#so I wanted him to be like wrapping up in the cool darkness of a dense forest floor that smells like wet earth

[k4lenz]

"poor baby.." ✮ hobie brown x fem!reader

a/n: what is up!!!! this is my first fic, AND IT IS NSFW. but i've had this idea stuck in my head and it literally won't go away so basically it's hobie being gone for a while from his universe because of a mission, and his reunion with reader (his gf) when he comes home very affectionate!! reassuring, and just hobes n reader being cutesy and in love

nsfw will be below the cut!!! if you like this, pls interact and my reqs r open <3 word count: 1.6k!! notes: smut, scratching, riding, fingering, praise, eye contact, heavy affection, soft turned rough, established relationship, no protection, pussy eating (hobie is a munch n nobody can change my mind), subspace, aftercare

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Hobie was tired. Exhausted, really. Pulling his mask up in the dead of night as he slipped into his apartment through his bedroom window. Throwing it aside. He was just happy to be back in his universe after a draining mission, because it was somewhere where he could properly relax. With his beautiful girl. Speaking of his girl, you laid on his bed unstirring. Wearing one of his hoodies and wrapped up in the blankets, sleeping peacefully. He had been afraid to leave you all by yourself in this shithole of a universe for a week, but you'd reassured him that you'd be okay. He chuckled fondly to himself at the sight of your peaceful sleeping face, stripping himself out of his Spider-Suit and into a pair of sweatpants instead. You quietly stirred, eyes slightly opening and blinking awake. Sitting up with a soft gasp when you realized what, or rather who, was in your house. "Hobes!" You squealed, getting up and latching onto him the minute you recognized the silhouette of his wicks. Always excited to see him. This mission had been extra long, and you'd missed him. Hobie grinned, gently wrapping his arms around you and placing you back onto the bed. Climbing on top of you, the dark moonlight barely illuminating his face. "Ay, luv. Missed me?" You pressed a kiss to his lips, nodding with a cute little smile and eagerly looking up at him. Settling back under the covers with him. "Mhm. How'd the mission go?"

He grumbled at the thought of that mission, kissing you back before muttering. "Fuckin'ell, was a handful dolly. Miguel never fails to get on me nerves. Just satisfied to be back here with ya." You pulled him down and cuddled up to him. He cooed, realizing what you wanted. "Poor baby. Must've been s'lonely." He teased, moving so he was sitting up in the bed with his back against the headboard, and you were straddling him. He peppered kisses all over your face. You whined in response to the affection and teasing, pouting. He grinned, leaning your forehead against his own and noticing how pent up you seemed. "Awww. What is it? Use ya words, I know ya can. Got somethin' to tell me?" "Need you 'Obie." You mumbled under your breath, and his eyebrows raised. "Oh, 's that it? Sweet lil' ting, been worked up all the time 've been gone? Huh?" He gently started to pull up your hoodie over your head, he'd already noticed you hadn't worn anything underneath earlier.

He cooed as you whimpered in reply, you didn't even need to use words. His hands slowly slid up your thigh all the way to your already glistening cunt. "Christ, y'really do want me. Don't think I even need to prep you. Gettin' wet at just the sight of me now?" But he did decide to prep you anyway, finger circling your clit before gently sliding down and into you. The cool metal of his rings on his hand making you shudder, a sigh escaping you. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as your body tensed, breathing heavily against his skin. Squirming as his finger curled inside your dripping entrance. He let you adjust to being stretched out, taking it slow before adding a second finger. Listening to your shaky moans as you got overwhelmed. The sound of your noises filling the room. "Takin' me fingers so well. Knew this gorgeous pussy craved me. You were the only thing on my mind." You loved him, and this moment. Those calloused rough fingers you'd seen him use to play guitar about a million times now stroking your g-spot. You were his 'warmup' as he called it, sometimes using you before a show to get his fingers ready. His thumb came up to rub your clit again, making you squeal. You grinded your hips down, and he took that as a sign you were more then ready. Pulling you into a passionate heated kiss as he slipped his fingers out of you, to quickly pull his sweatpants and boxers down. His throbbing erection springing free, hard and already leaking with precum. The sight of it almost made you want to get on your knees. "See what 'y do to me, baby?" He nudged your legs further apart with his hand, then lined himself up. You writhed as you felt his tip press against your aching slit. He moved to gently gripped your hips, slowly sinking you down. "Ffffuck, Attagirl." You let out a soft whine, always struggling to take him because he was just so big. You swore it felt like he was impaling you, and he liked it. He left a hand on your hips, the other hand wandering up to your chin to force your doe eyes to look at who was fucking you. "Eyes on me, doll. You know the rules." He spoke sweetly, a surprise, considering most of the time it was done harshly in a destroying-your-insides kind of way. This was soft, instead. He purred when you managed to look at him and his thumb soothingly rubbed your face. Starting to slowly thrust up into you as you sputtered out a cry. "Ssshhhh, that's it. Good girl. You can do it." He reassured, as you wrapped your arms around his neck to cling to him. Wanting him to be as close as possible, the sound of your wet cunt slapping against his dick only serving to make you both more turned on. You slowly started riding him on your own, but his other hand on your hips stayed to help lift you so you wouldn't get too tired too quickly, his own hips thrusting up to meet yours as well. "Missed you s'much.." You slurred desperately and he chuckled, observing your eyes as they clouded with lust. "I know, I know you did, sweet thing. Don't worry, I gotcha." Grinding yourself down onto his cock like your life depended on it. Clawing at his back and moaning when his tip hit that perfect spot, sending shudders through your body. He let out a soft grunt, as you clenched around him like a vice. With each piston of his dick, you became more of a mindless thing. He lets out a hiss as you continue to weakly lift yourself up and down, and he decided to switch your positions. Quickly pinning you underneath him on the bed and starting a deep pace. "S alright, baby. Relax. You did so well, j'st gonna take care of you now." He whispered into your ear as you wriggled and cried out. "God, your pretty little pussy is so tight. Tryna fuckin' milk me." He kissed down your neck, both hands now gripping her waist.

Your glossed over eyes stared up at him as he pounded into you, feeling him twitch. "Good fuckin' girl. Huh? Gonna let me fill you?" He laughed as you nodded eagerly, too fucked out to form a single thought. He gave one last push, before spilling his seed deep inside you. Panting as he let his head droop against yours, his grunts and groans slowly stopping. You pouted as he pulled out, managing a soft- "Obie? What're you-" as he settled between your legs with a 'Shhh'. Quickly getting to work. You wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him imminently closer to the spot you desperately needed him. His tongue lapped at your wet heat like he was a starving man, unrelenting and desperate. Mewls quickly spilling from your mouth as your slick and his cum dripped down your slit, now mixed with his saliva. You arched your back, already close from just how quickly Hobie had gone from railing you and abusing your cervix to eating you out like nothing else mattered. His tongue, pierced, circled your clit making you practically scream. Your hands scrambled to grip the sheets tightly beside you. "Hobie!" Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you reached that climax, letting out a loud whimper. You could've sworn you were seeing stars as white hot pleasure rushed through you. As you slowly came down from the high, you mumbled gibberish, tears streaming from your eyes. Hobie quickly gave your cunt one last lick before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close, realizing you'd slipped into subspace. Pressing kisses to your sobbing face. "S alright my darlin'. You did so good for me today. So 'appy to be back wit'cha." He whispered in a soft reassuring tone, as you cuddled up to him. Craving his warmth. "I love you so much." He keened and nuzzled into your neck, showing you all the appreciation he knew you needed. He liked nothing better then seeing your little face so out of it. He gently picked you and a water bottle up and carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the counter and grabbing a cloth. Running it under warm water as he cleaned both him and yourself off. Your lips managed to find his, and he smiled and kissed you back. Filling up the water bottle in the mean time and pressing it to your mouth. "Drink." He commanded, though it was gentle. Your boyfriend loved you, and taking care of you was always his priority. "Good. Y'want to go back to bed? 'S pretty late now." "Mhm." You replied quietly, and next thing you knew the water bottle sat on the bedside table next to you and you were wrapped up under the thick fluffy blankets and Hobie. Shutting your eyes as they drooped and silently appreciating having your Spider-Man back home.

#atsv x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #hobie brown x fem!reader #smut #first fic #hobie brainrot

[frownyalfred]

Okay, but counterpoint to all the angsty Bruce-bleeding-out:

Bruce is relieved. All his life, it's felt like Gotham has called to him, a siren song not even pretending to be pleasant but enthralling all the same. She's had him in a vice grip since that night and he's always known it deep in his heart.

So, when he's laying there curled against a wall, feet away from the spot that claimed his parents' lives, it all makes sense. Gotham's mercy always came with a price. He had thought it was his parents, but that was never true. His parents' debt had been called in that night and his own had begun - Gotham's lucky owed her their souls and she would always collect.

And yet, for Bruce, it doesn't feel like a punishment. He looks up at the raining heavens, the cold water soaking through the suit, and asks her, "Is it finally over?"

She doesn't answer, of course. The sky just rumbles with thunder, not even any lightning.

He knows he's dying. There's already too much blood washed away by the water to recover from. He wants to take off the cowl, suddenly suffocated by the duty she'd placed on him. He's being freed from his task, and he wants to feel the water wash through his hair. She exerts her influence over him one last time to stop him - if his identity gets revealed, the children will be in danger - but grants him the energy to roll onto his back. The cool water will work its way under the cowl enough for him.

"I get to stop now?" He asks.

His body feels more sluggish and the aches he almost forgets he has leave him, no longer compelled forward by her relentless drive. He knows this feeling - death is coming. But for once, it feels ... permanent. Gotham's cold, dark tendrils had been wrapped around his heart and soul for most of his life, laying their claim on him. But tonight, he felt them slip away and this death ... this death feels like the real one. It's not cold or scary, just peacefully empty. He has done his job, fulfilled his role.

Batman dies, spilling out the same blood he was baptized in, born from.

As for Bruce Wayne, well ... he's back home, of course, finally resting.

hi…..first of all how dare you? second of all how dare you. third of all how DARE you—-

#please I’m dying #fic #fic rec #not my fic #micro fic #bruce wayne #batman #dc #asks #batfamily

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Dream

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @foxyanon this is for you. Your request was absolutely amasing and I just hope I've done justice to it. 💖My warmest thanks to lovely @arcielee for beta reading, you are awsome and your comments literally made my day 😘

Warnings: angst, longing, some lowkey SMUT 18+ nothing explicit, use of she/her pronouns.

Word Count: 2,6 K

Inspired by the The Apparition by Sleep Token

Why are you never real? Whenever you appear You leave me with that grace I am trembling with fear But I know that you will disappear Just as I awake Whisper in my ear Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade

He awoke with a silent cry trembling on his lips, hands instinctively reaching to wipe tears from his wet cheeks, his breath panting as if he were drowning in his own sobs. He had dreamt of her. Again. 

The sensation lingered in his fingertips: the soft touch of her palm against his, the echo of her laughter wrapping around him like a warm summer breeze on a cool evening. He couldn’t recall her face anymore. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure she was real; just a fleeting memory or fantasy conjured by the ghosts of his past, taunting him anew.

And yet from the moment he had set his foot on Dunholm’s rocky ground, he dreamt of her almost nightly. The sweetness of their shared moments intertwined with the bitter ache of longing, all overshadowed by the burning flame of guilt for having failed her, that made him wake up with a cry, forehead covered in sweat and heart racing. 

Sihtric’s eyes wandered the small room, slowly adjusting to the darkness, disturbed only by the faint glow of the waning moon. With a deep sigh ripping through him, Sihtric swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself up. His bare feet brought him to the window. The rough uneven wooden floor was a constant reminder of the past times indelible from the deepest corners of his mind, of times long ago when his feet pounded the very same wooden floor, with each step carving the memory of these paths into his very being.

The dreams were too real, clinging to him with all the colours, smells and sounds, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. A taste of remorse and longing.

Sihtric lifted his hands, shielding his eyes with his palms and gently rubbing them, as though attempting to cleanse himself of the haunting impressions left by the dream. He had seen her so clearly, the colourful images spinning around in his head. 

Her hair loose and billowing in the wind, her merry laughter a bright messenger of joy as she skipped through the meadow, the gentle fingers of the rising sun caressing her glowing skin. 

She was the light in the darkness, the breeze of the fresh air in his lungs. Her laughter was a thread through the haze of his crippled existence. Just as the damp earth after a rainfall carries the scent of rebirth, her aroma was that of a promise of a new beginning – a gentle mix of sweet wild berries and midsummer flowers woven into her hair.

His body and mind ached for her, longing for their fingers to intertwine as he would willingly follow her wherever she led.

And then the kiss – his very first. Fingers trembling, heart pounding against his chest like a wild drum. She leaned against the sturdy trunk of the oak tree by the river, the tranquil sound of water splashing against the sandy bank filling the air. Pressing his palm against the rough bark, he sought to steady his racing heart, drawing strength from the solid presence of the majestic giant. The softness of her pale skin thrilled him as his other hand gently touched her cheek, tenderly guiding her gaze towards him.

“I… I want to kiss you,” he whispered softly, his breath catching in his throat, drowning in the depths of two sparkling eyes, pleading for his touch.

“What are you waiting for?” A sweet, lighthearted giggle echoed around him, and he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. With closed eyes, his dry, chapped lips timidly brushed against her soft ones, like a fragile whisper dancing on the edge of a sigh, like two lonely travellers adrift in the vast expanse of a starlit night, seeking refuge and salvation. 

“Sihtric ...” his name rolled off her lips, mingling with a soft whimper as his both palms cupped her face, their breaths picking up.

Sihtric's fingertips traced down to his lips, pausing there. He stood motionless for a moment, leaning against the window frame, arms crossing over his chest and breath catching in the cool night air as he attempted to summon her face from the depths of his memory. Yet it remained elusive and all he found was shadows dancing in his mind's eye. A silent curse escaped his parted lips. He had long ago banished these memories, fortified them behind a wall of self assured certainty that there was nothing he could do, that it was for the best. 

The mocking grin of the moon looked down at him from the height of his throne in the nightly sky. It sent shivers down Sihtric’s spine. 

"I didn't abandon her, I was sent away," Sihtric whispered, the words barely audible over the night's gentle breeze. "Away... away... away..." echoed through the empty yard, his own voice a cruel taunt. "I inquired about her in the village after the fall of Dunholm, but no one knew anything.”

The sound of his fist connecting with the wooden wall shattered the serene silence of the night. The impact reverberating through the stillness like a thunderclap – hollow and darksome. 

Yes, he had searched for her. A solitary visit to the nearby village where he knew she hailed from, greeted by anxious faces hastily retreating into their ramshackle homes, peering cautiously through the safety of their shuttered windows. The presence of Danes had always brought fear and uncertainty to them.

He had inquired about her at the small, dusty inn, amidst discussions of purchasing horses and timber to aid Ragnar in repairing the damaged gates. The host, suspiciously eyeing them, poured ale and swiftly pocketed the silver Uhtred had tossed his way.

Sihtric wasn’t sure what he had feared more: finding her happily married, her eyes denying him recognition and filled with fear, or discovering her waiting for him, unable to offer her anything. Nevertheless, he asked, quickly finding satisfaction in the host's indifferent shrug, as he explained that many had left in recent years due to meagre harvests, and there were no women matching Sihtric’s description in the village.

It was that one moment as they mounted their horses, Sihtric thought he heard her voice, calling his name. He cast a wary glance around the deserted square, the only sound a mocking crow's cry echoing through the stillness. He shook his head, as if trying to dispel a vision, before leaving his past behind like a worn boot—ten long years ago.

And now he stood once more in this place—Lord of Dunholm, a title that sent a shiver down his spine with each utterance. The shadows began to shift, the night's veil slowly lifting to reveal the faint glimmer of the sun lingering behind the horizon.

“I... I crave you... it's something I can't conceal... I've never seen anyone so beautiful..." his breath grew ragged, the silkiness of her flawless skin beneath his fingertips stirring an excitement unknown to him.

"Oh God," she gasped, her body arching against the soft blanket of moss and grass he had carefully laid her upon, his clumsy fingers seeking their way to her core, hungry lips stealing the soft moan escaping her.

"Please, tell me to stop," he pleaded almost desperately, voice quivering, unsure, even scared of where this journey would lead them. Yet unable to release her, unable to tear his gaze from her. 

“Don’t… please, don’t stop,” a shaky moan from her parted lips forced a low groan from him, his fingers dipping in her hot tightness. “It feels so good, too good… Sihtric, please, I want to feel more of it. I have never felt anything like this before,” she whispered through panting breaths.

He had never touched anyone like this before; his limited knowledge gleaned from overhearing drunken chatter around firesides or hushed conversations in the kitchens as staying unnoticed had become almost second nature to him. 

His own breathing getting more and more uneven with each quivering whimper, each soft moan leaving her lips; he watched her body responding to his touch, her breasts heaving, gaze getting glazy and eyes rolling back into her head.

She seemed almost otherworldly to him—her eyes curious and trusting, unburdened by fear or suspicion, her smile so radiant it felt like the warmth of the first sun rays in spring melting the snow of his desolation.

What had he done to deserve the gods sending her his way? A vision on an early morning, peacefully gathering flowers in the solitary meadow by the river where he had brought the horses to graze for the first time. His resort, a ray of light, piercing the dark loneliness of his soul, keeping him from drowning in it. 

Each time he returned, fear gripped his heart, his eyes scanning the secluded meadow, his back against the lonely oak by the riverbank. What if she didn't come? But she always did, and his heart danced with joy, bathed in the soothing warmth of her genuine smile. 

It had been so long ago. He had been just a boy, falling in love for the first time in his life.

Sihtric rubbed his sleepy eyes. Not a day passed without him believing he had caught a glimpse of her—whether in the shadows of the long corridors, the dark corners of the spacious great hall, or even his own bedroom. He knew his mind played tricks on him, yet each time his eyes seemed to capture that fleeting silhouette; he couldn't resist leaping to his feet, reaching out only to grasp empty air.

Hastily dressing in his breeches and boots, he tugged on a linen shirt while descending the stairs, snatching his leather tunic on the way out. Urged by an inexplicable force, he allowed his feet to guide him to the stables where he mounted his unsaddled mare.

"Open the gates!" his voice boomed across the yard, jolting the drowsy guards into action. They hurried to obey their lord's command, their eyes wide with surprise as they watched Sihtric spur his horse into a gallop.

The old, majestic oak tree welcomed Sihtric with a soft rustle of its green leaves in the wind. Leaning his head against the mighty trunk, he pressed his palms against its weathered bark, seeking solace and reassurance in the tranquil serenity of its solid presence, just as he had done before.

“Oh Sihtric,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, as he slowly forced himself inside her. The feeling of her tight walls gradually parting, wrapping around him and letting him in so overwhelming, he was afraid he would pass out. 

Heart frantically beating against the cage of his chest, he froze, breath withheld, seeing tears pearling in the corners of her closed eyes. 

“Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?” 

A vehement shake of the head, her hips rising to meet him, was the only answer, and he leaned in, trembling lips brushing against her parted ones to kiss away the deep sigh drifting from them. 

“I love you, Sihtric!” 

“I love you too, and I always will,” he breathed, his hips starting to move, meeting hers with every slow thrust, breath quickening, like the rush of a rising tide. 

He had never put much stock in the tales his mother whispered under the veil of night, her gentle hands pulling their only blanket tighter around him, shielding him from the cold. Stories of beautiful angels, guiding lost souls back to the light—until he encountered one. An angel in disguise, wandering the earth and plucking flowers from the meadow.

She arched her back, enveloping him in the embrace of her fragile arms, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck, drinking in her sweet, intoxicating scent, his deep moans mingling with her soft whimpers.

He had meant every word of it. Without a shadow of doubt clouding his mind, he had made a promise—a promise destined to be shattered in the days that followed, as the Norns had already woven the threads of his fate, laughing over his youthful resolve.

Tears blurred his vision as he made his way back to Dunholm. He had waited until the first rays of the sun, knowing it was futile, knowing she wouldn’t come, as it was not the right day. There had been no goodbyes, no sweet kisses sealing the promise to return—just a lonely heart carved into the thick bark of the old oak tree, the silent witness to their happiness.

The sound of a dry branch cracking beneath feet jolted Sihtric, prompting him to turn his head.

“My lord, are you alright?” a slightly concerned voice inquired, and Sihtric's moist eyes met two sparkling, mismatched pools of brown and blue.

“I... I’m...” he stammered, his own uncertainty mirrored in the growing fear in those eyes as they darted down to his chest, fixating on the pendant of Thor's hammer hanging there.

Before he could utter another word, two gentle hands released the wild flowers they were holding, allowing them to scatter to the ground as the young girl spun on her heels and began to flee.

"Wait, please! I mean you no harm," Sihtric finally found his voice, but the girl paid no heed.

Sihtric remained rooted to the spot, unable to shake off the shock that held him captive, his gaze tracing the slender silhouette as it vanished from view. Eventually, he stirred, though the girl had already disappeared into the depths of the meadow and the forest beyond.

Driven by an inexplicable compulsion, he followed. Though he didn't want to frighten her, his feet seemed to move of their own accord, propelling him forward through the thorny underbrush. Long branches reached out like bony arms, clawing at his bare skin and leaving behind bloody scratches and bruises, yet he hardly noticed. Emerging from the forest, he beheld a crooked house nestled amidst a small garden.

Approaching cautiously, Sihtric scanned his surroundings, searching for signs of life. 

Engrossed in your work, you hadn't noticed anyone approaching. The weeds had begun to overtake your small carrot bed, a task long overdue for attention. A cough caught your attention, prompting you to straighten up and glance over, wondering who had ventured from the village to your secluded home.

You both just stood there, eyeing each other with disbelief and bewilderment. Sihtric shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, unable to tear his gaze away from you, unable to believe what he was seeing. 

Here you were—his ghost, his dream,  the most beautiful face he had ever seen, his most cherished memory locked away from his consciousness due to its unbearable pain.

Your fingers released the hoe, letting it slip from your grasp to fall to the ground at your feet. Covering your eyes with your hands, hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you staggered, struggling to maintain control over your wobbly knees.

In two long strides, Sihtric was beside you, his strong arms encircling your shoulders, providing support. Torn between the desire to push him away and to melt into his embrace, you remained rooted in place, sobs wracking your body as he enveloped you in his warm presence, like a comforting blanket.

"Gods, you are here. You have always been here," Sihtric whispered, his lips grazing your hair. "My love… I… I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. Will you ever believe that? Will you ever forgive me?"

"Mom, in the meadow where you always send me to pick flowers, I met a Dane today," a girl's voice rang out, as she appeared in the doorframe of the old house, freezing in her tracks as her eyes widened at the scene before her.

"She is mine. Isn't she?" Sihtric asked, tears starting to flow freely down his cheeks, yet he made no move to wipe them away. He didn't need your confirmation.

With a soft thud, he allowed himself to sink to the ground, his knees meeting the damp earth of the garden as he buried his face into your belly, arms enveloping your frame. The fearless warrior and the Lord of Dunholm cried, unashamed of his tears, while your fingers gently stroked his hair.

Comment or write to me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama

@verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07

@mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw @siimonesvensson @sigtryggrswifey @ladyinred2248

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

[cuubism]

Hey, i hope i'm not being super annoying by asking this but do you ever plan on finishing 'In Waking Dreams'?

This fic is probably one of my favorites of you (along with 'some kinda benefits', 'The Apocalypse Is Nigh!', 'my eyes are up here' .... honestly if i go throught all my bookmarks we would be here all day, your writting is just that incredible aksjka) and it has lived in my head for so long, i love how hob's initial reaction to the news of "you have a husband" is simply oh fuck yeah, i love the whole set up of the marriage just happening because dream said yeah sure why not, what could ever come from this? and then slowly actually falling in love with hob, i love the tenderness that which you write them with when they actually reunite and just, i really love the whole fic 😅

So yeah, i hope you find in you that Dante Alighieri spark of fanfiction inspiration to pick it up again it one day, is a really good story ^w^

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

i am, yes! i've been ever so slowly working on it

i often find that after the climax is the hardest part of a story to write, especially if it's a really obvious and delineated climax like 'hob rescues dream' - before that you always have the climax as a north star, if you start getting lost you just remember that you're supposed to be going in that direction, but afterwards it's like... where does it go now? there's a lot to wrap up and you want to try to do it organically, not just like... infodump all the answers to the outstanding questions XD so i'm slowly poking away at that.

this is making me think that i should probably just write the very last scene of the fic (don't know what that is yet) and then i'll have a new north star...

but here's a small bit from the beginning of the chapter

--

Hob’s home was in a bit of a state, thanks to all the crazed research and rescuing he had been doing. Books and ledgers left open, a mug of tea still cooling on his desk, jumper thrown across the couch instead of put away. He tried to remember, as he led his husband to bed, hand low on his back to guide him, if their home in dreams had ever been in such disarray. Home was a bit of a nebulous concept, in their dreams. They had had many different houses over the years, the details of which were hard to remember upon waking. Really, home was the man beside him, an inexorable force that drew Hob back, across landscapes and time, from cottage to manor to palace. King, he thought, it coming to him again, the way dreams appeared and disappeared as context called them. The ragged, slumped form of the creature beside him, leaning into Hob’s side for support. Hob remembered taking his hand, pressing his lips to those fragile bones. My king, he’d murmured, at his side, in bed, like he was in a fairytale. A king would have a kingdom. A kingdom of dreams? His king of dreams turned to him as they stopped by the bed. Now that the rush of power, of darkness, had bled off him, he looked haggard, swamped in Hob’s coat, which was still all he was wearing. Strange, so strange to be here, in Hob’s so ordinary bedroom. Not the half-remembered palace of a hazy dream-life, but just here, standing by the bed. Hob, and his dream-walker. He had come to him, hadn’t he? Once, or so he’d said. Hob didn’t remember the specific instance of someone ringing his doorbell and not being there, but he could imagine it. God, if he’d been just a moment sooner in opening the door. If his Dream had been just a moment sooner in knocking. “Hob,” said his husband, in his solemn, sleepy voice. Hob had missed that voice. The dreams he had had of him, the ones that were memories, were never quite the same, never quite right. He said nothing else, like Hob’s name was all he had wanted to say. So Hob said it back—“my Dream”—and the softening of his husband’s face was worth everything.

#when i first started this fic in september 2022 i had the absolute unmitigated hubris to think i could finish it in a month #and now here we are #in waking dreams #my writing #ask #lutheban #youve made me think about the structure of the thing which is good. i think i'll go move some things around and that'll help correct the #flow and get me back on track

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers Part 6

This is a birthday present for one of the coolest people I know @whositmcwhatsit . She had a wonderful birthday present for me earlier this month and then cleverly reminded me that her birthday is coming up as well. Wink wink nudge nudge say no more.

I ain't much but it's honest work and I hope you enjoy it.

Also thanks to @thatbanditqueen for beta-ing and helping me transform this into proper English!!

And thanks to the wonderful writing support group @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @lookingforrainbows @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime

Word count: ~7.4 k

Warnings: smut so 18+. MDNI

Previous Part

Bad Nauheim, December 24th 1958

It all just felt like a dream. A surreal dream.

Mary was only supposed to come over and visit him in Bad Nauheim for his 'Welcome back' party after his maneuvers in Grafenwöhr.

She was supposed to be back in Frankfurt to celebrate Christmas with her family.

She was supposed to sleep in her own bed in her own room at Hotel Grunewald.

Now, after a very long, nerve-racking phone call involving her, her father, her mother, Vernon Presley and of course Elvis himself the previous day, she found herself staying until Boxing Day.

And even though she wanted to obey the rules her parents had laid down before she went, she somehow found herself sneaking into his bed after dark every night.

There was no denying that being the centre of his attention had to be one of the greatest feelings in the world. Who was she to say no to him when he'd give her those puppy eyes, which he knew made her knees weak every time, and ask her to spend Christmas with him? Or to spend the night in his room, in his bed?

But for now, she wouldn't want it any other way. And although it was wrong, something about the way he'd pull her close to him in his sleep just felt right. Consequences didn't matter when she could feel his pillowy lips press against her forehead while she was drifting off to sleep.

She could just live this dream forever.

With an irritated sigh Mary raised her arms to shield her eyes from the horribly bright light suddenly shining right into her face, disrupting her peaceful slumber.

When this didn't have the desired effect she began to blindly wave around, in an attempt to slap away the flashing sensation. Her hand promptly hit something cool and hard with a dull thud and she let out a small gasp at the stinging pain in her wrist.

"Careful, Cherry, you're gonna break it."

"Huh? Elvis, I was asleep." She mumbled with a frown while rubbing her aching wrist.

"You're awake now honey, that's perfect." He held out a flashlight to her. The very one he'd held right into her face before. "Do me the honor, please."

"What?" She muttered, pressing her hand against her forehead, trying to make sense of his words. Her eyes fluttered closed again.

He shuffled closer, making the mattress bounce up and down for a second. "I wanna show you something, come on." He insisted and started tugging at her wrist before handing her the flashlight.

"What?" Mary repeated while squinting her eyes at him, still feeling disoriented.

He snorted. "You're asking an awful lotta questions honey, just trust me."

Mary reached out and grasped his arm, slightly pulling him towards her again, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle up against his chest again.

"It can't wait till morning?" She asked with a hopeful tone and tried to stifle another yawn. Unsuccessfully. The thought of leaving his cozy and most importantly, warm bed already made her shiver.

As if on cue, damn his psychic abilities, he pulled the blanket off of her. "Come on, Cherry, don't be no party pooper." He insisted with a small grin.

"I don't see a party." Mary grumbled, goose bumps all over her body as she got up, the flashlight still in her hand. "Okay, you won." She offered, playfully swatting at his chest.

Swiftly dodging her attack he wrapped his arms around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. "Thanks baby, now come, won't regret it."

It was one of those situations where she was asking herself how she ended up here. Sneaking through the dark corridors of the hotel at four in the morning for who knows what reason.

Well, actually she knew exactly how she ended up here. Being with Elvis always involved some kind of nocturnal activities. He didn't sleep much, that much she'd gathered in the time she's spent with him already. And he didn't like being alone.

He still had his arms around her as he guided her down the first flight of stairs. Suddenly, he let out a snort and stopped at a random guest's door. "Watch this." He raised his hand to knock, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Elvis, don't you dare!" Mary hissed and glared at him, once again remembering the talk she had with with had with Otto, the hotelier, regarding Elvis and his friends’ behaviour. Especially Red and Lamar who, in their free time while Elvis was at the base, had nothing better to do than test his patience with one childish prank after another. More than once Otto had considered kicking out the entire entourage. And to be honest she didn't blame him.

"What exactly did you want to show me?" She asked quickly to keep him from really knocking at that damn door.

He lowered his hand and nudged her forward with a smirk, down the next flight of stairs. "Otto has told me all about the ghosts haunting this place, honey, it's some scary stuff, I'll tell ya. There's the one about that young woman falling off the balcony a hundred years or so ago. Apparently her name was Mary and she also happened to be the prettiest girl in town, just like you, honey."

"Not funny!" She didn't want to sound scared, but those creaky old stairs and the flashlight in her hand, though very bright, being the only source of light made her feel like she was in a Hitchcock movie.

"Not to mention the Christmas spirits." He continued.

Mary stopped and raised an eyebrow, facing him. "You really think I'm gonna believe you? Sorry Elvis, I don't believe in ghost stories."

"Careful honey, starting to sound like ol' Scrooge."

"And you're sounding silly. Why are you ruining the holiday with ghosts? I've always loved Christmas. Look-" She gestured outside the large window next to the stair landing, looking at the snow covered street at the old light pole adorned with milky white Christmas lights. "It's so pretty."

It was peaceful, silent for a while as she simply watched the snow fall, it was hypnotising. Silent Night.

"Boo!" Elvis' hands wrapped around her waist from behind, scaring her.

Mary let out a soft shriek and felt the flashlight slipping from her grasp. Knowing what was about to happen but unable to do anything about it with her bad reflexes, a small curse just left her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, awaiting the inevitable bang. When the flashlight collided with the carpeted floor, a dull thud echoed through the hallway. It gave out, shrouding them in complete darkness.

For a few seconds neither one dared to move, both frozen and awaiting someone coming down the stairs and scolding them like they were two kids sneaking out of bed to steal some candy. After a few seconds of undisturbed silence they agreed with a mutual sigh of relief that the noise apparently didn't rouse anyone from sleep.

"Great, E!" She finally whispered with a small breathless laugh, a hand over her rapidly rising and falling chest, her eyes only slowly adjusting to the darkness. She stretched out her arms, not wanting to run into the wall on accident as he bent down next to her.

"Cherry, did ya have to throw the damn thing away?" He chuckled, though there was a hint of frustration in his voice while he was looking for the now broken flashlight.

"Did you have to scare me?" She shot back with a snort. "Can you find it?" She asked after a while of him crouching on the floor.

The only answer she got was a low hum.

"What is it?" She inquired when she suddenly felt his feather light touch on her exposed calfs, making her gasp. "Elvis?" She asked, an edge to her voice.

Elvis didn't respond - instead he slowly lifted the soft, white fabric of her knee-length nightdress and threw it over his head in a swift motion.

"Elvis!" She nearly squealed, scandalised, before looking around frantically and pressing herself against the wall behind her, kind of hoping to just melt into it.

"Hmm?" He hummed, his nose brushing almost carefully against her thigh.

"Oh god, what are you-" A quiet moan escaped her when his hands ran over the back of her thighs, inching higher and higher until they rested right beneath her butt.

"Someone's wearing no panties. Naughty."

"Well I didn't expect-" Mary let out a little cry when he pressed a small kiss to her inner thigh, her toes curling against the carpeted floor.

"Gotta be quiet, otherwise everyone will hear ya." He mumbled, his hot breath fanning over her bare skin.

"E, that tickles!" She whispered, trying her best to sound stern.

"Just want a little taste of my sweet Cherrypie." There was this pleading tone in his voice that would just transform her into a puddle. Mary actually thought her legs would give out as he lightly nibbled at her soft skin, his big hands now fully sprawled over her butt, pressing her closer to his face.

"But, you can't-" She breathed as her back arched against him. Treacherous body.

"Can't show my favourite girl how much I'm smitten with her? And her legs? And her-" Mary's hand shot up to muffle the shriek escaping her when his lips brushed over her mound.

"Oh god! Not here!" She argued weakly, her voice as shaky as her legs.

Mary's eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she saw his head appeared from under her nightgown. He grinned up at her. "I won't tell if you won't, honey." He drawled nonchalantly.

A huff escaped her - frustrated and excited at the same time. She was at such a disadvantage with him and they both knew it. But she couldn't say she didn't enjoy the power he had over her. A word, a touch and she was at his mercy, but she trusted him. So she decided to just let herself fall into his touch.

He sensed her silent agreement and tightly gripped the back of her knee before lifting it over his shoulder, supporting her weight - and giving him easier access. Then he used both hands to slowly, agonisingly slow, push the soft cotton up her legs, only to pause and consider, his full lips pursed. She made her impatience known by pressing her calf against his strong back, urging him closer.

He clicked his tongue with another smile and shook his head before swiftly gathering the fabric and bunching it up at the center of her stomach. He looked up at her, his eyes twinkling. "Mind holding that for me, Cherry?"

She nodded mutely, then shook her head, not sure about the correct way to answer his question. Everything seemed a bit hazy as she closed her fist around the fabric.

He tapped the side of her thigh and winked at her. "Just have to look at ya, honey." His voice was just above a murmur as he took in her body for a moment, illuminated just the tiniest bit by the dim streetlight and the reflecting white snow. That concentrated look was back on his face as he rested his cheek against the side of her thigh. He did that quite often when they were close like this, like he was trying to take a mental picture.

The thought did nothing to diminish her arousal and she couldn't resist running her hand through his soft hair until it rested on the back of his head. With a wanton sigh she tried to push his head towards her, needing to feel his touch, his lips.

He obliged and leaned forward. Eyes closed in anticipation, she shuddered when his nose bumped against the soft flesh right beneath her belly button. He placed a few kisses right where the waistband of her panties would be had she worn any till his eyes found hers again. "I'm real glad you're here, Cherry. Don't know what I'd do without ya."

She nodded, his words only increasing the building pressure in her lower belly, her hips rolling in an effort to get some friction. He chuckled as he got her message. "Gotcha, no more heartfelt talk. I'm a man of action after all.” He started teasingly running his tongue over her slick folds.

"Don't stop, god, please don't stop, E." She chanted, holding onto the wall behind her, fingers dragging over some weathered paint that had begun to peel off.

"You're so wet for me." He groaned, his lips closing over her little nub. His hand roamed over her hips, over her stomach as his searing touch making her body convulse. Nerves and excitement mixed together, each little sensation and fluttery touch intensified by the notion that someone could walk in on them any second. Somewhere deep inside she was still rather scandalised, both by his sudden advances and her own lack of ability to care about it.

But all coherent thoughts were abandoned when he cupped her breast, squeezing lightly. A flick over her nipple with his thumb made her buck against him once more, her mouth hanging open in a silent cry. He suckled on her, increasing his speed, churned on by the way she was letting herself fall more and more; Literally - judging by the pressure on his shoulder where her thigh rested he had to use his hand to hold onto her hips or she'd collapse under his touch. It just took a few more strokes from his hot tongue and his strong hands squeezing her soft flesh until she came undone, stifling a loud moan that would surely give them away.

She finally sank down on the floor next to him, her chest heaving. "Elvis, please I want you." She breathed, not really recognising her own voice.

He caught her by her waist as she attempted to straddle him and carefully set her down again before shaking his head and kissing her forehead. "No, Cherrypie, not like this, not now."

"When?" She urged, her hand on his cheek, making him look at her.

He turned his head and kissed her palm. "Soon. For now I just want you to stay as you are." Upon seeing her frown he grinned and tapped her nose. "Now, don't give me that look."

She shook her head and leaned in to press her lips against his. With a dreamy sigh she opened her mouth when she felt his tongue urgently gliding over her bottom lip. Again, he didn't allow her to take control as he explored her mouth. She could taste herself on him and couldn't help herself but smile into the kiss. Eventually he pulled away from her. "Easy, not trying to win a race here."

Mary wrapped her arms around him. "So, was that what you wanted to show me?" She whispered, still breathless, cradling his head to keep him as close as possible.

"When I was down there, I just couldn't help myself honey."

A bashful laugh escaped her at this admittedly charming way of dodging her question.

"And look what I found." He proudly held up the broken flashlight.

She threw her head back. Silly man. "So much for your supposed 'ghosts'."

He licked his lips with a grin. "Don't know 'bout you, but I sure as hell heard some moaning."

"You're impossible!" She gasped, then let out a small laugh. "But I do love you, E."

"Love you too, Cherrypie. Come on now." He got up and held out his hand. Instead of leading her back to his room he made his way down another flight of stairs until they arrived in the hotel lobby.

The large christmas tree in the corner and it's decorations cast a warm glow over the room. She tapped one of the wooden nutcrackers hanging off the tree, reminding her of her favourite ballet, while Elvis made a beeline towards the connected dining room and peered out of the window. He craned his head as if looking for something specific, his hand perched up against the glass.

It slowly dawned her that whatever he was doing right now was probably the actual reason for their little nightly excursion.

"I knew it. Of course that tramp is still here." He muttered after a while.

Mary came up to him and tried to follow his gaze. "Who?"

"It's her damn car." He gestured outside.

Oh. Dee Dee.

"Daddy's probably gonna make her leave before everyone's getting up, thinking he's real smart about it." He started pacing around while Mary just helplessly stood in the corner watching, not knowing what to do or say to him.

Elvis continued, his face contorted in anger. "First he invites her to my party the other day, now they're doing, hell, I don't wanna know what they're doing." He threw up his hands and plopped himself down on the couch with a sigh. "Next thing you know, he's gonna move her in here and I gotta pretend to be all happy about it. As if I got no other fucking problems to deal with."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help you somehow."

"Man, I just don't have the time for this kinda bullshit." He ran a hand over his face. "Colonel's been going on and on about damn publicity photos in uniform, that Christmas in Berlin picture he's already planning with Hal Wallis, trying to save what's left of my career-" His breath hitched for a moment in a humorless chuckle. "-Then I gotta worry about us getting kicked outta here-" He slaps the sofa at that. "And I somehow gotta serve my country at the same time."

She sat down next to him and exhaled heavily through her mouth. Again and again she was confronted with problems that seemed way too big for her. She could understand that he felt overwhelmed and alone. But she didn't have the slightest clue what to say to him to make him feel better. Maybe it was time to make peace with the fact that the best she could probably do was just listen to him and be there for him as best as she could.

"I'm here for you, anytime you wanna talk, I'm here to listen." She reassured him and placed a hand on his chest.

"I know honey. I appreciate it." He grabbed her calves and promptly placed her feet in his lap. "Damn, like little icicles." He let out a little laugh and started rubbing them absentmindedly.

She smiled at him and wiggled her toes. "Well, I was rushed out of bed as if the world was ending."

"Sweet Cherrypie, always makin' a big fuss outta nothing." He playfully pulled on her big toe and she had to resist the reflex to kick him.

"You're-" She huffed out a laugh but remained silent with a shake of her head. It was quiet for a while until she decided to open her mouth again, her face apologetic. "Sorry about your flashlight though."

"Honey, don't worry, already made up for it." He winked and ran his hand from her ankle up her leg. "It's nice just being here with you. I wish you could be here with me all the time."

"I know." She agreed.

"You should move here."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Think about it, I hate you being so far away from me."

"Frankfurt's only an hour away, E."

"Pretty much the other side of the damn planet, honey. You're not here when I need you."

"Elvis. You know I'd love to be with you. All the time. But it's not that easy."

"Of course it is."

"I got a job, my family. My life is... in Frankfurt right now. I can't even afford my own place on a secretary's salary. A learning secretary. And who says I could find a job here?"

"You'll work for my father. He'll take you under his wing, he needs a secretary. And you can move in here, live with us."

She blinked, not entirely sure how she felt about the idea of working for him.

"Elvis, I don't know-"

"You'll move in here. And then we can always be together." He repeated, reinforced his point as if that'll just change her mind. To her own confusion she actually found herself considering it. "It'll work out, honey, you'll see." Upon seeing her hesitation he comfortingly brushed over her hair. "I just want ya close to me. I wanna take care of ya."

Mary leaned into his touch and sighed, overwhelmed at his proposal. It was madness. And working for him might effect their relationship. The one they hadn't even officially defined yet. Her understanding was that they were still dating and now he wants her to move in. Under the premise of working for his father.

Now it was her turn to run a hand over her face - in confusion. She knew she wanted to say yes. At least that's what her heart wanted. It didn't take much to convince her to leave everything behind and stay with him. Still, she tried to be rational about it. "Elvis, I'm really not sure-"

He placed his finger against her lips and shook his head while shushing her. Her eyes drifted down towards his beautifully puckered lips. "Nah, stop it, baby. At least think about it. Don't say no right away, that ain't fair."

She opened her mouth only to close it again, not sure how to put her thoughts into words. It might mess up everything now if she asked questions, but she willed herself to go through with it. "What would this mean for us?"

He leaned in closer and she nearly had trouble holding eye contact with him. "What are you talking about, honey?"

Mary raised her eyebrows and gathered her courage before trying once again. "I mean for our relationship."

He smiled, albeit looking a bit bewildered. Either he really didn't understand or he just straight up refused to. "We'd be together way more often honey, don't know what you're getting at." He shrugged with a frown. As if she started talking Chinese all of the sudden.

Mary inclined her head. "It wouldn't be weird?" A pause. "We haven't been dating for too long." She added, her voice small, almost not wanting him to hear it.

He sat up straight, setting her feet onto the ground. "Honey, I just don't understand where this talk is coming from now."

She guiltily eyed his fingers, how he was fiddling with the ring on his pinky finger. He seemed tense and agitated, his posture reminding her of a soldier standing at attention. That's the last thing she wanted right now. In an attempt to appease him she carefully explained. "I'm only saying we should think and properly talk about it before rushing to a decision that we might regret."

Suddenly he shot up from the couch and turned away from her. So much for defusing the situation. "Damn, I can't talk to you right now. Not making any goddamn sense, woman! No one's making any goddamn sense."

Mary panicked at his sudden outburst, not wanting to upset him. "Elvis, I'm sorry-"

"Nuh-uh!" He pointed his finger at her and she froze. "Need to clear my damn head." He muttered and turned, making his way back upstairs.

She slowly got up as well, successfully blinking away the tears that were burning behind her eyelids. The silence as she followed him was nearly unbearable, but she didn't dare saying another word. As he opened the door to his room, she turned the opposite direction, towards her own room.

"Now where do you think you're going?"

Mary released the door handle as if she had burnt herself and faced him, feeling caught for whatever reason. She thought it was obvious that she wasn't gonna join him now. "Uh, I thought-"

He sighed. "Cherry, just come over here damnit."

"...Okay." She whispered, utterly perplexed and at a loss for words.

However, his behaviour made sense to her when she awkwardly laid down on her back, careful to keep a safe distance and he scooted closer to her - not so close as to fully press his body against hers, but so that he could rest his hand on her stomach. As much as he apparently didn't want to deal with the confusion and worry he felt, there was something else that he undeniably hated more. Being alone with those thoughts.

Mary spent the next morning like every morning; helping Mrs. Presley in the kitchen, who insisted on cooking and cleaning despite the hotel having staff for that. She was a tough one and Mary looked up to her, talking to Minnie Mae was a source of comfort to her, their talks often trivial and relaxed. Maybe that's what she liked most about their time spent together.

This morning however there was a certain edge, a tension in the air. At first she thought she imagined it, still a bit shaken by Elvis' and her last interaction. That was until she realised it was Christmas Eve and everyone was, indeed, rushing around and being busy preparing tonight's dinner party.

The presence of Red and Lamar didn't necessarily help the uneasiness she felt. Most of the time she tried to avoid them as best as she could, trying not to let on that the two men always kind of intimidated her and she'd just rather stay off their radar. They were currently lounging at the kitchen table, the topic of discussion was, unsurprisingly, Elvis, she didn't really hear them talk about anything else. She'd listen but hardly contribute. Right now they were wondering about his dismissive attitude during breakfast this morning.

Mary dried her hands on her apron and paused for a second. She didn't even hear Elvis getting up and leaving for the base that morning. He couldn't have gotten any sleep, after all it was nearly morning when they went back to bed. Why did she feel bad? He was the one that woke her at four in the morning, god knows if he's gotten any sleep before that.

Loud shrieking and laughter on the street outside suddenly caught her attention. Thankful for the distraction from her spiraling thoughts she turned her head towards the noise.

"He's back." Red announced without even looking up, pulling a thread from the tablecloth in front of him.

Indeed, he was. Outfitted in his full army uniform, Elvis got out of his white BMW and raised his hand to greet his devoted fans who were waiting - in the cold- in front of the hotel. Mary watched the scene, taking in the wonder and adoration on everyone's face as they gathered around him. The unbridled love they had for him and the enjoyment he got out of did warm her heart momentarily. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

He was like a magnet, putting everyone under a spell he didn't quite understand himself. It seemed like all the people in his life wanted him, claimed him for themselves. And she saw that he did his best to accommodate everyone, striving to fulfill everyone's needs without really considering his own. There were so many people expecting something from him, wanting something from him and she wasn't sure how he navigated all that pressure.

His outburst earlier made a lot more sense now that she saw him trying to please as many people as possible at the same time. He was taking his time, trying go give everyone his attention, shaking hands, giving hugs, signing whatever they asked him to.

When he linked arms with two pretty girls and walked them up to the front porch she told herself that she wouldn't let it bother her. He must doing something like this all the time. It was just part of who he was. She had to get used to it, whether she liked it or not.

"Oh he never takes the girls inside." Mrs. Presley exclaimed, putting down the silver spoon she was busy polishing.

"Must be feeling that Christmas spirit." Red offered.

"He's a giver ain't he." Lamar added, turning the page of his newspaper that he was pretending to read for nearly an hour now.

Mary felt her face grow hot and pursed her lips. He led the giggling girls inside, settling right in between them on the couch, where they'd sat last night. She refused to get upset about the fact that he hadn't even come over to greet her. He'd definitely seen her as he walked past her.

From the corner of her eye she saw him leaning towards the girl on his right, his fingers buried in her hair, playing with her fancy updo, while she was exitedly saying something to her friend in German.

Mary dried another plate and put it away before fully glancing at him. He shot her a pointed look before leaning in and kissing that brunette's cheek, who was now giggling uncontrollably.

She felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. And again, her thoughts went back to last night's argument. Or whatever it was. She herself wasn't a hundred percent sure what it was. All she knew now is that suddenly, in that very moment, she felt more far away from him than ever. Did he do that on purpose?

It felt similar to that day where her friend Helga showed her an article in the Bravo magazine about his supposed girlfriend, Anita Wood, he left behind in the States. Her initial reaction was shock before she told herself to get it together. He would've told her something like this, she was sure of it. She wouldn't put the tabloid's drama over his word. On the other hand he didn't tell her that Elisabeth was supposed to be at his 'Welcome back' party. But she was just a friend, right?

Again and again she was reminded that he could never truly only belong to her. He was a superstar after all. When she was alone with him she tended to forget that very important detail. She knew she had to be tolerant in that regard if she didn't want to lose him.

After a deep breath she turned back to Mrs. Presley, asking if she could help her with polishing the cutlery for tonight. It was hours later after the two girls left with signed photographs and him retreating back to his room without even looking her way that she couldn't take it anymore.

Making her way upstairs and knocking at his door strangely felt like admitting a mistake, but his silent treatment felt decidedly worse. "Elvis?"

He had changed into a white knitted cardigan and black dress pants and she stood up a bit straighter when he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking down on her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Mary eyed him carefully before clearing her throat putting on the most nonchalant tone. "How was your day?"

"Spent the day at the base decorating the company Christmas tree and singing Silent Night until eventually the last poor fella in that building got tired of it"

Apparently he had no interest discussing last night's incident, preferring to just act like it never happened.

For now she'd accept it. For now she'd come to the conclusion that she's overwhelmed him as much as he'd overwhelmed her. She figured giving it all some time would be the best course of action.

"I could never get tired of hearing you sing." She answered truthfully, looking at him through her lashes.

He gave her a quick once over before breaking into a smile. "Aw, little one, always knows what to say. Come here, missed you." He opened his arms, inviting her into his room. After giving her a quick peck on the lips he held her close to his chest.

Both relief and confusion flooded her at his unexpected response.

"You missed me?" She asked in a muffled voice, her face still buried in his sweater.

He hummed, the vibrations of his chest against her cheek. "Very much."

"You were in good company from what I saw." She stated, taking a step back.

He followed her and put his hands on her cheeks. "Aw, honey, those girls, they mean nothing. You're my bestest, favourite little girl, you know that."

Mary shrugged with a frown. "They're your fans, I guess I understand."

"You don't have to be jealous, Cherry."

"I know." She quickly answered, her tone firm.

He grinned. "The look on your sweet face says otherwise, you know that?"

"I'm not pulling a face!"

"You are! Right here-" He pecked her forehead. "And here!" Another peck to her lips.

"Okay, okay-" She chuckled, playfully pushing him away. "I got it! Jesus."

He cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Keep that happy face for tonight, wanna show you off."

"You do?"

"And I want you to look extra pretty tonight." For some reason his tone made the question feel like an assignment.

Mary blinked and looked at herself in the mirror before mindlessly playing with a few strands of hair, twisting it between her fingers before gathering it at the back of her head, feeling reminded of the times she had to present something at school with hardly anything prepared. "Oh, you know, I thought I could try this updo-"

He pressed a quick kiss to her exposed neck, making her giggle. "Honey, I'm sure you got that all figured out. What are you gonna do with your face?" His fingers softly grazed over her cheekbone.

She blinked at his statement before frowning the slightest bit and dropping her hair back down. "What's wrong with my face?"

"Aw, absolutely nothing, honey, it's perfect. My little baby's pretty as a picture, yes she is." He assured her while squeezing her cheeks and making kissing sounds as his face inched closer to hers.

"Silly." She giggled before quickly glancing back at the mirror, a questioning look on her face.

"No need to pout, Cherry. We left that behind us, remember? It's just, uh, your eyes are so expressive, I just want everyone to notice them. And I happen to know how to make em' look real good." He explained with a shrug.

Mary pondered his words for a second, still feeling a bit uneasy from his sudden mood shift.

"Come on, let me do this. Gonna look so pretty."

Upon seeing his pleading face she broke into a small smile and with a nod she leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his full lips. "Alright... but please don't make me look like a clown, okay?" She joked.

He pretended to consider it for a moment, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, before breaking into a grin. "Tempting, gotta admit that, Cherry."

As he gathered all the supplies from a small leather bag he'd retrieved from his drawer, Mary sat down on the chair, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

"Okay just look ahead baby, look at me." He instructed. Before he started he lowered his head and gave her a stern look, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, hold still now, would ya?"

Mary shakily exhaled, feeling nervous all of the sudden and nodded when he cupped her chin, his thumb softly caressing her skin. He leaned in closer, his scent completely surrounding her, making her heartbeat picked up in a second. She had to look down, feeling bashful under his intense gaze.

"Eyes on me, honey, look at me."

"Sorry." She quickly cleared her throat before focusing back on his eyes. However it didn't take very long until her gaze drifted to his full lips and she was utterly cativated by the way they hung open the slightest bit in concentration. It didn't take long for him to let out an impatient sigh. He lowered the brush and tapped her nose to get her attention. "Cherry, I need ya to look ahead for this to work."

"Okay, okay, alright, I'll do my best now." She mumbled, failing miserably at sounding determined. The fact that her face felt like it was on fire didn't really help. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the snow covered park across the hotel, yet she was convinced there were beads of sweat running down her back.

He cooed and lowered the brush. "Aw, I love it when you're all shy like this, honey. But ya got no reason to. It's just me, you know that."

"I know." Just you. Just Elvis Presley, she thought.

"Now close your eyes." He whispered softly.

Her eyes fluttered shut at his words and she nearly jumped when he carefully started applying the eyeliner on her upper lid.

"Cherryyyy, stop moving around." He gently chided her.

"I'm trying." She answered, suppressing a laugh. "It tickles."

Even though she couldn't see it, she could almost feel him smirking at her statement. Those were the same words she'd uttered the night before in a very different context, a shaking mess under his touch.

"You want me to help you keep still again?" He put a hand on her thigh and gave her a squeeze, making her gasp.

"I think I'll manage." She nearly squeaked in response.

After a few minutes that felt like hours he leaned back, finally finished, his eyes roaming over her face. "Oh, look at you, looking all pretty." He cooed and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes.

Mary blushed and inspected herself in the mirror, touching her face and blinking a few times. She raised her eyebrows and saw the finely drawn black wing. Her eyelashes fluttered, the mascara making them look impossibly long. "You're really good at this."

"Lips, honey."

She laughed when he retrieved a red lipstick from the bag. "I understand the mascara and eyeshadow but why on earth do you have this lipstick?"

"Might have sent Lamar to get it, should've seen his face."

"Oh god."

He cupped her chin again, his eyes narrowed, assessing his own work before moving closer again, making his chair creak slightly. She blushed as he reached out to apply the lipstick and had to fight yet another smile.

"Don't ya move now. I mean it, Cherry." He warned as he noticed the corners of her mouth twitching. A muffled sound escaped the back of her throat in a weak attempt to defend herself, but he quickly shushed her. "No talking either, I know that's hard for you, but I'm not done here."

Mary narrowed her eyes at his comment, but took a deep steadying breath, willing herself to do as he said while fighting a grin. It never ceased to amaze her how he could say something like this, yet remain utterly charming. It was almost scary how much he'd wrapped her around his finger.

Her expression became blank however as he actually started working on her bottom lip. It suddenly hit her how intimate the whole situation was and the tension was nearly too much for her to handle.

Mary's sudden compliance pleased him, she could tell by the way his gaze suddenly drifted from her lips towards her eyes with an almost unnoticeable quirk of his brow.

"There, cherry red lips for my sweet Cherrypie." He gently patted her cheek as he finished.

She let out a deep sigh of relief at finally being able to relax her face and breathe normally again and leaned closer to the mirror. With a tilt of her head from one side to the other she examined his work, still in disbelief that the woman in the mirror was actually her. A small smile spread across her face. "Oh wow"

He looked down at her with a satisfied smirk and promptly licked his lips when their eyes met. "Quit looking at me like that honey, or I'll make a mess of your lipstick."

With a blush she looked back at her reflection once again, appreciating how her blue eyes did look more expressive and how the bold red colour on her lips made her feel like a famous singer or actress. Someone with confidence.

"Aw, you look so beautiful. I could just eat you up." Elvis leaned in to playfully nibble at her neck.

"Thank you." She breathed, feeling her cheeks and neck get hot, as she squeezed his arm that was sprawled over her chest. They looked nice together, she thought, before he carefully tapped against her hips, urging her to get up.

"Now, baby, get changed, yeah? Put on your prettiest little dress, okay?"

When she returned to his room, still grateful that she had shamelessly over-packed her suitcase, she saw him sitting in front of the mirror, busy fixing his own hair.

Mary stepped closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, right behind him. For a while she just looked at him, admiring the way his nimble fingers gently held onto the comb in a practised grip. The way he just ran it through his shorter-than-usual hair with ease looked almost graceful and Mary couldn't resist scooting a bit closer to him until she could wrap her arms around his middle. She hoped she didn't bother him too much when she laid her chin on his shoulder. It seemed like their argument never happened.

"Anything you want, honey?" He asked eventually, a small gleam in his eyes.

"Why are your eyelashes longer than mine? It's not fair." She sighed, her fingers lightly dancing over his arms.

"They come in real handy, I'll tell ya. Making aaaall the pretty girls swoon." He drawled before reaching behind to lightly pinch her waist with a wink.

Mary giggled and leaned forward to press her her burning cheek against his cooler one. "They are swoonworthy." She agreed and continued studying his face in silent awe, once again marvelling at how utterly perfect he was. It was infuriating.

He smirked at her through the mirror when he felt her breasts pressing into his back. She felt him shift slightly. "Trying to start something, little one?"

His sultry voice sent delicious tingles through her entire body and she smiled briefly before shaking her head. "I love you." Her tone was gentle as she rubbed her hands over his dress shirt, slowly caressing his belly.

Her whisper made him coo and he slightly turned his body to face her. "I love you too, sweetheart. So much. See? We're made for each other, Cherry." He softly nuzzled her nose with his. "That's why ya should stay here. With me. It's easy like that."

Her mind involuntarily drifted to Elisabeth. And Anita. "It's not as easy as that." She answered, withdrawing just the tiniest bit, trying not to look remorseful.

He quickly shook his head. "No, no, no, just a second ago ya were being so sweet and now this again. Don't ruin it now."

"I'm just being honest." She shrugged.

"Me too." He insisted, pulling her close to him again.

A mean 'Are you?' nearly escaped her but she quickly swallowed before actually saying it out loud.

"I love you. That ain't enough for you?" He asked and furrowed his brows, his hand softly caressing her.

Mary bit her lip and lowered her head. After clearing her throat she looked up into his eyes again. "Of course... And it means so much to me that you want me here with you. Believe me, there’s nothing I’d rather do than just move here and spend every minute with you.” She smiled carefully and leaned in to hug him tightly. “You just surprised me, and leaving my family is a big deal. I’m sorry.” She mumbled into his shoulder.

“Aw, Cherry, it’s alright, don’t worry.” He held her close to him, gently rocking her back and forth with him. “And I-I know it’s a lot. Just want the best for you, gotta get that in your stubborn little head.”

She opened her mouth but he shushed her. “Just trust me on this. Let’s not talk about now, though, Cherrypie. It’s Christmas Eve.”

Mary nodded in agreement, but she knew they’d have to come to a decision soon. After all, as much as it felt like one; it wasn’t just a dream.

.................................................................................

Taglist: @karel-in-wonderland @kingdomforapony @richardslady121 @18lkpeters @godlypresley @everythingelvispresley

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #army elvis #1958 elvis

[autumnblooms]

Local forest cryptid much sweeter than he looks

#ok I finished this way faster than I thought I would #inspired by the leshy plus just general forest floor moss and lichen #selfishly mountain is my favorite because I’m an earth sign and connect with that element the most #so I wanted him to be like wrapping up in the cool darkness of a dense forest floor that smells like wet earth #wow those tags got long #anyway this was a ton of fun #and I’m definitely making this a series #the band ghost #my art #mountain ghoul #nameless ghoul #ghost band

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson lives

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

#slasher x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #Thomas Hewitt x fem reader #fem reader #slasher smut #MDNI #thomas hewitt smut #leatherface x reader #leatherface smut #leatherface x fem reader #slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #thomas hewitt #tcm the beginning #tcm #texas chainsaw #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm x reader #my writing

[soapyblubbles]

⋆｡˙ runaway pets ˙｡⋆

pairings: dark regulus + dark poly marauders

warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, implied kidnapping, threesome, implied fivesome, voyeurism, overstimulation, (light) slapping, choking, stockholm syndrome, smoking, shotgunning, pet names, etc.

a/n: please enjoy the much more comprehensive version of one of my very first works. there were a lot of inconsistencies and issues with the first version. I added a lot more detail to this and it honestly feels more like a one-shot than a drabble now. i'll add the unedited version at the bottom just incase anyone wants to take a peak. anyways, happy reading <3

“I told you it’d be worse if you went to get help.” Regulus sits on one end of the bed, a small indulgent smile flitting across his lips. As if nothing was wrong. 

As if you weren’t being fucked within an inch of your life.

You turn your head to him, breathless pants leaving your mouth as Remus continues to rock into you. His hips slap into your own at a steady pace. How long had he been sitting there?

The air is stifling, sweat beading along your forehead and the small of your back. The arm around your waist only adds to the oppressive feeling, Remus’ strong grip keeping you upright and in place.

Your arms shake from exertion, and you have to force your hands to unclench from where they’re fisting the damp sheets.

With a whimper, you reach for Regulus, trying to find the comfort you once found in him before it all. Before he had selfishly stole you away. Before you knew of the darkness lingering just beneath the surface.

You weakly try to pry off the arm wrapped around you, but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens, pulling you up until your back hits Remus’ firm chest.

“Want sir now. Please- Remmy-” The lanky brunette ignores you, muttering something unintelligible into your neck as his thrusts speed up. Your attention was stolen from him. He doesn’t like that- not one bit.

Your face crumples at the silent dismissal, the tears you’d been holding in falling just as you reach another trembling high.

“Please, m’sorry sir- c-can we please go home now?” You gasp out. Your limbs burn, they have been for a while you suppose, but still you try to ignore it, concentrating on just Regulus for now.

But he only hums noncommittally, standing as he makes his way to the makeshift bar in the corner of the room. Regulus rubs his jaw in mock thought, scrutinizing the scene before him while he pours himself a glass of firewhiskey. The smell of cinnamon saturates the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere.

“Thought you wanted to come here-“ He gestures around the room, lazily draping himself on the nearby armchair. “For help.” The last word is said with a sneer and laced with so much venom that you balk.

Even though you can tell he’s done arguing about it, you still sob out: “I’ll be good- promise.”

You hear Sirius let out a scoff. He’s leaning against the headboard, his shirt unbuttoned and a lit cigarette in hand, doing nothing but watching as his friends ruin you.

He’d been the one to call Regulus when you came running to their house, barefoot and in nothing but a frail, white nightgown. “You’re already being good here, pup- s’no use in leaving.” He makes his way towards you, squishing your cheeks together, your lips forming an o-shape.

He blows smoke into your mouth, smirking when you cough at the burn. “Y’already gonna be punished anyway, might as well do that here- ain’t that right Reggie?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, breaking his normally composed demeanor. “Don’t call me-”

“Hush, I can’t focus when you lot keep talkin.” James' speech is slurred as he speaks up, moving his head slightly from between your legs. He pays no mind to the way Remus pumps in and out of you. His mouth is so close to where the two of you meet that you can feel his cool breath against your clit as he talks.

“S’annoying.”  

You clench around Remus at the feeling, and the man in question groans, giving you a particularly rough thrust.

James goes back to work at that, humming softly as he drinks in yours and Remus’ juices. You let out a another strangled moan, instinctively trying to tilt your hips away.

Instantly Sirius’ face darkens with anger, “Uh-uh, I don’t think so puppy.” A hand shoots out to grab the base of your neck as James’ hands grip the front of your thighs tightly.

“Don’t fuckin’ run away from him- you understand?” 

You nod shakily, chest rising and falling quickly as you watch him with unseeing eyes.

“Just take it like a good girl, princess.” James cooes, lightly nibbling on the inside of your thigh. You let out a startled yelp.

“What d’you say bunny?” Remus asks from behind you, hips slowing as he tries to find that spot. Trying to coax the words out of you. You whine, unable to answer until Sirius gingerly slaps your cheek, raising a sharp brow at you.

“M’sorry- m’so sorry Jamie.” Your head is spinning, an ache growing until it becomes practically mind numbing.

At this point it’s all you can focus on.

“Thought I taught you better than that pet.” Regulus chides, clicking his tongue in disappointment. He looks only slightly more disheveled than before. His hair is not neatly combed back like it was earlier, and his tie considerably loosened. His fingers dig into the cushioned arms of the chair, the veins in his forearms flexing in a way that makes your mouth water.

You lick your lips. “Sir-”

Remus shushes you. “S’ okay bunny- y’just have to make it up to him.” You cry out as he brushes against your g-spot, finally finding what he’s been looking for this whole time.

Each hit of his hips is aimed perfectly, giving you no room to breathe until you’re a gasping mess.

James’ mouth certainly doesn’t help. His warm tongue suckles at your clit, unrelenting as he brings you to that exhilarating peak over and over again.

Eventually he breaks away, wiping the wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand. A feral grin forms as he pushes the hair away from your face, cupping your teary cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad now was it? You can take a little more, right?”

Sirius answers before you can even think to open your mouth, a mocking frown on his face. “I don’t know about that Prongs- she seems a right mess already, huh? Don’t think she can go on.” He slaps between your legs, and a panicked moan startles its way out of you. 

You quickly come undone, so worked up from before, but the torment doesn’t end there.

“I think you're right, Pads.” James murmurs, as he slips his fingers through the mess of your cunt, the tips of his fingers grazing the base of Remus’ cock.

It’s enough to startle a groan out of him.

Sirius grabs onto your hips, reaching around James to take control of the even pace Remus set. “C’mon pup, make a mess on Moony’s cock- be a good little cockslut for us.”

He bounces you viscously atop Remus, everyone watching intently as you become a drooling mess.

Your set your lidded gaze on Regulus, whose self-control looks like it’s seconds away from snapping. 

Yet he makes no move to stop the situation.

“Come on princess- fuckin’ come for us. Make a fucking mess.” James growls into your ear, pinching your clit roughly. Tears well in your eyes, body tensing as you are, yet again, pushed off the edge.

“Fuck- such a good bunny.” Remus curses. 

Sirius and James mock your high pitched cries, taking a sadistic pleasure in watching you sob at the overstimulation.

Your limbs go slack, Remus panting heavily as he fucks you through it all, his breath fanning against your neck. He kisses your temple softly and you whine, barely able to move, even as the aftershocks flow through you. 

The three continue to overstimulate you, and Remus lets out a breathy chuckle when Sirius lets go of your hips, letting you fall face first into James’ chest.

“S’your turn princess. We’re not doing all the work for you- besides you still have three more cocks to go.”

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

UNEDITED VERSION

#hunnie writes ☀︎ #dark hunnie ☾ #sirius black x reader #dark sirius black x reader #dark sirius black #sirius black smut #james potter x reader #dark james potter x reader #dark james potter #james potter smut #remus lupin x reader #dark remus lupin x reader #dark remus lupin #remus lupin smut #regulus black x reader #dark regulus black x reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders smut

[fairy-hub]

𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝟕𝐤 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Daddy/sweetheart (toji’s and kento’s), heavy praise/taunting/teasing/encouragement/comfort, cock warming, double penetration, cream pie, making out, rubbing your clit, fondling your breasts, light pain kink for sukuna, true form!double dick!sukuna who won't admit he is jealous, biting, satosugu x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: cock warming w Nanami kento 🥵

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Gently massage your neck, softly rubbing your clit. “I am sorry your day was unpleasant.” His cock twitches inside of you, he’s so deep. His cockhead gently rubbing touching cervix when you shift yourhips. It’s a perfect fit.

Clenching him, savoring that thick vein you can feel occasionally pulsing. “Being here with you is making it all better. Missed you so much daddy.” Looking up, he glides his hand down your back. Leaning down passionately kissing.

Parting your lips, Kento slips his tongue into your mouth. You adore his deep groans and the soft intimacy of cockwarming. Fondling his balls, he rubs your clit faster. Gliding your other hand into Kento’s short soft blond hair.

The way he kisses you is always so passionate and sweet, getting hungrier with each second. Whining, rocking your hips, getting off on rubbing Kento’s cock inside you. Adding more pressure to your clit, your thighs tremble.

He breaks the kiss, gentle reassuring you, “I missed you more sweetie. I’m going to spoil you for doing so well today, then cool you some dinner. Run us a hot bath, I'll make sure you're happy and relaxed for some good sleep tonight.” Slowly sliding his hand up your side, admiring your gorgeous body.

His gentle hands warm and comforting. Carefully massaging your neck with a thoughtful firmness. Soothing the ache working out the tender knots. “Mmm sweetheart you are so close aren't you? I can feel it, you feel so soft, hot, wet, getting tighter around me.” Kissing your forehead.

“Let go, relax and let Daddy take care of you. You deserve it especially, a hard day being beautiful, smart and wonderful.” Clenching Kento, warm thick cum trickling down his balls. Kento steadily rubs your clit, helping you through your peak.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Clinging to Toji, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck. His hard cock buried in your cunt. Lying your head on his broad shoulders breathing in Toji’s musky scent.

Gently he rubs your back, “Today was that rough huh? Proud of ya for stickin’ through, tomorrow gonna be better. It’s gonna be all about ya getting spoiled.” squeezing your hip. Carrying you into the kitchen.

Nudging the door open with his foot. The cool air of the fridge gently brushes up against your back. “I’m glad your home daddy, it really did seem like everything that could go wrong went wrong! And now all I really need is to be held.” Squeezing your cheek, effortlessly supporting you with one hand.

Toji grabs a beer out of the fridge. “I'm not letting ya go sweetheart. Can ya take the cap off.” Walking over to the trash, for you to drop the lid into, after twisting it off. He kisses your forehead, “That’s my good girl.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, clenching his throbbing cock. Closing your eyes, sliding your hand into his dark hair. Relaxing in his comforting, safe embrace.

“Where do ya wanna smoke, bedroom, living room? Daddy is gonna get you high ‘n feeling good before fucking every worry outta ya pretty lil’ head.” Kissing his neck, where your lips are tattooed, with your name beneath it.

“Bedroom.” Turning down the hallway, towards the bedroom a few steps away. Kissing Tojj’s cheek, smiling when he flushes a pale pink. “We have our toys in there in case you want to get a bit nastier.” Trailing kisses along his jaw, pausing when he takes a quick sip.

Toni croons, “You really missed me huh, kissing up on me like this. Ya haven't let me go since the second I stepped through the door. Flicking on the lamp by the bedroom door, taking your previous spot on the bed. Lifting your hips he glides you back down, effortlessly stifling your wiggles.

“You’re what I needed after a difficult job. Feeling your soft warm squishy body and hot tight. This cold beer, n’ a fat blunt you have waiting for me. ‘S making my night better.”

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 & 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

“I don't want y'all to pull out, your cum is warm inside me and if you move it will come out.” Tracing the dark lines of ink on Suguru’s thick pec. Satoru trails the tips of his fingers along your side, over the curve of your hip, tracing hearts on your thigh propped up on Suguru’s hip.

Their cocks softening, pressed together tightly by your sensitive, sore cunt. You can feel your heartbeat in your sore clit. “We can cuddle n’ cock warm as long as you’d like, sweetheart.” Suguru kisses your forehead, sliding his hand up thigh. Grabbing Satoru’s hand, slipping his thick fingers through his.

Holding onto each other, trapping you in between stuffed with their cum. Reaching back, squeezing Satoru’s ass. Red with Suguru’s handprints and your bites. Hearing Satoru whine, you glance up. Biting your lip watching them kiss, shifting your hips.

Rocking your aching, wet cunt on their half hard cocks. Kissing Suguru’s thick hard pecs, unable to reach Satoru behind you. You grab a handful of his soft hair, tugging gently. Grabbing Suguru thick muscular arm draping across your’s.

They break apart, Satoru croons, “Aw so needy, after whining you couldn't cum anymore!” Looking up at him, he leans down for a gentle kiss. Causing him to shift his hips, gliding his cock along Suguru’s in your hot, soaking wet cunt.

Moaning into the kiss, Suguru cups your breast, rubbing your nipple with a wet thumb. You can feel each swipe as a tingle in your clit. “Let’s cockwarm with our Princess till she becomes a little crybaby.” Suguru roughly kisses you the second Satoru pulls away.

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Pinning you to the bed, looming over your both holes sloppy wet and stuffed with Sukuna’s thick tattooed cocks. “Fuck me, move your cocks! I wanna cum!” His thick tongue from his stomach’s mouth flicks your sensitive, puffy clit.

“But you’re about to cum? I didn't even need to move, I can stay still feeling your beautiful hot wet cunt spasm around me like she’s pulsing.” Fondling your breasts, one of his hand’s mouth sinking in its teeth. Flicking its tongue faster than the other one.

Whimpering, whining from the sweet pain of getting toyed with by a massive muscular monster. You’re so helpless in the four arms of a two cocked monster bent on refusing to let you do more than cum on and warm his thick cocks.

He gently rolls his hips, slowly dragging his cocks just barely. Pleading, “Don’t stop! I won't go on another date! I didn't think you’d get jealous. Or that we were anything more.” He doesn't budge. You shift your hips trying to take more than half his cocks buried in your sensitive, hot cunt and tight, soaking wet ass. Sukuna presses on your stomach, pinning you to the bed.

Slowly gliding his cock in. “I’m not jealous, don't like others touching what’s mine, every part of you belong to me.” Pulling away his stomach’s tongue, the mouth stretching into a cocky smirk on his hard abs.

“Your stomach is bulging. I'm so deep in your pretty lil human cunt. It looks so beautiful taking my monster cocks.” Roughly massaging your breasts, your vision blurs. Biting your other breast, licking the bite marks on the other.

Sukuna croons, “Aw that's pathetic you’re gonna cry from not getting fucked? You need me to move that badly sweetheart. Does getting fucked by me feel that good you’re gonna cry n’ beg for it?”

Oreo m.list

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami smut #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #gojo smut #gojo x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #nanami kento x reader #geto suguru x reader #toji fushiguro smut #satoru gojo x reader

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . FUSHIGURO MEGUMI — it’s beginning to get colder in the mornings, so now your boyfriend is trying to steal your body heat.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! aged!up megumi, f!reader, handjob, he’s grumpy :< it’s been so long since i’ve written him! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i bring you more writing, i’ve been v prepared this week with having some stuff done .. that break rly did me good <3

it had become colder in the mornings, you realise as you wake up to your boyfriend megumi wrapped up in you — closer than normal as his chest rests flush against your back. you can feel the cool chill on his fingertips as they squeeze at your skin and you shudder slightly when the comforter falls off your shoulders as you move.

“‘gumi~ you’re freezing.” you whine as you nestle yourself back into him, feeling him grumble with the way your voice wakes him up — unruly dark hair falling over his gaze as he sends you a grumpy, sleepy look.

“it is freezing.” megumi mumbles into the pillows before his eyes close again, trying to hold you still in the hopes you’ll go back to sleep but it’s all in vain when you roll around to look at him a few moments later.

“so, you’re making me colder!” you frown at him as he lays still, eyes closed but you know he’s awake when his brows furrow after a few more seconds and he grumbles once more.

“yeah, cause you’re warm. stop staring at me.” you roll your eyes at that before you nuzzle yourself back into him, letting yourself enjoy the few peaceful seconds of his dwindling body heat before you sigh once more. you’re pretty sure you feel megumi twitch with irritation when he realises you’re not going back to sleep, trying to hug you tighter in the hopes it’ll lull you.

“you’re so grumpy.” you giggle again, knowing fine well that your boyfriend was never really a morning person and he actually looks at you with that one. there’s a pout on his lips and his pretty features are already frowning when he lets his eyes finally flutter open to glare at you— although you think he looks cute when he’s still messy from sleep.

“no, i’m cold.” megumi grits before he sighs, deliberately grabbing the comforter and pettily turning to face the other way, wrapping himself underneath the warm blanket like he doesn’t know you’re gonna hug in behind him.

you give him a few seconds of peace before you push closer once more but you remain silent this time, not only are you bored now— you’re still cold, but you seem to have been struck with an idea that could help both of this things.

you press your chest against the bare skin of your boyfriend’s back before you let your arms loop around his waist, feeling him tremble slightly as your fingers press featherlight touches up his toned abdomen. as grumpy as megumi was, he couldn’t deny how much he loved your touch— already feeling him push back into you with every warm press of your hands.

you stay like this for a few moments, until he’s relaxed and his guard is down— breathing mellowing out slightly, that’s when you act. you make sure it’s swift, the way you push your fingers down the waistband of his sweats, squeezing languidly at the semi-hard bulge of his cock as he almost jolts in your hold.

“h-hey, what’re you doing?” megumi gasps but you think it sounds more surprised than it does angry, he’s definitely awake now— you can tell with the slightest squeeze of your palm along the length of him, feeling him twitch completely hard so quickly until you can wrap your fingers around him completely.

“warming you up. my hands are warm, right?” you tease and you hear your messy haired boyfriend click his tongue before his attitude melts with your next stroke, making him shudder against you as his hand wraps around your wrist— but you can tell he really doesn’t want you to stop.

“so.. yeah but, shit—“ megumi’s hips stutter with the next languid pull of your wrist, biting on the inside of his cheek in the hopes it’ll help to muffle the needy sounds that you’re already pulling from him so easily.

it only takes you a few more moments to find a pace, one that has him arching into you, throbbing in your hold and chasing every languid squeeze of your palm as he rocks into your fist. his lips part to pant while his fingers squeeze desperately at your skin and you can already feel the pre-cum smear along the inside of his sweats. you give him a lidded look from over his shoulder, noticing the flush blooming along your boyfriends pretty features and you think it’s cute the way he avoids your gaze while you pump his cock so desperately.

fushiguro megumi wasn’t a morning person, but he sure was sensitive..

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro megumi x you

[jj-one]

HOW JUNGKOOK WOULD TREAT HIS BIMBO GF 🍥

pairing: established relationship, bf!Jungkook x bimbo!fem!reader

genre/tags: smut, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, an*l, oral (m receiving), t*tty f*cking, drooling, use of the word daddy (only once)

**old repost from my deleted blog (05/24/23)

- Having a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend was a given for Jungkook, he loved the fact that y’all were both smoking hot and turn heads everywhere you go

- The stark contrast between your appearances drove him insane

- His aesthetic was more dark and mystique, is also heavily tattooed while you always wore pink and pastels, having bare skin

- Is so enamored with the idea of you being the total opposite of him, he always feels like he’s corrupting your sweet innocence

- Kinda treats you like you’re his eye candy anywhere he goes, has you wrapped up on his arm like it’s a leash

- He’s been debating getting an actual leash for you since you constantly trip and fall whenever you’re out with him

- You were just so ditzy and clumsy… it was your character flaw yet Jungkook saw it as an endearing quality

- Also loved that you were an airhead, clingy, and always wanting his attention ;( makes the joy of him coming home to you all the more thrilling <33

- Always buying you pink and girly thingsss

- Whenever he sees something hello kitty or barbie related he instantly thinks of you and buys it

- CONSTANTLY wants to spoil you, omg this man would spend every dime he could on you just to make you happy

- He looooves taking you out shopping because that’s your favorite activity !!

- He splurged on you the other day, buying you any color of that Dior lip oil that you were obsessed with, it was worth it since he’d be the one taking it off your lips afterwards

- Jungkook enjoys watching you try on skimpy outfits for him, the shorter the skirt the better— don’t get him started on the way your hardened nipples peek out the fabric of your shirts…

- Likes to play dress up with you like you’re his personal doll

- He’ll put you in a pink lace slip dress one night and the next he’ll have you wear white see-through lingerie for him; that is only when you two are in private of course

- Frequently teaches you new things so you keep up to date with current news and other events, he knows you aren’t the brightest but you have a heart of gold and do your best to comprehend everything he tells you !

- When watching movies you often pause to ask questions about the film because you don’t get it

- Jungkook made you watch ‘Inception’ with him one time and it absolutely rotted your brain

- He enjoys explaining the movie to you in a babying way, dumbing it down for you to understand it as your mind is blown away by all the knowledge he drops on you

- Laughs at your inability to comprehend the plot and pats your head while teasing you

- “Awww, you poor little thing…can’t even understand the simple concept of a movie.”

- It really really really turns him on when you wear high heels, the higher the heels the higher the tent in his pants grew

- You wore the sexiest 6-inch stripper heels for him and he fucked you out completely while you had them on, he thinks he might have a heel fetish or something

- Absolutely adores your bright & bubbly personality !! Will praise you any time he hears you say something smart

- “Did you know that Sloths can hold their breath longer than Dolphins???” You would ask him randomly.

- “No I didn’t, but thanks for the fun fact babe. You sound so cute when you talk about things you’ve discovered.”

- “It was on the back of my Snapple cap, how cool is that?! See look!!”

- He will never not be impressed by your lack of awareness, you lived in your own little bubble and he wanted to shield you from all harm and scary things

- Is sooo completely obsessed with your body

- Your bouncy tits, your curvaceous hips, and your cute plump butt was the perfect sight to send the blood rushing to his cock

- Loves. To. Fuck. You. So. Dumb.

- Uses your hole like it’s a fleshlight and loves cumming inside you repeatedly

- Dumping all his cum into your little bimbo cunt was the only thing he needed in his life

- Often catches you drooling at him, when you do this he scoops it up with his finger and puts it back in your mouth

- His favorite part of sex with you is seeing your fucked out face

- The stare you give him while you deepthroat his cock was enough to make him combust

- “Look so pretty with my cock stuffed in your mouth, such a pretty little slut for me..”

- The way he would degrade you but praise you in the same breath confused you in many ways yet you enjoyed every minute of it

- Your makeup would be all smeared, mascara would be runny, the Dior lip gloss he bought you fully transferred to his cock now

- Can never choose between if he likes doggystyle or cowgirl more since both positions he gets to look at your assets with a nice view

- Lots of titty fucking, loves having your big round tits around his cock, making a mess all over your chest once you milk him clean

- He owns all your holes, he likes to use your tight little ass from time to time

- After lubing it up nice and gently, he would go to town on your ass just pounding into your fuck hole viciously

- “What a fucking whore you are, gonna keep fucking your tiny hole until I pump every last bit of my seed in you.”

- Turns him on so fucking much when you start babbling and unable to speak proper sentences

- You’d whimper and hiccup with frustration from the way his cock made you feel

- His love language will always be making you feel so low. So small compared to him that you don’t even feel worthy of his presence at times

- “Can’t stop drooling all over yourself? Already too dumb and fucked out to continue, hmm?? Oh never mind, you’re already dumb…just shut up and take daddy’s cock like the good little slut you are, you were made for taking cock anyway.”

#jungkook headcanons #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabbles #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines

[sserpente]

After

Synopsis: You help Astarion wash off the blood after he kills Cazador. He doesn’t say much—but you can tell he needs you now more than ever.

A/N: I thought of this the other day and I almost cried. So I wrote it so that you can almost cry as well.

Words: 897

Warnings: trauma responses, fluff

Astarion was being unusually quiet, his movements robotic and too automatic as if he was somewhere else entirely in his mind. And he was. You couldn’t blame him. He had his own demons to deal with after what you had just witnessed.

His hand was still clutching the dagger so tightly his knuckles turned white. But not even the blood stains on his bare skin could manage to disfigure him. He was as beautiful as ever despite the streams of tears drying on his cheeks.

You’d wrapped your cloak around him after he announced he wanted to get out of there, eager to respect his wish. There was nothing left for him here. It was over. Now all he had to do was to heal, slowly, from the trauma the past two hundred years had caused him.

Both Shadowheart and Gale had offered to help calm him down with magic but Astarion had been quick to decline. It was dark outside by the time you left the palace—a welcome circumstance. Though it was not uncommon for citizens to roam the city drenched in blood every now and then, you were certain Astarion was grateful for the absence of curious and suspicious looks as you made your way back to the Elfsong Tavern.

It wasn’t just Cazador’s death of course. He’d turned it all down. The ability to walk in the sun, the powers Ascension would have granted him… Now he’d return to the shadows. But he wouldn’t do it alone, that you were going to make sure of. He had you.

He was still silent by the time you returned to your room upstairs. Whoever had decided to stay behind today—Lae’zel, Wyll, Jaheira, Halsin and Minsc—their eyes all went wide the moment they laid their eyes on the blood-drenched vampire spawn.

The questions were burning on their tongues, you could tell. But they held back. You cleared your throat.

“Would you guys mind… leaving us for a bit? Join the others downstairs for a drink maybe?”

“Understood,” Jaheira said. She waved her hand and nodded, compassion glistening in her wise eyes. “Take your time.”

“Astarion…” Minsc pushed Jaheira out of the way, earning him a groan. “Is… is Cazador dead?”

“Yes, he’s dead, Minsc,” you answered for him. Jaheira grabbed his arm and dragged him along with her before he could say something else. Wyll, Lae’zel and Halsin followed suit.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the latter announced. A few heartbeats later, you were alone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love.” Your voice was barely a whisper but Astarion heard you nonetheless. He nodded and finally allowed you to peel the dagger from his grasp. You set it aside on a table and lead him to the washtub in the corner of the room.

The cloak slipped from his shoulders, sailing to the wooden floor. He made no move to pick it up, no move to help you as you filled the tub with warm water. In fact, you weren’t sure he even saw you do it. But when you moved away to get him a fresh towel for later, you heard him.

“Don’t leave,” he said softly. Your eyes darted back to him, taking in the vulnerability and helplessness surrounding him like cold mist.

“I won’t. Ever. I was just gonna get you a towel.”

“Don’t leave,” he repeated.

The chest with your things was just around the corner, still, you opted against it. You forced the corners of your lips up and nodded, returning back to his side.

He didn’t protest when you removed his bloodied trousers and had him step out of them, didn’t resist when you made him climb into the tub and eventually, undressed yourself and reached for a sponge and soap before joining him.

Silence filled the room, water dripping as you dunked the sponge in. His sigh the moment it touched his cool skin was heartbreaking.

Inch by inch, you washed off the blood, pressing feather-light kisses to his chest and his face every now and then. Once you were done and the very last traces of Cazador had vanished, you cupped his cheeks, gently forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Astarion nodded. “I just need…time.” To process. To decompress, to let everything that happened today sink in.

You nodded. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, Astarion. I am so proud of you. What you did today…that was the bravest thing I have ever witnessed. You didn’t have to do it and it wouldn’t have made you any less brave if you hadn’t faced him. But you did. I love you. And I will do anything in my power to help you through this, whatever you might need.”

The vampire smiled—it was a weak smile, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. But it was sincere nonetheless.

“Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You remained in the bath until the water was cold. After tiptoeing over to the clothing chest naked to finally retrieve the towels to dry off, you cuddled up in bed together, your limbs entangled and his face pressed against your neck. His breath evened surprisingly fast as he slipped into trance and you too closed your eyes, holding on to him tightly until you were certain he had found peace for tonight.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion imagine #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 #bg3 imagine #neil newbon

[targaryenluvs]

— UNCHARTED WATERS

pairings: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader, percy jackson x sister!reader

summary: four months of keeping percy in the dark were over, you could only hope he’d understand your reasoning for keeping him there. or the one where percy finds a polaroid of luke and a girl eerily similar to his sister, donning not a lot of clothing.

warnings: suggestive content/photos, poor percy’s eyes, arguing, confrontation, makeups, hugs & motherly reader, protective percy

a/n: the end has come 😭 i’ve absolutely adored writing this series and i’m glad it’s here sad it’s here and sad it’s over.

taglist: @songofthesun @gayforyelena @taloulalila @honeydanny @7s3ven @sssi-nr @percabethtears @gr1mes-cc @2hiigh2cry @10ava01 @ahh-chickens @fangirl-swagg @anotherblackreader @midmourn @lovelyforesst @urfavpogue @lilacspider @mysteris-things @whoreyzontal @lunalixya @dangelnleif @wordsarelife

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv

iv. uncharted waters

luke’s mouth was currently held hostage by your hand, tightly clamped over his as you waited for the kids to pass by. you were currently hidden behind large rocks in the pond, and half-naked. “if you lick my hand i swear i will drag you under the water, and you know i can.” you whispered to him. luke’s amusement was no where near yours, you could tell by the fact that he jabbed your side which caused you to shout.

the two campers turned at the sound of distress, eyes frantically scanning the area, before turning around and continuing their way back to camp. “that was close.” luke grinned whilst you hit him, “that was all your fault! now come on, before the sun sets.”

“why, is my girl scared of the dark? don’t worry i’m right here baby.”

“am not!”

“are too!”

“am not!”

“are too!”

“you’re so annoying luke.” the two of you made your way into the cold, clear waters. the day had been pretty busy and the idea of swimming before showering all the paint and grime was nothing but appealing to you. but your peace would only last so long around your boyfriend.

“what’s that shark movie y/n? and what does the music sound like?”

“jaws? and the sounds like, dun-a, dun-a.”

you should’ve seen it coming. luke repeated the sound, as you closed your eyes and faced the sun, he waded through the water before you looked his way. he was gone.

“luke? luke where did you—,”

you screamed as luke came up from below you, tipping you face first. “what the hell!” as much as you loved to hear luke laughing all you wanted to do was drown him. “it’s one thing to mess with me above ground, but in the water?” luke’s grin was wiped off as a wave came from behind. “wait hold on—,”

it was officially your turn to laugh as luke resurfaced, gasping for air. “not cool.” you covered your smile with both hands, “kinda cool.” you murmured as he made his way to you, hands around your waist as you looked up at him. “you think that was funny?” you meekly nodded as his hand tightened, another wrapped around your neck to draw you in.

the night was fast approaching and the two of you were currently laying on the shoreline. “i knew i brought this for something.” he whipped out the camera, “you look perfect as usual, would you do me the honour of modelling for me?” you grinned, “of course.”

luke wouldn’t stop staring at the picture, the whole way back to camp. so instead of allowing him to ogle the photo the whole night you tucked it into your jean shorts. claiming the decision to be for the greater good.

if there was one difference between you and percy, it was tidiness. he wasn’t terrible but he wasn’t as obsessive as you. so imagine his surprise when you passed out, towel, shorts and swimwear laid around. “kids these days, i tell you.” percy muttered as he picked up the clothes to be washed the next day. but as he did, a certain polaroid fluttered to the floor.

“what the?” he turned it over, and then had a heartattack.

“WHAT THE F—,”

“ow! why on earth are you shouting? and no swearing.” you groaned out loud. percy stomped his way over to you then waved the picture in your face, “what on earth is this? huh?” you snatched the picture from his hand before sitting on it, “nothing, what’re you talking about?”

percy clutched his head, before dramatically flopping down on his bed, “i think my eyes need to be rinsed.” you rolled your eyes, “stop being so silly, it’s a cute photo. just not a lot of clothes.” percy quiickly sat up, “exactly! and some guys hand tucking your hair behind your ear. i didn’t even know you were dating someone y/n, let alone taking weird photos.”

you’d been caught out, it was bound to happen sooner or later so you might as well tell him. your feet hit the floor before moving over to him, “i’m sorry i didn’t tell your perce, really. i just— i didn’t want to freak you out. i wanted you to continue getting adjusted to camp and all before i told you anything about it. it happened recently, and i didn’t mean for it to but feelings… are the one thing you can’t control. i’m sorry, i really am. and i’m so grateful i have such an amazing little brother who feels like he needs to protect me but you are my little brother. i’m eighteen, and more than capable of making my own decisions.”

percy didn’t want to understand what you were saying. he wanted to go find this guy and let riptide work it’s magic. but annoyingly enough, everything you said did make sense. “fine, i won’t go maiming tonight. i’m still mad you kept it from me, don’t you trust me?” your eyes teared up at the notion, “oh god no! i mean, yes, yes i do. i trust you with every bone in my body and that’s why i knew you’d try and hurt the poor guy. you’re so incredibly strong that you’d send him packing perce.”

percy’s lips twitched, a grin forming, “i am pretty amazing arent i?” you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “that you are brother, that you are.” he hugged you so hard that it knocked you both back onto the bed.

“i guess i won’t hunt him down today.”

“thank you percy.”

“there’s always tomorrow.” he muttered.

“no perce!” he smiled up at you before wiggling out of your arms, “who is it huh?” you covered your face before sighing, “luke.” percy’s shoulders dropped, “stuff tomorrow.” he charged out the door as you ran after him, “no wait!” coincidentally the two of you rammed right into luke, “i heard shouting, i was concerned. are you okay y/n?” you smiled as he percy huffed, “no yeah, forget about the 12 year old you pummelled over viciously. continue focusing on my sister please.”

“he knows, i told him.” luke’s eyebrows raised, the reasoning behind percy’s jabs and stare revealing itself.

“oh.”

“you’ve got ten seconds castellan.”

“for what?”

“to run.”

“what did i do?”

“that photo didn’t take itself.” percy pulled out riptide, tapping it against his other hand as you stood behind him, watching luke laugh. “he’s, he’s kidding right?” you shook your head, “he’s giving you a head start castellan, i’d advise you to take it.” luke’s smile dropped as he began to step back, “i… you’re kidding.”

“ten, nine, eight—,”

luke’s shoes collided with the floor as percy shrugged, “countings for losers.” you reached out for him but it was too late, “cheater!” luke kept looking back as you sat down infront of the cabin, you officially had two idiots to look after.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

[bigfatbimbo]

any fics of fucking Vox so hard the power completely goes out in the making? i looove what you've written for him already, would be really cool if the glitches were visible in the writing too!!

warnings — Pegging, small use of ‘mommy’, Vox being a whiny bitch

summary — Vox takes it in the ass so hard Hell has a power shortage because he’s just a whore like that.

a/n — OMG I LITERALLY LOVE THIS !! god any excuse to write Vox getting absolutely wrecked is a YES.

“Fuck,” Vox’s back arched and his hands went to grip the top of his screen, “Fuck ju—zzs—st like that.”

His voice buffered as you pushed your strap deeper into him. He was on his back with his legs wrapped around your torso so your plastic dick would have easy access to his ass.

You had to hold your hands on his chest to keep him from squirming too much.

“Needy tonight, aren’t we, Vox?” you snickered  as you moved the strap inside him.

“God, fuu—ck you, bi—tcc—tch,” he hissed before you cut him off by aggressively forcing pushing deeper into him.

He yelped and moaned, throwing his head back on the pillow.

“You’re in no position to be saying that, sweetheart,” you start moving the strap faster and rougher.

He let out a glitched out whine and stared up at you with pure hatred, and desperate arousal.

Your hands that rested on his hips now dug into him hard enough to break skin.

“A—ah,” he whined, “What’s wr—oo—ong with you? S—slow down.” he whined at how rough you were being but then followed it up with a long drawn out moan.

“Aw baby,” you leaned down and caressed his screen, “Your going to have to learn to be nicer if you want me to slow down. For now you’ll just have to take my cock like the slut you are.” 

He surprised himself by whining at your harsh words. Your fingers glided down and brushed over his nipples. He then shocked himself even further with the fact that, despite this humiliating position, he arched into your touch, craving any and all attention he can get from you.

You noticed how desperate he was, and smirked. He looked pathetic, sweaty and panting, covered in markings from your teeth, and looking up at you with a dark clouded expression, waiting to see what you do next.

To his delight, you continued to roughly ram into him, going at a rapid pace, nails once again digging into his hips.

“ohmygodohmygodoh—tsk tsk,” he moaned loudly as his hands clung to the sheets. At this point he couldn’t get one sentence out before glitching.

“Wow, look at you” you remark, rolling your hips, “what a little attention whore you are.” 

He whined and threw his head back. At this point, there was a low static-y humming coming from him. 

“‘m not—bzz— ‘m not a whore,” his protests were weak at this point. If he wasn’t being interrupted by malfunctioning mid-sentence, he was being cut off by his own whimpers.

“Oh, but you are, sweetheart. Only a whore would be taking mommy’s cock so good,” you coo down at him.

The implication that he was doing good, especially because that meant approval from you, made his brain feel funny.

“See?” your hands move up from his hips and caress the sides of his screen, “your so pretty when you don’t argue with me, baby.” 

Oh, that did something to him. He wasn’t around a lot of positive people, so the idea that your attention could be shown with something as kind as praise, made his throat tighten.

His moans turned into choked out broken sobs and all the brattiness from earlier drained out of him. You were sure that if he had tear ducts, he would be crying right now.

You hammered into him harder than ever, leaning over him to occasionally pepper kisses on his neck and screen. 

“Nngh— mommy ‘m— bzz— ‘m sorry,” he moaned out, slinking his arms around your neck, trying desperately to bring you closer to him. To make sure he was the only thing catching your attention at the moment.

Your hips rolled fast and rough inside him, and he could feel his climax approaching. 

“Sorry for— wait, you’re sorry?” You were sure you knew what he was talking about, his attitude earlier. Still, for a moment you were thrown off by the idea that this cocky, power-hungry asshole was apologizing unprompted to you. 

After a moments consideration, you came to the conclusion that he must have been slowly easing into subspace. He was probably apologizing because he wanted you to, what, praise him?

All though it seemed slightly out of character for the usually pretentious, bratty man, his half lidded desperate eyes seemed to convince you. 

Your grip on his hips once again tightened as you drilled into him, rougher than before.

“You’re so perfect, baby,” you panted, earning a loud whimper. His arms tightened around your neck and his nails started to dig into the skin of your back.

“So good for me, taking mommy’s cock so well, looking so pretty for me too.”

He whined loudly and the frequency coming from his head started to get louder. You were ramming into him with such concentration that you didn’t notice the lights started to flicker around you.

“c—ccl—close—,” he tried to speak but only uttering a glitched out moan. Luckily, you picked up on what he was trying to say.

“Of course, sweetheart, whenever you want,” you said, rolling your hips once more to make his orgasm even more pleasurable.

“So good for me, Vox, apologizing for being a brat, telling me when your about to cum,” you speak softly into his ear, except you don’t think he comprehends a thing except for ‘so good for me.’

He let out a choked pathetic sob and whined for more. His audio was glitching out more than ever, making him almost unintelligible.

Now the flickering of the lights around you was undeniable, even producing a low buzzing sound reminiscent of the one Vox’s head was currently making.

“So perfect, my pretty baby, ‘m so lucky to have such a good boy.”

All of the praise sent him over the edge. With one loud moan, he came.

But in a moment, the buzzing light bulb beside you exploded, and all the illuminated buildings outside your window went dark, causing a full blackout all across the city.

Vox was still clinging to your neck, breathless, panting against you. 

“Shit. Was that, like, too much, Vox?” you ask, clearly concerned as you go to pull out of him.

He pulls back slightly from your neck but stops you from moving your strap out of him. 

“Please— tsk tsk,” he breathes, still buffering slightly, “Please more.”

a/n — I was too nice to him at the end of this fix but DONT WORRY GUYS I got another sub!Vox request that will literally destroy him

also, i saw someone say that since vox is around so many toxic people, an actual compliment would fuck with him super hard.

so as you can see i agree with them

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut

[kiwisbell]

Candy Girl [joel miller]

The before and after. Or, Joel fucks his friend's daughter for the first time.

my masterlist!

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ [mdni]

tags/warnings: daddy kink, baker!reader, age gap (20s/40s), (sort of) dbf!joel, daddy dom!joel, soft!joel, angst, self-loathing, waxing poetic about eating pussy, unprotected piv (wrap that shit up like a pastry), creampie, cream pies, dirty talk, pet names, forbidden romance, tw for occasional stylistic omission of quotation marks, moodboard for aesthetics only

word count: ~ 6k

read on ao3!

a/n: hi, all!! please, as always, mind the tags for this fic - it's quite a departure from what i typically write, but daddy joel has set up shop in my brain and he won't leave. if this isn't for you, that's cool - you don't have to read it. i hope you'll be kind, and as always, i hope you enjoy!! xoxo

thank you HUGELY to my dear mya @cavillscurls for the absolutely stunning moodboard!!! i love you and i'm obsessed with you and you're crazy talented 🫶 and thank you endlessly to my parents sam and el @tieronecrush and @northernbluess for being AMAZING betas and always supporting me and my silly fics!!

CANDY GIRL

What have I done, he thinks, parting your dewy folds with two fingers and sliding his tongue through the glistening mess between your thighs, to deserve this?

He certainly can’t think of some good-enough deed to warrant him being here, tucked warmly in this apex, kindling a fire, rubbing his hands over the red of the flame, breathing sighs and gasps and groans into the sweet-smelling flesh of your thighs as if he were destined to arrive here. As if it were a mere quirk of fate, and now everything is gently settling into motion. 

Your fingers are curled in his hair and your chest—bare, smattered with a faint sheen of sweat and reflecting moonlight, illicit—is heaving. You have no instinct to steer him. Your hand knows no guiding push or pull. Your back is bowing off the mattress and your mouth is emitting needy little whines and whimpers and pleas for mercy, more, please, Daddy. 

And he’s acquiescing, toppling slowly into that heady pull of sticky wet warmth between your thighs, and all he can think is that you smell like cherries. 

And you are messy. Fuck, you’re dripping onto his chin as he licks through you, languishing in the prickling taste as if he's guiding his tongue along the salt rim of a glass. His fingers absently dimple your thighs, bruising, forcing them to fall open, part wider, for him. 

Let me in, baby girl. 

Thaaat’s it. My sweet girl. My pretty girl. 

So goddamn beautiful like this. 

You just relax, baby, and let me in. C’mon, now. 

You obey every muffled order like it’s law, letting him shoulder his way between your legs, his hand pressing firm on your belly, pinning you. The answering mewl he hears from your parted lips is the sweet slide of your strawberry icing along his taste buds. He buries his tongue between your wet folds and holds you tighter, dizzied with the smell and the taste and the feel of finally taking what he wants. What you've given him. 

Joel licks self-indulgently through your slit until your pretty cunt is slathered in his spit and glistens with your own juices. When he sees your clit, puffy and fucking needy and shining at him like a goddamn pearl, he licks his lips. 

Look at her. She’s fuckin’ cryin’ for me, baby girl. You need your Daddy to kiss it better? 

You whine, grasping his locks, still never quite urging or pushing, but begging: Daddy, I’ll do anything. Please, I’ll do anything.

Shh, sweetheart. Don’t have to do anything. Just keep ‘em open for me. I’ll make it good. Hear me?

A frantic nod. A reflexive squeeze of the hand on your belly. Eyes, watery and butter-soft in the darkness—wrong, risk—meet his own. 

Yes, Daddy. 

It didn't begin this way. 

Some of the edges are blurred with time. He vaguely recalls the time before you—mornings alone at the breakfast table, intermittent calls to Sarah all the way in College Station, long days on the job site because he had nothing else to come home to—and he’s bitter. It tastes nothing like the after: strawberry icing, vanilla perfume, cherries. 

It must have begun when Chris slapped him on the back after the scaffolding on the Queen Street job was taken down and said, “Couple of us are grabbing coffees at the Morning Star. You should come along, man. Get outta the house.”

The Morning Star. A slightly weathered pink awning and a varnished oak interior, a couple small tables (occupied), a flurry of activity in front of and behind the counter. A glass display case brimming with cakes and croissants and macarons. Glass vases filled with pink roses whose stems have been neatly trimmed. A pretty girl working behind the counter, tending to customers with an irradiating smile, a tender hand, the blinding glint of a bracelet, a pair of earrings, glowing. 

“What can I get for you this morning?” you asked him, like it was some secret spilling from the torso, a heart lurching from its cage, spread out on the ground. 

Petal-pink flowers painted on your fingernails. The aching attentiveness of your stare. Ekphrastic turns of phrases pasted to the wall behind the counter, in the form of a mural, crowd-sourced poems and letters and works of art. Lived-in, loved. The smell of cherries as you approached.

And then it was Chris, clapping Joel on the shoulder, a jolt of good-natured violence turning to torrent as he said, “The usual for me, honey.”

It's been wrong since that moment. Maybe it's been wrong all along. That doesn't stop him from ending up here. And it doesn't stop you from following. 

On your back, in Joel’s bed, your legs spread wide to accommodate his broad shoulders, welcoming the face-warming intrusion of his mouth between your slick folds. Bold in the way you curl your pretty polished fingers in his greying locks—he’s too old, much too old for you—and receptive in your soft moans and your uttered hexes of yesyesyes. 

Bewitched, he flattens his tongue against your pulsing clit and latches his lips around it, his eyes fixed on the way your head falls back, the length of your throat exposed, the evidence of your beating heart laid bare for him in the tremble of your pulse. 

He sucks on your clit until your legs begin to shake, and it’s the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his shoulders, the way you reflexively kick his back with your heel. But he’s pulling away, crushing his nose in the flesh of your thigh, nipping your soft skin, and the cry that leaves your mouth carves a tremor down his spine. 

Your tight little hole flutters with the need to be filled, to take him inside you, to make him wholly yours, the way he already is, the way you can never know. 

So he slides his tongue over your clit and lathers you in his spit and digs his fingertips into your thighs as if he owns you—because he never can. 

The flickering burn of regret and shame soothes when he's between your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth and making you come so hard that you weep—leg kicking out, shackled by a firm hand around your ankle, back arching, fingers grasping, flexing, at whatever you can touch. You pour into him, molten gold, recast in his likeness, and he doesn't deserve this but he will take it. 

Instinctively, he pushes deeper, lapping your release from your messy hole, his nose pressed against your oversensitive clit—and he can’t resist, has never been able to, gently coaxing you through it, Poor baby, so goddamn needy for Daddy, sweetheart. Taste so fuckin’ sweet.

You’re whining, finally pushing at his head as the pleasure notches too high, and he presses a soft kiss to your clit before dragging his lips up your belly, between your tits, pulling you upright to sit you in his lap. You grin lazily and drop your forehead against his. 

Fuck, he's so proud. He smooths his hand down the crown of your head and skates his fingers down your sweat-slick spine. 

You tired, baby?

You nod, and he nips at your pouting bottom lip.

Hmm, but you ain't a quitter. You can give me another, can't you? You wanna be good for me. 

He whispers it all against the curve of your throat, into your collarbones, fitting his rough palm against your lower back and pulling your body flush to his. He sweats through all his layers and bleeds his warmth into you, but you don't care, grinding down on his lap, sliding your wet pussy along the hard length in his jeans. 

Your hand is slippery at the back of his neck and your eyes are lidded, sleepy, near-black, as you take what you need because you're a greedy girl when it comes down to it, and he's holding your bloody beating heart in his palms. 

I’ll be so good, Daddy. 

He knows. God, he knows—his lips find your temple, hair matted with sweat, and he can feel your tits pressing up against his chest, the erratic melody your heart sings to him, for him, through him. And he doesn’t deserve this.

Gonna need to take me out, baby girl. Go on, now.

You scramble, reaching between your bodies and unbuttoning his jeans, your hand teasing down the waistband of his boxers. Joel groans when you squeeze him, his teeth catching on your earlobe, nibbling from your jaw to your chin. He watches your manicured hand with its pretty pink polish wrap snugly around the base of his cock—you give him a firm, slow stroke, and he curses at the sight of your oh-so eager gaze.

Shit, baby. You're grinding your hips, smearing your wetness along his length, and he kneads your hip like dough while you grasp his shoulder, your head lolling. He bares his teeth, growling and snapping like a dog at the hot, slick slide of your cunt, his eyes a pendulum between the joining of your bodies and the heavy gaze you give him. That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, take what you need. 

Your legs are trembling, too weak to hold yourself upright, and he knows, as always, exactly what it is you want. 

You’ve always been spoiled, because he’s let it happen. 

“Just a coffee,” he said, his third consecutive day in the Morning Star. “Please.”

He felt the twist of your lips in his ribcage. “I promise we have more than just coffee.”

“‘s good coffee,” he said. “Why spoil a good thing?”

He liked your pale pink hat and apron and the colour of your nails. He liked the way you feathered your fingertips over the till while you waited patiently for orders, the way you dealt so kindly with indecisiveness, the way your heart-shaped pendant glimmered when the sun dipped low in the western sky. 

He only knows it glows like that because you let him stay one night, long after close, to fix the hinge on the front door.

He’d known the Morning Star for a month. He knew it better than he knew you. 

“You don’t have to do this, Joel.”

An anxious shifting of your weight from one foot to the other, an intermittent four-fingered tap of your nails on the countertop, a soft weariness blurring the edges of your irises, as you tried to tell him you were fine, you could call your dad in the morning, please don’t worry about me.

The gentle in-and-out of your chest as you breathed, the golden near-evening light trickling the sun into the whites of your eyes, where it belonged. When you inhaled, he exhaled, the rhythmic pulse of life dancing between you, twirling carelessly on the edge of something neither of you could explain. 

“I wanna help,” he said. “And you should let me.”

You sighed, little of the charging bull and more of the huffing kitten, and his stomach lurched painfully. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to rest his hand at the crown of your head, soothe the tension in your shoulders with a measured press of his fingertips, unearth the blood-flecked bones that heralded emotions he could not yet name. Later, he would know them intimately; later, he would set his teeth in the white marrow and lick the blood from his chops. 

He wanted to ask all of his questions with his fingers, not his mouth, let you answer them the way you saw fit, giving that silent, haptic space the power it needed to pry open the parts of your life he could only guess at. 

But he did not touch you. 

Then, a time firmly lodged in the hazy somewhere of before-and-after, he could only pretend. And he could fix the door. 

Now, he’s gazing in disbelief at the way your tight little hole wrenches open around the weeping tip of his heavy cock, his sweaty body sliding along yours as you hastily shove the buttons of his flannel out of their slits and shuck off his shirt. Skin-to-skin, he feels your pulse ever stronger, licking and sucking at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His palm is flat between your shoulder blades as he eases you open, helping you take his big cock. 

Daddy…

I know, baby girl, I know. Just a little more. That’s it—keep holdin’ onto me, baby. 

Petting you like a domesticated cat, fitting his fingers in the grooves between your ribs, feeling his own heartbeat settle into the rhythm of yours. You grasp his shoulder, the nape of his neck, your lips parting against his forehead, pressing feverish kisses to the space where his greying curls stick to his skin. 

You can take me, sweet girl. My baby. So good for me—

—the way you always have been.

“When my mom left, she gave the bakery to me.” Guiding the pink icing onto the small fluffy cakes, you moved seamlessly. Second nature, like laying mortar and brick. Your hands were speckled with flour and frosting. 

The vanilla cupcakes, robed in white paper, were a commission for a young girl’s sixth birthday. “Pink was Sarah’s favourite, too,” he’d said when he walked in that morning—perhaps too needy for a reason to connect. Blindly tossing a fishing line into a murky lake. 

But you still glowed when you had beamed up at him: “And now? She still a pink lover?”

“Haven't asked in a while,” he’d said, “but I’d reckon so.”

“She’s smart.” You had slid the black coffee across the counter and placed a cupcake next to it. Joel frowned. 

“What's this?”

You had lifted your brows, your eyes telegraphing a challenge. He had sunk neck-deep into your emboldened gaze. “This is a cupcake.”

“Smartass,” he’d huffed. “You got a reason for givin’ me a cupcake?”

You’d gently pushed them closer to him and given him that blinding, tempting grin, and how could he ever hope to decline you when you looked at him like that? 

“I value your opinion, Joel,” you’d told him, “and if you don’t eat it, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

He'd taken the cupcake and sunk his teeth into its pillowy flesh right there in front of you. 

“And your dad?” asked Joel, on his knees under the counter, replacing the latch on the display door’s hinge. “He help you out a lot?”

 An intrusive figure, playing unwitting God in the budding flower bed, picking petals before they were dead. He would always inflate the distance between you, assert his right to decide who you wanted, dated, fucked—he would always be Joel’s judge and jury. 

The executioner’s axe he’d take up himself. 

You topped off a row of cupcakes with little candied cherries. “He couldn't afford to quit, so I’m running the place. So much for school.”

Joel didn't like that. He didn’t like the way you let it all slide gently down your spine. There was a quiet defiance in the way you spoke—some simmering anger you buried deep in the earth where the colours weren't bright and your heart wasn't so naked. He could feel its veins as if holding it in his palm, the gentle ba-dum, ba-dum of a vulnerable organ so acquainted with disappointment.

“What do you want to study?” he asked. 

“Don’t know. Never got the chance to think about it.”

Never got the chance to find yourself. To learn. To grow. You had simply stepped into another’s body, a ghost, occupied endlessly with the next task and the next and then one more. You should've been spending your early twenties partying and studying and crying your eyes out over idiot boys who didn’t know how good they had it. You shouldn't have to be here, decorating cupcakes for a six-year-old while some old man fixed yet another broken hinge, latch, bulb. 

“I became a dad pretty young,” said Joel. “Thought I was gonna lose my whole life, all my opportunities, not that I had any.”

He did not deserve the empathetic shimmer in your waterline. “Joel, that's not true—”

“But,” he said with a faint groan as he rose, “I got to make a life of my own, with my kid, and I was happy.”

“You were happy?” you said wearily. “You aren't anymore?”

“I’m…”

He caught your eye and felt the plates far beneath his feet dislodge. Quantum shift. You held his gaze as if you were waiting for some truth to crawl from his sockets—like he was your answer. And Joel did not know what to do with that, but if you would keep looking at him this way, he would tell you any false truths you wanted to hear. 

“I’m lonely,” he said at last. Joel reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. A shiver coursed through your heart which lay in his palm, warm crimson blood trickling down his wrists. “And you shouldn't have to be. You’ve got so much life ahead of you, sweetheart.”

Some glacial melt keeled the weight of your head toward him, and your cheek was resting in the pool of his palm. Joel did not care for the hand of God whose fingers would inevitably squeeze the life from whatever this was. The jigsaw fit of your bodies felt so right in this incomprehensible sliver between before and after.

“You're not old, Joel,” you said softly. 

“Too old for you.”

He didn't know why he said it, but it made you smile. 

“You keep lying to me, Mr. Miller, and I’m not going to trust you anymore.” A wry twist of your lips. “You don’t want that, do you?”

Is this flirting? he thought to himself, so fucking out of practice that the concept felt altogether foreign. But you were giving him that foxlike look and his hand was still cupping your cheek and he could feel the flutter of your pulse, and he didn’t want to stop.

“No, baby. I don’t want that.”

Flesh meets flesh. Your hips drop, and you’re sitting so prettily on his cock, the whole of him buried inside you, stretching your capacities, shifting the dichotomy of right and wrong. He stares up at you—lips parted, eyes lidded, heart beating JoelJoelJoel—and pleasure pinballs down each knob of his spine. He’s locked in the tidal push-and-pull with your body, gravity sucking him into you, or sucking you down onto him. It doesn't matter. 

This is the after, and you're drunkenly nudging his nose with yours, trying to kiss him, and he's taking you. Running with the diamond. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, tasting cherries and frosting and giving you a piece of what he's already taken from you. You're sighing and moaning and greedily opening your mouth into him to swallow down your own taste. 

His hand slides up your spine to the sticky nape of your neck as he presses you to him, joined by every joint, every pound of flesh. 

And when he begins to move, to grind up into you and draw gooey, cloying gasps from your mouth, Joel thinks he briefly sees white. 

Jesus. Been waitin’ so goddamn long for this. You're so fuckin’ soft, baby girl. So fuckin’ beautiful. 

His teeth in your throat, around your earlobe, scraping your jaw, pleasure pinching, recapitulating, recovering only to start again. Your name on his tongue, passing from his mouth to yours, the anchor of your hand around his neck, the other on his shoulder, reciprocal re-stabilising. 

He needs you just as much as you need him, and he shows you in the way he pulls you firmly to him, because he cannot bring himself to whisper it into the barely-there space between your bodies.

“Joel, I’m sorry to call you so early, but I’m out of options, and the party starts in two hours, and my delivery guy flaked, and—”

“Honey, slow down. Lemme wake up, okay? I’m comin’ to you.”

“Oh, God, just forget I said anything. Go back to sleep. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He still remembers the break in your voice, the fragile warble of your resolve cleaving down the middle. He remembers the sting in his own chest like it was his wound, not yours. He was awake before the sun began to climb.

You had to personally drive the cake you’d made for a ten-year-old’s birthday party all the way across town now that your delivery service had fallen through. You didn’t even have a car; you took the bus everywhere, which Joel had chewed his tongue to pieces over for months. Things could happen in the dark. Public transport was no different. But your own father didn’t seem to take issue with it, so how could Joel?

“Don’t say a word,” he told you when you hopped up into his truck and opened your mouth to apologise. “I don’t mind. You know damn well I don’t mind.”

“You should mind,” you said, instinctively picking a piece of lint from his flannel with that miserable little pout on your face. “All I’ve ever done is ask you for things.”

“And if I like doin’ things for you?”

“Then I’ll put you on my payroll,” you countered.

Joel shook his head fondly. You cleaned when you were anxious; grooming and picking at him like a monkey should not have surprised him. “Well, I got a birthday comin’ up, if you wanna thank me.”

“Yeah?” You bit your lip and some of the heaviness sitting on your shoulders lifted, the promise of getting to repay him for his altruism at last eliciting the smile he wanted. “What would you like?”

You take me so well, baby girl. Goddamn meant for me.  

The hot, wet slide of your cunt up and down the length of his steel-hard cock has him doubling over, mouthing sloppily at your tits, sucking and nibbling on your stiff nipples as you cry and whimper: Oh, Daddy, please… fuck, that feels… I can’t—

He’s blinking hard to squeeze the bleeding edges of fantasy away—because this is real, and he cannot know if he will ever have this again. I know you can. You can take me.

A nod, frantic and sick with desire, slips against his temple. I can take it. Please—let me be your good girl. I’m good, good for you. 

I know you are, baby girl. So good for Daddy. 

“Joel!”

He had never heard his own name infused with such thrill. It settled in the pool of his gut and oozed out past his ribs. 

You beckoned him to the counter and placed a steaming mug between the pair of you. The umber liquid sloshed gently in the cup. “It’s a macchiato. And don’t worry”—you caught him before the gash between his brows could deepen worriedly—“it’s nothing like that sugar heap you'll get at a Starbucks. Two shots of espresso, balanced with the milk foam.”

Joel tried to smile, but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Milk… foam.”

“I know you're a coffee purist, Joel, but hear me out.” You scurried to the large black boards on the back wall and flipped one over to reveal the bright white writing—stark, vibrant, a proclamation you should’ve had no business making, not when it was so bold as this. 

NEW, it read in a pretty, looping font. THE MILLER. 

His heart leapt to his throat. And there you were, gesturing to the board with his name—Joel’s name—on it, and he was lifting the confounding liquid to his lips. 

Some of the foam accumulated in his moustache as he tentatively sipped and rolled the flavour over his tongue. It wasn't… bad. Not at all. A little too sweet where he preferred the bitter drag of a dark roast. A few too many frills. But—

“It’s good,” he said. Your answering smile decided it for him. He would never go back to black coffee. 

Fuck, baby, that's it. Keep on ridin’ me just like that. Oh, Jesus—

The slow, rhythmic slap of your thighs against his as you lock your arms around his neck and lift yourself up and down on his dick. Your head lolling around your shoulders, your brows drawn up in the middle. The squelch of your creamy cunt as you take him to the hilt and bring your hips down in measured, grinding motions. 

You’re getting yourself off, too, your clit rubbing against the hairs at the base of his cock, and Joel groans, Fuckin’ hell. Christ, that’s good. That’s it, that’s—

“Think I’m gettin’ fat on all these sweets, baby.”

He’d begun to come into the bakery on Saturday mornings, too, even though he didn’t work. With Sarah no longer in Austin and a dreadfully empty house whose groans and creaks only kept him up all hours, he had little to do but work, maintain the lawns, and, well…

Sat together at the table by the window, you shared a leftover slice of rich cherry pie. The awning outside fluttered gently in the breeze, cutlery and ceramic softly colliding as folks indulged in your treats. You beamed at Joel and reached out to swipe some foamed milk from his moustache. 

“I like you this way,” you said, your thumb coasting along his jawline, your eyes like jewels. The pendant on your throat dipped as you swallowed, settling in the hollow like a perching bird. 

Joel, white-knuckling his fork, felt his cock grow hard in his boxers, a heavy weight against his leg. The rapid shuttering of your eyes left him feeling inexplicably panicked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“No,” said Joel, his hand covering your knee beneath the table. You were wearing a little skirt that day. The silky fabric shifted under the coarse texture of the pads of his fingers and he wondered if the softness would be akin to the flesh of your thighs, your belly, your tits (sitting so pretty in that plain T-shirt: pink, of course). “No, you didn’t… You know I…”

And what could he say?

You know I’ve wanted to slip my hand down each one of those pretty skirts you wear since the first day I saw you. You know I take my cock in my hand and jerk off in the shower and I picture your lips around it. You know you’ve fucking infected me. You know I’m poisoned. You know I ain’t good enough. Youknowyouknowyouknow I can never have you.

“Joel, man, I’ve been calling your cell.”

His hand smacked the underside of the table in its hasty retreat as Chris rounded the corner and clapped Joel on the shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. You mind if I have a bite?”

And because you were so goddamn sweet, because you were a smart girl and knew how to play it cool, you gave your father your fork with a big smile and said, “All yours. I should get back. Thanks for the taste test, Joel.”

Chris easily occupied your seat at the table and Joel, adjusting his pants discreetly, was struck by how wrong this had been. To sit with you, sharing a pie, touching, wanting—

He was fucked. And he didn’t care. He only wanted more. 

“Cowboys kick off next Sunday,” said Chris through a mouthful of baked cherries. The warm, cloying scent reminded Joel of your perfume. “You want to come over for dinner? We’ll order takeout, grab some beers.”

Joel swallowed, rubbing his fingers over his mouth. He felt the phantom touch of your thumb lingering just above his Cupid’s bow. “Yeah, man. Be fun.”

Chris grinned over the pie—now his, no lingers yours and Joel’s. “Hope you don’t mind that I invited my kid, too. She needs the break.”

You’re close, baby. Can fuckin’ feel it. Feel you squeezin’ me.

Thighs trembling, muscles gooey, you struggle to lift yourself up, and it's Joel who scoops you up with a hand on your ass and lies you on your back, never once pulling out. He doesn't think he can. How did the first man to discover fire ever snuff it out?

He bends over you and thrusts deep, punching a sob out of your throat. Joel groans, nipping your chin as you toss your head back, his mouth trailing down the hollow of your throat, latching around one of your sore nipples, already abused by his attention. You rake your fingers through his tousled greying locks and lift your legs up around his hips as he fucks you slow, hard, deep enough that your heart begins to bruise. 

Joel hisses when he feels your fingernails scratching down his spine, between his shoulder blades, pulling him close to you. He dulls his pain in your flesh, open-mouthed kisses soothing the biting bruises he's left on your throat. 

Your cunt rhythmically pulses around his cock and Joel grunts, driving deeper, hand fisting your hair, and Daddy, I’m so close—!

Friday night. Joel’s birthday. 

He’d spent it on the job site, laying brick, then at home, cracking open a cold beer and calling Sarah, whose gift hadn't arrived yet. She sang him “Happy Birthday” from her dorm room and Joel smiled. All things considered, it wasn't a shitty day. Just…

Lonely. 

And you—

You were at his door at ten o’clock, shrouded in night in a way he'd never seen you. Not dressed in pink but black: sweatpants and a tight little tank top that made him swallow his tongue. You were holding a goddamn cake. 

You'd had a stressful day. He could tell. Eyes a little sunken, shoulders a little rounded, but you were still smiling, still holding up that cake—chocolate, circled with candied cherries, of course—and singing a weary “Surprise!”

Joel laughed—in shock, maybe—and rubbed his hand over his beard. “Jesus, baby,” he said. “C’mon in; it’s cold out.”

He helped you secure the cake in the refrigerator and offered you dinner: leftover pad thai and a beer. You accepted the former with a grumbling stomach and politely declined the latter. Of course, you were a wine girl. 

“I’m sorry it’s so late,” you told him, sitting across the couch while reruns of Happy Days idly played on the television. “Shit goes down at the Morning Star when you're not there.”

Joel shook his head. “I run a tight ship. You doin’ okay?”

“I’m strung-out, Joel, as ever. But fine.” Your conciliatory smile was so fucking cheeky he had half a mind to put you over his knee. “I hope your birthday wasn't a disappointment.”

“Couldn't have been,” he said. “You brought me a cake.”

You beamed. And the cord wrapped around both of your bodies jerked tighter. Joel was hiding his erection with the takeout container, too humiliated to let you see the hard band of his cock in his jeans. You'd run. You'd think he was a freak, a perv, a sleaze. 

He was all three, of course. Didn't stop him from wanting—

His cock driving deep inside you, achingly slow, back screaming for relief. Daddy, please, I’m… nnngh, please let me come! Daddy, I’ll do anything, please!

Shhh, baby girl. He rises to his haunches and dips his hand between your joined bodies, rubbing your slick little pearl in fast circles. Your eyes roll back and your head collided with the pillow once more. Thaaat’s it, baby. You gonna come for Daddy? Be a good girl for me?

“Joel,” you said softly, your food forgotten on the table, your body inching closer to his, now two feet apart at best. Your eyes buttery in the darkness, lips dewy with some pinkish gloss you always wore, gloss he knew tasted like cherries. He licked his lips. 

His hands flexed. “Yeah.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you said, bridging the gap, placing your hand on his knee, pink nails and soft skin and vanilla perfume. Joel sets his container aside, swallowing hard. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You were tentative at first, scooting closer, your hand gingerly exploring the length of his strong thigh, against the grain of the denim. 

“Baby,” said Joel, more a long-bated exhale than a word at all. Gritting his teeth, hands at his sides, he watched in disbelief as you explored him, your manicured hand gently palming the hard length in his jeans. The moan he let out surprised himself. 

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered, pulling yourself onto his lap, straddling his hips, your arms winding around his neck, perfumecherrieslipgloss—

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Joel’s hands, no longer balled into fists, flattened against your arms and travelled their length, exploring your contours, dipping his palms into the curves of your shoulder blades, lodging himself firmly in the after with you. 

You shivered, and he liked it. 

“You need someone to touch you, too, baby girl.”

Not a question. You nodded anyway. 

“Words,” he demanded. 

Your lips parted and suddenly your noses were brushing, the pupils of your heavy eyes expanding, taking all of him in. 

“I need you to touch me, Joel.”

“I know,” he said, one hand smoothing down the crown of your head, the other trailing featherlight up your spine. “I’m gonna kiss you, baby.”

You nodded again, a little feverish, pulling yourself closer to him, your thighs squeezing his. “Please.”

The after began with you, the way it will end with you. And he's kissing you now, too, swallowing the sounds of your orgasm as you hold him so tightly to you there's no escape. Not that he wants to leave. Not that he finally has this. 

He's breathing life into your climax and burning it bright, hot, endless—that’s my good girl, coming so much for me, I know it's a lot, baby girl, just keep holdin’ me, that’s it, sweetheart. 

And he's coming, too, grasping your hips so hard they'll bruise, nipping your earlobe and your jaw and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, spiralling out of control, squeezed so tight by your hot, wet pussy. He comes with a pinch of pain in his lower back, groaning your name into you, pitching up into a near-whine as you milk him, guide him, coax him. 

Fuck, fuck… goddamn—

Daddy, I need your cum. Please come inside me. 

I will, baby girl, I will… Jesus—

It's so warm and slick where his cock begins to pulse inside you that he couldn't pull out if he wanted to. He empties himself, absolves himself, no longer a sinning man but one cleansed. Your body begs for it, your cunt pulling every drop from him, letting him make a mess of your used hole. Joel grinds absently until it's too much, until he’s sensitive and softening and trying not to collapse on top of you. 

Your lip gloss is smudged. He licks his lips and tastes cherries. 

“You okay, baby?”

You wince as he pulls out of you, globs of cum pooling at your hole and dripping onto the bed sheets. “Mhm.” You pull him closer, asking for a kiss he happily gives you. 

“I feel good. I feel happy.”

He grins into your throat, littering meagre kisses in the junction there. “Did so well for me,” he mumbles.

“Tell me something,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair. 

He purrs at the satiating scratch of your nails, his head resting on your chest. “Mmm.”

“Do you really like the Miller Macchiato, or are you just ordering it to make me happy?”

Joel chuckles, playfully taking your nipple between his teeth. “It's grown on me.”

From here, where he can feel the thrum of your settling heart reverberate through his skull, Joel gently tucks the beating organ back between your ribs for safekeeping. Here, in the clear-blue space of after, he doesn't need to hold it to know he's got it. He only needs to lower his ear to your chest and hear it sing his name. 

tagging some friends who showed interest in the wip!!: @casa-boiardi @swiftispunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @cool-iguana @morning-star-joy @party-hearses @5oh5 (i love you all 🫶)

#tw: daddy kink #kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #daddy!joel