#it made something click in their head about what their own dynamics were like

[netherfeildren]

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him. 

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude. 

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it. 

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse. 

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

-

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you. 

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want. 

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks. 

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come. 

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too. 

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do. 

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby. 

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to. 

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap. 

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also. 

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you. 

Sameness. 

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as. 

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms. 

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it. 

“Good girl,” he says now with voice. 

-

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved. 

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else. 

Your love too. 

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now. 

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper. 

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness. 

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one. 

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance. 

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you. 

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is. 

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up. 

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now. 

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership. 

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous. 

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking. 

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude. 

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world. 

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful. 

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.  

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise. 

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you. 

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well. 

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now. 

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house. 

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail. 

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him. 

He stares up at them now. 

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie. 

“A good kind of a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then. 

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game. 

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

[max-nolastname]

dick and bruce watched lilo and stitch (2002) together exactly one time, both privately thought it was the best disney movie to ever exist for reasons totally unrelated to their own personal circumstances, then never watched it again 

#it made them realize many things i think it healed them somewhat but ofc after they were like #that was the most intense movie viewing experience ever lets not repeat it ever again <3 #it made something click in their head about what their own dynamics were like #mainly because bruce was so young when he fostered dick and also dick already had a father that he didnt want to replace #so bruce was very much that overwhelmed older brother figure that also had the responsibility of taking care of this traumatized child #who just lost his parents #also the dead parent thing and also dealing with the fucked up american foster care system thing also the having aliens as family members #dick defos watched the film individually with each of his siblings and everytime points at stitch looks at them and is like 'hey its u :)' #stfu haidee #dc #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #my very correct opinions

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐑𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 "𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡"

{{Part 2}}

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4k (that wasn’t supposed to happen icl)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Kissing, PIV sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, virginal fingering, cum eating, oral (m and f receiving), prone bone position (sorry bruh, very self indulgent here 💀), Olfactophilia, slight jealous Miguel (if you squint), Spanish pet names. MINORS DNI🔞🔞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel unveils more about his enhanced abilities with you and the air is quickly charged with desire. Yet lurking beneath your connection, there is a sense of uncertainty about the implications of Miguel’s extraordinary powers.

𝐀/𝐍: The chapter title sounded more amusing in my head. I didn’t think this one would turn out this long, I went a little overboard. I had to break down the paragraphs bc I got carried away ;-; anyways hope you enjoy this filth <3

You turned the key and pushed open the door to your apartment with a mix of anticipation and thrill erupting inside your gut. Tonight had been a rollercoaster of emotions, and was very eventful. Despite Miguel’s huge confession that came crashing down on you like a bolder, the night still ended well.

Though, the thought of him being Spider-Man still lingered at the back of your mind and you couldn’t shake off the feeling of your ex-husband being a human mutate the entire time. Yet you still welcomed him inside the familiar confines of your home with a warm gracious smile, the door closing with a soft click behind. In the warm glow of your apartment, you made your way to the walk-in kitchen.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You asked, glancing back at Miguel as you placed your purse on the countertop.

“A glass of water would be perfect.” He replied, taking in the surroundings of your home. You were amused by the awe in his expression as you filled two glasses with cold water from your tap.

“Here,” you handed him one of the glasses.

“Thanks” he took slow sips while his gaze explored the connected living room. Your talent for interior design hadn’t gone unnoticed, even during your early days of your marriage when you both moved in together. You would always have a plan on how things would be arranged, and with a bit of trial and error, it usually turned out beautifully. Miguel, on the other hand, left the planning all to you while he would make sure you were still fed after your hard work.

It was a distinctive dynamic you had. Miguel would always make the best dishes from back home and you adored and savoured every bite. You even tried to make empanadas for him once as a surprise anniversary gift back when your relationship was still filled with warmth and closure before you grew distant from each other with him always coming home late at night, probably from his heroic duties that you were clueless about at the time. After you went your separate ways, you would try to replicate his dishes but it would only bring you pain of what you had lost. Speaking of food…

“That baked ziti was amazing.” You commented as you took another sip. It’s been a while since you went out to eat in a high end restaurant. There was never a special occasion or an excuse for you to go.

“Was the food the only thing you enjoyed tonight?” Miguel replied in a teasing tone. You watched his face over the rim of your own glass as he said that.

“The night hasn’t ended just yet.”

“Oh? Care to elaborate on that?” He responded, clearly intrigued. You didn’t give him a verbal answer, instead you put your empty glass down on the counter and took his hand, leading him down the hall and to your bedroom. The anticipation settled in the air as you settled yourself on the bed and gestured for Miguel to follow.

“We’ve got all night. So you might as well tell me everything about Spider-Man, all the details.” You purred, your gaze locked into his with excitement.

“What do you want to know?” He lied beside you in amusement and willingness.

“First of all, what was the first thing you noticed when your genes were altered?”

“You want to get to those details hm? Well, the first thing I noticed was my vision was enhanced, a lot. Along with my strength and stamina. Oh, and the spinnerets in my forearm.”

You hummed in amusement as you soaked in every word he uttered. You couldn’t believe this was where things had ended up between the two of you but you also couldn’t help but marvel at how far you’ve come. “Well, look at you. Brawn and brains. What else is there?” You noticed he was hesitant for a moment before he spoke again.

“I'm sure you’ve seen my fangs at one point.” Your body stiffened as you recalled those awful memories of your heated arguments. What you saw from his mouth was real. A hint of relief washed over you knowing that you haven’t lost your mind and Miguel had confirmed it himself.

“I have…and I thought I was just hallucinating.” Your voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t blame you. I should’ve been honest from the start.”

“It’s alright, we’re starting something new now.”— you paused— “So what else haven’t you shown me.” You watched as he lifted his hand and you noticed something unusual emerging from his fingers. You audibly gasped at the sight of his talons. He brought his hand closer to your face so you could get a closer look. It didn’t occur to you how intimately close you were until now, yet there was an undeniable thrill in his proximity. Maybe it was a default habit in your mind that was convincing you that you were still comfortable with Miguel being this close.

With agonising anticipation, he lightly trailed your jaw with the tip of his talons, leaving a tingling feeling in its wake. Your breath hitched, feeling how sharp and pointy they were on your soft skin. If he were to press any harder, he would surely pierce your jaw. Not that you were entirely against that; but you didn’t want to raise any suspicions at work the following Monday, especially in a facility like Alchemax. His face was mere inches from yours and you knew where he was heading with this. The air in the room thickened with each passing second.

“You want to see more?” He asked, his voice lowered to a sultry tone. You nodded, unable to form any words.

Miguel leaned in and closed the remaining gap between the two of you. Finally, you managed to seal your longing with an electrifying connection and a scorching kiss. His lips moved against yours passionately making your heart pound in your chest. Miguel must’ve retracted his talons because now he was cradling your face as your mouth moved in sync. However, you pulled away abruptly when you felt a sudden shift in the air.

“My God…” you mumbled, feeling the familiar bugle in his pants.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to get ahead of myself.” He said, though the strained desire in his voice was palpable. “I mean, you’re not on birth control, right?” He held his gaze at you. You could practically feel the desperation in his tone.

“No…” You leaned closer, “but I might’ve got myself the morning after pill from the drug store before this.” You were planning for this moment the day you asked him out and the way his expression dropped, you could tell he picked up on that too. You got them prior to this date and the rest of the night you spend trying to please yourself before your date while imagining yourself with Miguel in bed together. But you knew no matter how much you touched yourself, you’d never reach the sensation that Miguel could give you.

A sly smile played on your lips before you leaned in for another kiss. His arm snaked around your waist and pulled down the zipper at the back of your dress. Once it reached all the way he let the dress pool around you before tossing it to the side. He left trails of wet kisses around your jaw and down your neck, however you had other things in mind. You attempted to reach for his clothed cock as he kept kissing you and gave it a desperate squeeze, making him pull away immediately from your neck.

“That needy, huh?” He retreated off of you and removed his shirt before his pants along with his boxers— his cock springing out in its full glory. You didn’t expect him to stay at the edge of your bed and lean back slightly with his cock still standing on its end. You shifted yourself so you were now on your knees. Suddenly, you felt his hand combed your scalp before grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you close. “Don't just stare at it, cariño,” he tugged at you and brought your face closer to his crotch.

“Since when were you in charge?” You quipped, wrapping your hand around the length and swiped your thumb over the pre-cum that was already leaking from the tip.

“The second I realised how bad you want this by getting yourself the morning after pill. Now get to work.” You didn’t expect him to catch you off guard like that, let alone even give you an answer to your rhetorical question but now you could feel your mouth getting dry. Did he know how much of an impact he had on you with his words?

“You better not make a mess on my bed.” You joked but there was a hint of seriousness in your tone. Though you wanted Miguel to leave a mark in your bedroom the morning after, the last thing you wanted was a stained sheet to deal with.

“You realise that means you’re gonna have to swallow, right?” He cocked his brow. You knew he was right and you didn’t have anything against that. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t agree to do it at all, you wouldn’t even let them touch your hair like this; they could just fuck you and leave. But you wanted the night to last with Miguel so you’d do anything it’ll take.

The strong scent coming from his crotch mixed with the faint smell of his sweat was dizzying and ignited a fire deep in your gut. That might be the pheromones doing that. You planted small kisses on the surface as his cock twitched with anticipation and desperate to be squeezed. The stifled groan you heard from his throat made your cunt throb a little and coaxed you to keep at it.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around the tip and took his length in his mouth. You tried to avoid scraping your teeth on the skin so you wouldn’t cause him any discomfort— given the fact that his girth was taking up a lot of space in your mouth, it was difficult. You still remember the first time you sucked him off on your wedding night and he specifically told you not to do that. His length rubbed against your upper palate while your tongue wrapped around its surface. It was taking up your whole mouth and you struggled to maintain a steady rhythm while giving it some friction. It wasn’t the most pleasurable experience having your mouth full to the point where he was almost touching your gullet, but watching his reaction made it all worth it. You kept your focus on his moans and the pleasurable sound of your name on his lips. His lascivious noises were for you and only you and encouraged you to keep your pace.

That’s it, that’s it. Let me hear you.

You noticed the muscles on his thighs clenching now. It was all familiar to you, the way his body would react when he was close to his peak. Before you knew it, you could taste the ropes of his warm jizz spilling from his cock. However, you forgot how much this man could come and you bit off more than you could chew, throwing you completely off guard. Your mouth was starting to fill up more as he released and his cum was beginning to leak down your chin— your eyes watered from the intensity and you had to pull away so you wouldn’t choke. His cock was now slick from a mix of your saliva and his remaining cum. You felt his thumb wiping your mouth before he lifted your head up to look at him.

“You okay?” His voice was still hazy and eyes still half-lidded.

“Yeah…just forgot how intense you can be.” You answered, still trying to stabilise yourself.

“Let me make you feel good then.” He gestured for you to lay down on the bed. You complied and you watched how his hands reached for your panties. His thick fingers hooked on the loop before pulling them off completely. The feeling of the open air hitting your drenched cunt, that was trapped in your panties for so long, made you shiver. His index finger rubbed against the folds first. You could hear the slick sound of yourself as he kept rubbing you. Without warning he inserted his finger in your gaping hole leaving you squirming under him. His fingers were big, so big, and though you have felt them before, your body was still not prepared for the sensation.

You gulped when his finger was fully inserted with the heel of his palm pressed against the sensitive bud. He pulled out and started pumping his digit while curling them inside you. Your breathing became more shallow as he continued finger-fucking you. Part of you wondered how it would feel if he used his talons inside you. But you didn’t want to risk anything. Things were getting so good. You tensed when you felt another one of his thick fingers being pushed inside you and you couldn’t control the whine that came out of your mouth and the way your body convulsed.

The knot inside your stomach snapped as your walls clenched hard before spilling everything. He pulled out his fingers and stuck them near your mouth, his eyes instructing you to open. You did and started sucking on his coated digit, the mix of his salty cum mixed with yours on your taste buds. You released his fingers and he plunged them back in your hole. Even with them being coated in your spit, it was still dizzying taking in his fingers, especially now that your cunt was swollen from your release— it felt a little sore this time around but the pain was easy to subside with his palm nudging on your clit.

“Come on cariño, I know you can come on my finger again.” You knew there was no point protesting. Once he had his mind fixed on doing something, he would do everything in his power to get it done. It was another thing you loved about this man. “Can those other men you had flings with make you come with just their fingers?” Ah, of course he remembered you saying that. You wondered what was going through his head when you told him. Was he jealous? Maybe he wanted to claim you again? “Tell me, cariño” You didn’t say anything to him directly but it didn’t take long for your body to spasm again and your cunt gushed with another orgasm. That was all he needed to satisfy his query. You were a panting mess by the time he pulled his fingers out of you again.

You still had enough strength to register and watch what he was doing next. He left wet kisses around your stomach and licked the exposed skin. He lowered himself around your crotch and sent trails of kisses around your inner thigh before getting to your swollen core, still dripping from your last release.

“Miguel…” you breathed, still trying to maintain your composure.

“You thought I was going to give you my cock after that?” His breath brushed against your eager cunt that was still clenching onto nothing. He was definitely doing that on purpose. “You scratched my back so I’ll scratch yours. That’s how it’s always been with us, remember? I saw how you were struggling so I thought I’d reward you for your work.” Sweet fuck, you loved this man. You chewed on your lower lip to suppress your pathetic moan. The look he was giving you between your legs only made your cunt pulsate more and your walls desperate for some friction.

All those other men you had flings with were never too focused on getting you to come. They only used the sex as a stress reliever and just wanted to reach their own climax so they could fill you up. But you never complained though, in truth, you just wanted to feel another man’s touch. Since there were no strings attached and you weren’t committing to any of them, you felt like they didn’t owe you anything like that. You thought to yourself that things will be easier for your heart to handle this way since you weren’t expected to get hurt. Your mind was so fogged with that idea, you forgot what it felt like having someone care for your needs too.

He started off with licking your folds in aching slow motion, getting you riled up. Your hands immediately reached for his hair and laced your fingers through the locks, letting out a shaking breath of approval when you felt him sucking on your sensitive bud. His mouth was giving you a better sensation on your clit than his palm, that only just barely brushed against it. He pulled away momentarily and you could see your mess glistening around his lips.

Then you saw it, his fangs emerging making your heart quicken in your chest before he dived in again, fully connecting his mouth onto your core. The sudden contact made your legs enclose around him in reflex. He lapped his tongue over the folds all while gently scraping his fangs over the sensitive areas. He was careful with his movements not to dig his canines too deep to cause any pain. It was a new feeling you’ve never felt before and you knew you’d never experience it with anyone else. Every juice leaked from your core was eagerly licked by him.

You attempted to grind your sex against his face to get some sort of friction from his tongue but his strong grip on your hips planted you on the mattress. That still didn’t stop you from squirming under him though. Your mind started to cloud with bliss and all you could focus on was his tongue movement and the feeling of his fangs grazing on your skin. He watched your reaction between your thighs as your mouth hung open. You couldn’t see his full face but through the looks of his eyes, you could tell he was giving you a smug expression as he ate up your reaction to his touches like a famished man.

You could feel your senses firing again as the heat was building up in your core. His tongue started lapping faster and flickering deeper into your cunt and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your back arched against the bed and with a desperate cry, you finally unraveled again, everything that squirted from your pussy was quickly licked off from his tongue. As he pulled away, there was a line of saliva that connected your folds with his lips that he wiped away with the back of his hand. He lapped over his fangs too that were also coated from your fresh release. He leaned into your face again and kissed you lightly. You tasted and smelled the bittersweet of yourself from his mouth as he went to suck on your lower lip.

Next thing you knew, you were gently pushing and flipped over on the bed, ass up. He had better access to your hair now and it’ll be easier to take him in this position. He held onto your back, guiding his cock through your rear. He braced himself before he made his entrance slowly. You could still taste him and yourself on the base of your tongue and you knew his cock was still coated in your saliva making it easier to squeeze between your folds. Your walls caressed every inch of him as he pushed further and further into you.

You could hear and feel the suction from yourself that gripped around his length as he pulled back only to shove himself back in again. As he did, you could feel your clit rubbing against the sheets beneath you with each force from his thrusts. The bed screeched in protest as he rolled his hips into you, forcing it to move up and down. His rhythm became more sporadic like all that pent up energy was poured into one night while your head was buried into the pillow, muffling the noise building up in your throat. You were truly helpless under him, his frame was completely enclosing over you so you were rooted on the bed being shoved into the mattress over and over again from his thrusts. Blood could be heard rushing in your ear and every pulse in your system was throbbing.

Miguel, what have you done to me? What the fuck have you done to me?!

Each thrust was more intense than the last, forcing you deeper into the sheets. You couldn’t control the noises that were coming out of your mouth now as he was desperately trying to chase the high he could only get from you and the way you were squeezing him in all the right places. You felt his fingers combing through your hair again before he tugged gently, but firmly enough to force you head up from the pillow to look at him. The red hue on his eyes were glowing against the low lighting in your bedroom as he continued to plunge himself into you.

“Talk to me…who fucks you good?” He spoke over your shoulder and over the sound of the bed creaking, his breath fanning over your ear. You caught a glimpse of his fangs as he grinned at you and you allowed yourself to be drowned by the richness of his voice. He must’ve recognised that you couldn’t form anything coherent from your mouth so he slowed down his pace to give you a chance to talk.

“You…” Was all you could muster before you slipped out another moan from your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, let alone form a cognitive thought in your head.

“Say my name, querida.” He commanded, giving one strong thrust that caught you by surprise.

“You, Miguel. It’s you-!” You gasped, the sound of your own voice was sounding foreign to you. No one had ever managed that out of you. He released your hair and your head dropped back on the pillow, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up. Out of all the times you’ve been fucked on your bed, this was by far the loudest you’ve been. The walls weren’t thin but you knew you’d still be getting noise complaints by the neighbours not just from your moans but with the repeated sounds of the headboard knocking against the wall. But that wasn’t in your mind right now. Every thought was slowly melting away from your brain, even your consciousness of your surroundings as he kept fucking you. It was like every other room in the building and everyone else in the apartment didn’t exist anymore— just you and him. You couldn’t see him but the sweat building up on his skin was giving off a subtle distinguishable smell and was causing his body to stick to yours as he kept on going.

He’s close, he’s close, he’s close.

Through your teary vision, you noticed him gripping onto your headboard as leverage before going deeper inside you. There it was, you could feel his release reaching every crevice and surface area inside as his body trembled from his strong climax. The rush of his hot release made you cry out his name before he took his time to pull out. Even with him releasing his cum deep inside you, there was still some leaking out through your folds.

You felt Miguel’s torso and your back sticking together with your sweat as he took his time to lift himself off of you. Lifting your head up from the pillow, you turned to see him leaving the room, his footsteps echoed in your, now, quiet apartment. You took this time to shift and turn your body around, the sheets were slightly damp under you. Your legs were still shaking from his rough thrusts and climax. Your senses were slowly coming back to you and the pulse in your ear was slowing down. The sound of the faucet could be heard from your kitchen as Miguel filled up a glass before his footsteps could be heard again as he approached you with a glass of water.

“Thought you might need this…” He handed you the glass. With shaking hands, you took the cold glass.

“Thank you.” You downed the water in one go, feeling the coolness down your throat before placing the empty glass on the nightstand.

“Do you want to get cleaned up?” Miguel asked. Your legs were still sticky from his cum and your sweat but you weren’t worried about that.

“In a bit, let me just hold you for a second, please.” Miguel climbed into bed and lied beside you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His warmth enveloped you and you through us swirled in a mixture of emotions. The passion you've just shared with him is still palpable with the smell of sweat and fresh sex woven in the air. Your finger fiddled with Miguel’s collar bone before you cradled his jaw. Your heart was still going haywire even as the intimacy was starting to settle down between the two of you. Your gaze shifted to his own and your mind started to wander. You thought about the future and even started a family you’ve longed for with Miguel but didn’t dare to dream about until now.

“Miguel…do you ever think about having children?” You whispered, too afraid to break the peaceful silence.

“I do…is that what you want mi amor?” He murmured. Mi amor? You gulped.

“Yes but…with your Spider DNA, what if our children inherit them too. I want them to live a normal life but what if they face the same dangers you do? What if I won’t be able to handle it?” You confessed. Miguel caressed your cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear before he spoke.

“I understand your worries, but we can’t let fear hold us back. I promise to protect you and them and I’ll try to be the best father and possibly the best husband too.” He reassured you. Amidst the doubts and uncertainty, there was still an undeniable warmth. The idea of raising a family with him felt like a second chance at happiness. You’ve both faced so much and you’ve overcome them. Perhaps you could both navigate the challenges of parenthood too. One step at a time.

“Thank you, Miguel. I think we should get in the shower to clean up now, don’t you?”

He smiled.

“You’re right. But first, don’t forget to take the pill…”

Part 4 🔞🔞

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #Miguel o’hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #♦︎— spicy #★— ayrus writes

[luzifer-b]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚SUB!YUUTA X READER CH.2 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 18+MDNI 

cw: friends with benefits, cloth kink, handjob, teasing, sub!yuuta, everyone is 18+, overstimulation, begging, penetration denial, grinding, first kiss, gender neutral reader, reader has a vagina

Crossposted to ao3! A lovely commissioner asked for a continuation of the first sub!Yuuta x Reader scenario. Thank you so so much for supporting me. If anyone wishes to have a custom x Reader commission, feel free to message me! This is only the first part since tumblr's character limit likes to nerf my blabbing, but Click here for the full fic if you want to read more! Enjoy :) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Night after night, your feet always end up leading to his door. It’s become your own little ritual: waiting until everyone’s long turned in before you exit your room, quietly following an imaginary pattern through the floor tiles you’d draw in your head as your feet are led by something akin to a magnetic force, every movement now long memorized until you reach your destination. After that, every single time would be like clockwork, and his warm smile melts through the evening cold, uttering the same words as always: “You’re here.” It never gets old. 

You would think things would never be the same after the first time. Once the two of you had made that dent in your relationship, all the “what ifs” floating about felt harrowing: The two of you could never speak of it again and take it for what it was: an accident that got out of hand, and moved on as if nothing happened. You could’ve gone even further and established your relationship (had he asked to, you might just have gone along with this option, too), forever changing the dynamic between the two of you and your teammates and adding weight to the already heavy burden that comes with being a sorcerer. In the end, one of those outcomes was partly true; You hadn’t really spoken about it or anything, but it was far from a gesture of denial. It all just had a way of falling into place between the two of you without all the fuss, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for the lack of drama. Despite it all, intimacy wasn’t a nightly occurrence. The desire is there, obviously— but there would be times where it felt like you had built your own little world, legs tangled together as you talked and talked throughout the night until you both passed out in each other’s embrace. Other times, there just wouldn’t be the chance to do much thanks to the duties that awaited you the following day, and all you’d be left with was a lingering sadness as you traced your way back to bed, feeling the scent of his clothes on yours. All in all, it was good… it would be perfect, even, if it weren’t for a couple of issues: 1) You haven’t gone all the way 2) You haven’t , for some reason, kissed. And for someone who spewed all that big talk about how bad he wants it in the heat of the moment, both of these problems were Yuuta’s fault exclusively. It wasn’t a big deal at first— Yuuta had grown far more confident in the time you two grew close, but his shy nature was a tough one to beat. It is one of the many reasons you find him so adorable, and it makes pushing him around in bed all that more fun. But each time you find yourself being cut short from the cusp of your desires, you find your growing frustration harder and harder to swallow. And now, in this very moment, standing by the doorframe he so casually rests a hand on, greeting you the same way he did the day before, the day before that, and all the other previous days, the metaphorical lid you’ve put on said frustrations is about to burst.

Normally you’d just let yourself in and respond “I’m here.” Today, you stand there, feet planted on the ground and look him straight in the eye, asking, “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” Had you given Yuuta a mouthful of molten lava, his face might’ve been less red than it had turned just then. “Huh?”

“Why. Haven’t. We. Kissed yet?” The hint of frustration in your tone makes him tense up further, and his shoulders shrug more and more by reflex with each pointed pause, as he tries to gauge how angry you are about the issue “Wow. Um.” He blinks, a shaky smile slowly growing across his crimson red features while he makes way for you to step in. “Can we talk about this inside?” “You know,” You start, accepting his invite —but not without shouldering past him to prove a point—“There’s steps to this stuff but it feels like you’re sooo content with skipping all of them, and with me just touching your dick and getting you off, it’s almost like you’re not begging to go all the way every time, then shrinking back, then begging again without so much as a kiss to spare. So, what’s the deal? Are you just doing it to humor me?” It takes a few seconds of buffering for him to take all the information you throw at him, but soon enough his brain catches up, and his mouth hangs open all but for a fraction of a second before he purses his lips in a tight line and sits on the edge of his bed, patting next to him to welcome you to do the same. Skeptical as you are about his intentions, you can’t manage to say no to his pleading eyes and sit next to him with crossed arms, waiting for him to plea his case. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He finally answers, scratching the bridge of his nose with a finger. “Believe me, I want to do all that, but it’s not like I have the experience for it. I want to make you feel good, I just kind of don’t know where to start because I’ve never… kissed. Or done any of it before we started, really.” Oh. “So you’re saying we’ve been doing all that, but you’ve never…” He nods, now bringing his hand to the back of his neck bashfully. “Oh.” Well, now you can’t help but feel bad for him. The air following his confession is so thick it could be cut with a knife. The both of you avoid eye contact for what seems like ages- fidgeting with the wood frame of the bed, picking at a bit of dust stuck in the sheets, listening to the faint sound of a cricket somewhere outdoors. It feels nearly impossible to recover from such an awkward turn of events— despite that, Yuuta seems to surprise you, though, starting to lean close so he could meet eye to eye with you, speaking as if he were sharing a secret between the two of you. “Would you like to try?” His earnest demeanor never fails to get to you. You suddenly feel a knot in your throat, a stirring in your chest you can’t seem to describe when the mere idea of taking Yuta Okkotsu’s first kiss begins to materialize in your head. You stare into his eyes, dark and earnest as always, but you can’t seem to find yourself capable of holding contact for too long. Instead you  try to find anything else to divert your attention towards: the strand of hair that hangs slightly over his eyes, the bridge of his nose sloping down to his perfect cupid’s bow, his lips, barely parted as they wait for your answer. God, will he ever stop being cute?

You shift in bed, bringing yourself to your knees in front of him. There was always something about having the upper edge when being able to tower over Yuuta when you normally wouldn’t be able to that gave you a rush— the look of surprise in his face whenever you catch him off guard was a treasure to behold, a thing so precious that you cannot resist to cradle in your hands, your palms curving along his cheeks ever so gently as you lift his face up, your mouths nearly inches away from each other. “I’ll teach you, Yuuta.” The gasp Yuuta emits is barely audible, but you can tell he’s trying his very best to keep his cool. His fingers shake, lifting from the sheets to your sides, ghosting above them before holding on with as much care as you do him, and he gulps air before he nods expectantly. Had it been this simple from the beginning, it might not have been this much fun. You take in his expression for a few seconds, your thumb rubbing over his lower lip in a single, slow swipe. You study it’s softness, the way it gives against your touch and how easily you can tuck that finger into it, pulling it down gently and watching the rest of Yuuta’s mouth open so obediently that you could devour him in kisses until your mouths give out. You want to kiss him, you want it so bad, and by the way he lets you handle him you can tell he’s wanted it too. It’s a relief for you, knowing your desire isn’t one-sided, and you’re just about to cave… …until your thumbs dips into his mouth instead, pressing against his tongue. “Suck on this first.” Where someone else might have protested and demanded their kiss already, Yuuta, ever so eager to please you, only averts his gaze downwards, closing his mouth around the digit and rolls his tongue around it, letting a long breath out his nose. The warm, wet feeling sends a lovely shiver down your spine as you echo his breath with a sigh, keeping his cheek cradled with your free hand as your finger pushes in, then out slowly. You marvel at the sight, but only briefly before you slide it back in with ease, shuffling above him to straddle his lap, making yourself comfortable on his legs. “Good. Just like that…show me how bad you want to kiss me. Can you do that for me?” Yuuta obliges, opening his mouth to allow you to pull your thumb out, making room for your index and middle finger. He closes it again with a soft moan, leaning in to take their full length before pulling his head back, then forth once more as you can feel his tongue dart between them, coating them in his spit. He nearly leaves you speechless with his eager sucks, the smack of his lips ringing in your ears as he kisses and dribbles around the tips of your fingers nearly making your head spin with arousal. I want to kiss him, you think. And you do want to, you’d do anything to make your tongue take the place of your fingers right now and feel his lips against yours, your tongues pushing together, your arms wrapping around each other desperately as you finally get a taste of each other. And yet, what’s a bit more waiting?

For Yuuta, probably torture. The realization nearly makes you giggle but you decide to hold back, opting to push him further. Your hips dip down, and you can feel him already hard against you, not to anyone’s surprise. By now you had both long accepted that Yuuta was pretty easy to rile up, and you had no complaints about it— if anything, you really got a kick out of driving him crazy, and tonight wasn’t going to be any different if you had a say in it. Pulling your fingers out, you ask him: “Hard already?” “Sorry…” “Wanna put it in?” “W-whah—Huh!? Okay…” “Nope~” And there it is, that adorable little whine he makes when you dangle something in front of him and take it away. The urge to laugh nearly gets to you again but you stay strong, anchoring yourself with the feeling of his pants pressing against yours. You tell yourself the long game will be worth it once you see his eyes gloss over, threatening tears. He will be worth it. “Take it out, though, I have something fun in mind.” -- Full fic here

#jjk #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #sub!yuuta okkotsu #jjk x y/n #yuuta okkotsu x y/n #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu #jjk yuuta #mdni #18+ only

[angelkissiies]

tiny surprises

abby anderson x reader

cw : threesome , owen , best friends turned lesbians , probably so much more.

wc : 3.1K

a / n : HAPPY OWEN SLANDER SUNDAY ANGELS ,, ENJOY !

“You came.” Abby breathed, hovering in front of the door, her muscled form blocking all view of the inside. Her eyes were soaking you in, from the tiny shorts to the large black t-shirt she recognized as one of her own, the sight alone was enough to make her want to jump your bones right here right now. 

You nodded, face heating up from the weight in her stare, shifting on your heels as you clutched your bag in front of you. “Of course,” You hummed, tongue darting out to moisten your lips. It was no secret that the two of you had something else going on, though neither of you’d ever acted on it, that was until now. It seemed like a joke at first, the idea of Owen proposing a threesome with a girl he KNEW his girlfriend wanted to fuck, but alas it was true– him going as far as to offer to do it at your place. You vehemently denied, wanting to keep the essence of him away from your place. “Why wouldn’t I?’ 

A smirk pulled at the lips of the blonde, opening the door wider to allow you to come in, never letting her gaze falter– eating up every glimpse she could get of the lace outline underneath your clothes. Right now, she felt no better than a man. “Owen,” She called out behind you as you pushed into the apartment, letting the door click closed before sliding the lock back in place. “She’s here.”

The sound of his name made you shift uncomfortably, considering the fact that you’d only ever slept with women up to this point– this was going to be the first time you’d even seen a man, let alone sleep with one. Owen wasn’t the worst-looking guy, having seen infected for so long you’d grown to normalize weird-looking things, so you were hoping this experience wouldn’t be the worst– which there's no way it would be a total loss, seeing as Abby was there. “You look really, uh, nice.” You managed, watching her pass you, her body clad in a tight black sports bra and matching gym shorts– a combination you’d seen many times before. 

Owen popped into the room before she had a chance to respond, his hair wet and clothes completely gone. A white towel was wrapped around his waist, shielding your eyes from his naked body. He had a goofy smile on his face, looking between Abby and yourself. “Hey,” He began, sitting on the edge of their shared bed, beckoning the two of you to come down the stairs. 

Abby took your hand, leading you down to the bed– grabbing your bag to sit aside for you. “You can back out at any time, there will be absolutely no hard feelings, okay?” She hummed, eyes coming level with your own as she took a seat on the bed, next to him. “Do you have a safeword?” 

You came to stand between her legs, her hands drawing you in, nodding slowly. “It’s mercy,” You glanced between the two of them, making sure they could both hear you. “What about you guys? Safewords or just anything I should know before we get started?” The last thing you wanted was for this to go so wrong that someone got hurt, something you’d heard horror stories from Manny about. 

“Safewords, no. We don’t use those.” He spoke, chuckling lightly, before continuing. “And we have a dynamic usually–,” 

The blonde raised her hand to him, shaking her head, the other hand wandering down the expanse of your lower back. “Let’s just.. see how this turns out, okay?” She offered up, coming to toy with the waistband of your shorts, her eyes lapping hungrily at the quiver that had entered your legs. “Go with it and see how it feels.” If she hadn’t been wet before, the harsh contrast of your bodies sent a gush of arousal into her cunt, making her unconsciously clench her thighs together. 

Owen gave her a sharp look, which she promptly ignored, making him huff lightly. He shifted on the bed, using his hands to block the growing erection he’d begun to develop. He’d be lying if he said the way Abby was touching you wasn’t turning him on, her massive hands coming to drag down your body. 

Abby looked up at you, taking in the eager look in your eyes before she came to a stop at the soft curve of your hips. “Tell me you want this.” She spoke, voice heavy, fingers digging into the t-shirt. Your comfort was her biggest concern, glossing over the pulsing in her cunt at the thought of touching you. 

“I want y-,” You stopped yourself, correcting yourself. “This. I want this.” 

Her hands pulled you down onto her lap, legs settling on either side of her muscled thighs, lips chasing yours. It was like a fire had been lit beneath her, the soft contrast of your skin driving her insane– she just needed to touch you, as long as she possibly could. It was a side of the woman that Owen had never seen, watching in awe as you whined into her mouth, hand moving to palm himself through the fluffy fabric of the towel.  

“Shit..” The man hissed, moving his other hand to rest on your thigh, inching closer to the subtle wetness that pooled in your lacy panties. You were still fully clothed, much to his dismay, but that didn’t stop his advances– that was until Abby caught his hand. 

Her heavy gaze fell on him, silently scolding him, before pushing his hand off of you. “Consent, Owen. Did she say yes to you?” She rasped, tilting her head slightly, hand moving to rub the area he had touched gingerly. “Ask her first.” 

Owen rolled his eyes, tearing his gaze from hers with flushing cheeks. “Can I?” He asked, obviously annoyed at the obstruction, his eyes coming to meet your blown ones– gulping at the reaction Abby seemed to draw from you. He felt almost envious, wanting to be the reason you looked like that, but he settled with this for now. “I promise I'll be gentle, baby.”

You took a shaky breath, giving him a small nod, you weren’t excited about the idea of him touching you before Abby had a chance to– but you shook those feelings off, looking back up to the mess of a girl in front of you. You could feel his hand snaking over hers, cupping the clothed wetness of your cunt, making you shudder slightly. 

Abby watched your face, tongue darting out to wet her lips before she leaned forward to press open-mouthed kisses to the edge of your jaw, her hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You have no idea how long I've wanted this.” She hummed, just for you to hear as she hovered near your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” 

You felt his fingers slip past the soft material of your shorts before he pushed further, pushing your panties to the side. You gasped slightly, tempted to move away with how roughly he pushed his fingers against your cunt– using two fingers to rub your labia. “O-oh,” You forced out, pushing your face into the crook of Abby’s neck. “Shit..” You were almost about to laugh, feeling his fingers pick up speed– giving you the equivalent of carpet burn on your poor cunt. 

You felt the girl beneath you’s chest shake lightly with a couple snickers, hiding the noise in the tuft of hair that had fallen in her face. She moved her hand to the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose the delicate lace of your bra, her fingers grazing over the erect buds poking through the thin material. “Such a pretty girl.” She tutted, pulling the bra down to expose your breasts, sighing contently at the sight. 

Owen halted his movements, using his middle finger to part your folds, feeling around the perimeter of your slit. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groaned, dipping his hand under his towel to grip his erection– pumping himself greedily before pushing into your cunt. “Abby, your friend is so hot.” 

You burned bright red at the comment, tensing your stomach at the intrusion, trying to loosen up. His fingers were dry, adding undesirable friction to the soft walls of your cunt, but it didn’t seem to phase him– his fingers pushing until they were knuckle deep. A small noise of pain left your mouth as you pushed your face deeper into the skin of the girl's neck, trying to muffle yourself. “Mmh.” You hummed, feeling his hand drag your free one from Abby to himself. He pushed your hand under the towel, your curious fingers landing on the erection he’d been hiding the whole time. 

A sharp gasp left your mouth, causing Abby to whip her head up to see what had happened. Your eyes connected as you jerked your hand away, trying to conceal the laugh that bubbled in your chest at the feeling of his dick. It was beyond what you expected, in the worst way possible, the appendage only being about four inches– hard. 

Owen roughly yanked his fingers from inside you, grimacing at the wetness, standing up quickly to grab his shorts. “You fucking cunt.” He hissed, stomping around the room as he found his clothes. “And you!” He huffed, pointing at Abby. “I can’t freaking believe you, we're so done.” A choked whine left his mouth as he stared at the girl, awaiting her to try to stop him or something.. anything. 

Abby raised an eyebrow, looking over at you, before infectious laughter spilled from her lips– filling the room, much to Owen’s dismay. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, tears of pure joy welling in her eyes. She’d spent so long sucking up to the man, that it just snapped, the truth of him and his short dick finally coming to light. It was autopilot with him, a familiar comfort of her past when all she really wanted was you. Now, she could finally have you– no longer hostage to the man bursting out of the room with tears in his eyes. 

You bit back a laugh, hands coming up to cup her face. “That was soo hot.” You teased, referring to the previous entanglement with Owen, exaggerating your words. “You sure you don’t wanna chase that sex god?” The words dripped with sarcasm, making her roll her eyes at you as she caught her breath, the door slamming loudly. That was something you’d have to explain to Issac later, not that it mattered now. 

She paused for a moment as if to think, before switching the two of you around– your body now pressed firmly to the mattress. She hovered over you, an old firefly dog tag dangling from her neck, dipping down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. “Fuck no,” She chuckled, nails skimming over your clothed stomach– itching to rid you of your clothes. “I have all I need right here.” Her mouth moved down your neck, leaving a trail of spit from your jaw to the sweet spot just below your pulse point– where she stopped only to suck a dark mark onto the sinfully soft flesh. 

“I just came here for you.” You gasped out, the words breaking as you felt her teeth dig into your flesh– biting at your neck. “Only you, Abby.” 

Abby could’ve cum from that statement alone, her hands latching to the hem of your shirt. “Sit up for me, okay, real quick.” Her words were airy, desperate as she craved the warmth of your skin on hers. “Need to touch you.” The draw of her fingers against your skin lit an ache in your cunt, an ache, unlike the one Owen caused. 

You allowed her to strip you of your top, your own hands moving to push your shorts down your legs, kicking them off into the floor. “You meant what you said. Really meant it?” You spoke, shivering in the now cold room, the sun beginning to fall below the horizon. You wanted nothing more than to have her, in every way possible, but something nagged you– begging you to be sure that this was real. 

The blonde nodded, holding her pinky out to you as she held herself up with one hand, eyes dancing over the blissed expression on your face. “I promise you, I mean every word.” Her voice was thick, breath coming out in puffs. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She meant it, every sleepless night being filled with visions of you– despite how guilty it made her. She’d never needed someone quite like she needed you, and yes, she knew that you felt the same way but that didn’t help her in shaking off the man who’d begged to stay together the past couple of years. She was free. Free to indulge in the girl she’d dedicated all of her wet dreams to. 

“No more waiting.” You ignored the pinky, hands latching to the straps of her sports bra– dragging her down to meet your lips. You couldn’t help yourself anymore, the need taking over, hips bucking into her thigh as you urged her to touch you. The self-respect you’d developed over the years crumbled, leaving you a trembling mess as your body begged for her touch, cunt soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. 

She groaned into your mouth, hand coming down to cup the clothed warmth of your cunt, a thick finger coming to trace the small bundle of nerves just beneath the lace. “You’re gonna forget that he ever touched you, I fucking promise.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to the edge of your lips as she pushed her hand under the waistband of your panties, slowly moving to massage the nub. Her hot breath fanned over your neck, making you shudder before she began pressing open-mouthed kisses to the welcoming flesh. 

A whimper left your mouth, tilting your hips up to meet her eager fingers, lips falling open as you felt the pleasure course through your body– her touch gentle as she felt her way around your body. You’d never been touched like this by her, yet, she seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. Her fingers moved with precision, the bumble being victim to her abuse. “F-fuck, Abby–,” You moaned, her name falling from your lips like a prayer, walls clenching around nothing. 

Abby let her fingers slip lower, gently rubbing over your drooling cunt, gathering your slick onto her fingers. It was obscene, the noise she released at the feeling of your puffy slit, her middle finger pushing in gently. Your walls body welcomed her, soaking her finger in wetness as she tested the waters– pulling it out before slowly sliding it back in, feeling the way you clenched around her desperately. “Relax for me, pretty girl.” She breathed, eyes locked onto your scrunched face– her free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, your stomach contracting as you felt her push back into your cunt, the sensation making you jerk your hips toward her. You let your lust-blown eyes land on her, seeing the desperation in her brow. “Need you, Abs. Need you so bad.” You whined, hand coming to grasp at her wrist– trying to grind against the mound of her hand. 

Her ring finger lingered at your slit for a moment before joining her middle, two fingers burying themselves in your heat. “I know, I know.” She nodded, chewing on her lip slightly as she began thrusting the thick digits in and out of your drooling cunt– pornographic wet noises filling the room as she drove them deeper than you’d ever felt someone go. “Good girl.” 

The noises made heat creep up your neck, embarrassing yourself with how wet you’d managed to get for your best friend. You were pathetically hers, whether you were ready to admit it or not. You both already knew, with the way you cried for her fingers, there was nobody else to make her feel so cunt drunk– the noises falling from your lips enough to make her soak through her boxers. “Please, fuck, fuck.” You hissed, fighting against the growing tightness in your stomach. You didn’t want the feeling to end, her digits filling you up in the most delicious way, but you couldn’t help the pulsing in your walls in response to her fingers curling in and out of your sensitive cunt. 

Abby picked up her pace, chasing your orgasm, her free hand moving to pull the fabric of your bra down– exposing your breasts to the harsh air. “We have all night, pretty.” She reminded, making your hips release some tension, realizing you could continue for as long as the two of you wanted. No interruptions. Her head dipped down to your chest, taking one of the erect buds in her mouth, using her teeth to pull gently. 

A squeaky moan left your mouth, back arching slightly, legs beginning to tremble under the pressure. Oh god, oh god, oh god. It was chanted like a prayer, the growing tightness making your hips retract from her– though that didn’t last long, her free hand moving to hold your hips in place, leaving you to submit to the slamming of her fingers in and out of your cunt. It was all so much, your thoughts blurring at the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through your body, heavy moans spilling from your parted lips as your walls contracted around her– the sudden euphoria washing over you, soaking her hand in a gush of liquid. 

“Oh goddamn.” 

The bed beneath the two of you was drenched in liquid, making you whine in embarrassment. “M’sorry, fuck-,” You began, moving a hand to cover your face before Abby grabbed your wrist– pulling it down to rest by your side, promptly cutting you off. 

She shook her head at you, a blissed-out smile on her lips as she dipped down to kiss you, now with a softness reserved for you. “Never apologize, that was hot as fuck.” She chuckled, her fingers slowly inching out of your swollen cunt, wiping them off on her now sweaty gym shorts. “I can’t fucking believe it took me this long to do this, I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to stop.” She admitted, lifting herself off of you to grab some things to make you more comfortable. 

You followed her movements, body still trembling as you met her at the edge of the bed, looking up at her as she grabbed for your bag– digging through it for new clothes. “Does this mean–?” You trailed off, eyes hovering on her veiny forearms for a moment before meeting her eyes. 

“I’m yours,” Abby stated, simply, sitting your bag down– deciding to grab you some of hers instead. “You’re mine.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.” 

#Owen Slander Sunday #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson x reader #x reader #abby anderson ff #misc #tlou #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us 2 #hbo the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us hbo #abby x reader

[vasito-de-leche]

A short (or not) ramble of scenarios and questions for reverse: 1999 self aware. (sorry if this bothers you, I just don’t have enough confidence to post it on my own blog (plus I love your content))

- Okay so first of all, in the main page of the game, when you click on the upper left corner with your level and username, you go to a screen with Vertin looking fly as ever along with some user information.

So if Vertin can see the game’s ui, then she can see the year in which the player has joined the game (2023-2024). I haven’t dived deep into Vertin’s character so I can’t portray her reaction to much, but I feel like she would tell this info to someone close like Sonetto.

Also our motto: I put “When in a rush, say ‘runs in high heels cutely.’”. I’d be so embarrassed if anyone (even fictional sentient characters) saw that. Like im dead.

On that topic, when you mentioned in your Sonetto self aware post that she can sometimes see us, and honestly, I’d be even more embarrassed. Cause like, if any of the characters from games I played, were sentient and could see me, id pray they didn’t see my bad angle. Like imagine looking up to the sky to see, just for a second, the chin of a head as the hands go to scratch their nose. Like the first impressions I would make.

- P2p players. Imagine the player spending money on the game (at the risk of Vertin possibly seeing their credit card number) to help level up or get costumes for their fave characters.

(Some misc. questions)

-what would happen if player didn’t log in the game for a while (a week to a month as best) cause I would ditch some games to spend more time on others

- What does Vertin think of the mail messages that the player gets? Like the latest mail I got was the discord event invitation. Upon closer inspection and critical thinking, it would hint that there would be more players other than us because it says the winners get 60 clear drops (oh and money too)

- If I remember correctly, I think you mentioned about Vertin hearing the player sometimes. So imagine her hearing us trash talk certain character *cough* Constantine *cough*.

(Anyways, I love your content ❤️ especially your fmn headcanons, can’t wait to see more posts!!)

;R1999 - Self-Aware AU (2)

Answering some questions and discussing the Self-Aware AU. A follow up of this post.

not a bother at all, you bring up really good questions and details that are fun to explore! I'm glad you like my stuff, have a nice day o7!

On the subject of Vertin seeing the player's profile.

With the way I intended to portray Vertin within the AU, I don't think she would be affected by the date on the Player's profile!

This is the date you came into contact with her from your perspective, whatever time and space that flows within your world, not hers─the world behind the fourth barrier that she cannot see nor hear nor even fathom, let alone try to make sense of. In a way, it's like expecting ants to care about concepts we made up, such as time. They understand night and day, they do not understand 3PM nor 8AM.

Is it truly proof that time can go beyond 1999, when this is something that only she can see? When it doesn't affect a single thing within her universe by being part of a game menu meant for your eyes only? There's also the fact that she finds out the proper time of the world in the 1.4 update, in Chapter 05.

Her dynamic with the Player is something I like to keep vague, so that everyone can fill in the blanks, but ultimately it is something so complex and private for Vertin─who sees it as a one-sided relationship, since she cannot hear nor see you, unlike other arcanists who may reach the 100% bond─that I don't think she would talk about it with anyone, not even Sonetto! The name on your profile and whatever message you've written there are secrets she will take to her grave. The idea of Vertin being the eyes and hands of the Player, but having no way to truly see or hear them makes for a really fun concept to explore!

And on the subject of messages, let's be honest, if you've written something funny or some modern shitpost, chances are she won't understand it LMFAO so it's okay! I literally just have my socials and "men enjoyer" listed there.

Oh! But since you brought it up, the message section could be a fun, little way to communicate with Vertin, since she can read what's on there!

As for P2P players, Vertin wouldn't see any information from the Player's credit card since that's something that happens outside the app lolol. Like, to me, it directly opens to google play transaction stuff.

On the subject of the player dropping the game for long periods of time.

Hmm, in the first post I said that there might be characters ouside Vertin and her suitcase who may be self-aware, with their own goals and such. But nothing truly "matters" unless the Player is there to witness it. So to keep including these possibilities and details, I feel like there's two options, pick whichever you like the most!

One, time continues as usual within the game─but once it reaches an important date where the plot is meant to kick in with some important event, it simply resets back to where you left it. This is a world that exists outside of your perception, but cannot continue without you.

Two, time freezes entirely within the game─but only for those who are not self-aware. Keep in mind we're talking about long periods of time, this wouldn't happen if you log in every day, or every few days. This is what happens when your phone picks up the fact that Reverse: 1999 is one of the unused apps taking up space in your phone. This is a world that stops existing once you stop looking at it.

In both options, the Wilderness would remain unaffected as it seems to be entirely disconnected from the flow of time and space outside of it.

On the subject of the game's mail.

Since the messages auto-delete and all, I can't check but I'm pretty sure Vertin receives mail too? There were a few ones from a few characters a while back like Druvis III or An-an Lee, and I think the implication is that they were vaguely addressing Vertin?

If someone has screenshots and can confirm this, please let me know!

Either way, the easy answer is that yeah, she knows this is a game, so she could make the assumption that there's more players. She has access to your friend list, after all! And even if you don't have anyone added, the fact that it exists is enough for her to start connecting the dots.

I don't remember saying that Vertin can hear the Player, though! I think I was pretty consistent with her not being able to see nor hear you, to have the Player as some sort of eldritch, unknowable entity. But I also write so much stuff in this blog that it's hard to keep up sometimes lolol, if I've mentioned somewhere that Vertin can hear the player, it was a mistake!

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #self aware au #vertin

[oneirataxiahiraeth]

Queen of Kings

Pairings : fem!reader x spencerreid

Warnings : swearing, mentions of violence, Morgan being noisy, the team instigating, smut, face riding, unprotected sex, sub!spence x dom!reader, switching POV’s

Word Count : 2.3k

“y/n.” Spencer merely stated. He said nothing else but you simply knew the constant clicking of your own was driving him absolutely insane. So you stopped. Like any normal person would do when they could sense their partner a bit tired of their antics.

“sorry.” She mumbled, as Garcia went on presenting the case.

Morgan and JJ gave each other discreet looks before the two shook theirs heads. It was an office wide thought that before you and Spencer had began dating you would be the ‘man’ of the relationship. Based on how you handle yourself and your work you radiated that strong dominate hand vibes. Spencer… did not. Honestly everyone thought that he’d be following you around like a lost puppy, but it’s been the other way around.

You stop by his desk 20 times a day, asking if he’s hungry, or thirsty, or tired, etc… every meeting you steal the spot on his left, making sure your hand was right on his unless either of you needed to write something down. It was know an office wide thought that Spencer had more ‘man’ in him than was originally thought. He walked around like he was the shit, and you followed because you truly thought he was. It was almost hilarious how wrong they could’ve been. And though it’s never been brought to either of your attention, you’ve definitely noticed the change in dynamics around the office.

“alright, wheels up in 30.” Hotch sighed, as he stood from his seat.

You turned to Spencer waiting for him to stand before you followed. He reached out his hand for you, and you took it, allowing the assistance up.

At this point, watching the two of you Morgan couldn’t keep it in. He let out soft laugh, shaking his head as he packed up all of his paper into the file he was given. Everyone stopped to look at the man they were convinced had gone crazy. JJ had joined him with slight laughter, everyone now staring at the weird pair.

“I think they’ve finally snapped.” Garcia take a step back as if their crazy was contagious.

“No, no, it’s-” Morgan sighed, looking up at the two before shaking his head again. “It’s nothing.” He dismissed, standing from his seat.

“What?” You asked. The way he looked at the two of you, you could tell it was something about one of you… or both. And you were never one for being kept out of the loop. “Why’d you just look at us like that?” You questioned, crossing your arms and he shrugged.

“I just… I can’t grasp the dynamic you two have.” Derek shrugged, answering honestly and everyone relaxed.

They two were curious, even Hotch, but none of them actually said a word. Emily smiled as she realized Morgan finally cracked with curiosity, winning the bet she had made with Rossi between Morgan and Garcia. Your eyebrows furrowed as Reid tilted his head to the side.

“Our dynamic…?” Reid questioned.

“Yeah, the way you two work is just… odd.” Morgan continued. “Y/N is this bad ass in the field, she kicks down doors and make grown men cry, and you… are a human calculator.” He teased. “You would think

Y/N would be the one leading you around.”

“You think I couldn’t be the ‘dominate’ one in a relationship?” Reid asked, his voice so soft and innocent, almost answering his own question.

“No I think you’d couldn’t be the dominant one in a relationship with, Y/N.” Morgan replied, everyone watching closely.

“Patience baby” you hummed, teasing your slit with the tip of his cock. You watched his face twist with desperation, and pleasure, making a mental note of the scene as if it’s be the last time you’d see it.

“Please, I need it so bad, please” he begged, hands bound behind him by pretty green velvet ropes he picked out himself. He had a light layer of sweat building on his skin, cheeks red and pupils disliked to high hell. He was truly a sight for sore eyes, and you were loving every single second of it.

“I know, baby, but you’re just so fun to play with.” You brushed, a damp strand of hair away from his face, acknowledging your cruelty. “but since you’ve been such a good sport…” you smiled softly, lowering yourself on his cock. He whimpered a thank you, as you let out a moan going down.

“Spencer couldn’t even ask you out on a date, y/n.” Morgan brought up. It was a long time ago, and Spencer was so nervous he couldn’t even speak without fumbling over his words around you. Eventually everyone got fed up with the rambling and told you to catch the hint. Which you did, thankfully, you asked him out. “He couldn’t even look you in the eye for the first 4 months you came here.” He added. “You expect me to believe the same guy who forgot his own name the first time you met wears the pants in the relationship?”

This was obviously a serious topic for the agent. It had been eating at him for weeks. As much as he was joking, he was also seriously curious.

“I feel like it’s a mutual-” Spencer began.

“Bull.” Rossi interrupted from the corner.

“Neither one of us wears the pants… we each wear our… own… clothes…”

“He just said you’re name when you were clicking you’re pen and you stopped before he even finished.” JJ mentioned.

“I was being a little annoying.” You shrugged.

“How did you know he wanted you to stop clicking the pen.”

“If I didn’t know then I would say I shouldn’t be a professional FBI agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” You responded. “Is this what you guys do in your free time? Question the dynamics of our relationships?” You asked and some nodded, others just stood in shame.

“I just find it hard to believe.” Morgan shrugged.

“Fuck Spence, your so fucking good.” You moaned, bouncing up and down as his head was thrown back, panting like he’d just run a 5k marathon. You were so close to your orgasm, it felt cruel to both of you to stop now… so you did. You lifted yourself completely off of him earning the brattiest whine you’ve ever heard come from the man.

“y/n.” He grumbled.

“I’m sorry baby, did I give you permission to cum?” You frowned playfully. “Don’t get an attitude now, sweet boy, we still have the whole night to play.” You hummed, pressing your lips against his neck over the reddening spots you created not too long ago.

“I can’t- I can’t for much longer, please let me cum.” He pleaded, his voice so helpless and tired you were so tempted to just untie him and let him fuck you however he wanted.

“You’re so spoiled, it’s sick.” He moaned. “I give you everything you could possibly want and you still want more…”

“I’m sorry, baby I just-”

“Am I not enough for you?”

“No you’re perfect, I love you.” He panted.

“Do I not satisfy you, Spence?”

“You do, fuck, you do.” He shuddered. “I’m sorry.”

“Would you rather some other woman be here right now… touching you like this?” You asked. His head shot up right, shaking violently, eyes foggy and glazed over with lust and desperation it might’ve been the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“No, no, never that, just you, I just want you.” He tugged at the ropes, binding his wrists.

“I don’t think I believe you…” you teased, nails lightly raking down his bare chest.

“Let me make it up to you.” He begged, “let me make you feel good.”

“Hotch are you hearing this?” You turned to your dark haired boss who seemed wildly amused. “I’m pretty sure this is considering workplace harassment.” You joked, but he just shook his head.

“So if the two of you making out in front of my car every morning before clocking in.” He shrugged.

“Throughout all of this, you have never denied the fact that Spencer is the dominating presence in your relationship.” Garcia put out there, shutting her lips as you starred at her in betrayal. You looked back to Spencer who just seemed a bit underwhelmed and like he was expecting this to happen. And knowing him, he probably was.

“I’m just confused as to how that works…” Emily tilted her head. “Like in the bedroom do you-”

“Emily!” You groaned.

“Whaaat?” Her eyes rolled. “You don’t seem like the type to… go quietly.” She filtered her words. You looked back to Spencer who looked to you, ready to accept whatever you put out there.

Spencer didn’t mind the team knowing that were the one in the relationship who “wore the pants” It’s not like the weren’t thinking it anyways. Spencer held a certain professional status outside of his personal life and you respected that. Neither one of you brought your personal lives in you work, at least you tried not to. He would get teased for months, and hassled for questions about his sex life, but he wouldn’t mind. He knew you’d be there to curse them all out before any question got too personal.

“Does it matter?” You questioned.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Very Much”

“We wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t”

“Yup”

They all spoke in unison.

“Y/N’s the pants.” Spencer spoke up. The all looked at him and you started in shock.

“I knew it!” Morgan slammed his file against the desk.

He moaned into your flesh, tongue darting in and out of your count as you utilized the headboard behind him. His hands gripped on tightly to your thighs, making sure he had no room to breath regular air. Just you and your scent, he wanted to suffocate in the likes of you. You moaned were loud and erratic.

“Oh my god, Spence, I’m gonna cum.” You whined, body thrashing against him, leaving forward as your hips rolled down, pushing yourself harsher up against his tongue. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, fuck I’m- fuck” you cried out, body vibrating as pleasure went ripping through you. Vision blurring for a quick moment, as yours body stiffened above him. He didn’t stop at the announcement, in fact he kept going. His lips wrapped around your clot causing you to cry out, not allowing you any chance for a breather. Whether it was to provide you with extra pleasure or find time to hid the fact that he came just from the simple pleasure of you riding his face.

“Spence I can’t m’too sensitive.” You pleaded but he didn’t stop, slurping and licking up all the juices you were leaking on to him. His chin covered in your slick, tongue coated in cum, he felt like he was in heaven. “Shit” you whined, finding the little strength in you to pulling yourself away from him, collapsing besides him on the bed.

“Did I do good?” He asked and you nodded.

“You did perfect, Baby, s’good.” You trembled slightly at the after shocks.

“I might have uhm…” he frowned for a moment and you shook you head.

“It’s fine baby, I know.” You nodded, “you did so good for me, you deserved it.” You hummed and he smiled once again. “But I want you to do one more thing for me okay?” You asked and he nodded.

There was a need for any questions. He was ready to do whatever you wanted for him.

“Fuck me.”

“Do you make him call you, Mistress?”

With all that hassle, and reading from previous years Spencer was certain he’d get the heat of all this. Fortunately for him, it was you taking the hit. As everyone did their own analysis on the case filed, everyone 5 minutes someone popped up with a new question.

“Morgan, what the hell?!” You scoffed, and he shrugged.

“It’s a serious question, and I need a serious answer.” He admitted. “As a profiler I could come up with mine own conclusions, but I like to get my information from the source.” He claimed.

“Do you role play?” Emily peaked her head over the chair. “You know, like bad cop and criminal, or teacher and student-”

“Does he call you mommy?”

“Shit” you cried, bawling up the sheets in your hand as you moaned out.

Spencer hand his hands on your hips, using them the fuck into you the way exact way he knew you like. This way brought the loudest noises out of you, and even made you squirt once or twice before. This was your favorite position, and the one you gave him all the power with whenever he fucked you.

“You’re so pretty” he commented out of breath, and so close to letting go once again.

He could tell you were already close. Cunt convulsing around him, squeezing him so tight as if you were begging for him to fill you up with his seed. Your legs were already beginning to tremble and you could feel yourself slipping into a blank mind. He was in total control now. You were just a babbling mess begging for him to get you where you needed to be.

“Please cum in me, please Spence, want it so bad.” You begged, back arching into his chest, as your eyes watered the closer you got to falling apart around him. “Want you to fill me up, please.”

“Yes ma’am.” He huffed out.

Even when he was in power, even when he had the upper hand, he still knew you were in charge. It was always you.

Just as he felt your body begin to stiffen and tremble, he thrusted one last time. He made sure to stuff himself as far into you as he humanly could before releasing his seed into your cunt. Warm white strings of seed painted you sensitive insides, leaving his mark in you, and making sure you felt it. He milked himself dry in your cunt before pulling out slow enough to make sure everything stayed inside. You’re body limp and fucked out of energy, along with his now laying right next to you.

“I’m filing a complaint to Strauss when we get back.” You joked, causing your friends to laugh.

“Seriously though, does he let you tie him up?”

#wattpad #aesthetic #spencer reid #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #derek morgan #sub!spencer #dom!reader #dr. spencer reid

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cornered on Both Sides.

Commissioned by the very lovely @letstalktea.

Pairing: Yandere!Tweels x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: A/B/O Dynamics, Aged-Up Characters, Marking/Biting, Possessive Behavior, Non-Consensual Touching, and Isolation.

The worst thing about being with the Leech twins was absolutely, without a doubt in your mind, that someone had been cruel enough to make two of them.

That was it, really, even if you were willing to admit that it was a little redundant to be disappointed that twins happened to come in pairs. You didn’t like being around either one of them, but you could handle Floyd and Jade in small doses, nights spent in the backrooms of dark restaurants with Jade and Floyd’s hour-long temper tantrums and fuck, even the tense, slow minutes it took for them to trade-off, for Floyd to whine and grumble as he drops you off at one of Jade’s favorite, underground lounges or for Jade to smile and nip the corner of your jaw before he shoves you into Floyd’s open arms. You could handle that. You didn't like it - there wasn't a single part of your current ‘relationship’ that you can honestly say you enjoyed – but you could handle it. You could deal with it. You knew how to deal with them, individually.

But, when they were together? When Jade had to keep up his oh-so-cold, oh-so-cruel reputation? When Floyd had someone to bounce his sadism of off who wasn't the soft, vulnerable thing he’d chosen to inflict it onto? When you disn't have one selfish, possessive alpha to keep happy and docile, but two?

You… weren’t as good at that, even if you knew you really, really ought to be, by now.

Already, you were starting to curse yourself out, to dig your nails into your palms and grit your teeth as you wondered what you’d ever done to deserve the situation you were currently in. You hadn’t expected them to be home so early, to come back to the penthouse they seemed less-than-content to share. You weren’t sure who it really belonged to, or why they bothered living together at all (save for the fact that it meant they’d have easier access to you, of course, but you didn’t want to think of the relationship you had with them as something real enough have such an influence on their lives), but it was where they’d brought you the night you’d met them, where Jade had so politely asked you to sit pretty and stay when neither one of them had time to wear you on their arms. You weren’t sure what happened to your old apartment, if they’d ever actually done something with it. It might still be there, untouched and rotting, months of rent left unpaid and your former landlord ‘convinced’ not to care. You didn’t want to know, if was.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by a long, airy groan, a body so much bigger than yours collapsing beside you, stringing long arms over the back of the leather couch and letting his legs fall open – utterly unbothered, utterly thoughtless. “Cuttlefish’s being so quiet,” He droned, and you knew it was Floyd before you looked up. Jade would never come to you like this, not when he knew he could bide his time and force you to go to him. “Is it ‘cause you know you did something bad?”

“I’m not—” You cut yourself off, biting down on the side of your tongue. No one ever said you couldn’t leave on your own, and you hadn’t made it very far – just to the building’s lobby. Floyd had caught you at the main door, clicking his tongue and throwing you over his shoulder despite your hushed, whispered pleas not to make a scene. Jade had only reappeared once you’d made it back to the penthouse, his smile tight and his eyes void of all light. He hadn’t said anything to you, opting not to waste any time before dragging Floyd into another room for a private conversation, but you knew he was mad. He had to be. It’d be a miracle if he wasn’t planning to skin you alive, if not worse.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” You mumbled, too defensive, too guilty. “I didn’t get to do anything.”

He threw his head back, letting out a deep, melodic laugh. You grimaced, shrunk into yourself, but he was quick to correct you, to snake an arm around your waist and drag you into his side. You tried to turn away, to twist yourself out of his hold, but he only caught your chin, tilting your head back and driving his thumb into your jaw until you knew better than to look at anything that wasn't him. Even then, he took a second to let you go; a long, languid grin stretching at the corners of his lips as his hand drifted from your jaw to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer until your cheek was pressed against his chest and he could tower over you properly. “Cuttlefish’s mad tonight, too,” He drawled, amusement heavy in his voice. “Jade’s gonna be angry, but I don’t really mind that you tried to run away. It’d be sorta fun to chase you around for a while – y’know, like most alphas get to with their pretty little omegas.”

“That’s an awful joke,” You muttered, planting your hands on his shoulders in a weak, admittedly half-hearted effort to push him away. This close, you couldn’t do anything to block out his pheromones – waves of woody cedar and sea salt rolling off of him in waves. His scent was identical to his brother’s, but there were undertones to it that Jade lacked, notes of freshly dyed leather and sharp, metallic copper. It had a way of getting under your skin, glazing over your thoughts and making everything that much harder than it would’ve been, if they were kind enough to give you room to breathe. It would’ve been worse if you were actually mated, if they’d had a chance to mark as theirs so officially, but luckily, they were too petty and too possessive to decide which one of them would get to drive their fangs into your neck, and you'd been able to avoid provoking either one of them, so far. It was one of the only benefits of having the attention of two unwanted alphas, rather than one. Sometimes, they were too busy starting fights with each other to actually pay attention to you. “I… I really don’t want to do this, right now. Can you just—”

A hand at your side, a sharp tug to your midriff. He didn’t let you finish, didn’t give you a chance to protest before dragging you into his lap. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking long seconds to inhale your scent, to ghost the pointed tips of his teeth over your throat and soak in the way your breath hitched, how quickly you went rigid in his arms. It was more fear than excitement, but Floyd couldn't seem to tell the difference, only laughing as his chin came to rest on the dip of your shoulder. “I wanna try it. Maybe when Jade’s distracted, or next time we’re alone together. We’ll sneak off for a while, find somewhere nice and dark where I can—”

“That’s enough, Floyd.”

Immediately, your heart went still in your chest, and every ounce of warmth drained out of you in an instant. The terror was sudden, fresh, as vivid as it was sickening, but any shock you might’ve felt was distant, too familiar to really catch you off-guard.

You knew you’d have to deal with Jade, eventually.

Honestly, you could only be thankful you’d managed to put it off for this long.

He must’ve been at work - whatever ‘work’ was. You didn’t know what he did, but you recognized the ash-grey suit he was wearing, the way he’d slicked his hair back, the expression he wore when he was getting ready to deal with one of the unruly, uncooperative clients he’d tell you about in little, murmured nothings when you were curled up in his bed, vulnerable and exposed. His lips were pursed, his eyes vaguely narrowed, more annoyed than anything else. Still, that was enough. He wasn’t like Floyd. You weren’t supposed to know when he felt irritated, or pleased, or nothing at all. The fact that you could tell something, anything about his mood was damning, all on its own.

He didn’t say anything, just settling into place next to his brother, crossing his legs and casting you a vague, blank look. You melted into Floyd, absent-mindedly clutching at his shirt, but that wasn’t enough to save you – with a flick of Jade’s wrist, Floyd was groaning, shoving you off of his lap and into the cramped, non-existent space between them. You did what you could to go stiff, to make yourself as small and as unassuming as possible, but your leg pressed against Jade’s and Floyd’s arm was still wrapped around your waist, his finger drumming idly against your hip. You tried to shift, to get as far from them as you were able to, but Jade’s hand came to rest on your thigh and you froze, bowing your head and shutting your eyes. You could take risks with Floyd. You knew him, trusted that he’d do whatever he wanted to regardless of how you spoke or behaved. Jade wouldn’t be so satisfied with your indifference.

“Darling,” He started, his tone as flat and as cold as his stare. “Floyd tells me that you’ve had quite the day.”

You really meant to say something that’d help you. Something smart, or apologetic, or pathetic enough to prove you couldn’t get away from them, even if you genuinely tried. But, as soon as you opened your mouth, you faltered, cracked, and what spilled out was beyond your control. “Y-you never said I couldn’t leave,” You managed, and then, before you could think better of it, “I just wanted to go outside, and nobody was home, and I was going to come back, I just—”

“And, you tried to leave. Without telling either of us beforehand, at that.” Blunt nails dug into your thigh, a tight smile spreading across his lips. “That should be enough on its own.”

You started to say something, then stopped, biting down on the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed – the breathy, labored kind of sigh, like it took all the strength in the world to watch you curl into yourself beside him. Floyd, for his part, didn’t go to such lengths to hide his delight, humming softly as he leaned into you, nuzzling into your neck. “I don’t think cuttlefish meant to get into trouble.” It was benign, on the surface, but you doubted Floyd was consciously coming to your defense. For whatever reason, the grin pressing into your throat did little to inspire any hope that he’d chosen to actually help you, for once. “All that shakin’ and screamin’… You should’ve seen it, Jade. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so scared.”

“It’s not that they're in trouble,” Jade corrected, mercifully choosing to ignore the rest of Floyd’s description. His eyes flickered to his brother before falling back to you, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. He didn’t have to draw blood or drag you into place – it was enough to still feel his eyes boring into you, to see the way his smile quirked as you allowed him to tilt your head back, to force you to meet his steady gaze. Floyd, never one to share his brother’s patience, tightened his hold around you, jerking you backward and into his chest, until your legs had been pulled onto the couch’s seats and you were facing Jade entirely. He hesitated, but nodded approvingly, seemingly satisfied to have your full attention. “You know what you are, don’t you?”

You swallowed, dryly. He’d asked you the same question a thousand times, and he always expected the same answer. “An omega.”

“And you know how dangerous it is for someone like you to be out there, all alone, totally unprotected, right?”

“I wasn’t going to talk to anyone.” It was only dangerous because of alphas like them, but saying as much out loud would only earn you a harsher punishment, a few weeks stripped of all the meager freedoms you’d been allowed to hold onto. “I didn’t even really make it outside. I was just—”

“And you know what we’d have to do if we found out someone tried to hurt you?”

Something very sharp and very slow began to crawl up your throat. “I know, Jade.”

“Perfect. Then, you have to know how much we’re willing to do to keep you safe, too.” He squeezed your chin playfully, his smile taking on a teasing lull. “You’re our precious omega, and there are so, so many alphas out there who’d absolutely love to take a bite out of you. I can’t imagine what Floyd and I would do if you got hurt because we weren’t there to protect you.”

His voice was softened, calmed into something too soothing and too measured not to send a cold bolt of dread down the length of your spine. None of it was true, obviously. If either of them really wanted to ‘protect’ you, Floyd wouldn’t leave your lips bruised when he kissed you, Jade wouldn’t speak so fondly of wrapping a collar around your neck and locking you in some tiny, dark cage that only he had the key to. It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter, not when Jade was staring you down and Floyd was starting to lose interest in your conversation - finding more entertainment in the lingering, open-mouthed kisses he was pressing into the side of your neck. Unnervingly close to where your mating mark would’ve been, if you had one.

“I… I understand.” Jade’s stare grew easier, his smile taking on a more genuine air, and you let yourself relax. This might be all he wanted. You, humiliated and reminded of your place beneath him, but otherwise unharmed. It wasn’t what you wanted, but it was preferable compared to what you knew Jade could do to you, if he felt you deserved it. “Thanks for looking out for me. I won’t be so reckless again.”

You felt Floyd’s grin sharpen. He pulled back, just far enough to nip at the corner of your jaw, and Jade leaned towards you, cupping your face, holding you in place as his lips brushed against your forehead. “Oh, dear,” He muttered, half under his breath. “You won’t, because we aren’t going to let you.”

You laughed, the noise tentative and stilted. Floyd chuckled, but Jade’s smile only widened. “But, I’m already not allowed to—”

“Clearly, we’ve been too lenient.” He barely even acknowledged you, drawing back and pushing himself to his feet. You tried to follow him, to get up and ask him what you meant, but Floyd was already on top of you, already shoving you onto your chest with all the effort it would've taken him to pluck a petal off of a flower or crush an insect under his heel. In a fraction of a second, he was straddling your thighs, his teeth tearing into the dip of your shoulder as his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt. You cried out, but the sound was muffled by leather and fabric, and neither twin seemed to mind, to bat an eye at any indication of your pain. You weren’t sure why you thought they would.

It wasn't like they’d never hesitated to hurt you, before.  

It was a small mercy that Floyd’s attention was such a fickle thing, that he was so quick to draw back, to lap over the open wound as blood began to pool above your torn skin. “I’m afraid it’d just be too dangerous to let you continue on unclaimed,” He went on, faux-sympathy, heavy in his voice. “For the sake of your comfort, we’ve been trying to hold ourselves back, but I’m afraid you’ve made that impossible.”

Lies, Lies, lies. “B-but, I didn’t do any—”

“Cuttlefish tastes so sweet,” Floyd purred, barely lifting his head high enough to speak. He was grinding against you, now, totally unbothered, totally unconcerned. Somehow, that hurt more than Jade’s betrayal, than the awareness of what they planned to do to you. Floyd wasn’t supposed to be this invasive, this controlling. Floyd was supposed to care about you – or, that’s what you’d managed to convince yourself, at least. “Gonna be even sweeter as a real omega, too," And then, as if it'd just occurred to him, "With a proper heat and everything.”

You grit your teeth, forced yourself to jerk towards Jade. “So what?” You spat, no longer trying to clip your words or watch your tone. It wasn’t like they could do anything worse to you. “You’re just— You’re just going to stand there and to let him mark me?"

“Today, he will. And in a few months, when it begins to fade, I’ll have my time with you. Floyd was a little put-off at first, but he came around to the idea after I offered him the first turn.” He squared his shoulders, lowering himself onto one knee in front of you. His hand found its way back to your face, the pad of his thumb running along your lower lip, and something came over his expression – a look that wasn’t totally unlike the kind of quiet, tempered affection you knew he couldn’t be capable of. “You should count yourself lucky. My brother and I aren’t especially good at sharing, but we’re willing to make an exception for you. That’s sweet of us, isn’t it?”

You opened your mouth, ready to curse him out, to scream, but anything you might’ve said was drowned out by a cracked whimper as Floyd bit into your shoulder, again, then the nape of your neck, missing your mating-glands by a hair's width. He was playing with you, marking you – albeit, not the way he would, in a few minutes. You went stiff, unresponsive, but it didn’t help. Nothing would’ve helped, at that point.

“We’re doing this for your own good,” Jade mumbled, despite the excitement tracing at the edges of his tone, despite the awful, darkened glint now shining brightly and unabashedly in his eyes. “It’ll hurt, but just try to remember that. We’re only doing this because we love you.”

You could only close your eyes, grit your teeth, and wonder what you’d ever done to deserve to be trapped between them.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere oneshot #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst #yandere tweels #yandere floyd leech #yandere jade leech #tweels x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[weemssapphic]

in my head (series)

Chapter Five: Distracted

Larissa Weems x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

words: ~3.4k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: brief mention of alcohol

chapter summary: After the events of chapter four, perhaps a little change in relationship dynamic is in order - plus, it's time to enjoy a little more one-on-one time before the weekend draws to a close.

The first thing on your mind the following morning was Rissa - Larissa. You could hardly believe anyone could treat her that way, but then again you’d had enough negative experiences yourself that you felt you should hardly be surprised. Still, you felt bad for leaving her alone the previous night - that was the reason you decided to do something special for her today.

Two hours later, you were standing in front of Larissa’s office, freshly showered, a large hot chocolate from the Weathervane in hand. You knocked on the door.

There was a clicking of heels coming closer and closer, and then the door swung open. Larissa’s smile upon seeing you was accompanied by a light, barely there blush on the apples of her cheeks. “Hi,” she breathed.

You stuck out the hand holding the to-go cup. “I got you something.”

Larissa cocked her head to the side and gently wrapped her hand around the cup, her fingers brushing against yours. You tried to ignore the warmth this ignited within you and, instead, watched as Larissa brought the cup to her lips, tilting her head back slightly to take a sip.

A low hum vibrated in her chest and her eyes fluttered shut. 

“I, uh, remembered you ordered one last week when I saw you at the Weathervane.”

Larissa opened her eyes, her gaze piercing yours with an intensity that had your stomach doing backflips. She lowered the cup from her lips, a faint red lipstick mark visible on the rim. 

“That’s right. The Weathervane makes the best hot chocolate, I always try to get one when I’m in town.” Warmth flooded her gaze. “Thank you,” she added. “Would you like to come in?”

You nodded and Larissa stepped aside, allowing you to enter her office. You made yourself right at home on the sofa in front of the fireplace and Larissa followed, taking a seat beside you as she sipped the drink.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay last night,” you started after a few moments of silence. “I felt bad leaving you, but I know it was one of our rules so-”

“Please,” Larissa waved away your apology. “You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay. Consider it a momentary lapse in judgment, too tired to think straight.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to think straight when I’m around anyway.” You smirked at the soft groan that your remark was rewarded with. “I just wanted to check if you’re okay,” you added, much quieter now.

Larissa didn’t answer right away, seeming to consider your words. “I’m alright,” she replied slowly. “I didn’t realize the memories that came up were still bothering me, but I suppose they were. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”

“I think we should talk about it if we’re going to… you know, have sex again…” You could feel a nervous heat creep up your cheeks.

“I suppose we should.” Larissa took another sip of her hot chocolate before setting the cup down on the floor and turning to fully face you. She sighed and you placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Looking down at your hand, she smiled gratefully and covered it with her own before taking a deep breath.

“When I was much younger, I met a girl through some mutual friends. She knew I was a shapeshifter and it didn’t seem to bother her. When we eventually… slept together, she asked me to shift into her ex-girlfriend. I was so shocked and so desperate to be loved that I, regrettably, did what she asked. After that night, she began to avoid me, and we were never intimate again - though I suppose it was for the better.”

“You really dodged a bullet there,” you said through clenched teeth, seething at the mere thought of someone asking Larissa to be anyone but herself.

Larissa chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze. “Yes, you’re right. Then there was a woman in college - I was more open about my abilities back then. We dated for a while and at first, everything seemed fine. But she would increasingly ask me to change little things about myself, under the guise of curiosity - my hair color, my height, my eyes. Until one day I confronted her and she admitted she wasn’t attracted to me at all.”

You snorted and Larissa raised an eyebrow. “Sorry,” you covered your mouth. “You’re just so beautiful, I can’t understand that.”

Her lips curved up into a shy smile. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured. “I stopped telling potential partners after that.”

“I don’t blame you,” you said softly. “What about us? Do you still want to…?” You bit your lip, your heart beginning to pound as you waited for her to reply.

She scooted closer to you, bringing your hand up to her lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I do,” she purred seductively. “I feel safe with you.” She paused. “I just… I might need a little time.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Perhaps… allow me to take charge and… initiate, for a while.” Larissa’s eyes flicked between your own. “Would that be alright?” 

“Of course, Rissa.” You didn’t miss the dilation of her pupils at your use of the nickname, though you chose to ignore it and allow Larissa to take the lead. “You know, my last ex broke up with me because of my abilities.”

Larissa cocked her head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“In hindsight, maybe it was a bad idea to get together with a normie. At first she thought it was cool, you know? Like a party trick or something. She would make a game out of it and ask me what random people were thinking. And I was so head over heels for her you know? So I did it. But then it became, uh, a bit of a sore subject. Either she was scared I would read her mind - which I didn’t, by the way - or then sometimes she would almost get pissed that I wasn’t reading her mind, as if I of all people should know all her thoughts, you know?”

Larissa was nodding sympathetically, her brows furrowed as she took in the details of your story.

“So then eventually we got into a huge fight and she broke up with me. I guess it was just too much for her.” You shrugged, not wanting to seem affected by the whole ordeal even though you had to admit it still stung, even almost a year later.

“I think it’s hard when people don’t understand you,” Larissa said slowly.

“Tell me about it.” You laughed, causing the blonde to giggle along with you.

A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you, like a warm blanket. Your fingers were still intertwined and you ran your thumb absentmindedly along the back of her hand. 

The silence was interrupted by a ringing phone on Larissa’s desk.

“Just a moment, darling,” she said, pulling her hand out of yours and standing to cross the office and answer her phone.

“Larissa Weems. … Yes… of course. Send her my way. … Thank you for letting me know. … You as well. Goodbye.”

Larissa hung up with an exasperated sigh and strode back to the sofa.

“I’m afraid I have to cut this short. It appears Miss Addams has gotten into another altercation with some of the normie students in town.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and screwed her eyes shut in frustration.

You laughed, standing to leave. “That girl is certainly something. Was her mother like this as well?”

“Not nearly as troublesome, but just as able to get under my skin,” Larissa replied dryly, walking you to the door.

“Don’t let her get to you, Riss. I’m sure she’ll settle soon enough - she has Enid, that girl’s a good influence.”

“I hope you’re right.” Larissa reached her arm past you to open the door, her hand hesitating on the doorknob, effectively trapping you against the oak. “Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?”

The close proximity of her body was dizzying, her body heat radiating off of her in waves and igniting a fire in your core. It took every ounce of strength you could muster not to reach out and touch her, to pull her close and ask her to ravish you right here against the door.

You swallowed hard. “I would love to.” 

Her gaze flicked to your lips for a moment, registering the way your breath was coming out in short puffs, and she smiled, pressing herself flush against you for just a moment, before turning the doorknob and pulling away, allowing you to exit her office.

“I’ll text you the details,” she murmured breathlessly.

You nodded, dazed, and turned to walk down the hallway, unable to hide your smirk at the raven-haired girl who was coming towards you on her way to the principal’s office. She looked positively murderous - not that she usually looked any different - but still you hoped she would go easy on Larissa today.

~~~

Larissa had texted you at some point during the afternoon to meet her at the school’s entrance at 7, giving you plenty of time to fret over what to wear. Knowing Larissa would likely be dressed to the nines no matter where you went, you finally settled on a pair of dress slacks and a black satin blouse. When you stepped out of the building just before 7, she was already waiting for you, sitting behind the steering wheel of her own personal car, typing away on her phone.

She lifted her head when you opened the door, smiling widely as you slid into the passenger seat.

“Shit, you have a nice car,” you breathed out, taking in the interior of the deep blue Rolls Royce.

“Language,” Larissa muttered, but her smile never left her face. “I didn’t think taking the Nevermore van would be all that lowkey, would it?”

“As if this is any more lowkey.” You laughed, enjoying the flash of playful irritation that crossed Larissa’s face.

The car drove smoothly even along the bumpy roads, and you took to watching Larissa as she drove, humming lightly along to the radio as the local station played 80s hit after 80s hit. You couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face as you regarded her, her lips moving silently along to the lyrics of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun”. The last rays of the setting sun cast a golden glow across her face, illuminating her like a literal goddess.

“You’re staring,” Larissa remarked rather smugly. You ducked your head, feeling a heat rise in your cheeks, and turned to look out the window instead.

“I never said it bothered me,” came Larissa’s voice from your left, and when you chanced another glance in her direction, you could see she was watching you out of the corner of her eye, a shy smile gracing her lips.

“Do I have the privilege of knowing where we’re going?” you said eventually.

“I had a craving for Italian food,” she replied. “I hope you don’t mind, I realize how presumptuous that was of me…”

“Not at all.” You smiled, catching her eye.

~~~

Arriving at the restaurant, you followed Larissa inside, catching a full look at her outfit for the first time that evening. She wore a high-cut silk blouse in a stunning shade of dark blue, paired with a long, cream colored pencil skirt and a matching blazer. A pair of kitten heels completed the look, click-clacking on the pavement as she all but strutted her way to the doors. She looked just as good fully clothed as she did naked and you gulped at the realization, tearing your eyes away and attempting to focus on the hostess who was seating you.

You were seated in a booth at the back, away from most of the loud chatter of other restaurant-goers. The hostess handed you two menus and disappeared, to be replaced shortly thereafter by a server who took your drink order - a shared bottle of the house red. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle and poured the wine into your glasses, before excusing himself to give you a chance to look at the menu.

A companionable silence had fallen over the table. Larissa was busy perusing the menu, while you were busy staring at her - again. You realized, quite suddenly in fact, that this was certainly very date-like of you: sitting here across from each other in beautiful clothes, sharing a bottle of wine. But then again, Larissa always wore beautiful clothes. And this wasn’t the first time you’d shared a bottle of wine, not by a long shot. It was simply the first time you’d done so in public.

You shook your head lightly, trying to ignore the warm, tingly feeling that was quickly taking over your extremities, dropping your gaze to the menu but unable to really focus on any of the printed words.

Get it together, you scolded yourself. Going to a restaurant with a friend is not unusual.

Well, not if you only felt super platonic feelings for that friend. What you felt for Larissa, that you weren’t so sure of anymore.

A looming shadow above you alerted you to your server’s presence. Shit. You hadn’t really looked at the menu at all.

Larissa spoke first, but the ringing in your ears from your own internal panic was so loud that you missed what she’d ordered. A curious look from the blonde across from you alerted you to the fact that it must be your turn to order.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” you choked out, cheeks turning pink.

“Certainly,” the server remarked, snapping his little notepad shut and bustling off, leaving the two of you alone.

“Are you alright?” Larissa asked, cocking her head to the side in concern.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I got distracted.”

“Am I that distracting, my dear?” she purred. You coughed at the seductive lilt to her voice, a heavy throb beginning between your legs.

Larissa leaned back, regarding you curiously as you took a sip of your wine and ducked your head to cover the worst of your blush.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she murmured with a chuckle, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Not funny,” you replied, unable to stop your face from breaking out into a grin moments later. “So what did we order?”

“Weren’t you listening?” You shook your head and Larissa giggled. “You’ll see.” She smirked at the little scowl you forced your face into.

You spent the next minutes being teased relentlessly by Larissa and trying to gain control of the heat that was spreading throughout your body under her smoldering gaze. You would never willingly admit to it, of course, but you loved every second of it.

You were grateful when your server arrived with the food - it turned out that you (well, Larissa) had ordered some house-made pasta with lobster. You turned to thank the server and saw his gaze briefly sweep Larissa’s form. Curious and unable (or rather, unwilling) to control yourself, you reached out with your mind, tuning into his thoughts - and immediately wished you hadn’t when you were bombarded with sinful thoughts about your dinner companion, all hidden behind his professional smile.

“Enjoy your meal, ladies,” he commented, his words directed more at Larissa than at you, and you had to force back a biting snarl, settling instead for a muttered and decidedly bitter “thank you”.

You could feel Larissa’s gaze upon you as you glared sullenly into your food.

“Something the matter?” Larissa’s voice was so soft you nearly melted on the spot.

“The waiter thinks you’re hot,” you spat out. You glanced up just in time to see Larissa’s cheeks turn pink.

“You didn’t read his mind, did you?” she asked, her voice low so only you could hear her.

“I had to,” you whispered back defensively. “With the way he was looking at you… and I was right, his thoughts were entirely inappropriate.”

“Why are you so upset about it?” Larissa tilted her head, her eyes searching every inch of your face.

“I’m not upset.” You stabbed at a piece of lobster a little more viciously than strictly necessary, earning yourself a small smile from the blonde. “I just don’t think anyone should be objectifying you like that…”

“Have you never had sinful thoughts about me?” Larissa teased, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand.

“No! Well, yes… that’s different,” you hissed. “We’re sleeping together. And I don’t view you as some fucktoy.” 

“Y/N!” Larissa scoffed, though her gaze quickly softened. “There’s a reason I’m sleeping with you and not someone like him.”

You were sure you were rapidly turning scarlet by now. “I’m just saying… You deserve more respect than that, is all.” You didn’t need to mention the way your stomach churned at the thought of someone else putting their grimy hands on Larissa.

Larissa, who watched you warmly, lips curved up in a soft smile. “Thank you for looking out for me. You’ve been a great friend to me these last few days.” 

Your heart clenched. Friend. Of course Larissa would say that. Because that’s what you were. You forced a smile onto your face. “Yeah, no problem,” you murmured.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you - with the Rave’n being only two weeks away, Ms. Thornhill has been suggesting she might like some help with the planning. Would you be interested in assisting her?” Larissa asked, taking a sip of her wine.

“Of course, I’d love to.” You considered for a moment. “Did she say what she needed help with?”

“Well the theme has been set for quite some time, so mostly some last minute, finishing touches I’m sure, as well as the decorating before the dance. But I’m sure she could tell you more in person. I’ll let her know you’re on board then?”

“Yeah, sure.” In the brief moment of silence that followed, a thought dawned on you that you couldn’t shake. “Are you going to be there?”

Larissa chuckled. “Of course, I chaperone every year. We are still looking for chaperones, by the way. I know you said no at the beginning of the year, but…” Larissa trailed off, quirking an eyebrow.

You’d said no at the beginning of the year, that was true - you hadn’t really enjoyed your own Rave’n back in the day, as you’d been in the middle of a bad breakup, and you weren’t much into dances or parties anyway. But you’d also never had an ulterior motive to go - such as a gorgeous, 6’3” blonde who would likely be wearing a stunning dress. You cleared your throat.

“Sure, I’ll chaperone.”

Larissa’s face broke out into a pleased smile, one that was so infectious it made you dizzy.

The rest of the evening passed with small-talk about your plans for the next week as the two of you finished your dinner. Despite your complaints, Larissa insisted on paying the bill, citing payback for the massages as her reasoning. The server made himself scarce when he noticed you glaring daggers at him, much to Larissa’s amusement.

You drove back to the Academy in silence, simply content to bask in each other’s presence. Larissa walked you back to your quarters and you stalled in front of your door, trying to fight against the inevitable - bidding Larissa goodnight.

“Thank you for accompanying me tonight,” Larissa said in a whisper, not wanting to take the chance of another teacher coming out of their quarters and overhearing the two of you. “It was much more fun than eating alone, I will admit. And you may have saved me from having to turn down advances from that poor waiter.” She smirked slightly.

You ducked your head. “I enjoyed myself, too. Thanks again.” You paused, searching Larissa’s face. She looked so beautiful in the dim torchlight illuminating the hallway, eyes sparkling lightly, skin nearly glowing. Her lips looked even more red and plush than usual. You wished she would want to come into your quarters, to ravish you until you were screaming her name for the entire staff to hear.

Larissa seemed to be able to read your mind for she smiled hesitantly and whispered, “Not tonight, darling.” She paused, glancing around to see if you were truly alone, then leaned in and pressed a chaste, barely-there kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Rissa,” you whispered back, your skin tingling where her lips had been seconds prior.

Larissa turned and strode down the hallway and out of sight, leaving you to stand like an idiot in the doorway to your quarters, heart pounding and panties damp.

x

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems #in my head #in my head series #larissa x reader

[shanakin-skywalker]

Sweet (Billy Hargrove x AFAB!Reader)

*Plus Size and POC Friendly; No use of Y/N*

Based off of this blurb:

Word Count: 3,799 (oof)

Summary: Billy and Reader are best friends. Best friends with benefits…and feelings and that makes Billy very jealous.

Warnings: Mean!Billy, Dom!Billy, Possessive!Billy, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it besties!), Choking (sexually), Fingering, Name-Calling, One Face Slap, One Pussy Slap, Honestly This Is Just Fucking Filthy, Every Part Of This Is A Warning

*Only description of reader is that she is shorter than Billy*

Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings I should include!

18+, MINORS DNI

By clicking KEEP READING you are confirming you are 18+.

No one has permission to repost my work on Tumblr or any other platform. Plagiarism, stealing my work, etc will not be tolerated. By clicking KEEP READING you are also agreeing to the above terms.

It was late, her entire house dark except for the yellow glow seen through her window. Her parents had long since retired to their room neighboring her own. Bruce Springsteen’s album, The River, was playing softly in the background and her finger tapped along to the beat of Hungry Heart on the worn, hardcover of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary. She mindlessly chewed on a Cow Tail, the sweet candy hanging out of her mouth as she went to turn the page.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

Her head snapped up toward her window, startled. Her heartbeat slowed once she realized it was Billy.

Billy Hargrove and she had an…unusual dynamic one could say. Definitely more than just friends with benefits and feelings were without a doubt involved but nothing official. Billy’s life was too complicated, the stress of a relationship not one he wanted to add to the equation. And she understood. Well, she understood to a certain extent. Billy told her very little and she never pried or pushed. Of course she wasn’t stupid. She put the pieces together like his relationship with his dad. She accepted what was and what he was willing to give. It was one of the things he lo- no, liked, about her. He refused to use that word, especially in regards to her. They had a good thing going and why would he want to ruin that? She was constant and stable and after everything he clung to that. She was his anchor.

Billy couldn’t help but find her startled expression absolutely adorable. Her eyes big and wide, lips slightly parted and candy hanging out, and fuck, his thoughts quickly became much more sinful. It was too easy to picture something much thicker stretching her mouth. Her eyes looking up at him, instead of straight on through her window, and welled up with tears, wetting her lashes and running down her face. He clenched his jaw, making his hard expression more intense.

She pulled the Cow Tail out of her mouth and set it on the wrapper on her nightstand along with her book. She stood up and her lacy little nightgown tickled the tops of her thighs as she quickly walked to her window, sliding the pane up.

Silently Billy climbed in, towering over her. She shivered, goosebumps erupting on her skin. She didn’t know if it was from the cool night air or Billy’s intimidating frame as his pretty baby blues bore deep into her eyes. He looked tightly wound, wild.

“Billy?” She breathed out but before she could continue his firm hand came to rest around the column of her throat and with big steps he pushed her back, her stumbling until her back hit the wall with a thud. She quickly looked to her wall that separated her and her parents rooms.

“Why did you give him your number?” He hissed out. It was a demand not a question.

“Wha-who?” She floundered, his scent and his warm, firm hand on her neck made her dizzy. He squeezed a little tighter and that seemed to jog her memory.

“Oh! He-,“ she swallowed and wet her lips with her tongue. Her eyes fluttered up to look at him.

“He wants me to tutor him. Help him with an English paper.” She explained but his gaze didn’t soften. He slid his hand further up her neck, right below her jaw, so her head was tilted up and back, exposing her throat.

Billy crowded over her, leaning down so she could feel his hot breath against her ear.

“He was eye fucking you.” Venom spewed out of his strawberry lips. No one attempted anything romantically with her since Billy came to town. There was an unspoken claim. Unfortunately this shithead either didn’t care or had a death wish.

“And that doesn’t work for me.” He growled and the sound sent shockwaves straight to her core. A whimper escaped past her lips.

“What do you- Are we- I-,” she couldn’t form a coherent question, all jumbled and buzzing like bees. He was so warm, smelled so good, was so firm, and oh! He’s so hard.

“My sweet, dumb baby. Do I need to spell it out for you?” His tone was condescending. Her thighs clenched together to relieve the ache. Billy released a huff through his nose and used his right foot to kick apart her legs. He brought his knee to the juncture between her thighs. He could feel the heat radiating as he teasingly brought his lower thigh forwards and backwards. Billy pressed himself against her stomach and she could feel his own arousal, hot, thick, and throbbing through his jeans. She gasped at the feeling. He pulled his head back to stare down at her in her blissed out state.

“I’ve barely even touched you, sweetheart. You’re already so gone. No one could ever make you feel like this. You know that, don’t you, baby?” She doesn’t think she’s ever been this wet. She could hear her slick as he rubbed her with his thigh. All she could do is let out a pathetic whine and nod. Not satisfied, he brought his free hand up and lightly smacked her cheek. Not enough to hurt her, but just to make it slightly sting and get her attention. Her eyes snapped open wide and a soft moan slipped past her lips.

“Don’t. You.” He all but commanded.

“Yes. Yes, only you make me feel this good.” She mumbled out. It made Billy warm with pride. A sweet, pretty thing all his, completely devoted.

“Yeah, ‘cause you belong to me. You’re my girl. Mine. And I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.” He smashed his lips to hers and quickly shoved his tongue into her velvet mouth.

She tasted sweet. She’s sweet. She’s sweet, and warm, and soft, and the complete opposite of everything he was. But you know what they say about opposites? They attract and Billy was all but wielded to her. You would have to pry her from his cold, dead hands and even then, he would rise from the grave. Not even ‘til death do us part. She was his forever and although he didn’t want to admit it, he was hers forever. She owned him just as much, maybe even more, than he owned her.

Billy trailed kisses down her neck, harshly sucking and biting marks, letting everyone know she was taken. He usually left them under her clothes, where no one could see but his jealously became a wildfire. They all had to know.

She gasped loudly when he bit down hard where her neck met her shoulder. He soothes the marks with his tongue and trailed the wet muscle to the front of her neck, between her collarbones. He lavished his mouth up the center of her throat to her chin and followed the path up her jaw to her earlobe where he suckled on the fleshy bit. He released it with a pop but kept his mouth next to her ear.

“Be quiet. You wouldn’t want mommy and daddy waking up to their precious, darling girl moaning like the slut she is.” Oh he’s so mean but it made her even wetter. She’s sure she stained his jeans with her juices.

“No, sir.” She breathed out.

“Good girl.” He brought his leg down and took a step back. Oh yeah, there was definitely a puddle in her panties.

“Look at the mess you made.” Her eyes trailed down and sure enough, a large spot, shining in the low light, stared back at her. She looked back up at him, cheeks heating at her desperation. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“Well, aren’t you going to be a good little slut and clean it up?” He backed up to the center of her room, standing in the middle of her rug. She vigorously nodded her head and took a step forward.

He brought his hands to his hips in a stance that radiated domination and he narrowed his eyes at her. She stopped.

“Crawl.” His voice was low and gravely. She could feel her wetness seap down her thighs as she got to her hands and knees. They made eye contact and slowly, she crawled across the hard wood of her bedroom floor and then finally across half of the rug.

Billy was smug. He knew she would never let anyone do this to her, speak to her that way. His erection was straining uncomfortably against the metal zipper of his pants but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not when heaven personified was kneeling in front of him, looking up with glazed eyes and tongue running over her bottom lip.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned forward, her tongue flat and wide as she licked up her own arousal from bottom to top. She moaned softly and brought her face away to look up at him, a string of her juices connecting her bottom lip to his pants. Billy’s beautiful blue eyes were almost completely eclipsed by his pupils, clouded with lust. She went back to lapping up her mess, eyes half lidded.

When all that was left was wetness from her tongue, Billy tangled a hand in her hair and yanked her head back. Her lips were red and swollen from the roughness of his jeans. Fuck, she looked so pretty like this. So fucked out and he had barely touched her.

He brought his hand back out of her hair and pushed on her shoulders, making her land on the pastel rug. He quickly followed her, settling in between her legs and once again let his tongue invade her mouth. She went to wrap her arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to pull him closer but before she could even reach his broad shoulders Billy had her hands pinned above her head in an iron grip.

“Be. Good.” He gritted out In between kisses. He pulled one hand away, taking both of her wrists into his large palm. He hiked one of her soft thighs over his hip and brought his fingers down to play with her through her panties. A loud squelch could be heard and he broke the kiss to look at his now soaked fingers glistening in the low light. She held her breath as she looked at him.

Without hesitation, he shoved his fingers into his mouth and sucked. So sweet. His sweet girl. Her thighs closed around his hips and a moan escaped her. His eyes flashed down at her.

“What did I say?” He ordered.

“T’a be good. ‘M sorry sir.” Came stammering out of her mouth. Billy set his jaw and exhaled through his nose like a raging bull. Without saying another word he released her hands and grabbed her by the backs of her knees, bending them back until he was able to take both of her ankles in one hand while the other grabbed her panties by the crotch and yanked them off of her legs leaving her on full display. The cold night air from the still open window chilled her dripping core. He dropped her ankles so they fell on either side of him. She opened her mouth but Billy shoved her sopping, ruined panties into her mouth, her wetness filling her tongue and nose. It was so filthy, so dirty, and she loved every minute of it. A smack against her pussy brought her out of her head.

“Now shut up.” Billy went back to playing with her now exposed cunt, running his fingers up and down her slit, gathering the surplus of her arousal and bringing

it up to her swollen clit. She whimpered as softly as she could and bit her underwear, the wetness gushing from it and her eyes rolled back, swallowing it down.

Once Billy grew bored of her clit, he traced his fingers down to her hole, slipping his middle digit in. He had to bite back a moan of his own. How could she be this wet and still this tight? Her pussy sucking his finger further in until it’s entirety was encased in her warm walls. In an agonizingly slow pace, he began thrusting, taking his finger all the way out, swirling it slightly around her entrance and then plunging it back in. Her fingers dug into the plush carpet and she clenched her teeth down into the wet fabric to keep from crying out.

Billy added a second finger and started thrusting faster. She really hoped the faint background music covered the embarrassingly wet sounds of her cunt. He scissored his fingers against her walls in an attempt to stretch her out. It felt so good, so wet. Her pussy tingled at the sensation and her saliva was running out of the corners of her mouth. He curled his fingers upward and her eyes rolled back again. She was completely delirious with pleasure. Again, Billy added another finger and began thrusting into her as hard and fast as he could. The force causing her back to rub against the carpet, making it burn. It only added to the sensation. He was so good, making her feel so good. How could she possibly want anyone else. And then he curled his fingers again and immediately found the spongy spot that brought her to new heights. He could feel her clenching around him.

“You close, baby? You gonna be a good girl and cum for me? All for me?” He grunted out. She looked at him and tears welled in her eyes and she nodded. It felt good, too good, so good. And then Billy took his thumb and rubbed harsh circles on her clit. She exploded. Her walls clenching down on his finger and stars flickered across her vision. Her body convulsed and she let out a low moan.

Displeased with the continued sounds he glared down and harshly rolled one of her nipples between his fingers through the thin fabric of her nightie. She made a startled noise and he ripped her panties out of her mouth.

“‘’M sorry sir! ‘M trying. You just make me feel so good. Can’t help it. Please don’t stop!” She cried out, tears running down her cheeks. He thought about choking her on his cock but the last rational part of him knew it was already risky enough with her parents in the next room and although there was music playing, it could only drown out so much.

“You’re so lucky I’m so good to you, princess. Keep disobeying me and I’m still gonna give you my cock. What do you say?” He unbuckled his belt.

“Thank you, sir.” She panted out and before she knew it, he had flipped her over and put her onto all fours. She could hear his belt slide out of their loops in a quick whoosh and then it was around her mouth. A ‘mmm!’ Sounded at the back of her throat.

“You didn’t think I’d let it slide? Are you already fucked stupid? You’ve only just had my fingers.” He goes to buckle the belt behind her head, careful not to get any hair tangled in the buckle. She opened her mouth all the way to show her obedience and she felt him slide the buckle into place. He turned her 90° to the left where she had a mirror propped against the wall. She looked fucking wrecked.

Huge, dark bruises scattered down her neck and shoulders, tear tracks ran from her eyes, her lips were raw, chapped, red, and swollen, stretched around leather, drool still running down the corners of her mouth. She was so far gone. Her only thoughts were of Billy.

Billy. Billy. Billy. Billy. Billy.

She stared at him through the mirror. His own eyes were crazed, wild. He whipped off his jacket and white tshirt that was now wet with sweat. His chest heaved and he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his underwear down just enough for his cock to spring free. He looked down to see his angry, red and swollen dick, dripping precum from his tip onto the rug. He could feel his heartbeat in it every time it throbbed. Billy looked back in the mirror and made eye contact with her. He took her in, completely ruined by him, for him. And that thought alone sent him off the deep end.

He rubbed himself up and down against her slick and when he couldn’t take the waiting anymore, he roughly shoved it into her weeping cunt. The force took her arms out and she fell face first against the carpet. His pace was brutal and unforgiving, immediately punching her cervix. She bit down on the leather and turned her face sideways on the rug. A whimper escaped again.

“Can’t even help yourself can you? Look at you!” He hissed as low as he could. Billy buried his hand in her hair again and forced her to look at herself in the mirror.

It was too good. Too much. The feeling of his big, thick cock deep and stretching her pussy, the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against the drenched skin of her upper thighs, the burn from the carpet on her knees, she couldn’t help but let out a cry at a particularly deep and angled thrust against her g-spot. Billy’s big hand slapped over her mouth, clamping down to silence her as best as he could. His other hand wrapped around her waist and brought her up flush against his chest.

“Look at you. Fucking filthy slut. Just for me. All for me. No one will ever see you like this. No one could ever make you feel like this. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Each thrust punctuating each point. He was unraveling as she clung to him, as she squeezed him. He was so close and so was she.

Billy let her go as she fell forward and he unbuckled his belt before bringing her back up to him. He turned her face so he could sloppily kiss her and trailed more down the other side of her neck. One free hand went down to rub her clit. Now that her mouth was no longer filled she babbled mindlessly.

“’M yours. All yours. Only yours. Only want’a be yours. Fuck. Y’make me feel so good. Never felt this good b’for.” She slurred.

“Fuck, sweetheart. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum so hard you’ll feel me inside you for days. Y’uh gonna come too. Can feel it. Squeezing me so tight. Fuck. Fuck, I love you.” And then they both came. Her wetness came squirting out, further soaking his lower abdomen and jeans. She kept coming and coming, milking every last drop from him. He fell forward, catching them both before he crushed her, continuing to rut inside her. They laid there quietly, Stolen Car playing and heavy breathing all that can be heard.

Billy slowly, carefully pulled his softening cock from her and she whimpered at the feeling. He quickly tucked himself back into his underwear and cracked open her bedroom door to make sure her parents door was closed and their lights turned off. He heard faint snoring and let out a sigh of relief. He was surprised but didn’t question it.

He swiftly walked over to her and picked her up. Cradling her as he silently snuck into the bathroom a little down the hall. Billy gently sat her down on the counter, the cold tile soothing her sensitive pussy and she sighed, head fell back against the mirror. He grabbed a clean towel and washcloth from the linen cabinet and wet the smaller towel in warm water. He softly, lovingly cleaned her. She whimpered when it brushed against her clit.

“Was I too rough?” Now with his head clear he looked over her, covered with bruises and handprints. She hummed and cracked her eyes open slightly.

“Liked it. Y’uh always make me feel good.” She sighed out.

“I-,” he paused briefly before continuing, “I don’t like the idea of you being with anyone else.” He murmured quietly, she almost couldn’t hear his confession. He took the towel and started drying her off, keeping his hands busy, his eyes busy. Her hands went up to cover his and waited for him to look her in the eyes. She gave him a soft, angelic smile. A complete flip from how sinful she looked just minutes before.

“I love you too.” He froze, quickly remembering what he admitted in the throes of passion.

“Yeah?” He asked not quite believing someone as sweet, soft, gentle, kind, and countless other adjectives could love someone like him.

“Mmhmm. Y’a wanna be my boyfriend?” The word boyfriend didn’t seem deep enough for what he wanted to be. Maybe soulmate but Billy had his limits with the mushy stuff. He huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, I wanna be your boyfriend.” She grinned.

“Good. ‘Cause I wanna be your girlfriend.” He smiled back, an actual, genuine smile and picked up the washcloth and lovingly wiped her face with the clean side, and then patted it dry. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and then peppered them over any place they could reach. She giggled and Billy felt his heart swell.

So this is what love feels like. He thinks he could get used to it.

He quietly snuck back into her bedroom, picking up some of the mess they made, closed and locked the window, and rolled up her ruined rug, placing it to the side to be dealt with the next day.

On wobbly legs, she brushed her teeth and used the bathroom before sneaking back into her own room as well. He had set out one of his large tshirts she had stolen and a fresh pair of underwear for her to slip on and he found a pair of his sweatpants, that she also had stolen, and tugged them on. He turned off her music and crawled into bed next to her. She followed suit and cuddled into his side, basking in his warmth and scent.

“I love you.” Her voice sounded slightly muffled against his skin but it made his heart soar just the same.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” And with that, he turned off her lamp and then fell asleep.

Early the next morning they awoke to thudding against her wall and very questionable noises coming from her parents room.

“You don’t think-?” Billy trailed off.

“Probably.” She groaned out and pulled her pillow over her ears.

“Your parents are cruel.” He looked at the clock before doing the same with his own pillow. 5:17. Oh yeah, this was revenge.

Tags: @moe1 @stranger-kinkslol

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x poc!reader #billy hargrove x poc!fem!reader #billy hargrove x afab!reader #billy hargrove smut #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x plus size!reader #dacre montgomery x poc!reader #dacre montgomery x poc!fem!reader #dacre montgomery x female reader #dacre montgomery x f!reader #dacre montgomery x afab!reader #billy hargrove x reader #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery smut #stranger things

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: a/b/o dynamics + writer's own twists on the trope and werewolf lore, p in v sex, body fluids, biting/marking, dirty talk, an ooc/gentler side of billy hargrove, use of petnames, swearing, creampie,hints of a breeding kink have entered the chat. listen, if you don't like a/b/o fanfiction then it's for the best you don't read this because this is full of stuff present in the trope ; knotting, the mate bite, etc... writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt - a/b/o ( bonus ficlet )

character | fandom - werewolf!alpha Billy Hargrove | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, omega!reader & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 2.3k

tagging - < taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . billy takes what belongs to him and you're happy to let him..✧ ˚ 　· 　　

The windows are starting to fog. Metallica is playing softly on the radio and you haven’t stopped kissing Billy Hargrove for hours. Parts of you realize that when -if, your mind corrects, you finally drag yourself home after it’s all done, your mother is most likely going to murder you. Even bigger parts of you have decided that maybe you just don’t give a damn. She made her choice and now, as you slip over the console and into Billy’s lap in the driver seat of his Camaro, you’re going to make yours and let the chips fall wherever they happen to.

Maybe the two of you will have a different ending than your mother and his father. If this was doomed to fail, it wouldn’t feel so right. You’re acting on instinct and your instinct tells you to choose Billy. Stick with that choice and don’t look back.

Billy groans as soon as he feels the heat of your wet little cunt pressed against the zip of his jeans. As soon as it clicks that you were only wearing a sweater that swallowed you whole and a pair of panties when he helped you break out of your bedroom earlier, he growls to himself and bucks up into you clumsily. There isn’t a thought in this boy’s brain but getting you naked and pinned beneath his body. Fucking you until you’re begging him to stop. 

And he’s got a feeling about your little decision… If anybody ever even thinks they’re going to call to question which Alpha is your alpha in the future, he’ll fight to the death. Keep her close, she’s the only fucking person that’s ever chosen me and she did it barely knowing me. Just don’t let this fuck up.. She’s the only one I need now.

And he knows that it’s the wolf inside -and the intensity of the bond that’s about to be solidified, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to stop and overthink for the millionth time. Neil has to be wrong this time, he has to be.

What remains of Billy’s shattered heart depends on it. 

You’re rocking yourself back and forth over the way his cock strains at his jeans and his head falls against the seat. ❝ Get in the backseat.❞ he growls out against the shell of your ear as you start to rub against him with more urgency. The smell of you as you get wetter and wetter has him hungry. Desperate.

Like he’s never wanted -or needed, something this much in his entire life. He’s giving up the fight, he knows he’ll never win if he were to keep trying. 

You slip out of  Billy’s lap and over the space between the seats and Billy’s right behind you, his muscular frame caging you in. He stares down at you hungrily, chest heaving as he tries to breathe properly. There’s excitement in the air, this feels different than his usual backseat trysts.

His heart is pounding so hard he can feel each steady beat in his ears. You’re pinned below him, trying to rub against him and keep body contact. His hand slips up the bottom of the oversized sweater and catches at the side of your panties, tugging them down. They’re tossed into the car somewhere from over his shoulder. You sit up and you’re thisclose to him, your hands grip either side of the red shirt he’s wearing, pulling it apart.

He chuckles quietly, the soft sounds of your mouths every single time they meet again just barely register under the current Metallica song that’s playing from his stereo. As you raise a hand to work the shirt off his body, he pushes your hand down instead, pulling off his own shirt. 

Your hand shakes as it settles on the waistband of his favorite jeans and he catches sight of it, leans in to mumble in a taunting tone against your skin, ❝ If you’re having second thoughts, doll...❞ but you’re already shaking your head no and trying to work the button on his jeans through the buttonhole. He pushes you back against the seat and lowers your hand, staring down at you for a few seconds, quiet. ❝ Y’know this is permanent… Right?❞

You nod, the nod is so eager that your soft curls bounce. And those big beautiful eyes only grow wider as Billy strips off his jeans and underwear, letting them fall to his ankles. When you catch sight of his thick cock as it springs free and stands at attention, the tip an angry red, you whine in need. The sound of your whining makes him laugh quietly and he leans down into you, pushing the oversized sweater up and stripping it away from your body. That’s thrown over the back of his seat, left to hang.

The second he catches sight of the way your thighs are absolutely coated in slick, he can’t stop the animalistic growl that bubbles up from deep inside. ❝ Sweetheart, I’m going to ruin you for anybody else. You really sure you want that? Answer me, doll.❞ his voice is a smoky growl next to your ear as his nose drifts down,settles on the space between your neck and shoulder. The scent of you all heavy and sweet fills his nose and clouds his judgment. He grimaces as his fangs push through.

❝ Billy!❞ you’re whining his name as you’re rocking yourself up into him, clumsy and frantic. That feverish and jittery feeling you’ve had all day is starting to calm but only a little. You need him and you need him now. And you’re desperate enough to beg if you have to. You’ve made your decision. Nothing else matters.

He settles himself down into you and his mouth grazes the patch of skin covering your scent glands. You gasp and dig your nails into his strong biceps and he grunts, rutting into you, feverish. His cockhead keeps grazing against your throbbing cunt and you moan because it feels so good. His fangs sink in, breaking skin. Marking you. Flooding both of you with adrenaline and dopamine and Billy lets the bite last longer just because it’s the first time he’s actually felt anything in a long time.

It feels like he’s waking up. Like everything in his life up to this point has been a dream -or a nightmare, he thinks, and now, maybe it’s finally over. Maybe it’ll finally be better. You’re squirming beneath him, so desperate for friction, for more of him that you’re dripping, your juices pool on smooth leather seats.

❝ Didn’t hurt, did it?❞ he asks quietly as the shocked daze he’s been in for nearly two minutes starts to wear off and he realizes what he’s just done -and how permanent it is.

You shake your head. Billy stares at the angry red wound and licks his lips, satisfied but not completely satisfied. No, he thinks, that won’t happen until I’m buried inside and she’s all fucked out and begging for more. 

He needs more. To taste you. Look up from where he’s settled between your thighs and watch your face as you come undone, his name falling off your lips like it’s the only word you can remember. That said, he lowers himself. You giggle as the warmth of his breath tickles your bare skin and at the sound, he pauses to look up and lock eyes with you. Licking his lips.

That predatory look is back and somehow, more smug. Like he’s finally succeeded. He’s finally gotten his prey.

Rough lips latch against your thighs and your fingers clutch at his hair as you try to pull enough so that his mouth winds up exactly where you want it the most. But Billy’s focused. He’s determined to do this a certain way.

❝ Jesus, fuck..❞ he groans out against the soft dough of your inner thigh as his tongue rolls up to lick you clean, ❝ Somebody’s real needy tonight, huh?❞ and as his tongue rolls over your sex you shiver all over at the feeling.

You tug at his hair a little more and Billy’s tongue and fingers bury inside you, relentless. Fucking into you until you’re shaking and begging, a hand gripping your hip to hold you still so he has all the control. He pauses to look up at you, growling to himself as he watches the way your eyes flutter closed and your back arches upward, body seeking out his tongue and his fingers, so fucked out already that you’re even drooling a little.

He dips his head again. The slurps as he licks you clean and his groans are enough to make you even wetter. You can barely breathe but you use the breath you have to beg him to bury his cock inside you, feverish. Needy.

Billy raises up and pulls himself up your body, leaning down into you and as his mouth crashes against your own, you can taste yourself on his tongue. ❝ Ready for me, darling?❞ he mutters against the shell of your ear as he reaches down, drags his cock between your folds to tease you. When you try to pull him in completely, he chuckles. ❝ ‘S not gonna hurt long, doll. I need y’ to be still. Let me handle this.❞ and you nod.

His cock sinks inside you, just barely at first. But he’s so thick and veiny that as he enters you, you feel like you’re being split in two. You tense beneath him and cling, your arms around his neck, fingers leaving crescent imprints against his bare shoulders. This turns to nails being raked down his back seconds later as the burning too full sensation starts to ebb and you need all of him at once. He growls and nips your bottom lip roughly, his cock burying inside you even more. 

❝ Goddamn.❞ he laughs against your skin as he sucks at it, ❝ Pretty little pussy is just squeezing my cock, sweetheart...❞ he’s thrusting slow and deep, the Camaro’s frame starting to rock with each thrust, ❝I’m tempted to fuck a baby into you.❞ -and this freezes him for a second when it slips out of his mouth because he’s confronted with the fact that he kind of means it. His father’s warning about the way the mate bond consumes a person comes rushing back.

But, silly as it seems, as Neil’s words repeat on one side, his stepsister Max telling him that he’s not his father and he doesn’t have to become him are repeating on the other. This won’t turn into that. It can’t. Billy Hargrove makes up his mind in the seconds it takes for the knot to bury inside your pretty little cunt as you’re pinned beneath him in his backseat that he won’t let this turn into that. As he starts to fuck into you faster, you’re so responsive. Begging. Meeting his deep drives with your own clumsy movements as your mouth latches against his chest because it’s the only part of him that’s close enough to be reached.

His hand squeezes your hip and he tenses, trying to stop himself from coming undone. As he slows down his thrusts, you cling to him, fucking through the high of your own second orgasm. He stops to crash his mouth against your own, going totally still inside you as the kiss deepens.

The fever is almost gone now. But the way you keep touching him, your soft little body melted against him and those soft hands being so damn gentle as they drag over every inch of him, it’s enough to get him hot all over again. With a quiet chuckle, he finally obliges you a little movement, slow and lazy thrusts just to keep himself from coming just yet. 

❝ Billy!❞ you plead as you rock yourself against him. He chuckles quietly. The cassette tape is silent, it’s finished at some point and both of you were so caught up in the moment that neither of you noticed. As you start to fuck yourself onto his length, he groans your name and the restraint he was trying to use is gone. You’re frantic, chasing another orgasm as it builds. Watching you pinned beneath him makes him feral and he’s fucking into you furiously, the car rocking steadily now as his hand presses against foggy glass when he decides to brace himself for leverage.

He bottoms out and as his cock strikes against that one magical spot deep inside you, you moan his name over and over. ❝ Louder, doll.❞ he chuckles against your ear, ❝ Let everybody in Hawkins know whos about to cum in your tight little cunt.❞

His hips falter and he groans against your neck as he sucks on it again, the grip on your hip with his hand so tight that you can’t move or meet his thrusts as he fucks into you, feverish and frantic. He tries to stop himself but it’s too late. Sticky seed empties inside you and instead of stopping, he’s determined to fuck it into you even deeper.

As he fucks himself through his orgasm, he melts down into you. Going still. Holding onto you so tight that you’re crushed against him and for a second, you struggle to breathe.

❝ This is gonna happen again, doll.. And you don’t need t’ be alone when it does.❞

You nod. Somehow you got the feeling that this fever stuff wasn’t done. He’s gone quiet again, lost in thought. He’s trying to figure out a place where the two of you can go just to disappear.

❝I don’t wanna be alone.❞ you mumble quietly. Dragging your thumb against his cheek. He nuzzles into the touch and you speak up again. ❝ What if we just like.. Left town?❞

Billy chuckles. ❝ Okay, but where would we even go, hm?❞ he’s settled himself down into your body, letting you mold against him. One hand caressing your cheek as he stares down at you. ❝ I mean, I was gonna suggest hiding out at my friend Rick’s cabin for a while, but…❞ he takes a few shaky breaths, ❝ There’s really not shit holdin me here.. Never has been.❞

You’re dragging your finger over his chest and he shivers at the soft touch. You laugh softly. ❝ Where’d you move here from?❞

❝ California, but..❞ Billy goes quiet because he’s not trying to let anything stop him from being with you. He refuses to be away now that the bond has been made. ❝ So we’ll go there, Billy.❞ you mumble softly as you nuzzle against him. He chuckles and nods. ❝ Okay, doll. We’ll go there.❞

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #( ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʟɪsᴛ ✔ ) #lazyghoulskinktober2023 #( ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴɪ sᴇʀɪᴇs; ᴘᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ)

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: He wants something from you—something you’ll never give.

Word Count: 1,600

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non Con (Forced Blowjob, brief Cunnilingus), Kidnapping, Basement Wife Trope, Delusion, Cursing, Threats, Fighting, Attempts at Maiming, Vomiting, Mild Grossness, Pet Names (honey, precious). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Let’s meet Andy’s precious housewife that keeps giving him trouble, shall we? This ended up feeling kinda nasty/disgusting in bits, so beware. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should continue it!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

This is unBeta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

This is not worth $873. None of it. You should have just walked away. Taken your loss and moved on. But the police came to you in their investigation. They told you you held the key to their case, that you could help bring justice to others like you. Duped by a pretty picture and sweet words.

You called it catfishing. They called it a romance scam. Either way, you were painted in an unflattering light. They made it so easy to save face. You only had to tell the truth, stand your ground on the cross examination.

And you’d won.

After the trial, you’d walked up to Mr. Logiudice and thanked him for his efforts in putting the man who’d stolen your money behind bars. Even let him hug you a little too long, the relief too overwhelming. If only you knew the door he’d opened up. The snake he’d let slip through the grass. You should have punched his fucking teeth in.

But the blame may also sit on your shoulders, at least a little. One night, just the one, walking around your neighborhood to try to start an active lifestyle. You’d gotten lost in your music for maybe a block, enjoying your favorite song. The blackness had descended all at once.

You’d woken up here. Four musty, dank walls. No windows. Hands shackled together. One foot tethered to the foot of the bed. Just enough of a lead to let you piss in a bucket in the corner. And it was so cold—it’s always so cold. The flimsiest scrap of worn linen the only protection from it in your possession. You say ‘your possession’, but you’ve come to learn you don’t have those anymore.

Footsteps descend the steps outside. Your teeth grit. Rage boils in your gut, the only thing left to you. Cause you sure as shit ain’t gonna submit to the bastard. He’ll never get what he wants from you. Never.

“Honey,” he calls from behind the door, all sweetness and sensitivity. Bile rises in your throat. At least you’re not deceived by it anymore. It won’t last. “You away from the door?” As if he actually cares about your well-being. “I’m coming in.”

A growl rolls in your throat. Your lips snarl, baring your teeth. The door clicks open and he smiles—the bane of your existence.

“There you are,” he coos, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He approaches, arms open and sleeves rolled up. His dress shirt stretches across the expanse of his chest, almost appealing. The gods certainly blessed him with a mighty fine figure, but that heart rots black in his chest. “How’re you doing today, precious?”

His hand cups your face, rubbing his thumb against the swell of your cheek. Your head snaps to the side, teeth biting at his fingers. He clicks his tongue, quick to evade your attempt at mutilation. His lips purse and he tilts his head in examination of you.

“It’s okay,” he assures you with a pat to your head. “I know how stressful this is for you.” Though he grins, it sits strained on his face, not quite reaching his eyes. He sighs and sits heavily beside you. You rear back and kick out at him with your free foot. He hums, and attempts to soothe you like a spooked horse. “Now, none of that.” His thumb brushes your ankle. “I’ve got an important question for you.”

He dips forward, hand firm on your leg to keep it immobile and presses a kiss to your shin. His lips twitch toward a smile. Your eyes roll. With all the gravitas you’ve come to expect from this recurrent sham, he reaches for your hands and holds them close to his chest, not matter how your try to rip them away.

He takes a deep breath, meets your gaze, and asks, “Will you marry me, honey?”

And, just like every other time, you pause. Not to contemplate accepting—hell no. You take a moment to wonder at his utter audacity, his delusion to think you’d ever accept whatever bullshit at which he’s playing.

“Suck my dick,” you enunciate through gritted teeth, scowling and leaning threateningly forward.

The switch flips in his eyes. Immediate. He scowls and grips your hands too tight. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you snark, unable to help yourself. You’ve trod this dangerous line before and know it’s only a matter of time. But he’s never done anything except storm out with a slam of the door. “Wash my mouth out with soap? Newsflash, asshole, there’s no running water down here.”

He stares, a moment too long. “I’ll just have to fill your mouth with something sweeter.” His hand lowers to his belt and he stands, looming over your figure.

Still, you won’t back down. “I’ll bite it off,” you threaten with a snarl.

“Then I’ll pry out every single one of your pretty teeth.” He holds your face, tilting your chin up. His fingers sink into your cheeks until you have no choice but to comply with the pressure of his grip and open your mouth. “Now, be good for me.”

You wrench your head from side to side, trying to break free from his hold. But fail. His free hand works at his button and fly, removing the obstruction of material until he grips himself in his hand. Your eyes flick up to meet his, feeling dread pool in your belly with your bile. It sinks and smothers some of the fight in you. He smirks, seeing you falter and takes the opportunity to guide his cock toward your face.

It taps against your cheek, smears his arousal over your skin before doing the same to the other side.

“Whoops,” he murmurs, without even a hint of sincerity. “Open wide.”

With his fingers still keeping the hinge of your jaw open, it’s not like you have any choice. He sinks in between your lips and toward the back of your throat. Panic sets in. You wriggle against him and try to free yourself, to no avail.

“Hey,” he barks with a pop to your cheek with his free hand, “cut that out.”

You blink away the daze from the slap and try to keep steady, keep breathing. Your hands curl together in your lap, gripping at each other in all your trepidation and anger and pain. To be so helpless at the mercy of his desire, you feel sick, feel it rising up your throat. But he pushes it back as his hips begin to rock and he takes his pleasure from your orifice.

He groans, deep and gravelly. His eyes close and his head tips back. Not even looking at you while using your mouth. How often he’s claimed to adore you when any hole would have satisfied his needs.

As he sinks further into his pursuits and your throat, his hands wander, cradling your head. He tilts you and holds you steady. Indulging in it while you suffer.

You blink away the treacherous tears and try to block out the musky smell of him infiltrating your nose. Trying to picture your life before, your home, your friends. All of them almost too far away to grasp when your jaw aches and he continues to plunder your mouth.

Despite your adamant detachment to the act, he doesn’t seem to mind. He contents himself in your ruin, spouting unintelligible praises and declarations. You ignore his bleating, trying to block every moment of the encounter from your mind. But his hips stutter and before you can prepare yourself, he groans once more and spills down your throat.

His chest rises and falls with heavy pants. He withdraws from you and you turn away, vomiting up his spend and your disgust of him across the floor. He clicks his tongue and rubs your shoulders, soothing you before turning you to face him. He wipes your mouth with a gentle finger and you’ve no energy to try to retaliate with your own spite.

“There now,” he says softly, “all better.”

His lips stretch toward his smarmy grin and he leans forward, taking advantage of your sorry state to slant his lips over yours. His tongue takes no time at all to invade, swiping into your mouth. Disregarding the sourness of the sick lingering on yours. You scream against his lips, bound hands pushing at his chest, but he remains locked to you. Kissing you to his fill.

When he finally withdraws, he presses his forehead to yours, even as you attempt to dislodge him. He pleads, “You don’t have to love me, you just have to marry me.” His eyes catch yours, blown with lust and dark. Something sinister lurking deep down. Talking like the devil, smooth words and slippery promises. “I can take you outta here. Make you so comfortable. Be so nice to you.”

You swallow and lean away, as far as he’ll let you. Mortified as his lips trail down your neck, across your belly, toward the apex of your thighs. You begin to wriggle again, but he won’t be deterred.

He pries apart your thighs and breathes deeply, nose pressing to the crest of your mons. Your legs lash out, trying to keep him away from you and your unwashed body. Threats and protests spill from your lips, stinging and sharp. But he remains deaf to them. Too focused on his destination. He sinks down and begins his torture with one sloppy, debasing lick of your sex and a guttural moan.

#andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #dark #dark fic #rape #tw rape #non con #tw non con #kidnapping #tw kidnapping #yandere vibes #basement wife trope #attic wives anonymous #18+ #minors dni

[v3nusxsky]

Hey ^^ could I request a Larissa x fem!reader where the reader is bratty all day so when the school day is over Larissa shows reader where and to whom reader belongs. Of course smut and maybe small aftercare? You can use any kinks you see fit for their dynamic (I’m kinky person so I don’t mind anything really xd)

thank you and hope you have wonderful day <3

My brat 18+

*Authors note~ my last request (was at the time I wrote this) and I'm all officially caught up for my darling Larissa Weems <3 two new requests but here's some long awaited smutty goodness*

Trigger warnings~ brat r / dom l mommy kink overstimulation oral toys punishment praise/degrading fucked dumb

Prompt~ see ask^^^

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Yours and Larissa relationship was common knowledge around the walls of Nevermore. At first it was staff members only but soon enough the students started to put two and two together and came up with four. Truthfully neither of you mind the school knowing, all they knew was that you and their headmistress had the kind of love written about in books and seen on movies. The type of love that you dream of wishing to someday have as your own. Then again that being said, they knew what you showed them what happened behind closed doors would always remain private, just for the two of you. And that's how you liked it.

This particular day you had only morning classes and truthfully you were bored. Larissa was busy as usual, not able to give you the attention you wanted, no needed. You weren't above playing dirty to get it either and that's how you formed a plan to gain it. You would break every rule the two of you had agreed on. Every. Single. One. Oh and when she found out you were in for the night of your life. Or so you hoped.

By the end of the day Larissa was hanging on by a thread, you had sent over pictures, voice notes, detailed texts that looked more like essays of what you desired her to do to you and even gone into your toy box to add to the pictures. Safe to say she was truly in need of playing with you, but clearly that's what you were aiming for so naturally she had to make you wait. To achieve that she stayed later than normal in her office after sending you a simple text, one she knew would absolutely drive you wild.

Arriving to your shared chambers she found you exactly where she'd told you to be. You sat on the edge of the bed, head tilted downwards in submission, stripped bare for her. She praised you as she stepped off also. She instructed you to lay flat on your back and she made quick work of restricting your arms and legs. A blind fold neatly placed over your eyes, ensuring you couldn't see a thing. "Now what was it you said earlier my love? Please remind me" she murmured into your ear before retreating to admire her handy work. When you failed to answer her question she brought her hand down against your thigh, delighting in the way it instantly reddened as you yelped out "fuck mommy I said I want you to treat me like a toy and use me till I can't say anything but your name. That I'd be so good for you mommy, touch me, do anything you please just god mommy" you finished reminding her of a few of your texts to be cut off with a moan as her fingers teased your soaked core.

"Such a pretty slut all laid out for mommy aren't you? My toy to use isn't that right?" She purred before moving to grab something. You were left anticipating what would happen, just which of your fantasies would she be acting on today? The answer was given quickly as you felt the vibrator being strapped to your aching cunt. Only when it was secured did Larissa move away from you with a final kiss and get settled in, perfect view of you. She wanted to watch every little reaction you would have as she edged you over and over. To watch you come so close to getting some release before she cruelly ripped it away from you.

With a simple click of the button she was able to do exactly that. You were edged 5 times for the amount of times you had sent pictures of yourself to her that day. By the time she switched it off and untied it from you, you were desperately begging her to give you something, anything just more. She couldn't help but laugh at how pathetic her toy was. "Oh darling, look at you, look at how needy you are for your mommy?" All you could do is whimper at her, "please."

"Oh my pretty whore, your needy cunt is leaking all over the sheets, is that all for me?" She purred coming up to free you from the blindfold. "All for you mommy, all yours" you whined still unable to move your limbs to get what you wanted from her. She moved to help your head tilt forward to see just what a mess you were making, the sight alone causing you to whine for her "mommy touch me"

"Oh no, I was going to give you what you needed, but my slut has lost her manners" she reprimanded you while moving to straddle your head. "Now you're going to be my good little whore and please your mommy and prove you deserve to cum" she commanded before lowering herself onto your mouth. Just like the eager slut you truly were you immediately started to use your mouth, exactly how you knew would drive her wild. You were instantly rewarded with pleasured whines and mewls. You couldn't help but moan at the taste of your lover, the vibrations around her aching pussy only aided her climb to the edge of climax.

Although you were pleasuring her she remained in complete control, ordering and controlling your every action. That fact drove you absolutely wild. "Such a good slut for mommy darling make me cum all over they dirty mouth of yours" was moaned out from the women above you, spurring you on despite the fact your tongue and jaw were tiring you were determined to please your lover. It wasn't long until you were rewarded by a loud high pitched moan and wetness flooding from her core. You made sure to lap up every last drop before she removed herself from your face, laughing at how you were trying to dart your tongue around your chin in an attempted to get the slick that coated your chin.

In your distracted state, Larissa had time to complete strap up and join you back on the bed, teasing your entrance and coating it with your own slick. "Such a dirty girl for mommy hmm, you're so wet you don't even need lube darling" she hummed out in a teasing manner knowing exactly how needy you were. She loved how you lay there still tied up completely at her mercy and ever so desperate for her. Your whines of need were certainly getting uncontrollable even though you were trying to hide them in an attempt to behave. "Beg" she purred into your ear, you immediately let out a string of desperate pleas, only to be cut off turning into moans of pleasure, by feeling her length pushing into you and stretching out your dripping cunt.

It was almost as if Larissa could feel how your walls milked the fake cock for all it was worth, her thrusts becoming frenzied with every whine and whimper you released. Your hips bucking uncontrollably to meet her ruthless thrusts begging for harder, faster and deeper. This time she gave you the permission you needed to let go and you did. Over and over again as she forced orgasm after orgasm from your tired body. "Mommy can't no more, please mommy" you whined pathetically knowing nothing would stop the women from achieving what she wanted. "No darling, you wanted this now you're going to shut up and take it like the filthy whore you are for me" she commanded while untying you and flipping you over before slamming back into you. She knew it wouldn't take much to throw you over the edge one more time, and with her pace and a quick bite to your shoulder, you came with a loud cry. She gently brought you down from your high loving just how blissed out you were. Half hooded eyes, shaking limbs, mouth gaping open as you tried to formulate a sentence. Here, like this, Larissa was sure she'd never had such a beautiful women in her bed. And neither did she want anyone other than you bellow her.

After disappearing to gather a cool wash cloth she immediately started to clean you up as you whined and whimpered in protest. "Hush darling, im just cleaning you up my love I promise, no more okay? You did such a good job for mommy, such a good girl for me." She reassured quickly hurrying to be able to join you in bed and hold you close. That was how you drifted off to sleep, blissfully fucked into a dumb state and snuggled up to your love. For you there wasn't any better way to end the night.

Word count ~ 1578

#fanfic #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #anon answered #larissa weems smut #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa x you

[tavyliasin]

Urges Bared Before The Dawn - Abdirak x Gortash x gn!Durge One Shot

Enver Gortash has recently been meeting with Durge after many years apart, but they are struggling to find peace in their mind, to find any of the memories they shared beneath that. They're clearly still interested in him, but this isn't a problem that can be solved alone.

Durge recalls a priest of Loviatar, Abdirak, and how he helped them before - pain and punishment had brought about a sense of peace that they longed for, one that Enver knew in his heart should be possible by his hand alone. He agrees to pay the dark cleric for his services, and so the three find themselves in Gortash's chambers with an array of tools and a whole night to find a way through the shroud over Durge's memory. 6,341 Words

Click Here for AO3 Version Pairing: Gortash x Durge x Abdirak SPICE Rating: 5/5  Content Warnings and Tags: Power play, BDSM, Power Exchage, Blood, Wound Detail, Whipping, Chains, Bondage, Predicament Bondage, Sounding, Temperature Play (hot water, ice), Sensation Play, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Cockwarming (mild), Dom/sub, switching, biting

Spoilers Not a lot. Some reference to shared pasts and Gortash/Durge relationship dynamics Canon Compliance Loose at best. This is more interesting. Other Notes ...I made it sound nice in the summary, this is pure BDSM smut, mind those tags and don't be too surprised by the aftertaste of emotion~ And my Beta reader's assessment of that note there is that it's an accurate representation (though I may be downplaying the emotion a little)

(Youtube link click here) Song Pairing Killer Inside Of Me by Willyecho "Think you're a God Yeah but tonight Let's see if you bleed like one You call the shots, but that's all you got I'm gonna call your bluff 'Cause something happens when you fan the flames I'm like an animal inside a cage, but I'm gonna break out these chains You're gonna wish you never held me down I feel it rush through my veins Yeah, this adrenaline has kicked in now There's a killer inside of me"

Full One Shot below the cut! --- ---

Urges Bared Before The Dawn

Abdirak looked on with approval at the chains holding the pale Dragonborn. They were facing the wall, arms held above them, ankles spread apart, even their tail bound off to the side. To his side, Gortash huffed impatiently.

“Why are we hesitating? This is exactly what they requested. I am well aware of what they desire, isn’t that right my dear?” The self-proclaimed Archduke stepped forwards, running the sharp edge of a golden claw down Durge’s spine, smiling at the growl that rumbled forth through their throat.

“Yes,” they agreed, “yet also no .” 

“What do you mean no ? We have danced to this tune a hundred times or more by my memory, even if yours has decided to vacate that pretty little head - why change the steps now?” The metal bit deeper, staining pale scales red. 

Abdirak pulled the man back, a low warning. “You would do well to listen, should you care for the mind within that body. Pain without purpose…” He shook his head. “The agreement was for you to learn, and if you cannot do that you will bear your own penance tenfold.” 

“Fine, Priest. What would you have me do?” Gortash snarled, yet still stepping aside. 

“First, you watch.” He moved closer to the Dragonborn again, pressing a single pale finger against the cut that the gauntlet had left. 

Durge moaned, pressing their body against the cold stone of the wall.

“What is it you wish for, dear one? The whip? The cane? Perhaps the flat of a heated blade?” He added more pressure, deepening the cut and adding a bruise beneath. 

“I trust your judgement.” Their reply was coloured by another pleased sound echoing deep in their throat, savouring the pain until it was withdrawn.

“Very well.” Abdirak turned away picking over a table of tools to select what was best. “These should do nicely.” He handed one of the identical flails to Gortash, observing how the man took a moment to inspect the barbed tips of each strand.

“Is this not a predictable tool? I had heard your methods were more… imaginative .” Golden gauntlets raked through the flail as if caressing the hair of a lover, reverent of the potential despite his attitude. “An experienced hand can turn even the most basic of implements into an instrument of the finest art.” The whip flicked with a smooth and swift motion of his wrist, the ends of the tails snapping against the upper thigh of the bound participant, a slight whine escaping their lips. “Do not hold back, dear one, let the Maiden hear you sing to her with your pain.” 

“Let me hear you.” Gortash interjected, impatience clear in his voice. 

“You think yourself above a goddess?” He frowned, turning to observe the dark haired man whose eyes were fixed on the quivering knees of his lover. 

“And you think yourself an expert on the whims of deities?” The reply came with an indignant scoff, followed by three swift whips of the flog. 

The first drew a breathy gasp from Durge, but the other two wrought only silence from their lungs. Abdirak stayed the lord’s hand before a fourth strike could follow.

“Patience, Enver.” He warned, his grip tightening on the metal clad wrist enough for both to feel the edge of pain. “Perhaps you do have knowledge of the divine that I have yet to discover, but pain is clearly not your greatest skill. You must use finesse, draw it out properly. It is no race to be won, no prize to conquer in your haste.” 

—

The casual use of given names did not escape Gortash, nor did it fail to raise his ire, but even he could see how Durge was no longer trembling in anticipation. Instead, they had twisted their head to show him their frown, their displeasure - there were few insults that could’ve been greater. “As you wish.” He tore his hand from Abdirak’s grasp and folded his arms, glaring between the two.

The priest did not lash out with the flail again. Instead, he draped the strands over the base of Durge’s tail, drawing it slowly back so the length dragged across their scales. Their back arched, such as it could from how they were bound, body pressing against the wall with a hiss as the barbed ends caught on their pale flesh. 

Just when he was certain they would be bored by the lack of pain, he noticed Abdirak’s expression change. The flail connected with a deeper impact this time, striking the same spot that had felt a far gentler caress mere moments ago. Durge keened, their hips pressing against the wall, and when their lungs had filled once more the priest struck again on their upper back this time. 

Pricks of blood coloured white scales with the stain of violence, the thought alone leaving Enver grateful that his jacket left his chest exposed to the cool air of the room. The scant outfit that Abdirak wore was also making more sense as the heat within him rose. 

“Excellent, dear one! That’s it, let the pain flow through you!” Another pause and the whip bit into the back of Durge’s leg, a howl following it that drew a loud laugh from the wielder. 

“I see.” He mused, one hand rising to caress his chin in idle thought. “It is not simply the impact but the anticipation that is required.”

“So you can learn, despite the pride.” Abdirak doled out another two strikes, the rattle of the chains mixing with a longer moan from the one writhing within their bonds. “Then I may allow you to try again, see if you can bring forth their pain properly this time.” 

Enver paused, battling the urge to tell the priest where to take that impudent attitude. That particular fight was easily won by the need to hear that voice again, their voice. Did it matter who heard their pleasured pain? No. Not if he could be its cause. 

—

The cold of the wall and the stone floor beneath their bare feet was grounding. The intermittent screaming in their mind, a blend of the unwelcome voice and memories of torture seared into their very bones, was growing quieter. The way Gortash… Enver looked upon their naked body, bound like an animal, with that hunger glowering in his dark eyes… Durge felt his gaze like hot fire licking across their skin, searing lust held tight behind well practised poise. 

Abdirak, too, was eyeing them with some interest. His ice cold gaze was different, though. Like the first time they had met, he saw a different purpose to their game. His own pleasure was not coming from the arousal that stirred deep in the pit of their belly, but in the connection to Loviatar, and the comfort in knowing that pain had its purpose in soothing their deeper agonies. 

The breath was once again pulled from their lungs as Enver’s arm arced, unseen, to bring the barbed flail to bear on their flank. Hot and bright sensation burned into the spreading warmth of pleasure, adrenaline smothering the creeping doubts in the back of their mind. This was safe. The two behind them were both safe so long as they were bound, the voice driven back by the exquisite-

The next blow to their rear felt far more targeted as their moan almost carried the syllables of his name on their tongue. “Env- aaaah!” 

He was at their side in an instant, claws at their chin, his lips stealing a kiss hotter than the pain that lanced through them as Abdirak’s flail struck their exposed arms. “I am right here. Say it. Say it again.” 

He must have been signalling to the priest this time, as the strike hit a full second after he had prevented their reply with his lips on theirs. “Enver-” They moaned through the pain and into his kiss, tongue hot with the hint of smoke, the taste bitter and earthy like liquor and spice. It was…familiar. Intoxicating. Their tongue fought his, while his claws dug into their ribs and the whip came down on their lower back. 

—

Abdirak admired his own handiwork. The crimson blemishes were a perfect partner to the pale scales of the Dragonborn’s body. They were clearly aroused, their hips pressing towards the wall to seek even the slightest bit of friction for their satisfaction. Of course, the ambitious man by their side was obviously hoping for this result with how eagerly he devoured their tongue in a show of pure passion. No matter, Loviatar’s embrace had more strength in her grip than lust’s hedonism alone. Not that he was immune to that particular vice, either, the lower half of his robes barely hiding anything. Not that anyone’s eyes were on him, nor would he be bothered if they were. Pain and pleasure… The two were as inseparable as the Archduke and his Assassin. 

The flail was losing its effectiveness now, so it was time to change the game; it could not become stale after all. Loviatar demanded her offering as much as his own desire demanded satisfaction. Abdirak threw the key to Gortash’s feet, the slight scowl at the veiled insult pleasing him almost as much as the growing anticipation. 

“Turn them around. They must face us for what is to follow.” He turned away, sorting through his bag for the tools he wanted. “Ah, but this time leave their tail free.” 

He could hear the indignant huff from the human before the clink of chains marked that his orders were indeed being followed carefully. When he returned to the pair he carried three flasks and a narrow, hollow rod. 

Two bottles clinked on the stone as he set them down on the floor, keeping only the smaller of them in his hand with the rod. The latter he held before the Dragonborn, watching their eyes light with recognition. “Tell me, dear one, are you resistant to the cold?” 

“I am.” They nodded quietly. “And…I agree.” 

“Excellent.” Abdirak smiled approvingly, the cantrip forming easily in his mind.

“What is it, exactly, that you are planning to do with that?” Gortash was challenging him again, though this time with more curiosity than annoyance. 

Threads of the Weave answered the simple call of the spell, crystals of frost spreading up the length of the metal rod. “This will add to their pleasure.” He stated simply, glancing down to where the Dragonborn was fully erect and twitching with anticipation. “And, most likely, to your own.” 

The cork of the bottle was easily unstoppered by his teeth, the oil trickling down the iced surface that was already burning his own fingers with the cold. He knelt, almost reverently, in front of his willing prisoner, pouring a little more oil where it would soon be needed. 

“Enver. Kneel.” He indicated the space next to him, looking up at the scowl on the man’s features as he silently refused. “Or would you rather I be more intimate with your lover before you?” 

“Insolent-” Gortash began, quickly changing his mind before Abdirak’s fingers could touch a single inch of the Dragonborn’s skin. There was a slight groan as the proud Archduke sank to his knees. “They are mine . You are a guest , here by their whims alone.” 

“So you say.” Abdirak held the metal rod out, almost loath to have the aching cold leave his fingertips. He indicated the rigid and quivering tip of the Dragonborn, whose tail was tapping at the ground with nervous anticipation. “Slowly. A little at a time, but when you are done it must only leave this much exposed. Use more oil should you need it.” 

—

Gortash was not fond of taking orders, nor was he pleased with the growing ache in his knee. An old injury, one that did not trouble him much, but the stone floor was not a place of comfort. He considered if the smirking priest knew, and intended this discomfort as another offering to his vile goddess, but it mattered little. Durge wanted this, wanted him . That was not something to be ignored. He hesitated at first. One hand braced on their hip, claws barely digging into their skin, the initial inch barely slipping in as he felt their body quiver. It was their tail on his back, however, that encouraged him to push further despite the hiss of pain from above. 

Enver worked carefully, pressing in further before drawing back, adding a little more oil, soothing them with small circles drawn on their hip with his thumb. All the while the priest remained at his side, watching, muttering his approval, and denying any further touch until the hollow rod was fully placed as instructed. 

Abdirak looked up towards their captive, a slight smile once again playing at the corners of thin lips. “There. Do you feel it, dear one? The cold battling the heat of your body, the pressure within, the edge of pain tugging at your senses?” 

Above them, Durge audibly swallowed, throat dry and slightly hoarse. They nodded, and Enver felt their tail curl around his leg like an embrace, holding the area where the pain was worse… He wondered if they knew, if they remembered… Impossible. Probably. 

“Excellent.” The priest continued, without awaiting further response from either of them. “Tap it, if you so please - they will feel it.” 

Enver complied experimentally, not bothering with how easily Abdirak was ordering him around. All that mattered was how sweet the moan was as he tapped sharply on the end of the hollow rod. 

Abdirak finally stood, taking the two bottles he had set down earlier with him. To Gortash’s surprise, the priest offered a hand to help him up. “This one,” he took the bottle held out to him, its contents glowing slightly, glass cool to the touch. “This one they must drink, all of it, if you would be so kind.” 

“You heard him, my dear. It is quite safe.” Enver knew a potion of fire resistance when he held one, though its purpose was the part that he found more intriguing. He ran a clawed thumb along the edge of his lover’s lips, willing them to part as he unstoppered the bottle with his teeth. “Perhaps you would trust it more from a more fitting chalice for your station.” 

—

Durge would’ve drained the bottle without a second thought. They both knew that, but this… They did not wish to argue as Enver kissed the potion into their mouth bit by bit, moaning against his tongue as he tapped the rod that pressed deep inside against nerves that were screaming for stimulation. 

The cold would’ve burned to someone without their natural resistance, but instead, the icy magic in the metal provided a difference of sensation, the freezing fighting the searing heat of their lust and holding it back. Though not entirely…

The potion spread through their body, flooding their veins with distilled magic that mingled with the heady arousal that pulsed through every muscle, seeping into their bones, pushing aside any thought besides a need for more .

By the time the last of the potion trickled down their throat, they were breathless, twitching, pulling at the chains to reach his lips once more. But they were denied. He pulled away, his expression unreadable, his eyes drifting down to where they were left now untouched and harder than the wall behind them. 

The last of Abdirak’s flasks had steam drifting from the now open top, the priest holding a small flame beneath the bottom of the glass that charred with black soot from the fire licking around it. When the bottle tilted, the liquid that trickled across their chest was near boiling, and even through the resistance the potion provided they could still feel the burning sting. 

“More.” They breathed, feeling only the edge of pain, the keening need for greater sensation. “Please, Enver-” 

“Dear one, I shall pretend I did not hear you call another’s name again while I am the only one delivering your penance.” Abdirak’s hand tapped sharply on the tip of the rod, driving it in a short hard burst of sensation that was enhanced by the iced magic still woven through the metal. “But if you desire your lover’s attention, that can be arranged. Is that what you wish for, dear one? Do you want to see him bared before you, sharing your pain?” 

The thought of the tyrant bent and bowed flashed through Durge’s mind. A memory? A daydream? A fleeting imagination of desire? They neither knew nor cared, beyond what it might take to see him in such a position. “Yes, Abdirak. If…if that is what he also wants.” 

—

Abdirak turned towards Gortash, carefully concealing the hint of uncertainty clouding the back of his mind. Lords like him were often willing to debase themselves, but there was no guarantee his pride would allow his libido the satisfaction. He decided it would be safer to goad the man’s ego first, which would make bringing him to his knees far more satisfying. “Well, my Lord? What is your choice? You both know your signals, how to stop at any time.” 

He frowned as the man stepped towards his lover instead, golden claws caressing bare white scales. “You wish…to share the penance that you requested?” Dark eyes beneath a furrowed brow searched the Dragonborn for an answer. 

“I need the pain,” they stated plainly. Abdirak smiled. “And I need you .” They continued, his smile growing. “If we can share it, if you can feel what I feel…” 

“So be it.” Gortash conceded easily, sealing the agreement with a brief kiss, one that the Dragonborn chased with their teeth nipping at his lip, drawing blood. 

Abdirak watched silently as the man caught the trickle of crimson on his finger, pressing it into their mouth, almost goading them to bite his entire hand right off there and then…but they didn’t. The dark fire behind their eyes flickered and was silenced in the same heartbeat, violence subsiding in the simple touch of golden claws. 

“Undress yourself, Enver.” He left no room for argument in his tone, cold with an edge of intrigue as he set the steaming bottle aside, stalking across the room to his bags once more. The little lord had clearly experienced some issue in his knee - that could serve the Maiden well. Leather straps, a metal bar, a sharp edged golden collar that was an unintentionally perfect match for the man’s gauntlets. A point to consider… “Your gloves. Leave them on.” 

—

Following orders was not particularly in Gortash’s interests, but he would make an exception. The flicker of recognition in their eyes, the cracks in the glass of shattered memories coming together in new patterns… A little more and perhaps a stained glass window might show them a version of what was. What could be.  They were watching him intently as he removed his clothes, folding each piece neatly and placing it aside. The moment he finished, he felt Abdirak’s finger tracing the light silver line of a long healed scar on his shoulder. What followed was a quiet voice in his ear, whispering instructions that sent a shiver down his spine. The harness slipped around his chest easily, cool leather straps pulling taught firmly. It forced his shoulders back, just a slight edge of an ache digging at the inside of his joints. He reasoned that his bound lover likely felt a similar discomfort, their arms still chained high above them, legs still spread where their ankles were hitched to the wall. It was the cold of metal against his neck that stopped the breath in Enver’s throat for a moment. It was not constricting, but he could tell that moving too much would press the sharp little spikes into his chin and collarbone. 

As he had been instructed, he walked to the wall, standing so close he could feel the heat radiating from Durge’s body, smell the scent of sweat and the sweet tang of old blood that seemed to follow them everywhere. Abdirak tapped the back of his knees with a simple riding crop, bidding him to kneel before the assassin. His assassin.

The leather cuffs around his ankles were attached to a sturdy metal bar, keeping his legs spread apart as he knelt painfully on the hard stone of the floor. The angle was no help to the angry pulsing ache deep in his joint… He would be needing his cane tomorrow, but that mattered little. His face was so close to the twitching and rigid Dragonborn that he could hardly take his eyes off the end of the chilled metal tube protruding from their tip. 

“Pay attention, Enver.” The priest hooked a chain to the metal ring of the harness that sat between his taught shoulder blades, hoisting it to attach to the same point Durge’s wrists were secured to the wall. His chest now bore some of his bodyweight - easier on his knees, but not enough to eliminate the discomfort. To his surprise, Enver’s hands remained unbound. “You surprise me, Priest. I had expected to be left with no such freedom.”

“Freedom,” Abdirak leaned down, growling darkly in his ear, “is all a matter of perspective.” 

—

Durge could hear their pulse drumming through their head, adrenaline and painful arousal at the sight of the proud Archduke held beneath them with his legs spread. The harness enhanced the shape of his chest, dark curls of hair covering his body in stark contrast to their pearly scales. Perhaps that’s why they were drawn together, they reasoned. The differences. 

Their own body was all ridges and scales, hard edges and bright colours, not a single hair upon them. 

Enver’s body was made of soft curves, rich toned skin, the shock of dark hair crowning the man who dreamed of grandeur-

His dreams… He talked about those, sometimes.

Their attention snapped back at the feeling of the Archduke’s golden claws seeking their hips, the tip of the metal pricking into their skin with a familiar sting. Dark eyes gazed up into theirs as they felt the gauntlets raking down the sides of their thighs. “Look at me. You asked for this, my dear, do not waste it.”

“Now,” Abdirak’s voice cut between them, cool and clear. “Shall we continue?” They could see the heated bottle in his hand, once again steaming from the flame held beneath. 

The temperature would’ve been close to scalding had it hit Enver directly, even on their own flesh with the effects of the potion still resisting the damage it could do, it felt damn near blistering. The path the liquid coursed cooled as it trickled lower, flowing off the hard edges of their body to splash onto the bare chest of the man below. He drew in a sharp breath as they watched his eyes momentarily widen with the burn. 

“Do not hold back.” The priest scolded the pair, moments before a longer pour of heated water flowed across their bodies drawing out a low moan in chorus. “Good, dear one, good - show him how beautifully your pain can sing out together, be sure that Loviatar can hear your devotion!” Over the course of countless long minutes, the searing burns grew hotter, drawing the volume of their voices louder as Abdirak’s joyful laughter echoed from the stone walls. Durge’s mind grew ragged at the edges, a soft and peaceful haze settling into the intensity of the pain and the pleasure of seeing the Archduke suffering in tandem with them. Below, they were almost shivering, the hollow tube within less empty than it had been despite the bitter cold of the metal.

—

Abdirak leaned down again to address the kneeling lord, orchestrating the crescendo of the symphony he was conducting in Loviatar’s honour. “You see how they are desperate for you? Taste them, Enver. Do not let one drop spill to the floor.” He removed the collar, freeing the man to move. Next, he pressed the tip of the riding crop against the slight swelling forming at the man’s knee, relishing the pained howl it drew from his lips as he gripped Gortash’s hair and pressed his head forward to the leaking Dragonborn. 

They were gazing down, eyes almost clouding over, he could sense the soft layer of bliss wrapping around them with the lingering edge of pain. The priest stood up straight once more calling forth the Weave under the watchful eye of his goddess to shroud Durge’s vision with darkness.   His crop struck true on Gortash’s bare calf, the swift rising of a reddened welt further proof to the offering of pain as he moaned around his lover, the ice cold of the rod no doubt burning his tongue as he lost his careful composure to the impact. Durge also cried out, exactly as planned. Enver’s metal claws had dug deeply into their side. The rich crimson trickle coursing down their shaking thigh was alluring, a paint upon the canvas. Each fresh mark of the crop focused the shared pain. Gortash feeling the direct impact, still trying to please his lover even as time and time again his gauntlets pierced their flesh, transferring the pain. And of course, his tongue burning on the icy metal would be pressing it deeper into Durge, teasing forth the deeper ecstasy of stimulation.

He envied them, now. Bound together, kept purposefully on the brink of satisfying their lust but never tipping over the edge, the sweet caress of agony wrapping around them with Loviatar’s loving embrace. The push and pull of the strikes, the beautiful colour of bruising rising below dark skin, the strain and rattle of chains and bindings…

—

Gortash was quickly reaching his limit. The taste of his lover’s lust finally upon his tongue, scalded as it was by the cold of the metal, was raising his desire to a fever pitch. He wanted them. Needed them. Durge’s pulse was thrumming on his lips every time he pressed heated kisses along their length - they were about ready to tear the chains from the walls. It wouldn’t be the first time, either. 

He felt their tail wrap around his back, his arms embracing their hips as Abdirak’s crop was stayed from further impact. Their voice broke the silence, gasping and thick with lust. 

“Enough, priest. I cannot… Pain’s purpose is served, but I must have him. Return my sight, release my chains, and leave me with him.” Their tail was gradually tightening its grip, protective perhaps…or was it becoming possessive? His heart pounded at the possibility. 

“As you wish, dear one. Your penance was…exquisite. The Maiden is very satisfied by your offering, as am I.” The spell around the Dragonborn’s vision was broken, and their chains released with ease. “I shall return for my belongings tomorrow.” 

“Your payment will be sent in due course.” Gortash added, reclaiming a little of his power in the situation. Although that prospect seemed absurd as he remained naked on his knees, the harness holding half of his weight. 

The footsteps receded, followed by the click of the door opening and closing. He looked up, now, seeing Durge rubbing the feeling back into their wrists. Their body was marked with red streaks. The marks of his golden gauntlets had pierced the marble of their flesh, chiselling it back into the sculpture of magnificent violence that he longed to bow before…exactly like he was doing right now. 

Thin draconic lips pulled into a smirk, the fire in their eyes proving their devotion, their desire. And all of it aimed at him at last. Aimed like the weapon they truly were.

Durge reached up and pulled hard on the chain connected to Enver’s harness, hauling him off the ground. His ankles were still bound to the spreader bar, but his hands were free, and that was the only thing that gave him even a second of stability against their body as he was pulled until he was on tiptoes.

“There you are.” Enver muttered, almost reverently, still below the level of their eyes. 

“Here I am, Tyrant.” They ran their hands from his shoulders to his wrists, his skin prickling beneath their touch before they brought his hands up to their throat, placing his gauntlets like a gilded collar. “You thought you could hold me, chain me, tame me while I was weakened by my need?” 

“The only chains that could ever hold you , my dear, were the ones that you asked for.” Recognition flickered and left. It wasn’t all there, that was too much to hope…but their body remembered. He didn’t need to look down to know that the hollow rod was not empty, that they were twitching as their pulse increased under his fingertips, that they were not going to stop until they were satisfied. 

—

The sharp metal edges and calloused fingertips stayed right where Durge held them, Enver’s chest almost touching theirs where the harness was holding him up from behind his shoulders. Dark eyes never lost their pride, even as he allowed them to fix the chains that had bound them to his wrists this time. 

Durge didn’t remember everything he wanted them to, they knew that much, but the Dragonborn could feel a peace and clarity persisting through the ritual of exchanging power with him. The storm that raged within them quietened to a few dark clouds and a cold wind whispering between them, and whispers were far easier to ignore. 

They followed where his eyes drifted, to the rod still pressed deep within them, the magic barely fading away to finally allow the metal to heat. They carefully took hold of the end, allowing themselves a few moments more pleasure and deep stimulation before withdrawing it at an achingly slow pace. The end dripped slightly, a mixture of oil and denied orgasm. Perfect.

They brought it up to Enver’s lips, holding it level until they parted, his tongue obediently coming forth from between them to catch his prize as they trickled it into his mouth. They leaned forward over his shoulder, their lips grazing the edge of his ear as they purred their approval. “Good. Very good… That’s what you want to hear from me, isn’t it, Enver? How good you are?” 

The only response was a quiet swallow, indicating the rod was now empty. They tossed it aside. 

“You were insolent with the priest.” Their teeth grazed his neck as they whispered dark and low against his heated skin. One clawed hand drifted down, pleased - and not at all surprised - to find him fully erect and leaking beneath the first hint of their touch. They tightened their grip with a growl. “But you will not be insolent with me, will you.” 

Not a question, a statement. One that Enver did not dispute.

“Good boy.” Another twitch. They smirked, letting go of him once more and trailing their hands around his body, following them with their tail, leaving the whisper of an embrace around him. He looked so inviting, held against the wall, spread and tense as every muscle worked overtime to keep him where they had put him. 

He remained silent, as Durge padded across the room to fetch some more oil. It was easy work to pour it across their fingers, teasing Enver open as his breathing became more ragged, preparing him for all they wanted to give him. All they wanted to take . 

—

The strain was almost too much for Gortash to bear, but bear it he did. Pride might come before the fall but he had no intention of doing either. The heat of the hands prying him open with fervent desire held a slight warmth of care to them too - claws meant for rending flesh apart moved with care, pulling forth not blood but deep and intoxicating pleasure.

Their voice whispered praise close to his ear once more, breath hot, tongue following the words to taste the sweat trickling down his neck. A shiver crept down his spine as their hands withdrew, leaving him empty…but not for long. 

Durge teased him with every moment, pressing their tip to his quivering hole but refusing to enter, instead sliding their still-oiled hands around to his hips. They paused for a moment, squeezing hard enough to leave small bruises beneath their fingertips, then moving down the side of his thighs. In the next moment, Enver Gortash moaned loud enough for the city to hear. But he did not care. Durge had hooked their foot beneath the bar holding his ankles, simultaneously lifting his thighs and dropping him back in one swift motion that filled him instantly. “That sound,” they growled as they held him flush against their body. “It is…pleasing.” 

—

The echo from the walls was familiar and had stirred a different voice within their restless mind. One that further stoked their pleasure to feel themselves deep within his body, savouring how his muscles added pressure even as they kept him still. They brought their tail around to caress his chest, relishing how his heartbeat thrummed through his back and against their ribs. “I missed you, my dear.” Enver managed to murmur through ragged-edged breaths, words holding poise his voice no longer possessed. The contradiction was pleasing to their ears. 

“I would miss this too, had I known what there was to miss.” They began to move him, relishing the feel of each moment of friction, building the sensation with a slow but gradually building rhythm. “You…were made for me, Enver.” 

“I was not.” He breathed his reply between low moans speaking plainly, literally, lending further weight to the words that followed. “But I am yours.” “Do you want more, Tyrant? If you belong to me, should I use you how I see fit?” Durge didn’t need to hear his answer. They felt it, his body quivering as they sank inside him with a harsher thrust, testing if he was truly ready. “Good. Boy.” 

They braced one hand against the wall, their tail wrapping around his waist to hold him firmly, their other hand snaking around to grip him with a matching rhythm as they began to slam hard into his warm and inviting body. 

The Dragonborn’s own breaths began to quicken to gasps, overwhelmed by the pure sensation. He was tight around them, clenching down on every inch and adding further friction. He was soft against them, their sharp edges leaving bruises on the curves of his tender flesh. He was hard in their grip, throbbing and pulsing under their fingertips. He was pliant beneath their lips, his head moving to the side as their kiss tasted his vulnerable neck. He was proud, strong, willing, undignified, moaning, melting into them… 

He was Lord Enver Gortash, Archduke of Baldur’s Gate, self proclaimed saviour of the city, chosen of a God…and he was theirs. 

—

The Dragonborn’s growl was possessive, just short of feral, a bare hint of a warning before their teeth bit down hard on his shoulder. The pain blossomed through Enver, body and mind heating like the blood that trickled forth, lapped up by Durge’s hungry and fervent tongue. Moments later the orgasm he had been desperate for ripped through him like a hurricane, spilling over onto the floor, some even reaching the wall with the sheer force of the climax. Nothing compared to this, to his Assassin burying his favourite weapon deep inside him, growling against his bleeding skin again as their own end approached. There was no slowing, no mercy. Their grip was brutal, their rhythm punishing, and the overstimulation of feeling them expand within him as they toppled over the edge of bliss nearly brought him to a second peak himself. They continued, filling him, drawing out every last pulsing moment that left him quivering in their embrace and straining against the chains that still held his arms firmly above. By the time they were done, Enver could barely feel his own body. His heart beat so hard against his chest he was almost certain it would burst, spilling his blood across their pure white scales…what bliss that might be, to find an end in their arms, knowing the only person worthy of taking his life could hold his heart in their hands in more ways than one. But for now, their hands were not stained with his blood, not holding his life as it ebbed away, but instead caressing him. Long fingers curled into thick dark hair, the tips of their claws caressing his scalp. A quick cast of mage hand released the chains binding him with a few deft motions, leaving him held only in his lover’s arms.

—

“Enver.” They murmured, hearing nothing but their voice in their mind, soft with the afterglow of bliss.

“My dear.” He replied, leaning his head back on their shoulder and bringing his hand to their cheek with a tender caress.

They hesitated, unsure if they should ask the question playing on the tip of their tongue… They swallowed their uncertainty, along with the faint taste of his blood that lingered on their lips. The absurdity of being so shy now whilst still buried deep in his body was not lost on them. “May I stay? Until morning. That’s all.”

“As you wish. We both have work to do, after all.” Enver paused, kissing their bloodstained lips, a small shudder of pleasure palpable in his otherwise limp body. “But that can wait. Until the sun rises, you may have whatever you desire.” 

A grin crept across their face, mind filling not with murderous urges but entirely more pleasurable ones. “I was going to suggest that we sleep, but hearing those words…” They suddenly pushed forwards, trapping his body against the wall, the hand that was caressing his hair took a firm grip at his roots before roughly shoving his cheek hard against cold stone. “Brace yourself, Enver. There’s a long time between now and dawn.”

--- ---

ENDING NOTES So fun fact I still haven't played as Durge, I'm still absorbing lore and vibes through fandom and fan works~ I haven't even read much fic beyond those by a couple of friends, but I'm having a lot of fun writing with them anyway. Their dynamic is fascinating, so much to play with, so many little headcanons you can weave in to the story~ Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my first full length Durgetash piece with added Abdirak~ I was going to keep our dear priest around to fuck too, but the vibe leaned heavily into just having the two of them for that. We can assume Abdirak went to have a delightful evening with a certain Shadar-Kai instead, they deserve more time together anyway.

#baldurs gate 3 #durgetash #dark urge x gortash #abdirak #dark urge x abdirak #dark urge x gortash x abdirak #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #Spotify

[writtenontheport]

Walk Me Home?

George Karim x (gn) Reader

Pt. 4: Somewhere in Between (pt. 1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3)

Warnings/Tags: Bit description heavy, Lockwood and co friendship, Shorter than usual I’m so sorry 😭, This part is more of like… it’s a buildup to the next part, That part oooooh I have something for it!!, Quite a few things actually, but this part is mostly build up, Rising Action kinda move 🤞, Mild arguing and swearing, Slow Burn (LMAO!!) , The characters are quite ooc in this one, They are all INCREDIBLY SILLY ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Notes: I usually write longer I promise it’s just that I’ve been struggling to write a bit!! Mostly why I took that break yesterday, but I needed to at least get this lore important part out 🤞🤞 I needed reader to meet Lucy and Lockwood for what I’m scheming to do in the next part… This series is SO self indulgent my silly ass is cackling. I imagined book Lockwood and his silly ass and couldn’t stop thinking about the characters acting as genuine, embarrassing people and like— I’m sorry Lucy my love… you got sillified.

Summary: You meet George’s friends and it goes as well and as horribly as he thought it would. Just for today, the library can rest.

When George first introduced you to Lucy and Lockwood, he already knew you all would hit it off. At first you were nervous; your smile wobbly as you kept yourself small, so George linked pinkies with you and didn’t let go until he was sure you were ok. From the corner of his eye he could see your expression turn soft and adoring, grateful in the way you tighten your knuckle around his. From there you found enough confidence to ease yourself into their dynamics.

Lucy adored having you around. George wondered if having her whole life defined by the problem made her crave for some sense of what normalcy they were owed growing up. He was lucky enough to find it with you in the library and in cobble-steeped walks before curfew, but Lucy’s never really had that with anyone.

Watching you both chatter away from him and Lockwood, he’s glad she could find it in you, too. She seemed relaxed whenever she sat beside you, and her voice was filled with more wonder than he had heard since they’d met. Often times, Lucy would whisper something that had you ducking your head coyly, avoiding George’s eyes. He didn’t know what that was about, but the self-satisfied smirk Lucy had after made him rather suspicious.

Lucy would tell him (after he had walked you home) that he did good finding you and confirmed that she had immediately been taken with you and wanted to be friends. Something in George felt reassured when she insisted ‘only friends’, but she did so with a teasing smile that had him glaring at her playfully.

Lockwood took to treating you like you’ve always been one of them, ever kind and charming as he always was. He was fascinated with news about the world at large (ever the gossip), and seemed to eat up anything you could tell him about what life was like without ghosts on the streets. Whenever Lucy wasn’t hogging you, Lockwood was either having you tell your own anecdotes or sharing his newspaper clippings. He certainly looked the part of a child dragging about their new friend to play, puffing his chest proudly with every framed photo he showed off.

When George asked him about what he thought of you, Lockwood clicked his tongue and whined at him for not bringing you sooner. That was a very good sign, but it was terrible for George because Lockwood had gone a 30 minute spiel about who knows what (George tuned him out at some point early on).

A lot of the time you spent visiting, though, the two of them teased you and George as they asked for the details George refused to share. It surprised you to know that he hadn’t even told them about the nature of your first meeting before he mimed zipping his mouth shut and you grinned.

“Yes, well, I’ve actually forgotten,” You hummed, linking your pinky with George’s under the table.

You all moved to the dining table near the end of your visit to Portland Row, eating biscuits and drinking tea. George made sure to tell you about the one biscuit rule, but occasionally turned a blind eye when Lucy or Lockwood offered you an extra. They shot him knowing looks he refused to meet while he focused on the comfort of your voice.

“Really?” Lucy asks amusedly, raising a brow, “From the one thing George’s told us, it doesn’t sound forgettable.”

“What’d he say about it?” You were genuinely curious, leaning in with a wide smile.

Lockwood, ever excitable, added, “Well, it was very strange. Said something about owing you shoes apparently? You don’t suddenly owe someone new shoes just after meeting them.”

“George has never owed me shoes,” You balk, turning to eye George, “And he should know it absolutely wasn’t his fault what happened to my shoes.”

George simply sips on his tea as his pinky squeezes at yours, your searching gaze softening into a smile.

“Have you seen a ghost yet?” Lockwood asks, a bit out of the blue.

Beside you, George cuts him off with a stern reply and Lucy leans in to whisper to you in the midst of George’s and Lockwood’s argument.

“Has he actually not shown you any ghosts yet? I would have thought he might’ve. ” Her eyes twinkled in mischief.

“I haven’t seen a single ghost since meeting George. Mind taking me to see one one day, Lucy? Let’s leave these two bickering and have a day of our own,” You suggested, reaching over the table to offer a hand.

She takes it, and with a smirk says, “Any day, just tell me when and where.”

Little did you know that there was a ghost right under your nose in a little glass jar somewhere in the house; that she had meant that literally.

Lucy and Lockwood send you and George off like kids do with Santa after Christmas; George can’t seem to get enough of your smile all the while. He doesn’t deign the two’s teasing with a response before he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you down the sidewalk away from them, giggling and laughing as you rushed along.

Neither of you bring up the fact that this was entirely new, you simply slid your hand into his proper and followed along with a coy grin. George did the best he could to hide the growing uptick of his lips by keeping his eyes away from where yours focused on him fully.

“That went well,” George says, clearing his throat. You bit your lip and shrugged, bumping his shoulder with yours in a motion that has him glaring at you. It’s a playful thing as much as it is a warning, and try as he might you know damn well George could easily find ways to get back at you if you pulled a prank on him. The glaring eases up quickly, but the tenderness in his eyes doesn’t; it’s almost dizzying if it wasn’t so adoring.

“Lucy promised to take me to see a ghost one of these days,” You hum, watching his expression fall into absolute vehemence.

“Absolutely not. I already have to deal with those two risking their lives every case already.”

“It won’t be on a case…” You grumble under your breath, kicking at a stray rock he watches tumble far off to the side. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your work like that. Plus, you could come! I’m sure Lucy won’t mind.”

He pretends to think on it, shrugging with his brows raised in the little motion that says he could be convinced. It’s a good enough sign for you when he finally concedes; “As long as Lockwood doesn’t come with. He’d somehow convince us all to make it some suicidal mission to take down London’s ghosts for fame again.”

“Again?” You balk, squeezing George’s hand in worry, “George, what do you mean again?”

A/N: I know I usually start and end it off at the library and at reader’s (temporary) home, but I just… I had to get this meeting out for now!! I needed reader to meet Lucy and Lockwood it was important!!! I promise this is plot relevant

#george karim x you #george karim x reader #lockwood and co x reader #portie writes fanfic

[booppooo]

hi heard u were taking requests and i really love ur writing! can i req an ellie x f!reader where they sort of have a fight because of her close relationship with dina (reader sort of gets defensive when ellie asks why they don’t hang out but like it escalates) and then at the ball, she sees u dance with jesse, cue in MASSIVE jealously on ellie’s behalf and then it just clicks that she likes you… would prefer a happy ending 🫣🫣 for the sake of everyone on the ellie tag pls

How Does It Feel?

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

AN: ugh love this <3

Warnings: arguing, swearing, jealousy, kissin'

(Comment Credits!)

-

This wasn't how patrol was supposed to go.

Usually patrol with Ellie was fun: taking out infected, making stupid jokes, sometimes gossiping or even flirting. But today you were feeling sick to your stomach around her.

You couldn't help but noticed how touchy her and Dina had been lately and how much time they were spending together. Sure - they were best friends, you all were, but you saw the way Ellie looked at her and the way Dina would smirk back. It made you furious. So the past week and a half every time Ellie asked to hang out you would brush it off or say you had picked up another patrol assignment and would be busy.

Now she had confronted you about it, and now you were fighting about it.

"It's nothing Ellie stop worrying about it." You grumbled while working on your gun at a workbench.

She huffed, "Y/n please just tell me what's wrong, I want to help."

"Yeah well..." you blew off some dust on your weapon, "you kinda can't."

"Kinda?"

You slammed your hands on the table, "Just stop! I told you to give it up already."

Her speckled nose started to scrunch indignantly, "You don't have to be a dick."

You gripped the cleaning cloth in your hand with enough force to crush a baby's skull and looked at Ellie in disbelief. But alas, you shook your head and decided not to entertain it anymore.

"Is it something I did?"

"Oh my god Ellie-!"

"Stop fucking avoiding my questions and just tell me yes or no!"

You could just smack her, "I don't have to tell you anything actually, so why don't you and Dina go eat shit and fuck off." Your attention turned back to your gun.

Ellie's jaw all but dropped on the floor.

She pointed to herself in frustration, "Oh so this is my fault? Ya know I wouldn't be hanging out with Dina all the time if you wouldn't keep leaving me in the dust or telling me you're 'busy.' Ever think about that Y/n?"

Heat tingled your skin as your fury grew to more intense levels, "Ever think about why I don't want to fucking hang out with you anymore?" You flashed her a side eye.

"I would like to know so I can fix it!" She was standing on top of you.

After sliding your pistol into your holster you stared her down. Dark green eyes boring back into your own angry irises and her mouth ajar in disbelief.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!" She exasperated.

"Stop eye fucking Dina every time you see her."

With that you felt the color drain from your face and your instinct was to whirl around and rush back to your horse.

Ellie was left standing and watched you storm off, biting her lip and picking at her nails. Unsure if she should feel insulted that you were threatened by her and Dina's dynamic or upset she had made you jealous, either way she felt a deep guilt lining her stomach.

-

Your hands felt small against Jessie's expansive pecks. He smelled like eucalyptus and the cool winter air as he pressed closer to you and held your hips tighter. Though you were tipsy, you still felt a genuine sense of excitement with him while you danced.

A more fast paced song began to play and he plucked one of your hands from his chest and spun you around leaving you to giggle against him when he snatched you back against his torso.

"You better stop before you make me fall in front of everyone!" You laughed.

"Make me." He smirked as he spun you out and back in, crossing your arms across your chest and swaying with you.

Little did you know, a certain red-headed girl was standing at the bar, grinding her jaw and holding her glass tightly - on the verge of making it shatter in her palm. After you brushed a light kiss against Jessie's neck Ellie tossed back the rest of her drink and went to stomp out of the winter ball, but a particularly sweaty Dina gathered up her wrist and pulled her onto the dance floor.

"Ellie! C'mon and dance with me!" She smiled, definitely drunk. Her face was a relief to see, but also made Ellie's heart leap into her throat.

Dina's back faced Jessie's leaving Ellie to catch glimpses of you over Jessie's much larger figure. You laughed and ogled at him, danced with a smile on your face and bit your lip flirtatiously. Her frustrated, forest glare couldn't peel away from you. That was until you shared a long, intimate kiss with Jessie and Ellie abruptly excused herself and left for her garage.

Pulling away from your kiss just in time you saw a sliver of Ellie's frame rushing through the door, then spotted an utterly confused Dina. Even in your slightly intoxicated state it didn't take a lot to put two and two together and feel your drinks hit the back of your throat.

"S-sorry I'm not feeling good...I need to go." You frowned at Jessie before making a quick exit.

As fast as you could you ran down the steps and followed the imprints of Ellie's fresh tracks in the snow until you saw her lit up by the moonlight on the road.

"Ellie!"

The cold made your airways sting.

Thankfully she turned to glance over her shoulder, but only to furrow her brows and clench her fists at you - yet she waited for you to catch up.

Her stare was deadly. She loomed over you and was nearly vibrating with pent up rage. Jealousy had an iron grip on her rationality.

"Listen.." you sighed, out of breath and still sick to your stomach.

But it was your turn to listen.

"No. Fuck you for chewing me out the other day on patrol just to - to fuckin' -" she pointed to the building where the ball was being held while her words jumbled in her mouth, "you're so frustrating!"

You tried to rack your brain for a rebuttal but every explanation you came up with seemed too pathetic to leave your brain.

"And just for the record, I don't like Dina. So stop trying to get into Jessie's pants because there's no fucking point." A few tears had streaked down her face and she was struggling to catch her breath. "I-I never liked Dina, she's just my friend. You're-"

You saw the words clot in her throat. She had finished the sentence in her brain but her body had slammed on the brakes, leaving her motionless and staring at you in humiliation. The feeling was familiar to you, everyone had experienced it at one time or another, but that didn't stop you from prying.

"I'm what Ellie?"

Her fists grew tighter and her jaw wired shut. It was like she was trying to scream at you telepathically while also cringing at herself internally. All of it made you grow impatient, and knowing Ellie she'd be too stubborn to give you a straight answer (and if she did it would take days), so you took it upon yourself to find what she would refuse to say.

For months you had wanted to do this. Calculating the perfect time, which place and how to create the right atmosphere to optimize the experience, but all of that was thrown out of the window. Right now was the time to do it - perfect or not, in the middle of the street with tension building between you two.

You swooped in, cupping her chilled cheeks and tilting your head, finally planting your lips firmly on her's. The only reason why you didn't pull away sooner was because her lips were so soft and delightfully warm that it made your whole body feel like it had been dipped in warm chocolate, what brought you out of it was a snowflake tickling your nose.

For a beat you stood with your palms resting against her face while you tried to read her, then you stepped back, "I'm what Ellie?"

"You're the one I like."

The words tumbled from her lips. Her eyes were still glossed over and you could tell she was still in a daze.

"Then..." you furrowed your brows, "then why were you flirting with Dina so much? Why didn't you just tell me? You knew I felt the same."

Her fists unclenched and she picked at her fingers bashfully, "Fuck Y/n...I-I don't know, it was stupid. I wasn't sure you felt the same and I didn't want find out yet because I like spending time with you."

"Ellie..." you sighed.

"I'm sorry. I like you Y/n. I really do."

For the first time in a few days her eyes met yours with something other than anger or irritation. To you it looked like compassion and yearning, which you reciprocated without issue. You took one of her nervous hands into yours and held it tightly, taking another step toward her. As if it were natural to her she scooped up your other cold palm, warming it as best she could.

"I like you too Ellie," you smiled, "Kiss me and I'll forgive you."

The words barely left your mouth and her lips were already on yours. This kiss was more than the one you shared before: deeper, more passionate, loving. Her tongue wet your bottom lip and slipped past to taste yours - it all scratched an itch you had been dying to dig at for a long time.

Slowly pulling away with a few last kisses in between, Ellie hummed, "Y/n...you're the one for me."

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you