picking her up promptly when camp ends, always managing to show up when you’re already pulled into conversation with another parent and driving off before you have a chance to talk with him.

On Friday, Joel is at the field early, leaning against his truck as he talks to Sarah. You park beside them, and he helps you unload your car and set up for the day, just as he had the weeks prior, making small talk like he hadn’t just spent the week dodging you after suggesting dinner. When everything is unpacked and Sarah is kicking a ball around, you follow Joel to his truck under the guise of needing one more thing from your car.

“Hey, are we still on for dinner?” You ask him. He runs a hand through his hair and you try not to let yourself zero in on the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“‘Course. How ‘bout I meet you at that diner downtown? The one with the—“

“All day breakfast?” You finish. Joel grins.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Is six good?”

“Six is great.” You smile back at him, lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth lifts slightly higher on the right.

“Coach!” Sarah yells, making you jump.

“Guess I better get out there,” you say, shifting nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” He asks.

“Looking forward to it.”

——————

To your surprise, it’s not Joel that picks up Sarah that afternoon, but another man with familiar brown eyes and dark curly hair. You grab your folder from your bag as Sarah greets the man, flipping through the pages until you’ve found her emergency contact form.

“Hey there,” the man says, a grin lighting up his face. “I’m Sarah’s Uncle Tommy.”

You shake the hand he’s held out towards you and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. Mind if I check your ID for alternate pick up?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, pulling a worn brown leather wallet from his jeans and handing you his ID from its contents. “Don’t judge the photo, alright? It’s old.”

A younger version of the man in front of you is pictured on the card, his curly dark hair buzzed short and a grim expression on his face. You note the name THOMAS MILLER beside the picture and check it against Sarah’s emergency contact form.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you tell him, handing back the ID. There’s a brief silence where Tommy seems to be assessing you.

“So…,” he says, rocking on his heels, “you’re the girl that’s got Joel all tangled up, huh?”

You blink. “Uh—“

“Uncle Tommy! Let’s go!” Sarah shouts from the parking lot.

“Hold your horses!” Tommy yells. He gives you one last knowing smirk. “Have fun with Joel tonight!”

You watch him jog over to the truck and get behind the wheel, Sarah waving at you as he pulls out of the parking spot. You wave back, but your mind is stuck on Tommy’s words, the implication of them having your stomach doing backflips.

——————

Joel’s fingers fidget with the straw wrapper, ripping it into small pieces that build in a pile on the laminate table while he waits for you to arrive for dinner. He’s still not sure what this is all about and that uncertainty has had him stuck in his head to the point where Tommy was giving him a hard time at work about it.

“Let me know if you need me to stay with Sarah overnight,” Tommy had said as Joel checked himself in the hall mirror one last time before leaving the house.

“It ain’t like that,” he grumbled back, but there was no changing his brother’s mind.

“Sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

The bell above the diner door rings with a new customer, pulling Joel from his thoughts. You’ve just walked in wearing a dress, a far cry from the soccer shorts and t-shirt he’s seen you in every day this summer. His gaze is pulled to the tantalizing glimpse of your chest he gets from the deep neckline and the way the fabric swishes against your thighs as you approach.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure,” Joel says, giving you what he hopes is a confident smile but he’s almost certain it’s more of a grimace.

A silence settles over the table as you both look at the laminated menus like they hold the secret to the universe. The waitress swings by and takes your orders - chocolate chip waffles for you and a medium rare burger for Joel.

“How’s Sarah doing with the camp?” Joel asks.

“She’s doing great. Easily one of the best players I’ve got this year,” you reply.

“Good that’s…good. You used to play for UT, right?”

“Yep, starting forward until I tore my ACL,” you tell him. “Now I coach because you can take the girl out of soccer but you can’t take the soccer from the girl.”

“That’s impressive,” Joel comments. “Is coaching your full time job?”

“No, I work in marketing for an instrument production company.”

“Really? You play anything?”

“Some guitar, a little piano. Nothing crazy. Do you?”

Joel laughs. “Been a while, but I got a guitar stashed away in a closet somewhere.”

The waitress returns with your food, setting the plates in front of you and asking if either of you need anything else before leaving the two of you to your meals.

Joel is a few bites into his burger when you set your fork down and say, “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’ve sent me a picture of your dick.”

Joel nearly chokes, sputtering for air around his burger and grabbing his Coke, desperate for relief. He chugs the beverage, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask, wide eyes full of concern.

“No, I’m not okay, what do you mean I’ve sent you a picture of my dick?” He hisses, looking around the mostly empty diner.

“About a month ago I went on a date with that guy I ran into at the ice cream place, Jeremy? We met on a dating app so we were messaging through there and he gave me his number at the end of the night,” you say quickly. “And I texted the number with some…racy photos. And messages.”

Joel feels the rising panic in his chest. No, there’s absolutely no way that random number could have been you. There’s no way he sexted his daughter’s soccer coach.

“I didn’t find out it was you until you texted me about Sarah being sick. I still had the chat with your number,” you finish, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. Joel watches with building dread as you tap on the screen and set the phone on the table, sliding it toward him.

You’ve opened the chat with him, the innocuous messages at the bottom about Sarah missing camp giving way to photo attachments he doesn’t dare click on but remembers vividly. He looks up at you.

“I…I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have replied, the messages weren’t meant for me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure him. “A little embarrassed, maybe. But also…can I be completely honest?”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your messages.”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise. “You…really?”

“Yeah. And knowing it’s you…,” you say, voice trailing off. Your eyes are dark, a little smirk playing on your lips that has Joel’s cock twitching with interest. “Well, that makes it better.”

“It does?” Joel asks. You nod, picking up a bite of waffle with your fork, a moan of appreciation leaving your lips.

“It does,” you confirm.

Joel turns around in the booth and flags down the waitress.

“Check, please!”

——————

After paying for dinner, Joel walks you to the parking lot, his broad palm on your low back directing you to where his truck is parked.

He’s got you pressed against the passenger door, his chest grazing yours with each breath he takes. He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. His gaze grows dark as you dart your tongue out, flicking it against the digit.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he says. Gone is the man who was mortified to find out he’d been sexting you and in his place is the man behind the screen. “You wore this little dress because you knew exactly what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. “You don’t like it?”

“Mm,” he hums, “Ain’t a matter of not likin’ it, trust me.”

His hands grip your hips, the fabric bunching in his fists as he moves a thigh between your legs. The sudden friction of his jeans, even through the barrier of your underwear, has you gasping.

“Joel,” you whimper, grinding over the muscle of his thigh. He kisses along the length of your neck, lips right over your racing pulse. “Come on, take me home.”

“You can ask more nicely than that,” he says, hands guiding the movement of your hips, forward and back, across his thigh. You moan, louder than you intended, too loud for the parking lot of a busy diner at dinner rush.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please, take me home.”

“Cum on my thigh and we can leave,” he replies. “Leave a nice little wet spot on my jeans and then I’ll take you home and make you scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Joel’s lips capture your own, swallowing the curse that was ready to spill from them at his demand. His kiss is rough, demanding, his stubble scratching your skin and his tongue tangling with yours as your hips continue to rock over his leg. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding tightly to him while the knot of need in your belly tightens.

“Come on, baby,” he says when he lifts his head, lips still pressed to your neck. “Make a mess, come on.”

You go still in his hands as your orgasm washes over you, your muscles stiff as your pussy pulses desperately over his thigh. Joel pulls you in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet to bring you back to reality.

When you’ve caught your breath, he steps back, adjusting the skirt of your dress back over your thighs. He looks down at his pants and then back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. You look down, face heating with embarrassment as you notice the dark patch of denim.

“Get in the truck, baby.”

——————

You give Joel directions to your apartment, his warm hand on your thigh the whole way there. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your skin again, the effect of your first orgasm wearing off and your desire building rapidly with each mile closer to your apartment.

He parks in the visitor parking and you move to open the door, but a tan arm reaches across and tugs it shut. Confused, you watch Joel jump from the truck and jog around to the passenger side to pull open your door and hold a hand out to you.

You’re laughing as he helps you from the truck and shuts the door behind you, your giggles persisting as you lead him upstairs and his arms circle your waist while you try to unlock your door. He hustles you across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“End of the hall,” you reply.

Joel pulls you along behind him, a man on a mission. Once inside your room, you flip on your bedside lamp and Joel steps in close, framing your face in his hands and giving you another kiss that has the butterflies in your tummy going wild.

His fingers are curling into the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His lips are back on yours while his hands map your curves, calloused fingers catching on soft skin and making goosebumps erupt in their wake.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You turn, crawling onto the mattress slowly, a wiggle in your hips. You look over your shoulder at the older man and find his gaze fixed on your ass. He grins. “You remember what I said last time you teased me?”

“No. I think I need a reminder,” you tell him. He huffs, shaking his head.

“Teasin’ me and gettin’ mouthy? Think that might earn you a punishment.”

Joel palms the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart in a rough grip that has you gasping his name. His fingers dig into the flesh, the ache of them already making your head spin.

“Five ain’t enough, but it’s all I’ve got the patience for right now,” he says. His tone changes as he asks, “You got a safe word? If I need to stop?”

“Apricots,” you say easily. He tilts his head. “It’s from a TV show. New Girl?”

“Never heard of it,” he says. “Alright, apricots it is.”

He pulls your panties down, leaving them around your thighs. His thumbs spread you apart and the vulnerability of this position, your ass in the air and everything spread for him, by him, has you feeling like you’re on fire.

“Pretty little pussy,” he murmurs. “But I already knew that. Because you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl who sent me pictures just because I told you how to cum. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm.”

An open palm lands on your right ass cheek, hear blossoming on the spot as you gasp, lurching forward. His hands pull you towards him and he presses down between your shoulder blades, your back arching.

“Don’t move,” he commands. “That was one. You count the next one.”

Another smack across your other cheek, more sharp pain that shifts into dull ache as you mumble, “Two.”

He doles out two more in quick succession, each other making your pussy clench with need. You’re drooling into sheets, a whimpering mess as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds and lets out a deep groan.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he says. “Fuck, one more, okay? One more and then I’ll have you wrapped around my cock.”

You nod your head, bracing for the final blow across your sensitive skin. The sting of his palm as it lands makes your eyes roll back, the line between pleasure and pain so blurry you don’t know which side you stand on.

His hands leave your hips and without the support, you slide flat to your belly. Distantly, you register the opening of your nightstand drawer and the sound of Joel rummaging through the contents, followed by the muted thump of clothes being discarded to the floor.

Joel maneuvers you to your back in the center of the bed, pulling your panties off. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises. You smile at him.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” You ask.

“‘Course, baby. Good girls get what they deserve.”

His hips press between yours, his cock sliding through your wetness and catching on your clit. He positions the thick head at your slick entrance, pressing in the slightest bit. You take in the sight of him, his broad chest held over you by strong arms, the muscles of his neck tense.

Joel slides in slowly, your body accepting him gratefully. The stretch borders on painful but the fullness has you digging your nails into his back, a moan falling from your lips. It feels like ages before his hips as flush to yours and all you can feel is Joel Joel Joel.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He pulls back slightly, thrusting forward with a sharp snap of his hips. As he starts to set a rhythm, he sits up on his knees, lifting one of your legs up with a hand on the back of your thigh and pressing it to the side. The position opens you up further, letting him get impossibly deeper, and all you can do is allow him to use your body to his liking.

It’s not long before you’re screaming his name, as promised, the knot of pleasure in your core pulling tight and getting ready to snap.

“You gonna cum again for me?” Joel asks, breathing labored as his pace doesn’t falter. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock. You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, I know you can do it.”

“Joel!” You shout, that last thread snapping as your orgasm rushing through you, stars bursting behind your eyelids as they snap shut with the force of it all. Your pussy clenches around him, his hips stuttering and growing sloppy until he’s pressing in deep with a groan of your name.

He collapses on top of you, a heavy weight but not an unwelcome one as you both try to catch your breath, sweat cooling between you. After a moment, his softening cock slips from your body and he rolls to the side, gathering you to his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel whispers back. He sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans, pulling his phone free.

He taps on the screen and brings it to his ear, a distant ringing audible through the speaker.

“Tommy? Yeah, everythin’s fine,” Joel says when his call connects. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you stay with Sarah tonight? Shut up,” he grumbles. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back in the mornin’. Thanks, brother.”

Joel hangs up and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’re staying?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby. I ain’t finished with you yet,” he replies, pressing a flurry of kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders, sending you into a fit of giggles.

——————

1 Year Later

“Alright, great job, girls! Let’s get your snacks,” you shout as your summer league girls jog towards you from the field following their third tournament game.

The girls crowd around the cooler that Joel’s prepared, grabbing small bottles of Gatorade or water and a bag of orange slices. They lounge around the sidelines and you step up beside Joel, bumping him with your hip.

“Thanks for the snacks,” you say. He grins at you.

“‘Course. Gotta take care of my girls,” he replies. He pulls one last bag of oranges from the cooler. “And one for coach.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask, looping an arm around his waist.

“What can I say? You texted the right wrong number.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #no outbreak!joel miller

[valeskafics]

"Dirty Picture" - Felix Catton x Reader

a/n: request from my ride or die @barbiedragon absolute menace that she is sending me all these requests ://// LOVE YOU FAEEE 🩷🩷🩷

Summary: You tease Felix while he's out with the boys.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, size kink, n00ds lol, masturbation m and f, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 1,400 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

For someone who seemed to be such a ladies’ man before you got together, it’s quite easy to get Felix riled up. He’s gone out with Farleigh and Oliver for the evening. You were invited, of course, but with a quiz coming up tomorrow, you decide to be responsible and stay in to revise. And it’s all well and good until you receive a text from Farleigh with a picture of Felix. And he looks so goddamn good, shooting you a cheeky wink through the camera, blowing you a kiss. You roll over onto your stomach, pouting slightly, crossing your ankles. You bite down on your lower lip, rubbing your thighs together as you continue gazing at your boyfriend’s handsome face, too grainy on your phone screen to be fully appreciated.

You let out an annoyed sigh and flop over onto your back, pulling up Felix’s number and shooting off a quick text.

You: Miss you xx

Within a minute, your phone chimes with a new notification and you smile as you read it.

Felix: Miss you more, gorgeous. How’s your revision going? Xx

You: Be better if you were here to reward me with a kiss each time I get one of these questions right.

Felix: Aww, I’m sorry, baby. Do you want me to come back?

Immediately you feel a wave of guilt. Just because your night is ruined doesn’t mean you have to fuck up Felix’s.

You: Nooo, no. It’s all good, babe. Just wanted to say I missed you.

Felix: Mind sending Daddy a lil something to keep him going? Can’t stop thinking bout you.

You smirk to yourself. Felix asking for a dirty picture is nothing new, but you always feel a rush of excitement when you do this for him. Your mum had always told you that doing things like this is just asking for trouble, but you can’t bring yourself to give a shit. You adjust your tank top, showing a generous amount of cleavage, and flash the camera a flirty little grin. You send it to Felix, eagerly waiting for his response, knowing how much he fucking loves your tits. His response comes a few minutes later.

Felix: Fuck, baby, you look so fucking good. Can you send Daddy one without the shirt? I’m in the bathroom at the pub right now, fucking my fist, thinking of you.

A video comes through a few moments later and you gasp when you see Felix’s giving you a little smirk before turning the camera to his girthy cock, hand moving up and down along it, the sight making your mouth water. You want nothing more than to be there with him, letting him lift you up onto the bathroom counter and fuck you. Alas, you’re here and he’s there. So, you decide to strip down to your bra and panties, laying back to take a picture for him. It’s a set he bought you from Victoria’s Secret, lacy and red, contrasting gorgeously against your skin. Your tits are practically spilling out of your bra as you take the picture, biting your lip, teasing him with your fingers resting just above the waistband of your panties.

A few minutes later, your phone goes off again and you giggle at Felix’s message.

Felix: You’re actually killing me. Fuck.

You decide to take things a step further, snaking your hand under the fabric of your underwear while you use your free hand to take a video, making sure to moan Felix’s name as wantonly as you can, whining as you stroke your pussy.

“Fuck, Felix, wish it was you, your fingers are so long and thick, need you and your fat cock…”

Pleased with the video, you send it, growing more and more annoyed with each passing moment that you don’t receive a reply. Is Felix too busy fucking drinking with his idiot cousin and stupid friend to compliment you? You let out an annoyed huff and return to your revision, scowling and in a foul mood.

A mere twenty minutes later, you hear a pounding at your door. Musing that it’s probably the takeaway you ordered, you sigh and get up, unlocking your door, only to see your boyfriend duck under the doorway. Felix lifts you and pins you against the wall, large hands grasping at your thighs as you wrap your limbs around him. He’s so fucking hard as you grind yourself against him, smiling into the kiss.

“You’re such a little tease,” he breathes out, kissing you desperately, “Couldn’t think about staying there when I knew my baby was here, alone, looking the way you did in that picture.”

“I always like looking good for you,” you tease, nipping at his earlobe, making him smile, “I missed you.”

“Aw, you missed your Daddy, little one?” Felix coos, carrying you to the bed, moving to lay down over you, his body weight pinning you in place. He’s so much bigger than you, but never once has it made you feel scared or uncomfortable. You always feel so safe with him. He props himself up on his elbows, hovering over you, his chain dangling in your face as he teases, “Daddy missed you too. Was real naughty of you to send those pictures, baby. Don’t think ‘m gonna go easy on you tonight.”

You giggle, feeling his lips against your throat, teeth grazing against your skin as he tugs the flimsy shirt you wear off your body, leaving you just in that little set. He gazes down at you, running a hand through his hair before murmuring softly.

“So fuckin’ pretty.”

You smile up at him, pulling him back to you by his chain, tugging at his shirt, urging him to get rid of his clothes as fast as possible. You want to see him. Touch him. Feel him. And Felix wants the same. Before long, he’s there, naked in front of you, his long thick cock swaying ever so slightly, the tip leaking with precum. You’re transfixed by the sight, watching as he aligns himself with your pussy, teasing you by pressing the tip against you.

“Beg,” he grins playfully, arching a brow.

You pout, glaring up at Felix, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

You sigh before, meeting his gaze again, batting your lashes as you give him a coy smile, “Please, may I have your cock, Daddy? Been dreaming of it all day. Feeling you inside my tight little pussy.”

Felix’s lips part, his eyes nearly rolling back at your words. It only takes a few dirty little words from you to make him completely lose his mind. He presses the fat head of his cock against you, pushing inside. You whine at the stretch as he sheathes himself inside you, painstakingly slow. He’s so fucking long and thick that he doesn’t even fit all the way, the tip of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with every cant of his hips. You cling to him, grinding your hips against his, bringing his fingers to circle your clit, feeling him rubbing at it furiously. Felix makes sure you keep your gaze on him, the moment so intense that it’s almost too much to bear.

“So fucking tight, baby,” he rasps in that deep voice of his, “So wet. Feel so perfect around Daddy’s cock.”

“I’m close, Daddy,” you whisper breathily, pressing your lips against his, “So close. Been thinking of you all day. Love you so much.”

In the midst of the carnality of your encounter, there’s a softness as he gazes into your eyes, whispering, “Love you too, baby. So fuckin’ much. Come for me? You look so fuckin’ pretty when you do.”

You nod, your toes curling as that band within you snaps and you reach your peak, soaking his cock, feeling him pull out of you. You move your hand to stroke him, moaning at the fact that he’s so thick you can’t even wrap your hand all the way around him, pressing down on the vein that runs along the underside of cock, faster and faster until he spills himself on your stomach.

Felix collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, peppering kisses all over your face.

“Did so good for me, baby. So good. Love you so much. Rest a bit, then I’ll help you revise.”

You nod, cuddling up to him, “Love you too. So much.”

#felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton #felix catton fic #felix catton smut #jacob elordi #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #felix catton fanfic #my writing #felix oneshot

[loveinhawkins]

just have such an image of Steve keeping it together in the direct aftermath, being so calm because he has to be; if he thinks for one second more about Max and Eddie, he doesn’t know what he’ll do, but he knows it won’t be anything helpful. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

He forces himself to have a one-track mind: get out of The Upside Down. Get Dustin to hospital. Fix his leg. That’s easy, that’s only three steps, and sure Dustin isn’t talking anymore, just staring blankly ahead and following wherever Steve leads him, but that’s fine, Steve can do the talking for the both of them, this is easy, this is—

And then they get to the hospital, and it’s chaos, people running, crowding, and Steve murmurs low, urgent, “Stay close to me,” and he means I’m not leaving you.

But the intensity of people shoving just gets worse, and Steve reaches for Dustin too late, he’s already gone, how can he be, Steve promised—

Panic surges in Steve’s chest, and he’s fighting against the tide of the crowd—yelling frantically like he did in The Upside Down, in Nancy’s living room, “Dustin, Dustin!”

Except now he can’t hear Dustin, he can’t hear him, and Robin’s face flashes into view, eyes wide and wet, and all Steve can say desperately is, “I can’t leave him, I can’t leave him.”

“Steve,” comes Nancy’s voice, and there’s a knowing edge to the sound, like she gets it, and when Steve turns it’s to see her point, and—

It’s barely a glimpse, but it’s enough; Steve runs.

And Dustin’s there, swept up in another part of the crowd, and he’s fighting against it too, pain contorting his expression as he drags his bad foot, “Steve!”

His voice cracks, already hoarse from screaming. Someone strikes him in the shoulder, and he almost goes down.

Something inside Steve finally snaps.

“Don’t touch him,” he seethes, and he hits out at people, uncaring if it hurts, all that matters is—

“Dustin,” he says, and they’re suddenly on the ground, Dustin scrabbling into his arms—it seems as if the crowd has finally eased just a little, has parted around them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he hears Dustin sobbing his heart out, too.

“Shh,” Steve says, “it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Don’t go,” Dustin says, constricted with tears. “Please don’t go, please don’t go.”

And Steve knows that he means something more than just staying here in this awful hospital corridor.

“I won’t,” he swears. Shudders and kisses the top of Dustin’s head fiercely. He can’t hold any of it back now: just clings to the kid still in his arms, and cries and cries. “I won’t, I won’t.”

#they are brothers #that’s his kid #steve and dustin #steve and dustin fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #dustin henderson fic #dustin henderson