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buryustogether · 5 days

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songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

#fallout #fallout show #fallout amazon #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #fallout imagines #fallout one shot #fallout smut #the ghoul x y/n #cooper howard x y/n

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sttoru · 9 months

Note

toji taking care of reader who’s pregnant with gumi

just some pure fluff 😭😭

ෆ tags. (soon-to-be)dad!toji x female reader. fluff. a little sprinkle of angst added, oopsies.

“my wife’s lookin’ real sexy, ey?” toji lets out a low whistle as he leans against the doorframe of the kitchen. it was early in the morning and you were cooking breakfast for your husband since he had gotten home late the night before.

“good morning to you too.” you teasingly roll your eyes at toji’s words. you thought those flirty comments would get less when you got pregnant, but instead, they increased in frequency. toji absolutely adores how you look with a swollen belly full of a new life and he shows it through his actions every day.

toji chuckles and walks up to you, big hands instantly finding their place on your stomach as per usual, “and good mornin’ to megumi.”

megumi, the name meaning ‘blessing’, is what your husband insisted on naming your child ever since he found out you were pregnant. toji’s mind was set on that choice and he was not giving up until you caved in. regardless of the gender of the child, the name was a beautiful one. with a beautiful meaning.

“babe,” toji whispers into your ear after placing a peck on the exposed skin of your shoulder, “come sit down. i’ll take care of breakfast, alright?”

toji detached your hands from the pans and utensils, bringing them to his lips to place soft kisses all over your fingertips. he had gotten more gentle with you over time and you loved it. toji pampered you to the fullest degree: doing almost all chores, cooking dinner and breakfast, making your bed, helping you bathe and getting you whatever you wanted without a single ounce of hesitation.

your husband once drove two whole hours because the stores in the neighbourhood didn’t have that one specific item you craved. and that one time where he called off an important appointment with his agent because you had showed the slightest bit of fatigue.

it’s a blessing bestowed upon him that he gets a chance to have a family of his own. he has never thought about it, not even once. he thought life wouldn’t have mercy on him since he never had any mercy on mankind due to his job as an assassin.

even if work has been hard on him lately; as long as his wife and child are content, he is as well.

“but-” “nu-uh. sit down.” toji insists and carefully guides you to sit on a chair near the kitchen table. he kneels before you, one hand on your belly and the other intertwined with yours. he lowers his head to your round tummy and kisses it like he always does in the mornings, “just relax and let y’r hubby do it for ya, alright? i’ll finish breakfast.”

it isn’t like you don’t want toji to do it, it’s just that.. it always looks like there’s been an invasion in your kitchen every time he cooks. plus, the food ends up burnt at the sides sometimes. you still give in and nod. toji was trying his best to be the caring and loving husband after all, “okay, okay. thank you.”

toji grins from ear to ear and pinches your cheek gently. before he gets up from his position in front of you, toji puts his ear on your stomach, softly rubbing the sides over your shirt with his hands; “megumi, be nice to your mama today, alright? no causing her problems or you’ll get in trouble, kid.”

toji’s playful words never fail to gain a laugh from you. your husband never misses the chance to have a ‘conversation’ with his child. it’s turned into part of his daily routine at this point. sometimes he’ll scold megumi, sometimes he tries to whistle a fun tune to his unborn child.

toji’s already got such a special bond with your baby. it’s his first born and he’s determined to not mess things up.

even if parenthood can be difficult to new parents: you have each other to count on.

#ෆ : parenting 101.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you

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strang3lov3 · 3 months

Text

Lather

(Inspired by our curly, long-haired Pedro with his broken wing) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🧴🧻💦🧼🚿🛀(4k)

Part one of a new mini series!!

Tags- shoulder injury, forced proximity, hair washing, handjobs, blowjobs, Joel finishes little too early, sexual tension, masturbation, pissed off joel, impish reader as per ushe. Joel starts out soft and gentle, this will not last long. Just you wait for part two, mwahahahahah!!

A/N- This new series is written for and inspired by my very dear friend @noxturnalpascal , please do not eat Pedro’s fucking hair. I’m begging you. And thank you @tightjeansjavi for the title name!!

Generously edited by my dear friend, the lovely @papipascalispunk

You’re at the dinner table, watching Joel awkwardly cut his chicken and potatoes with the side of his fork, held by his left hand. He brings the food to his mouth kind of slowly, deliberately, like he has to consciously think about where his fork will end up. He catches your watchful gaze and looks at you, “What?”, he scowls.

You shrug, “Nothing.”

“Quit lookin’ at me,” he huffs, “Creep.”

You’ve been living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie for quite some time now. Ellie’s got the garage and the downstairs bathroom to herself, you and Joel live in separate bedrooms upstairs. It works out. Kind of. The stairs are an issue. They’re old and steep, kind of slippery. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped and fell, and last week, that’s exactly what Joel did. Early one morning, he had misstepped and totally ate shit, landing hard on his right shoulder. You rushed to help him, but Joel shrugged you off, insisting he was fine. But you could hear in his voice he wasn’t, how he strained to speak. And in the following days, you noticed how his routine changed in the aftermath of his injury. He’s been favoring his right arm heavily, eating, cooking, opening doors, picking things up all with his left hand, rarely his right.

Ellie gets up from the table to rinse her plate. When she passes you and Joel on her way back to the garage, she stops next to Joel and just stares at him, a look of confusion and disgust on her face. She reaches her hand forward, pushing her fingers slowly through his hair and watching the curls stand up straight. Joel freezes before turning to look at her, perplexed and irritated. “What’s the matter with you?”, he asks.

“Gross,” Ellie giggles, still playing with his hair. He swats her hand away.

“Yeah, shut up,” Joel grumbles, “You’ll have gray hair one day too. It ain’t that funny.”

“I’m not talking about the color. Your hair is disgusting, Joel. It’s like, sticking straight up. Are you hydrophobic or something?”

“Leave me alone,” Joel tells her, “Go do something. Go play in traffic.”

“You smell like you’re hydrophobic,” Ellie retorts as she continues towards her room.

You turn your attention back to Joel, who looks insulted. Subtly, he turns his nose to his armpit to smell himself and then checks his reflection in the window, using his left hand to mess with his curls. He notices you staring at his reflection as well, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”, he asks defensively as he messes with his hair a little more, flipping the mess to one side of his head, then to the other, rubbing the strands between his fingers. Joel sighs deeply then, gets up from his seat, and – using his left arm – he drags his chair across the kitchen and sets it in front of the kitchen sink. “I need help,” he confesses in a tone hardly audible, like he’s sheepish and uncomfortable. Disappointed, too.

“What?”

“Washin’ my hair,” he speaks louder this time, “It’s hard with my uh…shoulder. I need your help.”

“Took you long enough to as–”

“Knock it off,” he interrupts. It was probably around day four post-staircase incident that you noticed Joel’s hair taking on a more dirty appearance. You stare at his hair a lot lately now that he’s growing it out for winter. His hair curls in all sorts of directions, little cowlicks all over his head. The ringlets at the bottom of his neck are your favorite part. How gorgeous they look with the multitude of colors on his head. Deep, chocolatey brown with highlights of caramel and silvery gray streaks. With resources being fairly scarce even in Jackson, Joel doesn’t wash his hair every day, which is honestly fine for him. However, the days that he does wash his hair, he struggles to scrub his scalp properly with just his left hand, hence the dirty and greasy appearance. And really, it doesn’t look that bad. Probably feels worse for him, though, all that schmutz built up. Probably itchy and uncomfortable.

You take your plate to the kitchen sink and give it a quick wash before drying it and putting it away. Joel sits in the chair he’s placed in front of the sink, and reaches behind himself for the dish soap, then kind of just puts it in your hand. You look at Joel, tilting your head in confusion. Sure, it's slim pickings for resources, but there’s a reason you’re close with the soapmaker here in Jackson. It’s the little things that keep you going; one of the little things being fruity scented shampoo that the soapmaker hooks you up with.

You place the soap back on the kitchen counter and leave quickly to grab your shampoo, then come back to meet Joel at the sink. Joel looks at the bottle of shampoo in your hand, “What the hell is that?”, he asks.

“My shampoo. It smells kinda like strawberries, see?”, you open the cap and squeeze the bottle to waft the scent towards him.

Joel scrunches his nose, “It’s too girly.”

“You’re too girly,” you taunt, and Joel rolls his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m washing your hair, so I get to pick the shampoo. It’s like a spa night,” you chirp happily.

“Nope, not a spa night,” he replies harshly, “Just wash my damn hair. No funny business.” When you stare down at him, unimpressed with his attitude, Joel backtracks, “Please,” he begs.

“Spa night.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs in defeat and leans his head back into the sink, scooting down the chair. He looks deeply uncomfortable already, putting his weight on the left side of his body and raising his shoulder up and away from resting on the sink. Poor guy. You turn on the sink and begin to run the water over his scalp with the detachable faucet, but Joel yelps in pain. “Hot, s’ way too hot,” he says loudly, craning his neck away from the stream.

“Sorry,” you apologize, quickly turning the faucet lever in the other direction.

“Cold, cold, Christ—cold,” Joel hisses as he reaches behind himself to try to haphazardly adjust the lever himself, swatting his hand violently. He ends up hitting your hand instead, resulting in you dropping the faucet on his forehead. He yelps again and quickly sits up straight, water flinging across the room from his wet hair. “This isn’t gonna work,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Think we need to get this over with in the shower.”

“I think that’d work better,” you agree.

So, you and Joel make your way upstairs, you’ve got your fruity shampoo in your hand. Joel’s wet hair drips down his neck and back as you follow him towards the bathroom where he turns on the shower, letting the water warm up. He shuts and locks the bathroom door before unbuttoning his flannel, again with his left hand only. Turning away from you, you watch Joel twitch and wince in pain as he tries to take off his undershirt. It kind of makes you sad, seeing him struggle like this. You wish he would have asked for help before now. “Joel?”, you tap his back.

“Hm?”, Joel turns around and you reach his right arm. “Oh,” he says. Carefully, you do your best to painlessly help him out of his shirt, pulling his sleeve towards your body and keeping his arm as low as can be. You pull the rest of the shirt off of his body, catching a glimpse of his torso, his soft, pillowy belly. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

“No problem.”

“I uh–,” Joel begins, turning away from you again and undoing his belt, “I’m gettin’ undressed and gettin’ in, okay?”

“Am I getting in there with you?”

“I’d reckon that’s probably easiest, yeah. And if ya don't wanna get your clothes wet, then you can take 'em off too,” Joel offers, “I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, so I'm keepin’ my eyes shut and facin’ the shower head the whole time so I don’t see anything I'm not ‘sposed to.”

“I appreciate that,” you reply. You’ve been through a lot with Joel, and truth be told, you’re both past the point of modesty, all that you’ve been through together. You have endless trust and respect for each other. Still though, you appreciate what he’s doing to keep you feeling safe and comfortable with him. A lot can be said about Joel, but he’s never been anything but respectful and considerate towards your safety and comfort. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll undress. Just give me a minute.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says. You face away from him as he takes off his belt, it lands with a clatter on the floor. Next his jeans and boxers, then each of his socks. You hear the sound of the shower curtain moving and his heavy footsteps in the bathtub. “M’done. Eyes stayin’ closed now.”

“Okay,” you say as you look at Joel through the shower curtain, unable to see much. You have no doubt he is, in fact, squeezing his eyes shut, but you smile to yourself when you notice where his arms lie. They’re resting across his body, his hands cupping his member securely. Oh, Joel. He’s a grump, but a gentleman nonetheless.

After taking off your own clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor, you move the shower curtain aside and step inside of the tub. It’s a tight fit, despite being relatively spacious. There’s a built-in bench to the side of the shower where your soaps sit. Joel always complains you have too many lotions and potions taking up space, that they always fall on his toes when he bathes. Dramatic.

Immediately you’re in awe of Joel’s beauty. You can’t see his face, but you can see his back, freckled and scarred and striped with stretch marks here and there. Water trails down his neck and his spine. You can’t help but steal a peek of his ass, so firm and plump. He’s blessed, truly.

“Doin’ okay?”, Joel interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh– yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Gonna shampoo you now.”

“Get to it,” he tells you.

You reach for your strawberry shampoo and squeeze a small amount into the palm of your hand, then reach up to lather it into Joel’s scalp. “I need you–”, using your hands to guide Joel to tilt his head back, “Yeah, like that. Thanks.”

“Mm,” he hums in response.

You begin to wash Joel’s hair, building up a thick lather of bubbles. You pay special attention to the sides of his head, down towards his neck, scratching and massaging his scalp. It’s almost imperceptible, but you hear a slight groan, a soft exhale of relief as you scrub Joel’s head. Washing the hair near his neck, you toy with his curls, wrapping them around your fingers and watching them bounce and swing when you pull your hands away. You’re about to reach for more shampoo when you really see it– the bruise on his shoulder. It’s yellowing now, but there are still purple and blue splotches of his skin. “Fuck, Joel,” you mumble, tracing your fingers lightly over his bruise.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was an accident. You know this, so you’ll spare Joel from your long-winded lecturing about taking care of himself. Instead, you just press a soft kiss to his bruise.

“You– I um–”, Joel clears his throat, a little bashful now, “Need you to wash up by my hairline, f’ya wanna come up front here.”

“Yeah, of course,” you speak softly. You begin to scoot past Joel, but the tight fit of the two of you in the shower makes it difficult to move. You slip and reach for Joel’s arm.

“Careful,” he warns you softly, “Here, I gotcha.” Joel, still keeping his eyes shut, holds your waist and helps guide you to stand in front of him. When you’re situated, he quickly protects his modesty once again.

You grab some more shampoo and reach for the front of his scalp. This time, you can admire more of him. His face, eyes scrunched tightly shut. Careful not to look at what he’s not supposed to. That little line between his eyebrows is more deep and prominent than usual. Water drips down the slope of his aquiline nose and his plump, rosy lips. Droplets cling to his wiry salt and pepper facial hair. He’s a work of fucking art. When Joel’s properly shampooed, you reach for the detachable shower head and start to rinse his hair, watching the strands fall on his forehead.

You’re not sure exactly what happens, but in an instant, Joel is unexpectedly groaning and reaching for the shower head from your hand. You step back and watch him scramble to wipe his eyes and blink quickly. “Fuckin’, ahh,” he hisses, “Got soap in my eyes. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“S’okay, was an accident. Fuck,” Joel hands you the shower head and then wipes his eyes a few more times before he stops and stares at you before him, not even thinking about his rule. Fuck. He shuts his eyes quickly, but the damage is done. His mind is swimming with images of your body, the drops of water rolling down the curves of your breasts, your hips, thighs. His cock hardens almost instantly, and he hurries to cover himself again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s not cause of you.”

“Okay, Joel,” you reply calmly.

Joel groans. “No, it’s not like that, you– you’re– it’s…My shoulder’s been hurtin’, y’know how it’s been.”

“Mhm,” you hum, knowing where he’s going with this, “It’s okay.”

“Haven’t been able to take care of myself, uh…in that regard,” Joel clears his throat before continuing, “So I’m just a little wound up– oh–”

Joel’s interrupted when you step forward, reaching for his wrists to pull them away from his member. “I get it,” you whisper, “I can help with that too, if you’d like.”

“Jesus, fuck–”, Joel hisses as you touch his hips, his thighs, skating your fingers along his skin. He moans softly when your fingers lightly touch his heavy balls, the base of his cock, then trailing them up his shaft. “Quit– fuck – quit teasing me, hon. Not a smart idea.”

“I’m not teasing you, Joel.”

Except Joel’s not listening. All he can think about is how fucking good it feels to be touched where he needs it most. He reaches for your hand, but doesn’t pull it away. Like he’s at battle with himself, doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do, not that he actually wants to. He wraps his fingers around yours, encouraging you to grip his cock tightly. But with his brow furrowed, he looks conflicted. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ya, but–”, he says shakily, “Hon– you gotta stop cause, fuck–”, he breathes, “Don’t think I have it in me– fuck – to walk away from you.”

“You don’t have to, Joel,” you coo quietly as you grip his cock tighter. You lean closer to Joel, wrapping one of your arms around his waist. Joel opens his eyes then, and you kiss his cheek, still stroking his cock. His thick head is nudging your hip as you work him, “Why don’t you let me help you with this?”

Joel nods, sighing in relief as he gives into you, gives into pleasure. He’s been hard as a rock all week. Left hand just doesn’t do the trick, but yours, your hand does just fine. “Lord have mercy,” he gasps, “Thank you.” Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, you kiss his neck, then lower, his collarbones and his chest. Lower still, sinking to your knees as you kiss down that soft and pillowy tummy of his, trailing your tongue along that patch of hair that leads to his cock. You take his thick base in one hand and his ass in the other, then press sloppy kisses to his blushed tip, flicking your tongue over his soft skin. “Sweetheart,” he warns softly, “Doin’ too much for me.”

“I don’t think so,” you tell him innocently before trailing your tongue along a prominent vein of his cock.

“I disagree,” he mumbles quietly. Oh, Joel. Silly Joel. As if you’d satisfy him with just your hands. But this is as much for you as it is for Joel. You’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about him, kissing him and fucking him. He’s who you think about at night with your hand between your thighs. So no, taking him in your mouth is not too much. It’s what you both need.

Joel hums sweetly as you guide him to your mouth, his thick head parting your lips. You toy with him, swirling, flicking your tongue, alternating between taking him deeply and more shallow in your mouth. He’s warm and thick, just like you imagined. His cock feels heavy in your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks to massage him. You love his smooth skin, how he squirms and his hips stutter when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. As he gains more confidence, he begins to draw in and out of your mouth slowly, an action encouraging to both you and himself.

“Good god,” Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand still squeezing his ass cheek, the other now fondling his balls, cupping and squeezing them gently. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He reaches down, stroking your cheek with soft and warm eyes as you work him. His hand finds the back of your head, grunting as he inches you forward to take him deeper.

“Not lastin’ long the way you–”, he chokes out, a stuttered string of profanities following as you feel his cock stiffen and twitch under your tongue, spurting hot ropes of his spend down your throat. It’s salty and warm and masculine, taking you by surprise. His orgasm surprises himself, too. You don’t mind, though. In fact, it’s flattering the way he’s come undone for you so quickly, so desperately. Poor Joel, so worked up and bent out of shape all week. Probably part of the reason he’s been so cranky.

He takes heaving breaths above you, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stares down at you in admiration. He’s got the kindest eyes. When you pull off of his cock, he offers his hand to you, helping you back to your feet. He thanks you again, then apologizes for finishing how he did. You assure him that you don’t mind a bit. “M’not gonna leave ya high and dry, you know,” he says, “You just give me a few days to get myself right and I’ll take good care of you. Return the favor and all that good stuff. Hm?”

Sure, Joel, you think, nodding to him. He nods back at you, feeling good and satisfied, already dreaming about getting you off in a few short days. How soft and wet your pussy will be, pulsing around his cock, all for him. He’ll make you come just as hard as he did, if not harder. He can see it now, he’ll have you falling to pieces under his tongue and his fingers. He just needs to fucking heal first. While Joel’s been favoring his right arm quite a bit, he still hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should have been. But he’s got a woman waiting on him now, and healing is his top priority.

Joel smiles, you smile sweetly back at him as you wrap an arm around his waist for stability and set one of your feet on the ledge of the bathtub. His smile contorts into a confused frown as he watches you take your free hand and snake it between yours and Joel’s bodies, your fingers toying with your center. “Whatcha doin’?”, Joel asks.

“Oh, you know,” you reply plainly. You sigh softly, tilting your head back as one of your fingers circles your hole.

“No, no, no, no,” Joel protests, “No, thought you were gonna wait your turn.”

“My turn’s right now,” you breathe, now dipping a finger into your entrance, curling it and swirling it around. “You’re not the only one with needs.”

“I know you got needs, hon, thought we just agreed I’d be the one to take care of ‘em,” he tries, “Right?”

“It’s alright,” you purr, “I got it.”

It’s almost cartoonish, how Joel’s expression turns from one of satisfaction and bliss to betrayal and astonishment. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, “It’s teasin’ me, you know.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper softly, your fingers now rubbing over your clit, “What don’t you like?”

“Uh, that,” he spits, “Don’t like hearin’ you moanin’ my name when I’m not the one touchin’ ya. Don’t like that at all.”

You pout, “Oh, you can touch me,” you offer as you take his left hand into your own, sliding it up your body. He thumbs the plump underside of your breast and glides his fingers over your nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch.

“Oh, real nice. You’re playin’ dirty,” he accuses, “You’re nothin’ but trouble. Shoulda known.”

You don’t bother replying as you begin to trace steady circles into your clit, dipping your fingers at your entrance to collect more of your arousal. Your fingers slip and slide through your folds with such ease.

Joel growls, squeezing your breast harshly one last time before his arm finds your waist and he pulls you flush against his body. With your head still tilted back as you whimper quietly, Joel takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, biting and nipping at your hot, dampened skin. It only fuels you. “Joel,” you cry, “Fuck, oh my god,” as that warm, sticky feeling deep in your gut is beginning to build.

Joel watches you, conflicted. How sweet his name sounds falling from your lips with your broken, honeyed moans, but Jesus, he needs to be the one touching you like that, not you. He should have known it’d turn out this way, that you’d revel in having this one-up on him. Your fucking audacity. I made you come so hard you saw stars, and I’m doing the same thing to myself. And you can’t do a single thing about it. Ha. Ha.

Joel holds you tighter when your cries begin to get louder as you reach your peak, your knees beginning to buckle. You moan frantically, loudly, and Joel watches you knit your brows together and your mouth drops open as you begin to fall apart. Your fingers massage your clit faster, harder, feeling that tension in your gut snap and splinter as waves of pleasure overtake you, washing over your body. With your eyes shut, you feel it deep in your stomach, down the back of your thighs, riding out your orgasm on your own fingers as Joel holds you close to his body.

When you finally open your eyes, Joel’s glaring at you. He says nothing. Deep down, he knew you’d probably end up taking care of yourself tonight, but in front of him? You’ve got some fucking nerve.

When your breathing slows, Joel lets you go. He stares at you, unimpressed, mouth slightly agape. You take the opportunity to slide two of your fingers past his lips, letting him taste your sweet arousal on his tongue. His brows furrow and his eyes flutter shut as he groans deeply, hungrily. “Seriously?”

You nod with a smile, then press a quick kiss on his lips before shimmying past him to reach for your towel. You dry off and step out of the tub, and when you look back at Joel, he wears a scowl.

“You’re the fuckin’ devil.”

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal x reader

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diejager · 2 months

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omegaverse anon here, could you do the cod group with a beta reader? Like, they stay really out of the way, not really used to getting any attention from alphas or omegas

Unusual Attraction Cw: omegaverse, awkward!reader, ell me if I missed any.

You were an oddity of a beta, your stronger nose made interacting with people harder than other betas, it made you stand out from your peers, they deemed you a beta stronger than the usual beta and that made you feel isolated and alone. You were used to alphas ordering you around and moving you from team to team for your nose and clear mind, you were a asset to have on certain teams where they needed a buffer that wasn’t an heat-prone omega. And despite your constant entourage of omegas and alphas, you never stopped flinching or wincing when someone’s scent became too strong, the musk burning your nose in an enclosed area like the mess hall, the training areas, or even public spaces.

You preferred keeping to yourself, to alleviate the growing headache pounding at your head, to find a calmer corner of the base you were permanently moved to. You knew the people you worked with from prior assignments, a few times on month long covert operation and others on week long clandestine missions offshore, but you liked your silence when you could afford to find it. Even outside, their scents clung to your clothes, the strong smell of Price’s smoke and Ghost’s bourbon, the distinct notes of strength and dominance that screamed Alpha, Soap’s sweeter and softer citrus that you could pick up despite the scent blockers and Gaz’s gentle vanilla, a soothing calmness that reminded you that you weren’t the only buffer to the team, that you were the only beta.

“Found ye, Hound!” You liked the way Soap said your callsign, his accent coming into play to make it sound different —special.

He swung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side, your nose twitching from how close you were to his scent glands. You felt like he did it with intention, always finding a way to have you smelling like him and filling your mind with his scent, it was near addictive —so much so that you would’ve succumbed to it if you were an alpha, mind shutting off and body acting on it’s own volition. You wouldn’t blame anyone for it, Soap smelled so good, a sinful delight that people were deprived of, and when he wasn’t using the patches, it numbed your mind, made you slow and sloppy with your thoughts and acts. He knew the effect he had on you and he loved it from his constant hazing, flashing his gland in your face and drowning you in it whenever he could. Perhaps it was his claim on you, you never truly understood the whole dynamic, you were a buffer with a better nose, nothing more and nothing less.

“We were lookin’ fer ye,” he walked back in, still holding you in his grasp, “We’re going tae the pub. Thought ah’d come and get ye.”

They, on multiple occasions, had invited you to go drink with them, extending that olive branch your way with smiles and encouraging nods. You were tempted to accept, but you didn’t do well in enclosed and crowed spaces, so you declined over and over, but they never stopped asking you. It got to a point where you were waiting for them to stop asking, to tire themselves of befriended you, and yet, they never did, going so far as to pull you along despite your grumbling and exhaustion, promising a night of rest and relaxation at the pub.

And fortunately, their words rang true, it was a blessing to your nose that the owners burned an overpowering but gentle incense that blocked all types of scents, a relief you rarely got. The only thing you could smell was the comforting scents of your new pack, the oil-packed burgers and fries, and the strong burn of alcohol, all thing that you didn’t mind as long as it came in moderation to your nose. After your first drunken and giggling visit to the pub with them, basking in their attention, Soap throwing himself over Ghost’s lap and grinning at you cheekily, Gaz leaning against your side, nuzzling the crook of your shoulder, Ghost’s big and warm hand grasping your thigh and Price looking on with so much pride.

“The occasion?” You followed him blindly, blinking lazily at him.

“Yer third month with us,” he smiled widely, something carnal and wild, befitting more an alpha than the omega he was. Maybe that’s why he could easily pass as an alpha, with all his bravado and broadness, either way, he was a dangerous man alone, but as a Task Force, they were a menace.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

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dazed-and-confused23 · 14 days

Text

Quickie

Summary: You, a wondering trader, and he, a ghoul bounty hunter, cross paths and decide to camp together. Nights in the wasteland were dangerous on your lonesome, after all.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings! smut, face sitting, cowgirl position, coming inside

Fluffy part 2 -> HERE

Link to my other fallout works on ao3 -> HERE

Masterlist

The fire illuminates the harsh features of the ghoul across from the flickering flames. He is handsome by ghoul standards, and you feel an ache in your core you've not felt in a long time. You cock your head to the side and debate with yourself, before shrugging in a matter of a couple of seconds. You'd never been picky.

"Wanna fuck?"

Cooper jerks his head up from where he'd been studying the waves in the sand that the wind left behind. He locks eyes with you across the flame, gives you a once over, and then smirks deviously.

"Ain't ever been propositioned in such a way, but why not. You got any rad-away? I'd hate for such a pretty thing to end up lookin' like me," Cooper drawls and leans back on his hands, legs man spread and cocks his head at you when you nod.

"Come 'ere then, Darlin'."

You stand, reaching for the button of your pants and popping them open as you amble over to his side of the camp. You stand before him, and Cooper reaches out to hook his thumbs into your jeans, jerking them down and past your knees. The ghoul tugs one of your shoes off and tugs the jeans off one leg so that they are out of the way. You raise a brow when he stays clothed, confused for a beat before he pats his chest.

"Let's get you wet, Doll. Then you can ride me til the sun comes up."

Your cheek warm, but you aren't about to argue, and so drop to your knees, one leg one on either side of his head. His hands find your hips and guide you forward, and a hiss leaves your throat when his tongue meets your mound. Cooper eats you like this is his last meal, obscene wet noises coming from where he is buried between your thighs.

Cooper smirks when he sucks your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly and causing you to fall forward, hands hitting the sand and destroying the waves. The ghoul doubles his efforts, tongue swirling around your sticky folds and slurping down the mess you make, a groan of his own fading into the night when he tastes you.

Electric heat coils tight in your belly, and you are seconds away from having one of the best orgasms of your life when the ghoul lifts you by the waist and tugs you down. A shout breaks through when his cock drags across your folds and then slams home, his length deep and perfect inside of you.

"Heh, that's it, ride my cock, cowgirl," Cooper rumbles below you and grips your hips, bouncing you up and down, fucking up into your tight cunt every time he drags you back down. Your hands find his shoulders and dig in, holding on for dear life as the ghoul fucks you silly.

Coop drags a hand down from your hip and to your clit, pinching the pulsing bud between two fingers. You snarl silently, pleasure singing up your spine and making you curse colorfully. Cooper laughs under you, and knows you are close by the way your pussy flutters around his dick.

"Come on, baby. Come all over my cock," He snarls and you tip over the edge when he snaps his hips up, pulling you down and burning himself as deep as he could go. Coop rocks into you, and seconds later, you feel splashes of hot cum fill you up, so much that it begins to leak down your thighs.

You take big gulps of air to catch your breath, looking down at the Ghoul with a grin as you rock your hips back and forth.

"Think you can keep it up, old man?" You quip and are rewarded with Cooper rolling the two of you, the ghoul shifting to his knees and grinning meanly down at you.

"Well now, how about we find that out, Darlin'?"

#fallout #fallout tv series #fallout prime #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #x reader #reader insert

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sherewrytes · 13 days

Text

Ms. Good Grip

Inspired by this song

If you know you know. If you don't know how you know. Wanted to drop a fic with a more Caribbean inspo.

C.W : smut, Caribbean dialect, overstimulation, Caribbean black reader. Dom ony. Y/N be actin out

Your fav cousin wedding reception was in full swing. Drinks pouring, shots passing, weed smoke in the air all elders already left. You knew your boyfriend Ony wasn't used to Caribbean style parties. The pacing was completely from the usual parties he's used to. He was faded and tipsy, hands gripping your hips catching every whine you threw his way. You were completely bent over, if it wasn`t for your updo your hair would be touching the floor with how far you were bent over. You both took a break from dancing to get some drinks and more food before everyone's greedy ass ate it all up.

The song changed to Alkaline's on Fleek. As soon as you heard,

Whooo gyal yo pum, pum Gyal, yuh pum pum, Gyal, yuh pum pum on fleek.

You joined your other wild ass cousins in the dance circle and began whining. You made sure to position yourself right in front of Ony. You were secretly putting on all this show for him. All the weed and drinks had you wanting him. He looked so good in his semi casual fit You whined slowly at first slowly going lower to match the intro of the song staring him dead in his eyes while he smoked a joint with a bottle of Stag beer in his hand. His shades resting slightly lower on his nose. You watch him beckon you over with a finger, but you ignored him only because you loved riling him up at times, it makes the sex better.

You felt a hand grip your waist; you knew instantly it wasn't Ony's, but you decided to give the guy a lil dance. You cousin Shanice side eyed know mothing " Aye, you always lookin' for problems. You know how Ony's gonna react." You laughed saying "Oh well, small thing."

(Small thing- Trini slang for No big deal)

You heard the Dj scratch and the song changed to Spice's Jim Screechie

You were singing the song loud and clear while throwing it back on the random guy.

"And your gyal a watch you hard, but me no matter that Hold me tight and don't let me go Whine with me and me a whine with you"

You were giving him a wicked whine knowing for a fact that kinda whining is reserved for Ony but you thought "Oh well." The guy had one hand on your hips pulling you back against his hips while almost dry fuckin you on the makeshift dance floor. You felt a hand grab your wrist and pulled you. You looked up and saw it was Ony pulling you off the makeshift dance floor away from everyone.

"You got me fucked up; you know that. Are you goin out of your head or sum." Ony said his voice gruff with annoyance. You on the other hand were turned on by hearin' him this way. You smirked "It's just a dance Ony. I know you're suffering from not accustom. You bein' a black American I know you won't know much about my culture and shit."

You watch Ony's eye widen with annoyance "Oh really, you really wanna go that route with me. Imma give you a last chance to take that shit back." You rolled your eyes and giggled. "Still just a lil dance Ony." You attempted to walk away big mistake.

You knew it was your fault you were now in this situation. Your hands pressed and pinned against the toilet door with your back arched. Ony was feeding deep, hard strokes. You had to way to move, one of his hands pinned your hands against the door while the other was between your spread thighs rubbing your clit.

You felt your wetness run down your thigh, you were making a mess of yourself. You were coming again. You were pleading with him to take it easy on you "Ony 'm sor-sorry...please I can't"

"Nah, you can't, you weren't whining out there on him like you couldn't so nah you gon' take this dick. It's what you wanted right."

You were panting, moaning moaning his name as fucked you harder. You were now pressed against the door, his hand now pressed against the side of your neck. Between the hard slaps of his hips against yours and the song blaring in the background, you were losing your mind. You came twice already and feeling the third one fast approaching. He was rubbing your twitching clit. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out faster than you realized. Your lust filled sobs were shaking your body and his, it only made him want to fuck you harder.

"Ony! Ony! Ouuu fuck I'm sorry 'm sorry please please please slow down." He stopped only to turn you over so you can be face to face as he lifted you up and pinned your back against the door again. You were both face to face. Ony's eyed still red from smoking.

"You always tryna test me and push me Y/N huh. You don't fuckin listen....actin up and showin out for WHO. that dude..playin' too much."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your stomach clenched, you saw Ony smirk and slid his hand between both of your bodies and press down on your stomach. Your eyes widen while tears brimmed the corner. "Ouuu fuck! shit Ony..didn't mean to do it. why you fuckin me like this."

Ony tried to reign in his anger but her couldn't he felt it coming back, only pushing him to thrust deeper and harder "Don't play dumb with me Y/N you know I'm actin' like this."

Between Ony tearin your shit up and the music thumping in the background, you were close to another orgasm, tears now running down your face. Ony's hips practically pinning you between him and the door. Ony leaned in and kissed your tears away.

Ony finds your silence a bit annoying. After what felt like minutes, his hand gripped your throat. Through your teary eyes you could see you pushed Ony a bit to far but then again he knew how you were. He loved you for it.

Ony felt your body shivering against his. He kept feeding you deep, hard strokes which you were sure if the music wasn't loud as fuck everyone could hear. He felt his vexation simmering in his veins.

"Ony..please..I love you. I...Ony!" you pleaded. Ony rolled his eyes tired of hearing the same things over and over again come out of your mouth.

"Nah, love me, that's crazy Y/N. Do you really love me Y/N?" "I do Ony! I do. I won't do this shit again I swear...just.."

You were gripping around his dick so tightly he could feel his balls twitching and he fucked you against the door harder. He knew you loved pushing his buttons as much as you loved him. he wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, trying to go deep as he possibly can. You were so overstimulated you were shaking while pressed between the door and him.

"Fuck Y/N you're squeezin' me Gonna nut" you felt him fill you up groaning into your ear. You knew the amount he just came in you would leak out.

Ony sat you on the bathroom counter, helped you clean up then he cleaned up himself. You cleaned your face with make up wipes you had in your bag and reapplied your make up Ony smirked "You gon behave now my love" "Yes Ony I will"

You went back out the wedding party holding hands and smiling.

#black tumblr #aot onyankopon #aot x black reader #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #black reader #aot x reader #aot x you #aot smut #aot scenarios

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aalyssah · 8 months

Text

My Nerdy Boy

Pairing: Nerdy!Peter Parker x Popular!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Blowjob, Cursing, Handjob, Loss of Virginity, Names, (Good Boy), Oral, (Peter Receiving), Praise, Soft Sex, and Unprotected Sex. Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: You're a beautiful popular girl in school and after numerous rejections to a boy who doesn't know what 'No' means, Peter steps in, causing an interest to spark in you.

A/N: I just thought of this as Peter, who's a nerd, that's in love with the popular reader, but thinks he has no chance :( Hope You Enjoy!

Being the most popular person in college is hard, especially when you're a girl. It's not your fault your parents are famous actors!

Boys tend to flirt with you, girls want to be your friend to get that same popularity, hell, even some girls want to date you, but you're not that type of person.

You're not one to look for relationships. You just want to do good in school so you can become something helpful to the world.

You walked through the school doors, a small pink bag in your hand. Everyone stopped talking as they watched you walk down the halls. You ignored the whispers of people cooing over your outfit and walked to your best friend MJ.

She's been with you since day one, not caring about your popular parents and that's what made you both so close. "Hey girl, you look good today. You smiled at her compliment. "Thanks, you too. Anyways, have you heard about the assignment Mrs. Smith posted online?"

You and MJ began talking about school until the sound of loud boys yelling caught your attention. You turned around to see Brad walking in, his face oranger than Donald Trump. You rolled your eyes as he made his way towards you, a football in his hand.

"Oh god, here we go." You heard MJ mumble under her breath.

"Y/n! Lookin' amazing today!" You gave a small fake smile. "Thank you Brad, you look-" You paused, looking at him up and down. "Uh, great." Brad cockily chuckled. "Yeah, I know, just got a new tan. You like it?" You held back a laugh at his face.

His face was orange, not matching the rest of his white body. "Yeah, sorry to cut the conversation short, but I have to get to class, so I'll see you around." You were about to walk away, but Brad called out.

"Wait! I just wanted to ask if you would go to prom with me?" You closed your eyes, trying to find a way to politely reject him. "Brad, you're a great guy, but I'm really not into you."

'Ooos' could be heard around the hall as Brad's face dusted pink. He just got rejected in front of most of the school. You walked away without looking back, going to your class.

You went through most of your classes and now it was time for lunch. You were starving and couldn't wait to eat. You sat at a table with MJ eating when Peter came.

He held a tray in his hand. "May I sit here?" You nodded your head, scooting over. "Sure, it's a public lunch room." You flashed a smile Peter's way, a blush forming on his cheeks.

Peter was known as the school nerd, but you didn't care. You and MJ were in the middle of talking when Brad and his football lackies came sitting there. "Move it nerd, this is a popular table only." Peter instantly stood up, grabbing his book bag and tray.

"Hurry up kid." Peter tried his fastest to grab his stuff, but wasn't fast enough for Brad. "Brad stop, leave him alone." Brad ignored you, slapping the tray out Peter's hand, his food falling to the floor.

Laughter erupted throughout the lunch room as Peter got down on his knees and began cleaning up the food. "Brad stop being an asshole and leave him alone!" You pushed past him, getting down to help Peter.

He looked up at you, kind of shocked that you were helping him. "I'm sorry about him, he's just rude." You help him clean up the mess before giving him a smile. "I'll see you around." Just as you finished your sentence the bell rang, everyone getting up to leave for their next class.

It was the next day and you were walking around the corner when you accidentally bumped into Peter.

Your books fell out of your hand and you jumped back. "Oh, I'm sorry." You both bent down to pick them up, your hands touching.

You looked at him, making eye contact. Peter awkwardly chuckled, standing up. "I-I'm sorry, I-" You put a hand up. "Hey, calm down, it was just an accident." You grabbed your books. "I like your outfit, you look nice."

Peter looked down at his blue collared shirt with a small smile. "Thank you, my aunt got it for me." The sweet conversation was interrupted when Brad came around the corner, laughing loudly. "Wow, Peter Parker's aunt buys his own clothes and they're ugly!"

Brad and his boys laughed, a frown coming from you. "I knew you were pathetic, but not that bad!" You watched as Peter looked down at his feet, quiet as a mouse.

"Alright Brad, just because he wears something different than you doesn't mean you have to be rude about it. Everyone has their own style." Brad looked at you surprised.

"Oh c'mon Y/n, why are you defending this nerd?" You shook your head in shame. "You shouldn't treat people like that. Stop being mean." You grabbed Peter's wrist, dragging him to a different area.

"Sorry about him again. Don't listen to him, in fact, I think your outfit is cool." Peter smiled slightly. "I think we should hang out sometime. I have class, but I'll talk to you later." Peter let you go, watching as you walked off.

He felt so in love, but there was no way you would choose him.

PROM NIGHT!

There were posters plastered everywhere the school, telling everyone prom was coming up.

Unfortunately, you didn't have a date, but you don't think you're gonna go with anyone. Usually you and MJ go together, but she and her boyfriend, Ned are gonna go.

You walked up to MJ smiling. "Hey." She greeted you. "Hey, you heard about prom tomorrow? Who's your date? Maybe Brad or Kyle from history." You scrunch your face in disgust. "Oh hell no, definitely not Brad. I might not even go this year."

MJ frowned at your words. "What why? We always go." You shrugged your shoulders, taking some books out your locker. "You and Ned are going and I don't wanna be a third wheel." She was quick to deny.

"You won't be. Just come for me, please?" You grunted in annoyance. "Fine." She squealed, hugging you. "Thank you, oh thank you. I love you." She kissed your cheek and left off to go find her man.

You stood against your locker on your phone, when a shadow blocked some light. You looked up and almost rolled your eyes to the back of your brain.

There was Brad with a smirk on his face. "Y/n, you still down for my offer about the prom? I was thinking we could wear blue, maybe red, so we can look hot. Be the center of attention."

You pushed him back, scoffing. "Brad, I already told you. I don't want you. I don't want to date you, talk to you, not even be friends, so what makes you think I'm gonna go to the prom with you?" Brad gave you a challenging look. "Damn, I love me a feisty girl." You walked away, leaving him alone.

You did all your classes and even got to leave early to get ready for prom. You chose a black dress and did minimal make up, not wanting to go all out. MJ stopped by and got you and drove y'all to the school.

The moment y'all reached there, loud music bumped down the street, lights flickered and flashed, and bodies moved against each other like they were in a dance club.

"Me and Ned's gonna go dance." You heard MJ yell at you. You nodded your head with a smile, watching as your friend went off with her man.

You went to a small table that was littered with snacks and drinks. You grabbed a water bottle, cracking it open and taking a sip. You looked around the room once more.

It was a nice prom with some of your fellow classmates enjoying their time. As you looked around you caught the eye of Peter, sitting alone at a table, tapping his foot to the beat of the music. He looked so lonely.

With a determined smile, you got up, walking over to his direction, but before you could make it across the room, Brad came out of nowhere. "Baby, Y/n, you look beautiful tonight." You rolled your eyes, putting a hand on your hip.

"Before you ask, the answer is no." You tried to walk past him, but he only walked in your direction. "Woah, where are you going? I just want to dance, maybe even share a kiss."

"Brad, I've told you multiple times, I don't want you! So no, I don't wanna dance, or kiss you. Leave me alone." You walked past him, making your way towards Peter, but you were pulled back by Brad, his arm wrapping around your waist, and forcing you against his body.

"Why do you play hard to get? I've tried to be get with you since 5th grade, but you're to blind to see because of that stupid nerd Penis Parker!" You squirmed in his arm, trying to get away from his disgusting hold, but he only held you tighter.

"Stop trying to run." You looked around nervously, seeing if anyone was paying attention, but everyone was too busy dancing, and the loud music didn't help anyone.

"Get your hands off of her!"

You felt your whole world stop at that voice.

It was Peter.

The music slowly died down at the yelling, people's attention turning to you. "And what are you gonna do if I don't?" Brad challenged, with a smirk. His smirk was wiped off his face when Peter's fist connected Brad's cheek, his grip falling off you.

Brad fell to the floor, looking up in shock. Murmuring was heard around the room at Peter's strength. You quickly stood by his side, looking down at Brad.

"If you ever try to touch me or even talk to me, Peter's gonna beat your ass, and we know you would want that." You chuckled, watching as Brad scrambled to his feet and left, too embarrassed for what happened.

Everyone began dancing like everything was normal, you turning to Peter. "Thank you Peter, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't here." Peter smiled, looking down at the ground.

"Well, you're just really pretty, and I didn't want to see you get hurt." You matched his smile, grabbing his hand. "Let's go somewhere private." You dragged him outside to a nearby hotel.

It was much quieter and y'all could have peace. Peter felt nervous as you booked a room for the night, but he was sure y'all wouldn't spend that long there.

You closed the door, locking it behind you before sitting down on the bed. Peter awkwardly stood up, looking lost. "Peter, sit down." You said, patting a spot next to you.

He slowly walked to you, sitting down. He had his hands in his lap, playing with his fingers. "Peter? Why'd you help me out there?" Peter stayed silent for a second, trying to think of the right words.

"No man should grab a girl like that. Especially someone like you." You tilted your head to the side, with a questioning look. "What do you mean someone like me?"

Peter jumped up, thinking you were offended. "No, I didn't mean it like that! It's just, you're really pretty, and I don't want anyone to do something you don't feel comfortable with. Plus, you’ve helped me so many times with Brad, so it’s only right for me to help you."

You watched his facial expression as he spoke, getting deep in detail on his reasoning. "Peter? Do you like me?" Peter avoided your eyes, giving you the answer. Without thinking, you grabbed his jaw, guiding him to your lips for a kiss.

Peter sat there, eyes widened, not knowing what to do. You pulled back once you felt him tense up. "Peter, I'm so sorry! I thought you were feeling me!" You scooted away, but Peter was fast to grab your arm.

"No! I want you, I-" He stopped speaking, feeling embarrassed. "I've never done this before." A smile appeared on your face at his confession.

No wonder he always gets so flushed when around you."You're a virgin?" He nodded his head. You 'tsked' rubbing your hands in and down his pants. "Well, we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Peter shook his head, grabbing your hand. "I-I want you to be my first." Your eyebrows shot up. No one's ever asked you to be their first. "Are you sure?" He finally looked up at you. "Please?"

You dropped down to your knees, spreading his legs apart. "Get naked." He quickly stripped from his clothes, a little eager for you. You could see the bulge poking from his boxers.

A shocked gasp escaped from your lips. "Peter!" Peter sat up, looking worried, as if he did something wrong. "What? What's wrong? Does my thing look weird? I'm sorry!" He quickly raised his hands to cover his crotch area.

You gently pulled his hands down, with a smile. "No Petey. I didn't know you were packing this much." A blush formed on Peter's face at your compliment and the nickname.

You pulled his boxers down, throwing them somewhere in the room. You grabbed his cock with a chuckle, stroking him up and down. "You're so big Peter." He stared down at you as you took him in your mouth, humming at the sweet, but salty taste.

Peter moaned, head falling on the bed. You took him deep down your throat, before slowly coming up. Peter felt like he was on cloud nine right now while you were sucking him off.

You slowly began bobbing your head and cupping his balls, smiling at the squeal that came from him. You took your lout off him for a second, still stroking him. "Peter, baby, can you do me and favor and fuck my mouth?" Peter looked at you with wide eyes.

He's seen people do it in movies, but in person?

With someone as pretty as you?

Hell yeah!

Peter carefully guided your mouth back to his cock, scooting down the bed a little. He thrusted his hips up, his eyes shutting tight at how good your mouth felt. Your nails were digging a deep moon crescent into his thighs.

He was whining above you, his pace not slowing down. "Oh god, it f-feels so g-good!" You relax your jaw and hollow your cheeks around him, making sucking noises known. Peter jerked slightly, hips slowing down.

You noticed how close he was getting and pulled back fast. Peter let out a frustrated sigh, sadly looking down at you with puffy red cheeks, and eyes glisten from the tears.

"Sorry baby, but I don't want you to cum yet. You haven't even felt me!" You stripped from your dress, pulling the straps down, revealing your body.

Peter moaned at the sight of your body, hands coming to your waist. "Ah, ah, no touching, I'm in charge." His hands fell slack on the bed, looking up at you as you stepped over him.

You squatted above him, guiding his cock to your entrance. With slow movements, you slowly sunk down, moaning as he reached deep in you. Peter moaned at your tightness, closing his eyes tight.

You saw and said something. "Open your eyes for me. Look at me as I ride you." Peter opened his eyes, tears glistening in his pupils.

He's never felt anything this good.

You just started and he's already drunk on your cunt.

You gently bounced up and down on him, your hands planted on his chest. Your breast bounced with every movement, Peter's eyes staring at your nipples.

You breathily chuckled, leaning down so your breasts were dangling in his face. He looked up at you with pleading eyes and with a nod, he leaned up and latched his mouth onto your nipple.

He suckled the nipple, an arm wrapped your waist, pulling you down more, as you still bounced on top of him.

With one bounce you stopped, grinding against his pelvic, his cock swiping against different parts in your body. Peter moaned as he hit your sweet spot, feeling you tighten around him. "Feel good, yeah?" You panted out, beginning to bounce again.

He nodded his head, knowing if he talked it would come out as babbled words. "Gotta use your words Petey." He bit his lip before answering. "Yeah, it feels s'good." You smiled. "Good boy, baby."

Peter thrusted his hips up, moaning as you clenched him. "Oh fuck!" You said surprise. "You like to get praised? Huh? You're my good boy, aren't you?" Peter nodded his head, wanting to please you. "Go on and fuck me then. Just like you did a minute ago."

And Peter complied with your order, tucking your head in his neck, knees bent, and feet planted on the bed and began thrusting in you wildly. Loud clapping noises and moans were heard around the room as Peter fucked you.

His balls slapped against the back of your thigh as you squeezed around him repeatedly, feeling all pleasure run through your body. Peter ended up hitting your sweet spot, plowing into it nonstop.

"Oh my god Peter, I'm gonna cum!" Your legs shook, back arched and mouth opened, filthy moans coming from you. You ended up cunning without noticing until you heard Peter moan and wet noises coming from your bodies.

You watched Peter's facial expression as he got close. "Y/n, where can I cum?" He was desperate for any answer. As long as you tell him where to cum. “Inside, I take birth control." That was all you needed to say for him to cum.

Peter came with a needy moan, emptying everything in you. You both laid on top of each other, catching your breath. "You were way too good for your first time." You both shared a laugh.

You got up and slowly pulled out before going to the bathroom to clean up.

As soon as y'all hit the bed, you were asleep, with you holding Peter against your chest.

The next morning you woke to your phone with texts from MJ.

MJ: Y/n, you okay? I heard you left ‘cause of Brad.

MJ: Y/n, are you gonna answer?

MJ: Brad moved, he's going to LA and doing collage there.

Peter woke up, nuzzling his head into your neck, taking in your scent. "Peter, you did so good that you ran Brad outta here. He moved to LA."

Peter had a smile on his face at your words. "You're so strong. My strong nerdy boy." You corrected yourself, brushing some hair out his face.

That day you and Peter became official, him growing somewhat popular and not only did you not have to worry about another guy messing with you, but you’re happy you got a nerdy boyfriend.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #tom holland smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker oneshot #marvel smut

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koishiro · 28 days

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# - 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 📍

masterlist | jjk masterlist | upcoming anon asks

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋 : oh my god I’ve been gone for so long TT I’m so sorry (think of this as my comeback >:))

𝐂/𝐖 : implied afab! Reader, implies to anal (I’m not sorry).

a- aftercare, what's their aftercare like?

You best know he’s doing the upmost. After a few minutes of lying in bed (or wherever you happen to end up) he’ll make his way towards your bathroom and returns with a warm wash cloth before picking you up and guiding his way towards the bath he previously filled up as he quickly makes his way behind you, a fluffy towel placed on the heated towel wrack.

He’d let you dose off for a little while before softly waking you up so he can wash your hair and body. Don’t be surprised if you feel a slight poke to your lower back, it’s not his fault he’s got such a pretty little thing sat bare in front of him.

“‘You too tired for another round? What? ‘S not my fault you’re lookin’ all pretty f’me”

b- bodypart, whats their favourite bodypart and yours too? :

Ohohoho, your ass. Or should I say your ass and your hips. They’re just so plush and a guide of sorts as he locks his big hands on them to lead you up and down on his length. Even in mundane moments he just loves to grab onto your hips when he passes behind you or slap your ass every time you bend over to retrieve something. You go to grab the remote off the floor? Slap. You’re unloading laundry from the washing machine? Slap. You’re just minding your own business lying ass up on your bed? You’re just asking for it now.

When it comes to himself though? He’d have to say his thighs or arms/hands. He just loves to see the wet patch you leave behind after grinding yourself on his meaty thighs for only a few minutes. And he nearly goes feral from the way his hands look flat on your plush tummy, sexual or not. But he damn nearly loses his mind when he’s rutting into you and all he’s focused on is your bulging tummy and his hands softly tracing the outline of his throbbing cock.

“Look at you, d’you like the sight of my cock making you look so nice and full?”

c- cum, anything to do with cum :

You’re nearly convinced this man’s cum is never ending. Not only is it never ending but it’s thick as well. And if he’s not cumming inside, you best know you’ll be covered by the time he’s finished with you.

d-dirty secret, what's their dirtiest secret? :

His colleagues and friends wouldn’t count this as a secret considering he won’t exactly stop someone if they found out but he keeps a Polaroid of you in his wallet. Whenever he casually brings it up everyone would coo over how sweet he is until they actually come across said Polaroid only to find you in a very compromising position (with your consent ofc).

Everything on show, spread before him with his thighs either side of yours, one of your hands between your legs as the other leads a bead of his cum on the tip of your finger towards your lips and fucked out drunk eyes staring up at the camera lens. He’s just thoughtful like that, keeping a picture of his girl on him at all times.

Oh and you both also have a photo album specifically kept for nudes that sits on your shelf with the rest of your family albums.

“C’mon pretty, smile all nice now yeah? You never know who’ll stumble across this pretty picture of you. Gotta show ‘em who I’m buried in every night”

e- experience, how many times have they had sex? :

I’m going to be completely honest here, he’s had his fair share of hookups before he met you. But he wouldn’t think twice about them and he’d never even think of bringing them back his place, it would be too awkward waking up and not being able to ditch and forget so he sticks to their place, much easier and less of a mess in the long run.

f- favourite position, whats their favourite positions? :

Now this man will indulge in the occasional doggy style but it can’t beat the good fucking a mating press can provide. It just lets him get so deep and still be so close. I can imagine he’s a sucker for eye contact and this allows him to do just that while spilling the most vile words. And the way your tits bounce? It’s just the perfect position for him, what more could he ask for?

“Look at you taking me well, all dumb and fucked out, looking so pretty while I do all the work”

g- goofy, do they make jokes? :

Now this depends. If he’s had a bad day and he’s all worked up and frustrated, he just needs a good fuck (I say and he means with love, don’t degrade your worth bby) he’ll practically bend you over the nearest surface not thinking twice about the open windows, but by the ends when you’re both panting and heaving, he’ll make a small joke to lighten the mood, “well that was unexpected” or “thanks f’that doll. My own personal stress relief huh”. Other times when he feels more fluffy and sentimental, he’ll include small quips here and there, “who knew younger me would get the pretty girl in class”

h- hair, is he trimmed? does the carpet match the drapes? :

I like to think he’s completely shaved but I honestly think he has a little bit of hair, enough to coat his abdomen with a happy trail (who doesn’t like a happy trail) but mainly it’s trimmed down but still not fully shaved.

i-intimacy, how intimate are they? :

Again, this depends on his mood and/or a special event. If it’s something like your birthday? He’ll be nice and gentle but slowly work his way to being more rough but with sweet sentimental words woven in. If you happen to be in public? He’ll flirt like a teenager and like it’s his first time meeting you again which only leads to you bent over the sink in the public toilets or cramped in a cubicle with a hand over your mouth as he ruts up into you. (I’m getting off topic here). OH AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON BODY WORSHIPPING. You’ll never feel insecure again!-

Even in day-to-day life, he’ll sneak up and hug you from behind before asking how your day was (even if you were only apart for an hour max), he’d often bring home flowers of different kinds and he’d be clued up on the meanings behind them too.

“Look at these plush thighs all f’me, wrapping around my head so nice. An’ look at these tits, always so so sensitive. Love the lil’ dance you do when I so much as flick them”

j- jack off, how often are they jacking off? :

Fairy regular. Not a lot, considering he has you to come home to. So probably an average amount. Whenever he's away though he's jacking off a lot more. (That Polaroid comes in handy).

k- kink, what are their kinks? :

I don’t know if this counts as a kink but it gets him so hard when he has something that reminds him of you on him while gets down and dirty (does that make sense?), like for example he has a bracelet you gave him on his wrist made with so much thought and love while he fists your pretty pussy or when he’s just stood in line for a coffee and he looks down at the nail polish you did on him knowing where his fingers have been. He likes the thought that only he knows where they’ve been like a little secret between you both.

l- location, where would he take you? public person or private? :

Oh 110% he’d fuck you in public, no doubt in my mind. This man is a brat tamer and you can’t not agree with that. You’re acting up in public? He’ll having you whining with his hand buried deep in your pussy under the restaurant’s table. He’s the kind of guy to fuck you with the door slightly cracked open, leaving the slight chance that his roommate could either hear you or catch you in the act (he wouldn’t even stop you know it).

He does have his times though when he feels like being more private and wanting to keep you to himself, likes to take his time with you.

“Gotta be more quiet pretty girl, do’ya want someone to hear you? Whining all slutty? Is that what you want? You’d get off on that wouldn’t ya”

m- motivation, what motivates him? :

He’s a brat tamer and a chaser, strange mix I’m aware. But it just gets him so riled up when you start acting out, in public or not. He won’t think twice before bending you over the nearest surface (preferably his lap) while he makes you count until you’re too dumb to count any further.

There’s also a running theme in your relationship that keeps him wanting more. Before you were even in a relationship you’d always make it seem like you weren’t too interested in him but you’d leave hints for him to figure out so even now, in a long term relationship, you’ll both still play cat and mouse leaving his brain to haywire.

n- no, what wouldn't they do? :

Consent is a big, big thing in your relationship. He won’t do anything unless you verbally agree to it. You both even have a safe word for when things turn serious. Watersports and scat are both out the window because that’s just disgusting.

“C’mon pretty girl, use your words. Can you do that f’me? Can you use your words?”

o- oral, giving or receiving? :

This one’s a 50/50. As much as I want to say he’s a giver, I have to remind myself he’s also a brat tamer so the urge he has to just shove your head down on his girthy cock to shut you up is immense at times. But he also gets off on being covered in your cum. You could be doing the most mundane thing like catching up on your favourite tv show and he’s between your thighs lapping your essence up like it’s holy water (and boy does he need a lot of that). He’d even let you take a picture if that’s what you really want (yes please).

p- pace, how fast do they go? slow, fast? :

He’d purposefully put you in a false sense of security. Starting off slow and deep and gradually increasing faster and rougher. He’ll tease you by going slow and when you're both chasing your orgasm he starts to go faster. His words would follow as well, starting off sweet and sentimental and gradually turning dirtier and meaner.

q- quickies, are they a fan? :

Now, like I said before, this man loves public sex but that doesn’t mean he’s a big fan of quickies when doing so. Makes him feel like he’s using you sometimes and he certainly doesn’t want to make you feel like that. So he makes it up to you by going long and hard in the comfort of your own home. But sometimes it’s unavoidable, especially when he needs to leave in 15 minutes but how can he when you’ve just gotten out of the shower looking like that? And you know what you’re doing to him so of course he has to teach you a lesson right?

“Look what you’re doing t’me. Gonna make me late now cause of you acting up. What am I gonna say to the guys hm? That I had to fuck the attitude out of my girl? Is that what you want?”

r- risk, are they a risk taker? :

He'd never put you in harms way. So he wouldn't be one to take risks that could put you in danger or get you hurt somehow (like knife play etc). but he will fuck you somewhere you both could get caught. That’s just a given.

s- stamina, can they go for multiple rounds? :

Oh boy can he. In the end he has to hold you up by the hips while he continues to rut into you. He even keeps a glass of water to the side for you in moments like these. (Here’s your daily reminder to go drink some fckn water bby)

t- toys, do they experiment with toys? :

Hehe >:) you could say that yes. He once invested in vibrating panties he had you wear in public while you both walked around the mall hand in hand, it was in your best interest not to talk back to him that day. He also occasionally indulges in vibrators, bondage, butt plugs, analog beads (you get the gist). But he won’t be too pleased in toys for himself like cock rings.

But nothing can beat the feeling of his cock fucking you raw with nothing in the way, although he has sometimes double penetrated you with his cock and another toy.

u- unfair, how much will he tease you? :

He'll tease you for a good while, you'll be a whimpering and begging mess before he's even put it in you. Especially when toys are involved. He loves to see writhing and wriggling beneath him.

v- volume/verbal, are they loud? :

He's not so much as ‘loud’ but more reassuring and teasing in his words, making sure you’re comfortable the entire time. He also makes sure you know that you’re making him feel good too. Don’t get me wrong though, he groans and grunts for sure, both your moans and whimpers fill the silence in the room for sure.

“You okay baby? You holdin’ on? You’re doing so well, keep whining like that pretty. Got me acting some type’a way”

w- where does he prefer to cum? :

He loves to cum inside of you let him. Goes feral at the thought of knocking you up and watching his cum seep out of your puffy pussy before he fingers it back where it belongs. But at times where he’s not allowed, he loves to cover you in it (we all know this man cums a lot so be warned).

“I didn’t think you could possibly get any prettier, but look at you all covered in my cum. Let me take a picture so you can see for yourself”

x-ray, whats going on under those clothes? :

He’s 190cm (6’3) so I imagine him to be big. maybe like, 6.9 (😏) flacid, 7.2 hard. I also imagine him to be fairly thick but not too thick y’know? Maybe like the thickness of his own wrist (that’s probably not too good of an example but here we are). He also has a vein running across his shaft as he curves upwards. He’s not even really aware of his length either. He often thinks back to when you first saw his cock and he was slightly confused at your worried expression. Like what bae? Why so worried, I’ll make it fit.

y- yearning, what’s their sex drive like? :

I’d say Geto has an average sex drive. Not like a teenage boy where he was horny 25/8 but you both still fuck at least 3 times a day no ifs or buts, any time anywhere. Gotta close your fitness ring somehow. And you know when he’s in the mood cause he’ll snake his arms around you before they creep their way towards your tits, soon pawing at the flesh.

INTRUSIVE SIDE NOTE: Does anyone remember that post a while back where this girl had sex with her boyfriend and her parents had a notification from their watches saying they closed their fitness ring after an intensive workout? Yeah that’s you and Geto. That’s had to have happened at least once. No doubt in my mind.

z- zzz :

Geto will not sleep until you're cleaned, hair is washed and brushed out of your face, you’ve drank a full cup of water, skin care outta the way (ofc he memorised it who do you think he is) literally every single need you have has to be met will he then sleep. Once you both do eventually sleep, he has you tucked to his side or directly on top of his chest. He does often hug you from behind though, only so he can grope your tit and fall asleep in that exact position.

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inklore · 8 months

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roadside delight

premise: joel should have known you'd be trouble when he found you on the side of the highway. he should have known you'd taste so fucking sweet too.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k

contents: hitch hiking, set in the late sixties to seventies but please read it however you'd like, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, dirty talk, threats of coming inside, age gap if you want it to be one but i didn't specify, marking.

note: i actually wouldn't mind writing more from this down the road because i love this concept and i'm forever loving this old man.

haunted hoedown day four.

If Joel Miller had been told this morning that he would end up with a stranger bent against the seat of his old pickup, a moaning mess, and begging him to do filthy things to her: he would have told you to fuck off.

Would have scowled at them and moved on with his day because he had no interest in whatever nonsense they would have been spewing to him.

But here he was, this pretty thing moaning into the worn cushion of his seats, your shorts sitting on the floor of his pickup. Your nails gripping his wrist as his fingers dig into your hip as he fucks you hard.

His name on your lips sounding better than it should, coming from someone he just picked up three hours ago.

He should have known, just by the look of you.

Your shorts shorter than any pair he’s ever seen, a leather bag over one arm, the other arm bare and lifted with your thumb held out into the air. The sweetest smile he’s seen in the whole state of California—which he was happily driving out of.

A happy exit you too were excited to make as he, possibly against his better judgment, pulled over and let you hop up in his truck. Throwing your bag to the floor, the trusting grin on your face making him happy he picked you up and not some fornate creep.

You were headed to New York.

“I’m sick of the heat,” you said, trying to start a casual conversation with him. Joel’s habit of being off putting and quiet went unphased by you as you talked his ear off.

But something told him there was more to the story.

More about why you were leaving California. Why you were in such a rush to get out that climbing into the car with a complete stranger seemed like more of a promise than it did to just wait and take a bus. The safer option out of the two.

It wasn’t his business to know unless you wanted to tell him, so Joel did what he did best and didn’t pry. Left it as was and listened to you talk, his eyes softening slightly when you sang along to the radio and his throat tightening when his gaze moved along your exposed thighs. The lack of neckline of your shirt making him grip the steering wheel a little harder to reign himself in.

Coming off like a creep, let alone ogling a woman, was not his forte. He had been raised with a little more gentlemanly dna inside of him.

Maybe it was the heat or the way you talked to him as if you'd known him for years instead of less than an hour, or maybe it was the way you knew every song on the radio, the station that never changed in his truck. The station that served him the best comfort and reminded him of home.

You were a rare breed to him.

“You ain’t got nowhere to stay?” He had asked you after you had disclosed to him all to eagerly about your big dreams in the big apple, and the lack of real plan you had to achieve them. Flying on hopes and dreams and the hundred dollars you had in your bag.

“Nope,” you said with a smile. A smile that both made Joel uneasy and his own lips twitch.

“You ain’t got no one waiting for you? Lookin’ for you?”

“Why?” Your brows raised playfully, “you got other plans for me?” The scoff that left Joel made you laugh before your tone turned serious, looking out the window as you spoke. “No one’s looking for me or waiting.” you sigh, “you ever been so sick of listening to what people tell you to do? They know what's best, and they know what you should do because it benefits them. It’s not even for your own wellbeing; they’re just trying to be saints. To live through you. To control you. I was just so sick of it. So, I just woke up one day and said, fuck it, and I left.”

“No better way to find yourself than on the side of the highway.” Joel joked drly, and the reaction he got out of you was one he thinks if he had to hear over every state line he would have zero complaints about it.

“And here I thought you were some uptight old man.”

“And here I thought you were trouble.”

“Who said I’m not?” You smirked, gave him the smallest of winks that made him grin. “Troubles fun.”

That’s why Joel should have known then.

Should have known when he saw you on the side of the road.

When you jumped into his truck.

When you had him questioning himself.

He should have known you’d feel so good.

“Do you like when I touch you like this? I can keep going if you want me to.” You had said when you reached over and rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. Your mouth soon found itself wrapped around his cock before he pulled off the road, no longer being able to control himself.

He should have known you’d sound fucking sweet saying his name as he fucked you.

“Is this what you do? Stand on the side of the road waiting for strange men to pick you up and fuck you, huh?” Joel’s words are low grunts murmured into your neck, a hand curving around your shoulder to give him better leverage. “Like a little fuckin’ siren.” His teeth graze the nape of your neck as he bites and sucks at the skin there. Leaving you with something to remember him by. A mark on you the way you’re leaving it on him.

Your pussy clenches around his cock. Your moans and whimpers settling in the pit of his groin, that has his pleasure building and building. That makes him fuck you harder when you cry out for more.

“Yes.”

“It’s a good thing I pulled over then, fell into your little trap, and gave this pussy what it needed. I deserve a thank you for being so kind.” Your moan is muffled by the seat, your head attempts a nod as your body trembles against him. “I deserve to come in this pussy as much as I want. Get my fill before I leave you to find the next sorry asshole.” Joel grunts, curses under his breath as he holds your ass flush against his pelvis, lifting your hips to a new angle to fuck harder into your tightness.

“Or maybe I’ll just keep you. Take you home with me and use you as my lil’ fuck toy, would’ya like that? To be used every day the way you deserve?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #hauntedhoedown

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ozarkthedog · 1 month

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Awhile ago you wrote a fanfic of someone using their gold chain and pendant to keep you quiet and now that I’m staring at all this new Lucien content that’s all I can think about 😵‍💫

Dropping his chain into your mouth as he has you pinned up against that garden wall to help you keep quiet from the rest of the party goers 😮‍💨

yeah ok, babes, i got you. i moved them to a bedroom cause i think it’s naughtier. 🙃

18+ mdni — warnings: lucien flores x afab!reader. sex with a stranger. he makes you suck on his chain. feral sex. creampie. no spoilers. w.c. 486

Another powerful thrust has your lips dropping open, a frantic moan bubbling from the tight confines of your throat as he harshens his hold on your hips and cruelly grinds the base of his pelvis against your clit.

Lucien tuts his tongue and shakes his head dismissively. The sound makes you feel small, like a child caught stealing.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He husks, leaning in to swipe his tongue across your lips, earning him another gasp. He tips his head toward his chest, his salt and peppered chin shifting as he clenches his jaw. From under his hooded, dark eyes, he burrows into your soul. “You wan' everyone to hear you fuckin’ a strange man's cock?

Your insides swirl with nervous arousal. This wasn’t like you. You’ve never fucked someone within hours of meeting them, but the moment you caught Lucien's eye across the small dining room, you knew you’d never be the same.

“As much as I love hearin’ you whimper,” he lets his words hang in the dimly lit guest bedroom before thumbing at your trembling bottom lip. “Open up, baby,” he commands, reaching for his chains.

You let him invade your space, parting your splayed thighs even wider and practically smothering you into the soft bedding. He drops one of his golden chains past your parted lips and into your mouth. “Thatta girl.” You suck on the small metal emblem without thinking. You’re so dumbstruck, and you only want to make him happy.

“Keep that pretty mouth shut. Don’t wan' anyone interruptin’ us.” He grits, forcing the tendons in his neck to swallow hard as your cunt swirls around his length.

He cants his hips and drives home, pushing past your tight, slick opening and deep into your warmth. Your eyes roll back as he molds your insides around him. He’s so fucking big you can practically feel him in your belly.

He snickers above you, shoving his hips harder as a muffled moan rumbles from your closed lips. “Lookin’ so fuckin' pretty with your holes filled.” he drawls, pawing at your hips and pulling you back onto his cock. Your cunt quivering at his words. “You like bein’ fucked by a strange man? Havin’ him take you apart in your friend's house?”

Blazing white heat erupts in your belly. He was right. You loved every depraved minute of this. Of him. Your core clenches, choking his cock as you come with a ragged, muted moan. He hisses, jaw clenching hard as he frantically thrusts his slick-coated cock past your vice-like opening. “You gonna take everythin’ I give ya, yeah?” he snarls, barring his teeth.

He doesn’t wait for a response before he comes. A deep, gravel-filled moan tumbles from his parted lips as he fills you to the brim and presses himself as deep as he can go until you’re a mewling mess around his cock and chain.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

be sure to follow @ozzieslibrary for fic updates!

#lucien flores #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #pedro pascal

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Vash the Stampede x reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I turned this thirst into a fic. [ SYNOPSIS ] Vash starts emitting sexy pheromones that leave you desperate for his cock. [ WORD COUNT ] 2.5k [ CONTENT ] Canon AU, porn without plot, dubcon, vaginal sex, rough sex, size kink, mild dumbification, plantfucking, body horror/weird plant biology, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple play, Vash has a biting kink, self objectification (does that even make sense?), knotting, creampie, cockwarming.

It was just past midnight. The moons were looming high in the sky, illuminating the desolate land surrounding the town you and Vash had taken refuge in. Your face was pressed against the window, gazing out into the sandy void.

“You see the sky tonight?” you asked.

Vash didn’t bother responding. You turned around and saw his dejected form.

“You’re lookin’ more wistful than usual.”

He was sprawled out on the bed, leaving you little to no room. The lodge you were holed up in only had a single room vacant and of course there was but one measly bed. It was a good enough sized one though; it could definitely provide comfort for you and the gangly mess of a man you called a travel companion.

Vash merely sighed in response to your question and stared up at the ceiling.

His gaze was flat, not a hint of sparkle to his blue-green eyes. His sweet face was held hostage by a delightfully adorable pout. Thoughts of biting down on his bottom lip swirled around you, leaving you flustered and throbbing. You hoped whatever was troubling him wasn’t too serious because otherwise your current state would be disrespectful.

“What’s wrong?” you prodded, taking a seat on the bed. You tried to sound as dry as humanly possible.

He turned his head towards you and gave you the weakest, most pathetic smile. A smile that inspired no faith in what it sought to imply.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he answered sweetly.

You glared at him. “Fine. I—Well… I guess I’m going to sleep.” You paused awkwardly. “Goodnight.”

Vash scooted over, granting you space on the mattress. You crawled into place, not bothering to cover yourself with the musty bedding. It smelled too much like sand.

You rolled onto your side, your back facing Vash. You held yourself in a fetal position in hopes it would keep you warm. In a perfect world you’d just snuggle up next to him and leech off the heat his body seemed to radiate. But you didn’t live in a perfect world; you lived in a sandy, inhospitable land.

“Are you cold?” he asked. Such a perceptive one he was.

“A little,” you lied.

“Get under the blankets then,” he suggested.

“No. They smell like sand and… I don’t know, like, armpit sweat.”

He let out a tiny laugh. “I can’t argue with you there.”

You wriggled your shoulders in discomfort. You wanted to curl up next to Vash like a kitten, but with his current mood it just didn’t seem feasible. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him so you would have to bear the drafty room on your own. It would only be for a night; you could handle it.

However after about five minutes of shivering in painful silence, you turned over and faced Vash. He was on his side, facing you. His eyes were shut, his dark lashes catching the moonlight streaming through the windows.

You gently nudged him. “Hey.”

He briefly frowned, but stayed asleep.

You nudged him once more, this time much harder.

“Vash!”

His eyes shot open and he jerked back.

“Ouch! Why are you being so aggressive?”

“I have a question,” you said, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Ask away.”

“Can we spoon, or snuggle, or something?”

“Uh—”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I know you… are like… You’ve got something on your mind and I don’t wanna—”

The radiant grin he gave you calmed your nerves. He pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you. Your face was buried into his neck. He smelled like freshly washed linens, undercut by a strange earthy, honey-like scent, a creamy florescent. The chills that cursed your body melted away in his presence.

“Thank you,” you muttered, voice muffled by Vash’s sweet skin.

You inhaled deeply and pressed your body up against his. He felt tense, like his muscles were frozen in place.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“It’s stupid,” he whined.

“I don’t care.”

He paused and took a few slow breaths, preparing himself for the question he was about to pose.

“I really like you and—”

“You wanna fuck me, huh?” you asked, your face adorned with a cat-like grin. You had never been so forward before, but something seemed to possess you.

“Of course I do.” He groaned. “But I can’t because… it’s complicated. And intense.”

“Is that supposed to be a deterrent?”

He rolled onto his back and hid his face behind his hands.

“It’s just different, alright?”

You crawled on top of him, unable to help yourself. His aura was whipping you into a frenzy, the lovely scent emanating from his skin growing stronger and luring you in.

“I like different,” you purred.

He gulped. “I should tell you—”

You didn’t let him speak.“I don’t care what happens.”

Vash blushed. “Let me finish.”

You groaned but relented. “Fine. But be quick.”

“I haven’t, uh, you know… in a while. And when that happens my body produces these pheromones that are supposed to attract a mate.”

“A mate?” you asked, voice wavering. You liked Vash and wanted to fuck him, but mate implied somewhat of a large commitment.

“No! Not a mate! It, well, it makes people want to—”

“Fuck you?” you asked, biting down on your upper lip.

He nodded. “And they kinda… drive me crazy too.” He tacked on a nervous laugh. “Sometimes I can’t control myself which isn’t fair because, well, whoever is… uh… they do whatever I want them to.”

Your cunt was growing wetter by the second.

“So that’s why I want you to use me so bad.”

His eyes were wide, almost sparkling. His cheeks were rosy and the scent emanating from him grew stronger.

You felt as if the room was enveloped in a sensuous haze that seeped into your skin, flowing through your veins. It was consuming you, eating away at your thoughts, leaving behind visions of Vash tossing your legs over your shoulders and driving his cock into your weeping cunt. Your body was growing warmer, almost unbearably so. Every inch of you ached for him. You would know no peace until his body was lording over yours and filling you up with his cum.

“I just.” He averted your lingering gaze. “It’s embarrassing. I hate getting like that. When I do all I can think about is pinning someone down and fucking them until they can’t see straight.”

“That sounds amazing,” you said dreamily.

Your manner of speaking was much more provocative than it usually was. Your tongue seemed to linger on the letters, leaving each one coated in a honey-like tone. There was almost a hint of a tumultuous moan when you said “aammmaaaaaziiingg.”

Vash looked uncomfortable, but willing. His hands were gripping the sheets as if he was holding on for dear life.

“I know you want me,” you teased, rocking your hips against his. “I’m not lying when I say you can do whatever you want to me. You need it. I know you do.” You cupped his face in your gentle hands. “Let me help you. It’s what I’m here for.”

He laughed. “It’s not, but…”

“Hush,” you said, grabbing a hold of his cock.

It was swollen, begging for release.

You lowered yourself down and pulled down the soft, worn cotton pants he liked to sleep in. His cock sprung up, standing completely upright. The tip was engorged and pink. You rubbed it with the pad of your thumb and watched as Vash winced. His brows knitted together in ecstatic agony.

A few thick veins snaked around his shaft. You ghosted your fingers over them and reveled in his desperate whines. You looked up at him with starved eyes, darkened by your devotion and desire. You ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft. You grabbed ahold of his cock and stroked it while you rolled your tongue against the tip, savoring the sweet taste of his precum.

He let out a low groan as you pumped his leaky cock. He placed his hand on the back of your head and gently pushed down. You dropped your hand and decided to let your mouth do the work.

Vash eased your head further down, until the entirety of his length filled your mouth. Spit was trickling from the corners of your mouth and tears crept out from the corners of your eyes. He began to thrust, sending the tip of his cock into the back of your throat. You were steadfast and breathed through your nose, fighting your gag reflex.

“Your mouth fe—feels so good,” he stammered.

You placed your hands on his muscled thighs to push yourself off of his cock, but you felt what appeared to be downy feathers sprouting from his skin. It threw you off for a moment before you remembered what you wanted to say.

“Wait until you feel my pussy,” you bragged.

His eyes almost seemed to glow. He gave you a boyish smile before pushing you onto your back with a swiftness that left you in awe. His hands wandered down your body, pawing at your clothes, desperately trying to take them off. Your body felt electric as he undressed you. Each time his warm, slender fingers grazed your skin your body pulsed with delight.

He kissed your neck before letting his sharp canines graze your tender skin. You hummed in delight, and laced your fingers through his silky hair. He rutted up against your body, the tip of his cock teasing your clit. You whimpered every time it made contact.

He left a trail of kisses down your neck and chest, stopping at your breast. He flicked his tongue against your nipple. He sucked on it, holding it between his soft lips. You relished in the sound of him lapping away. You held onto his shoulders, feeling spiny quills erupting from his scapulae.

“Vash,” you whimpered. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond. The quills from his back grew longer and denser. You pricked your finger on one of the sharp tips. You winced in pain and moved your hand down to the small of his back. You watched as the spiny quills became more feather-like. They were pale and iridescent and they left you transfixed. They were so beautiful. They soon covered his back and made their way down his arms. You ran your hand down the length of them. They were soft and sleek, like nothing you had ever experienced before.

“So pretty,” you muttered.

Vash lifted his head from your breast.

“Hm?”

A cluster of eyes has formed in the middle of his forehead. It disturbed you briefly, but the feeling of his cock throbbing against your thigh was enough to make you forget about it.

“Nothing, nothing,” you said, stroking his cheek.

You kissed him, pushing your tongue past his teeth. He held you close and you felt like your body was melting into his. You wanted to become a part of him. He slid his fingers into your cunt, spreading apart your folds. You groaned in frustration. His fingers weren’t enough. You needed his cock.

“Please just fuck me,” you whined, breaking the kiss.

He looked up at you with all of his dazed eyes and wordlessly nodded. He slowly guided his cock inside you. You gasped as your cunt stretched around it. You buried your face into his neck, hoping to mute your cries of pleasure. His thrusts were gentle and deliberate. You could feel that he was holding back.

“Is it too much?” he asked, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You shook your head. “More.”

He gave you a concerned look. “More?”

“Yeah. Fuck me like I’m a whore.”

Vash nearly choked on his own spit.

“C’mon,” you purred. “You know you want to.”

“I can’t. It’ll be too much.”

“My body can take it.”

He frowned. “I could really hurt you.”

“I like it when it hurts,” you said, tightening your cunt around his cock. You kissed him again and held his bottom lip between your teeth. “I’m your toy. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Vash looked at you, holding your gaze, clearly weighing his options. Once he made up his mind an impish grin made its way across his face and he lifted your legs over his shoulders.

His thrusts were significantly more intense than they were previously. He drove his cock into your cunt with a fervor you had never experienced. His cocktip pushed up against your cervix, sending a sharp sensation to your core. You became a panting, moaning mess. You were falling apart at the seams, your body as limp as a doll’s. Vash was able to manipulate your body with ease, essentially folding you in half, leaving your knees close to your face.

You looked up at him as his wings spread out, nearly engulfing you. It was hard to believe this was the same Vash you wandered the desert with. You never would have thought the doughnut eating dork could be so feral. You knew he wasn’t a human, but his true nature being so alien never occurred to you.

As he fucked your limp body into the mattress, you felt your orgasm begin to bloom in your stomach. Your breathing became labored and all you could think about was coming all over his cock.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he growled.

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts growing more and more frantic. The room was filled with a symphony of his grunts and whimpers. You were lost in his presence, completely enamored and consumed by it. Your vision blurred and you saw nothing but white as you came. A deluge of fluids dripped from your cunt and coated his cock. You felt like you had ascended to heaven, leaving No Man’s Land in the dust.

Vash continued to thrust as his cock swelled inside you. Spurts of his slippery cum filled your cunt. He exhaled deeply and allowed your legs to fall to the side and laid down on top of you. The two of you tried to catch your breath and let the rapture you were entangled in fade away.

“I’m sorry,” he said bashfully, lifting himself up.

His cock was still buried inside you.

“Why…” You struggled to find your words. “Why are you… sorry?”

“Because! I didn’t want you to ever see me like this. I look like a freak.”

You ran your hand along his wings and made an effort to make eye contact with the cluster of ones on his forehead.

“I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“You’re just saying that because you're high off my pheromones,” he scoffed.

You giggled. “Maybe. But you’re still very pretty.”

You rubbed the short feathers that had sprouted along the apples of his cheeks. He sighed in relief and nuzzled his face into your neck. His cock continued to throb inside you and likely would for a while. You didn’t mind though. Laying under Vash, shielded by his wings from the harsh world outside, was all you could want in such a harsh and unforgiving world.

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