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xhatake · 2 years ago

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“tonight is all about you, my love.” there is no occasion. no reason for the flicker of candlelight or the flowers or the incense. iruka doesn’t need one, as he greets his lover at the door, over-eager and none the least bit sparring with his affections. kakashi is hardly through the door of their home and iruka is sliding off his vest, pulling down his mask to get at the oft obscured skin underneath. he’s trying to be romantic, languid and easy in his movements, but iruka can’t completely hide the intensity. how badly he wants him. roughly, yet sweetly, lovingly in it’s entirety ( and these things co-exist complexly but also perfectly at ease within iruka ), he’s guiding kakashi towards the bed room, the bed, and down. “let me take care of you.” something so adoring, yet slightly playful glints in his eye. “can I do that for you, baby?”

when he approaches the door, he catches a whiff of the incense drifting from their apartment. at first he wonders if it is to cover the scent of the ninken, if they had come home particularly foul from whatever they had spent their day doing. kakashi, however, had spent his day in the hokage's office ( his office? he was still getting used to it ). Signing off on mission reports, sorting through potential assignments, rejecting requests young shinobi put in for missions above their pay grade. it was overwhelming to be in such a position of power. Nothing could have prepared him for being in charge of so many lives, it left him with permanent tension between his shoulder blades. Perhaps, from hunching over paperwork all day, every day. he cannot explain the relief that washes over him when he finally turns the knob of their shared apartment, eager to kiss his husband's face at the end of a very long day.

When he walks in his door to candlelight, he pauses. There is a warm pit simmering in his chest as he starts to understand. There is a surprised blush that starts to creep up on his cheeks as Iruka takes him so quickly, showing his passion right away. Kakashi barely remembers to shut the door behind him as Iruka's needy hands begin to roam making quick work of his vest & then his mask. Kakashi cannot help but melt against such an earnest display of need. His shoulders relax as he steals kisses, breathlessly, in between raw testaments of need.

Kakashi's not sure how much time it takes for them to get to their bed, but its too long entirely. Iruka's hand finds a place on kakashi's chest ( right over his heart, betraying the way it flutters helplessly in his ribcage. ) He crawls on top of Kakashi in such a fluid, careful motion, his voice so dear, so wicked in his ear. This is what squeezes the last bit of air from Kakashi's now aching lungs. Despite his best efforts, he could not help but love the flustered burn. There was something gratifying about trusting Iruka so deeply, about trusting his body with someone who knows how careful to be with it. He offers a nod, helpless against such a sweet promise. It takes him a long moment to find his words, realizing that Iruka was waiting for him to speak. He feels a defenseless laugh rise with his next breath, finding entertainment in the way Iruka is able to make him melt.

" Of course... " he spits the answer out quickly, sounding more excited than he wanted to betray. The pet name made every racing thought evacuate his mind. He looks off to the side, trying to find a spot on the wall to focus on. He feels his heart begin to beat faster. The heart that Iruka could still feel beneath the palm of his hand, the hand that was trained specifically to be able to recognize such things. There was no hiding anything from him, was there? Not that Kakashi minded too terribly... when Iruka takes his chin between Kakashi's thumb & index finger to meet his gaze, Kakashi forces his brain to work somehow, " Yes, please. That's -- that sounds good."

( It was not just an affirmation, the words teetering on the edge of a plea. )

Iruka had an addictive way of knowing precisely what Kakashi needed, in both an emotional & physical sense. When their lips meet again, Iruka is terribly gentle with him. Kakashi aches for more, chasing the kiss with fervor but Iruka pushes him back down, firmer this time.

"Let me do this for you, " he says, impossibly kind, despite an underlying power to the command. It was something he had come to expect from Iruka, though he knows there is another side to his husband. the side of him that held his hips in place when he began to shift, using it as a chance to hook his fingers in the waistline of Kakashi's pants. He throws them aside quickly & uses it as a chance to make quick work of his shirt as well. Kakashi chases him once again, trying to sit up. He needs somewhere to put his hands. preferably on Iruka, who seems to have other plans.

They are emphasized when he takes Kakashi's wrists ( connected to hands that were inching beneath iruka's shirt, needing to get his hands on the skin beneath ), pinning him back in place. Kakashi almost whimpers, which he thinks his husband may have taken as a blessing. He tries to shift again but Iruka is back on top of him now, horribly clothed legs keeping the exposed skin of Kakashi's thighs firmly in place. If Kakashi really wanted, he could break away. He knows this. But he aches for this control Iruka exercises over his trust, the way he knows how to draw the need from every aspect of Kakashi's being.

An almost-whimper is cut off when Iruka starts kissing Kakashi again, elsewhere. On his neck, his collarbone, and the scarred tops of his shoulders. In fact, Iruka takes an extra moment to linger every time his lips grace a scar. He was, perhaps, the only person in the village who knew the entirety of his scars. Kakashi had shared many stories with his husband about the life he had led, not all of them pleasant. Iruka loves them, nonetheless.

But there is something beautiful about how carefully he kisses the scars beneath Kakashi's chest, a testament to the body he had so carefully cultivated. The body he had chosen to share with Iruka for the rest of his life. He is, perhaps, one of the only people who could appreciate what it had taken for Kakashi to find peace in his own skin & mind. Another whimper spills from his lips, the sincerity of the sound causing Kakashi to cover his flushed face. He wants to hate when Iruka stops what he's doing to ( very gently ) guide the hands away. Iruka is perfectly patient when he speaks despite the way Kakashi feels like he'll burst.

" I want to see this, I want to see you, " he says & Kakashi's heart finally stops. The words are like lightning through his body, his mind, his soul. He can't help but bury his hand in Iruka's loose hair at the base of his skull ( the rest of it is tied into a bun, though there are several strands falling by now. ) he had to kiss him right now or Kakashi was sure he would crawl out of skin. He was not a patient man & Iruka was testing his limited reserves. When Iruka's lips crash against his, trying to pull Iruka closer yet.

They stay embraced like this, exchanging breathless testaments of love, passion. Kakashi is eager to finally get his hands on Iruka, desperate for his free hand to grace Iruka's sides, grabbing a fistful of his husband's shirt. How terrible that he was still wearing it. He tries to take the liberty of removing it once more but Iruka forces their lips apart ( reluctantly ), smirking at Kakashi's impending eagerness. He sits back up, shifting so his knee was in between Kakashi's legs. It's here that needy hands freeze as Iruka places them gently back on Kakashi's chest.

There is a power he wields, gazing over Kakashi, illuminated in perfect candlelight. He hooks Kakashi's chin beneath his finger, guiding him to sit up to meet his lips again. Which Kakashi does, with sincerity. But he takes this as a moment to dip his head into the crook of Iruka's neck, sinking sharp teeth into the slender flesh. It's the first time he breaks, letting out a groan of his own. He bites hard holding on as Iruka pulls his hair just as hard, making it impossible to breathe, think, be. What happens next is a blur of passion.

Iruka shoves Kakashi back down with a strength he rarely had the chance to display. Kakashi can't help but smirk when Iruka goes back to kissing his body, nibbling, touching, until... Yes, there, right there. Iruka knows precisely where to touch when his hand inches beneath the waistband of Kakashi's legs. He thrashes against the familiar feeling, the first time Iruka has allowed him to move his hips. He seems to delight in how he makes Kakashi squirm, who makes an active effort to keep his hands from covering his face. He's not sure when Iruka ended up between his legs, but Kakashi is quick to occupy himself with a fistful of Iruka's hair. It happens impossibly fast but too slow entirely, the way heat pools in the pit of his stomach. Iruka keeps Kakashi's thighs in place, but Kakashi's spine stretches ( cracking between his shoulders ) when he throws his head back to cry out Iruka's name. If Iruka wanted to see him, he would be seen. He would be seen with shaking legs, his body finally giving into the power of Iruka's bodily expertise.

The romance of it all, the perfection in how Iruka loved him. It was overwhelming. He feels fresh, alive, exposed. It takes him a moment to stop his mind & body from reeling. he's breathing too hard, flat against the bed. When he finally catches a breath, it's half a sob. Then the next one is. He's not sure why he's crying, he can't pinpoint it right away but Iruka is quick to stop. He crawls beside Kakashi, placing a hand on the side of his neck & offering a worried kiss on the temple," What's wrong? "

The sincerity in Iruka's voice makes something abundantly clear. Kakashi was thankful. Not only because his husband was good at what he did, but also because his husband loved him. He knew Kakashi inside & out, anticipating a terrible buildup of feelings & stress in Kakashi's body. He had taken the time, the energy, the love to care for him so earnestly] He was far luckier than he deserved to be. He can't get a word out at first, instead opting to hold him. Iruka's skin is warm in Kakashi's tight grasp on his body. Iruka shifts closer, gentler, as he places a hand on Kakashi's back. He's careful, waiting for Kakashi to let his emotions out. Crying tonight isn't the first time this has happened & it surely won't be the last. It was always overwhelming for Kakashi to face how much he needed Iruka. How their hearts beat in tandem, how lonely it would sound if his heart were to beat on it's own.

Iruka is patient, the candlelight emphasizing the warmth in his gaze. It takes Kakashi longer than he would like to meet it, but he is thankful when he does. Iruka kisses the corner of his very wet eye, a gesture of comfort. Kakashi sighs against his skin, finally loosening his grip on his husband. He takes Iruka's hand, placing a kiss on his knuckles. The candlelight catches the band in perfect romance & Kakashi can't help but laugh, despite the way his eyes still burned. This is what he always dreamed of, Iruka was who he'd always dreamed of.

" Nothing's wrong... " Kakashi's voice gets very small, smaller than he feels. His lungs still burn but the smile on his face reflects the light he see's in Iruka, " I never ever thought I could ever know someone like you. Or that I'd have the privilege of loving you. "

#allgather #allgather; iruka #nsft /#wipes the sweat from my brow #whew #i feel like i just ran a marathon my heart is swelling w love for these two #kakashi loves him so much i am gonna scream #this post is spondered by monster energy drinks #oops this is almost 2000 words where am i who am i

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zae-heeyyy · 7 months ago

Text

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

#peep the angel number word count #all banners made by be #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 photography #read dead redemption 2 photography #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #wait i used 3 word counters and they all gave different numbers so idk what that's about. grammarly says 2222 though so 🤷🏾‍♀️#zaefic #amje

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tojisth3rdwife · 2 months ago

Text

Purr..

cw: suggestive af. You got a Brazilian wax for the first time and Toji lends moral support..smut after the texts

When you got home, Toji was waiting for you, chilling on the couch in his usual sweats and tank, legs spread, beer tucked between his knuckles. He watched TV , barely interested in what was playing. It wasn't until he heard your keys jingling and you coming through the door that his gaze shifted and lightened on the shape of your body in that tight yellow maxi dress he loved to see you in.

"Whew…Hey baby.." you huff, most likely relieved to be home and out of the heat. "I am so sick of people and their non-driving asses," you mutter as you shuffle into the house, kicking off your sandals with the rest of the shoes in the foyer and hanging your keys on the hook next to Toji's.

"Hey.." he greets you distractedly from deep in his throat, his attention following your every move as you settle in front of the body-sized mirror near the front door. Leaning closer to it, you assess that dewy sheen coating your skin, wiping a finger under your eyeline.

"Megs home?" you ask, vaguely aware of Toji's movements behind you in the mirror. He was lifting his beer to his lips for a sip, taking a quick one before responding.

"Nah, he's at the arcade with that pink-haired kid." his voice trails off as his eyes trail down your body to admire the curves he'd been thinking of all damn day. The way that shade of yellow complimented your skin made you look edible, like a freshly sliced lemon glazed poundcake. Sweet. Thick. Decadent. It made him think back on that video you sent him earlier of your freshly waxed bikini area. Your skin looked so smooth and supple, glistening from the almond oil the waxer rubbed over your mound.

His mouth was literally watering.

"Aww well, that's cute. I'm glad he's made friends finally," you remark with a crinkled brow of focus on getting any streaks of smudged eyeliner off your face. Toji hums in agreement, taking another draft from his beer as he watches you.

The roundness of your ass is defined by the way you were leaning over, looking like a huge ass yellow pumpkin, and the moment you straighten up was when he noticed the lack of a panty line under your thin dress.

"Have you eaten? I did a couple of hours ago but I have the strongest craving for tacos. What do you think?"

Toji's brows go up with interest as you turn around, his eyes lifting to your face unsubtly.

"Hm? Uh yea. Tacos sound cool. Hey, c’mere.” He nods his head in a gesture to summon you, narrowing his gaze on your lower body as you obediently approach him. "What?" you look down to where he was staring with a frown, stepping forward hesitantly. Toji merely fans his fingers towards himself to encourage you to come closer until you are standing between his legs. You smirk knowingly when his hands immediately find their home on the back of your thighs, his index fingers teasing at the cuff of your ass cheeks. Your hands slide over his arms and rest on his shoulders, an amused look crossing your face.

“What, Toji?” You repeat and he looks up at you, a cheeky look in his eyes that has you looking back him suspiciously.

“What do you mean, what? I just wanted you to come here..” he feigns guiltily, hands rubbing up and down the back of your thighs as he spoke to you.

“My woman’s been gone all day and now that she’s back, I just wanna be close to her. Problem?” He challenges , his devilishly handsome scowl making you bite your lip. You shake your head , lifting one hand from his shoulder run it through his hair lovingly.

“Nope. No problem.” You say, now smiling. Toji grumbles something smart under his breath before nuzzling your tummy with his face, pulling you closer to him with his wide hands now cupping your ass. You stumble forward with a little gasp and giggle, steadily playing with Toji’s hair as he hugged your waist.

He inhales deeply and sigh, gazing up at you again.

“So…you really walked out of here in this dress with no panties on underneath? And just been like that all day?”

He asks the question calmly but you could hear the hint of playful agitation in his tone. You tilt your head, perking a brow.

“And if I did?”

Toji shrugs.

“Just wondering how many accidents you caused walking around with that just move freely..” he responds, squeezing your cheeks for emphasis. You sqeal at the sharpness of his hold and he just goes back to nuzzling his face against your tummy , planting a little peck there before bringing one of his hands around to your front, resting it inches below your naval.

“Does it hurt when I touch you here?” He asks, looking up at you.

Looking down at him in such a submissive position was a rare treat, and it did wonders for the little dominant sex demon deep inside of you.

You bite your lip again and shake your head in response. Toji hums in understanding, his gaze dropping to fix on your center, rubbing his fingers down on a path that lines up with your hidden slit.

He hadn’t even touched it yet and your clit was already jumping in anticipation of being stimulated. But Toji kept his touch subtle, coasting over the smooth cotton of your dress.

“Can I see?” He then asks, looking up at you for permission and you gave it with another wordless gesture and his hands were immediately pushing up your dress.

Little by little, he gathered the flowy fabric in his fists until he was face to face with your masterpiece.

You gasp at the flow of cool air hitting your freshly waxed skin. It was a very vulnerable feeling, having Toji so close to your pussy snd just..looking. He inspects your wax lady’s handiwork in the brightly lit living room with keen eye. Only for a few seconds but it felt longer. When he licked his lips, heat pooled lower under his enamored gaze and it took everything in you not to just push his head into you.

It like he can read your thoughts though..

Lips as soft and gentle as they always were pressed tender kisses over your glistening mound and he worked them downward until he reaches the top of your lips.

With his eyes on your face, Toji extended his tongue to lick over your slit. Long and flat, he licks a slow stripe over your pussy. Over and over, watching the way your mouth opened to release a soft breathy moan.

The warmth of his tongue always made you gasp, and the hands still resting on his shoulder grips him.

“Ah..baby..” you gasp again when Toji’s long licks switch to short focused swipes over your clit, which was in full bloom and glistening for him.

“Mmhmm” he hums, alternating between flicking over your bud, swirling his tongue around it, and shaking his head for side to side to fan his tongue over. That combination always did you in and you had been moaning his praises shamelessly in the middle of the family room.

He hadnt even touched your clenching hole yet and you were already close.

Hell, when he put your leg over his shoulder, you know you were in for it. You were the one now holding up your dress as Toji ate your pussy off the bone, sucking your clit and making the lewdest, sloppiest sounds as he did.

“Oh shit..fuck..Toji…fuck, Toji wait..” you keened as he got deep into the zone, two fingers fucking into you now and his tongue strumming over your clit at an impressive speed. His eyes were drunk and his brows inverted, looking as if he was as deperate to make you cum as you needed to.

“Mmhmm..mmhmm” he finger fucked yiu faster, his other hand squeezing the fuck out of your asscheek. So hard that it stung a little but you know he needed to keep you from running from the intensity of your approaching orgasm.

You inhaled sharply to a rasp when it hits you, your head falling back and your nails digging into Toji’s shoulder.

His fingers plunged into you, milking your pulsing walls for every drop of cum as it drizzled down his wrist and your inner thighs, his flicking over your over sensitive clit until you were pushing his head away.

“Baby stop! Stopstopstop..” you whine and Toji only obeys after sucking your clit hard between his lips, releasing it with a resounding ‘pop’. You wince and prepare to scold him for not listening, but the way he’s on his feet and towering over you seconds later has your head spinning.

You blink up at him, barely having a chance to admire the way his lips and chin glistened from eating you, before Toji is stooping down and hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Toji! What are you..OW!” You yelp at the sting of his hand coming down against your bare ass cheek, your dress still gathered and bunched up at your waist. He effortlessly maneuvers through the furniture on his way towards the stairs.

“Shut up….wouldn’t hurt if you were wearing panties..” he grunts, marching up the steps with you in tow. Straight up caveman style.

Needless to say…

You would most definitely be booking with Vanessa again and coming home commando if it git you this type of treatment.

#toji #toji smut #jjk #anime #toji fanfic #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk toji #toji x reader #jjktoji #jujutsu toji #jjk fanfic #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x black reader #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

midnight tow (slasher!Joel)

3.6k / slasher!Joel x fem!reader / master

Slasher masterlist | art by @bonezone44 💙

WARNINGS: 18+ Horror, DARK!Joel, near murder by strangulation, manhandling, dubious consent, choking, unsafe PIV sex, reader can sit on Joel's lap. unedited. Reader survives ♥️

Inspired by this ask from @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Your breath hitches when you see the bright lights, then relief floods your chest as the tow truck comes into view. The driver parks his unmarked truck, hops down out of it, and walks to your car. He gets just a couple of feet away before he stops to face you and spreads his boots, crunching the loose asphalt beneath them. The truck lights illuminate him. He's wearing a blue working man’s jumpsuit that stretches over his biceps as he crosses his arms. The name on his uniform is Joel.

Joel's dark eyes scan you, then he scratches one side of his salt-and-pepper beard. “Got anyone to come get ya, sweetheart?” He rubs the back of his neck, exposing a dark patch of sweat under his arm. "Real dangerous out here at night. . . Nothin' good happens this late.”

His voice has a calming effect, despite his unnerving words. For a moment, you admire his nice head of hair instead of facing the reality of his question.

Your car broke down in the worst possible area. Nothing within walking distance. You drained your phone battery trying to get a signal and finally managed to call for a tow, but you weren’t able to reach anyone to help you get home. Waiting for the tow felt like forever, especially without a phone or watch. It felt like something or someone was going to pop out at any minute. It's a humid night, and even the clouds have refused to cooperate, dimming the light of the nearly-full moon.

This is not the guy you talked to on the phone. His voice would’ve made an impression on you.

You tell him you weren’t able to get a hold of anyone.

“Anyone know you’re out here, might see the missed call and come lookin’?”

Maybe, but you don’t think so.

“Hmmm,” he says. “Well, lemme load your car up, then we’ll figure it out. Sit tight for me, sugar,” he says with a wink. He has a disarming energy. "Gonna take me a minute." The clouds begin to clear away from the moon, affording more light. You begin to feel better all around.

You carefully sit down on the grass near the cab of the tow truck with your knees to the side and behind you since you’re wearing a short dress. Not a single car has passed by the whole time you’ve been broken down, at least an hour. You wait as he uses some wire to secure a loose part on your car, then loads it up onto the bed.

His biceps and quads stretch his uniform as he crouches on the bed of the truck and secures the straps around your car’s wheels. He gets hot and unzips his jumpsuit for air, exposing a dirty t-shirt. Then he opens the passenger door to the cab of his truck and it's piled high with scrap. No seat. He reaches behind the driver's seat and grabs an enormous wrench. His forearm flexes as he carries it off to tighten something on the back of the towing platform. When he’s done, he comes to talk to you again.

“Whew. Been a looong day," he says as he wipes his brow with a rag then throws it over his shoulder. "How ‘bout you, sweetheart? Couldn’ta been that good."

You agree as he takes off the sleeves of his jumpsuit and ties them loosely around his waist. When you follow his large, veiny hands to his waist, it's impossible not to notice the crotch of his uniform is tight enough to see he's well-endowed. You yank your eyes back up and he crosses his arms again. His muscles are hard and he has the slightest paunch. The way his biceps and pecs stretch his t-shirt is a welcome distraction from the rock bottom situation. Looks like a guy who works with his hands, lifting very heavy things, and enjoys a few beers at the end of the day. Or night. It feels like a miracle you could get a truck at this hour, especially in this desolate area.

His phone doesn’t have service for you to call anyone. Since the service is so bad, he just has a radio to receive dispatch instructions. Since he doesn’t have a passenger seat, and that space is instead occupied by scrap, the only thing he can offer is for you to sit in his lap. Unless he leaves you by the side of the road.

You choose his lap.

He gets in first, puts the big wrench in the back, and empties his pockets. He puts a switchblade near the gear shifter and hangs some spare wire around the rearview mirror before he sits down. Then he settles in and unties his sleeves, letting them hang off the seat. He extends his massive hand to you. His bicep flexes as he helps you into the cab of the truck. You sit down on him ass-first, but it’s a precarious position and you could get hurt. You jostle around trying a few different things. You get butterflies from being so close to him, touching him, smelling him, feeling his body against yours.

“Alright, let’s try this,” he says. “Turn around an’ face me, then hug me like we're on a motorcycle. Safer.”

Hard to believe this is happening, especially in your short dress. Of all the nights to wear one. You hesitantly straddle him, and when you’re face to face a few inches away, his features are even more striking. He has a perfect nose. His brow is furled and casts a shadow over his eyes like he has a sexy secret. He has a dimple perfectly nestled in a patch of skin within his beard. Looking him in the eye is too intense at this distance.

You tug pointlessly at your dress but there’s no way to be modest in this situation. He reads your mind. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he reassures you. "Don't worry 'bout it." He pulls you in closer so your crotch meets his and your heart skips a beat when you feel his warm, ample package. “Hang on tight, now.” You put your head over his shoulder, facing the back of the truck .

The smell of his sweat is intoxicating. He starts the engine and pulls back onto the road. It’s not long before you feel him hardening under you. He lifts his hips, sending a rush of arousal through your body.

You shift shyly and he pulls you back into him, then lifts his hips again and clears his throat. “Can’t help it, sugar. Sexy little thing like you wrapped around me. Damn.”

Your face burns. There’s a long silence and his arousal is digging into your panties the whole time. He turns his head ever so slightly to inhale your hair. The next thing you know, his lips are pressed against your neck. Lightly enough to be accidental at first. But then they drag an inch without him pulling away. He opens his mouth against your dewy skin then closes it, like he’s eating something invisible off you. A chill goes down your spine and your nipples harden.

“Bother you?” he asks, subtly thrusting his hips up again. No, it doesn't. You’re hot for him. It bothers you a little that it doesn't bother you. Like you know it should. But what could you say anyway? You’re at his mercy. You might be dead on the side of the road without him.

“Guess not."

“Good girl.” He adds his tongue and full on kisses the crook of your neck as he drives, then gives it a nibble and a suck. You’re so wet. With the pathetic thong you're wearing, it must be no secret from him.

His voice gets horny and low. “Good thing you're down,” he says, “or this wouldn’t be any fun.” He drags his nose up your neck to your ear and adds "Yeah, you're into it. . .I can feel it."

By the time he pulls into a gated property, he's turned you alllll the way on. Between his voice, and his mouth on your neck, and his clothed arousal against you, you’re a wet mess. You're trying desperately not to hump him as he slowly traverses what seems to be a gravel yard of cars.

When the truck slows way down, he rests a hand on your ass and gives it a squeeze as he says, "What a ride. . ." with an upward thrust. "Ain't over yet, though." Your cunt flutters at those words. Then he clears his throat and adds, "We're goin' through the back gate to another lot." You scold yourself for being disappointed in what he meant, but you can't imagine he'd deny you if you made a move right now.

You wait, though. You'd rather figure out how you're going to get home first.

Joel drives deeper into the lot. It's dark, but you try to look around. There's no back gate or other lot that you can see. All you see are the skeletons of cars that have been picked over for scraps. A pit forms in your stomach. You start to scoot back from his crotch. He notices and parks the truck. There’s a look in his eyes, and something makes you reach for the door. His large, veiny hand gently covers yours before you can open it.

“Whoa, sugar. Where ya goin'?" Your heart rate quickens and your gut feeling intensifies. You try to get out of his lap, lunging for the door.

"What the hell are ya doin, sweetheart?" He firmly grabs your arm. You stare at him, your chest heaving, heart racing. He glances at your neck and you imagine he must see your jugular vein pulsing a mile a minute.

"Too dark out there, sugar.” You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “Lotta sharp stuff.” He looks at you skeptically. “Lemme turn on some lights first.”

You exhale in relief. He was just protecting you.

He hits a button on his dashboard and it illuminates the surrounding area with the yellow siren lights on the top of his truck. He gazes at you through wounded eyes, looks down between you, where you're no longer covering his hard, swollen package with your crotch. He must feel so cold. He swallows.

"Damnit," he says. His eyes glisten. "Thought we were havin' fun." He sighs solemnly. "Wait here a sec." You feel bad. He’s gone above and beyond to help you. Maybe he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

So you wait in the truck, catching glimpses of vehicular carcasses as the amber light dances over them. Nothing drivable.

Then it hits you like a punch in the gut that you still can't see a back gate, even with the added light. It's just a fence. That’s all there is to it. There’s nowhere a gate would even be. No other lot in sight. Your heart races even faster than it was a moment ago.

You jump in your seat as a machine rumbles to life, followed by the sound of metal in distress. You look in the direction of the noise and the yellow lights pour over a big, industrial dumpster. Your stomach turns.

You're still processing your fear when the truck door opens, making you jump again. Joel climbs up into the cab and nudges you up so he can get under you. You freeze and do it in a daze. Then he starts the truck and coaxes you back into straddling him. You feel like you have no control, you have no idea what’s going to happen, no idea what to do.

Joel reaches behind you to the rearview mirror and sighs lazily like he's about to do a chore.

“Been a while since I shredded a car this new. Damn shame, wasn't plannin' on it tonight."

Your heart drops through your feet. “What? –why are you-”

A cool, thin wire presses against the top of your spine, then he wraps it around your neck like a scarf. His face goes dark and serious, and his voice goes flat.

“Real dangerous out here, sweetheart.”

He takes a deep breath and his cock swells harder against you. He holds the wire in one hand and tightens his other arm around your back. He slowly begins to twist the wire against itself. You grab at it and beg him to stop. To your surprise, he pauses.

You try to slow your breathing. You can’t get out, you can’t fight. He just looks at you with dead eyes, waiting for you to say something else. It hits you there's only one thing left to do to buy you some time. And you need to make him forget you tried to leave the truck.

“Wait,” you say as calmly as you can. "Weren’t we in the middle of something?" You reach down and grab the hard bulge in his jumpsuit. To your horror, a stab of desire slices through your clit. You spread your palm and press it into him, massaging his cock. You're throbbing for him. You're genuinely dying to fuck this sicko. He makes you sweat out a long moment of silence.

“Now that might get ya somewhere,” he says, low and gravely, thrusting into your hand. He lets the wire hang from your neck. One strong arm tilts you up against him while he urgently pulls his jumpsuit's zipper down more. He grunts as he frees himself from his boxers. The next thing you feel is his stiff, warm, naked cock against your inner thigh. He slips a finger into your thong and sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how wet you are.

He murmurs, “Damn, you really do want it.” He looks you in the eyes hornily, then seductively as though to say he likes where this is going. Like he didn't just loop a ligature around your neck.

He takes a deep breath. "Maybe I took it the wrong way," he says in self-reflection.

"What?"

"When you tried to open the door. . ."

He's nuts.

"I was . . . embarrassed I was getting you wet."

"That's the least of your worries."

He pushes your thong aside, then the large head of his cock finds your warm, wet little hole. He wraps both arms around you and pulls you down with a low grunt that turns into a sigh as he impales you on his shaft. You don't suppress your moan as his girth parts your core and you sink down on his cock. He fills you to the brim and stretches you wide, making you grateful for how wet you are.

"God damn, you're tight." He pulls you down even more with a lift of his hips and a vocal sigh. "This what you wanted?"

You nod and try to move your hips, but he holds you still. "Use your words."

"Yes," you say. "God, yes."

He still doesn't let you move. "What did you want?"

"Your cock"

"Yeah,” he nods. “And what do you want now?"

It feels like a trick question. "Whatever you'll give me."

You're sitting there for a moment and he studies your face like he's wondering if it's a trick. The car shredding machine roars menacingly.

Your cunt twitches and he inhales sharply.

You break the silence. "Fuck me, Joel.” He wants to be wanted. “You feel how much I want you." Then you rock your hips gently - very gently. He must want to be in control. And you don't want him to come too fast before you’ve decided what to do next.

"Please," you beg. “Fuck me,” you mouth silently with the horniest eyes you can muster.

"There she is." He lifts his hips in return.

"Please, Joel." He pulls back, then plunges into you again, holding your hips down on him. He retreats, filling his chest with air, then lifts his hips slowly again, bottoming out deep inside you with a sigh. He fills you all the way up. And when your bodies are flush, the pressure on your clit is just right. The noise of the car shredder becomes part of the background.

He gets into a rhythm, and this man knows how to fuck. He's so smooth, and your cunt squeezes his cock so tight, there are brief moments you forget what you’re supposed to be thinking about. Instead you’re just marveling at the motion of his hips and the sounds of his breath and the perfect shape of his cock dragging against your walls.

You need to access whatever part of him doesn’t want to kill you. But god, it’s hard to think with his cock inside you and your life on the line. His lower belly grinds into your mound, and his massive hands scan your back. The wire bounces around your neck.

"God, you feel good," you gush. "So good." As you ride him, you weigh the options. You could seduce him into the idea of fucking you again later then run when he's asleep, or you could fight for your life right now. Your lips graze his neck and you consider biting his jugular as hard as you can. A powerful thrust upward shakes you out of the thought and nudges your g-spot. He grunts each time your warmth sheathes him.

The window is completely fogged over. You moan, then say, "you knew it would turn me on, didn’t you?" You lightly touch the wire around your neck without removing it. You caress it. "You could tell I wanted it." You roll your hips harder into him and feel a climax building. He breathes heavily as your cunt pulls him back in each time.

"Shit," he pants. "Little sex kitten like you?" His cock twitches deep inside you and he slows down. "Course you wanted it."

"Yeah," you breathe, rolling your hips into him slowly. "Oh god," you pant. He holds your hips and gradually speeds up again, moaning and sighing.

"Lucky you're so fuckin' hot," he snarls.

"It's hot you had the balls to scare me like that," you say. "just to turn me on even more."

There’s no doubt in your mind this man is a killer, but you need him to believe you don't think he is. It’s the only way he can let you live.

"Musta worked," he pants. He fingers the cord around your neck and the rough pads of his large digits brush your delicate skin.

"Do it," you tell him. "Choke me."

He grunts "Mm" with an emphatic thrust.

You cover his hand on your neck with yours. "God I love these hands," you gush truthfully, tracing the veins as you ride him and feel something building more and more in your gut.

His hand wraps more than halfway around your throat as you bob up and down in his lap and he tightens his grip. His thumb digs into your jaw. Your hips buck into him hard as your head fills with pressure and your throat croaks. He loosens his grip enough for you to moan.

"God I wanna suck your cock," you tell him, knowing he'll come too soon before you can.

“Maybe later, sugar.” You try to suppress your excitement. You might get out of this alive. “If you’re good.”

He bites his lip, and his thrusts intensify. He wraps both arms around you and firmly cradles the back of your head with one hand, his beard prickling your cheek. He pistons into you and you let yourself come, choking his cock with your climax. You don’t hold back at all, you let it all out, almost crying as you convulse in his lap. Then he holds you down and groans, powerfully shoving his cock into you as he erupts. He empties his balls into you with a long sigh.

He rests his head back and breathes. Your climax wanes, and the next few moments feel like an eternity. The car shredder sounds louder than ever at the forefront of your mind. You have no idea whether he’s more or less likely to kill you now that he’s come. If it brings him clarity, is it going to be clear that you have to die now or clear that he never should have thought about it?

Finally, he reaches his hand to your neck and your heart skips a beat. He takes the wire and puts it back around the rearview mirror.

“Just a minute, sugar.” He nudges you up and tucks himself away in his jumpsuit. He gets out, and you stay put, his cum trickling out of you and onto the chair. It’s a delicate moment, not worth the risk of trying to run. Where would you run, anyway?

The car shredder turns off, and you relax back into the seat, ready to cry tears of joy.

Joel comes back and opens the door to the truck. He stands there for a second, looks you up and down. You must be a hot mess, and he seems to like it.

He moves his tongue in his cheek like he’s thinking. Then he says, “You really wanna suck my cock, don’t you?”

You smile. “After that? Fuck, yes. What a rush.”

He looks proud, like that really was his intent all along.

“Alright.” He climbs back into the truck with you and you get out of his way while he sits. “You’re comin’ home with me tonight.” His hands slide over your thighs, looking at you with new admiration as he pulls you in to straddle him again. “Figure out your car in the mornin’.”

If you want another one mention it in the RBs or comments. Thank you all so much for your support and engagement. Your reblogs and comments mean so much for me. Best readers out there!!

#joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #joel miller fic #creepy!joel miller #sleazy!joel miller #serial killer!joel miller #slasher!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher!joel☠️#tw dubcon #tw strangling #slasher!joel #content label #there's only one seat

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

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the girl next door 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

The noise of a lawnmower welcomes you out into the vibrant summer day. Your mother is already on the porch, sat on the patio bench. You can tell she’s primped herself up just a little bit. You put the jug of lemonade on the wicker table and stand by the end of the long eat.

“A kind man,” your mother muses beneath the racket of the mower, “about time we got someone decent ‘round here. You know,” she furrows her brow viciously, “those bitches from the cul-de-sac never liked your nana. Hate us even more. Stepford hags.”

You nod and peek over at Steve as he pushes the mower in a straight line. The grass falls to the blade and leaves thick clippings in rows. You twiddle your fingers as you notice the shine of sweat on the man’s forehead and forearms. His act of kindness feels more like pity.

“Don’t be stupid, girl, go grab some cups,” your mother snipes and draws your attention back to the porch. “That man’s going to think I raised a moron.”

You retreat back into the house. For as pleasant as she was to your new neighbour, it has done little for her mood. Or maybe it’s just you.

You grab two of the rippled plastic cups from the cupboard and head back down the hall. You stop as you reflection passes you in the mirror. You turn to face it. You frown. You’re nothing special to look at but you don’t do much to help that. You wonder if you put on some mascara or wore something nicer if you might look anything close to pretty.

You shrug off the fleeting insecurity. It’s not important. Your mother’s sick and your little uncertainties don’t mean anything. You push through the screen door and clack the cups down. As you do, the mower quiets and you peer over. The grass is trimmed neatly as Steve stands close to the steps, wiping his forehead as his cheeks burn rosy form the heat.

“Whew, think I’ll try some of that lemonade,” he climbs the steps, “hot one today.”

As he climbs the last step and he drags his hands down his tee shirt. His grey blonde hair droops forward and he tries to shake it out of his face. He tugs at the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head, revealing a sweat-dampened undershirt.

“Don’t mind me,” he chuckles as he uses the outer layer to mop his face and neck, “think I overdressed.”

“Get him some lemonade,” your mother hisses and points to the jug. “Steve, was it? What brings you to Heron Meadows?”

You unstack one cup from the other and fill both. You set the pitcher back down and step back on your heel, folding your hands together as you fade into the background. You’re peripheral to your mother. You only exist when she needs you.

“Well, settling down, I think,” he smiles and reaches for a cup. He raises it and stops it just in front of his chest. He carefully gestures at you with it, “thanks.”

Your eyes round and you glance away, “welcome.”

“Settling down?” Your mother echoes coyly.

“I know, I’m a bit late to the game. Had to get out of the city. Maybe I outgrew it,” he sighs, “and you two? Where’s your husband hanging out?”

You mother laughs and crosses one leg over the other, not easily as she struggles to still the shake in her foot, “long gone. He never saw this place.”

“Ah, hope I didn’t hit a sore spot,” Steve’s cheek dimples before he sips from the glass.

“Mm, don’t feel much for the deadbeat,” your mother tisks, “what about you? Settling down? Is your wife coming with the couch?”

“Ah, yeah,” he reaches over to plant his hand against the pillar that connects to the rail. He leans on it and gulps again. He swallows before he continues, his eyes meeting yours for the split second you dare to look up, “missed that step but the house will keep me busy until I figure that out.”

“Oh don’t you worry, that little club will keep you busy,” your mother scoffs, “make sure ya keep your picket fence nice and whitewashed.”

Steve gives a curious furrow of his brow. You mother sniffs as her little quip hangs in the air.

“HOA,” you put in quietly.

“Mm, I bought out of that,” he says. “Outdated if you ask me. I don’t need them telling me what colour to paint my door.”

“Bought out?” Your mother grumbles.

“I didn’t relish the extra lawyer fees but worth it,” Steve explains before he empties the cup and puts it back down, “thanks, that was great. Uh, guess I should get started on the back.”

You stand dumbly as you mother agrees with a grumble. An awkward silence thickens around you and she snaps in your direction with her fingers, “take him out back, honey.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you clamour forward as if awoken from a slumber. “Just...” you near Steve and step around him to scurry down the stairs. “this way.”

He leaves his tee shirt draped over the railing and turns to follow. He looms like a shadow behind you and as you stop to reach over the top of the gate and unlock it, you scratch around blindly. He steps closer and hooks his arm over yours. The smell of his sweat fills your nose.

“Got it,” he says as he easily unlatches the clasp and the gate slants inward.

You push through, quickly making distance from him as he trails you into the backyard. It’s even worse than the front. You grab the broken mower from where you left it and drag it towards the garage.

“Great, I’ll go grab the mower,” he declares and leaves you to shove your way awkwardly into the side door of the garage. You push the rusted metal inside and the door snaps shut at your back as you emerge back into the sunlight.

Steve pushes through his nice electric mower and you shy away. It’s got to be close to new and no doubt expensive. You trod through the tall grass and as you pass him, his arm brushes yours.

“I could do the eaves too,” he stops beside you. “Get some of these weeds cut too.”

“No thanks,”

“I don’t mind,” he insists.

“I can manage.”

“You can. Probably a lot. Your mom...” he suggests, letting his words hang. “She sick?”

You glance at his chest, the white fabric taught to his muscles above his thick stomach. You nod.

“You take care of her?” He prompts.

“Do my best,” you mutter and traipse on, “thanks.”

“Right, uh,” he calls after you, “well, if you change your mind or think of anything, you can always ask.”

You keep on. He feels bad for you. Just like everyone else. You’ve heard Marge and Lucy on their daily power walk; poor thing, going nowhere, sad...

You go back out front, leaving the gate open. You go to grab the broom from the porch as your mother remains as she was. Her hand trembles on her thigh.

“You know, should clean up around here,” she says, “invite him for dinner as thank you. Maybe tomorrow.”

You take the broom and stop at the bottom of the steps, “maybe tomorrow,” you agree.

“He’s a nice man. Could use one of those,” she smirks, “never had one of those. Handsome to boot.”

It’s strange. You haven’t seen your mother smile since your grandma was around and even then, it wasn’t like this. The way she’s talking is almost ravenous. Like she’s slathering over a pork chop still on the grill.

“Just gonna sweep up the trimmings,” you explain as you drag the broom down the walk.

“Ugh, do whatever, you simple girl,” she chides. “When you’re done, you start on that kitchen. Those damn dishes have been sitting there all day.”

“Yes mother,” you say to the broomstick as you begin to sweep.

The sun beams relentlessly down, pouring onto you like fire. When you’re done, you return the broom to its place against the siding of the house and let yourself inside. Your mother hums as she watches the birds. You should be happy to see her outside, to see her in a better mood, but you’re too uneasy with the presence of that man. You know his name but it doesn’t make him any less a stranger.

You fill the sink and add soap. You plunge a stack of plates into the water and stare out the small window above. You can see the side of the next house. It isn’t much too look at but sometimes a squirrel will critter along the wooden fence top.

As you zone out, hands working mindlessly on scrubbing and dousing, a shift in the foggy colours of your vision brings your eyes into focus. You blink as Steve waves from outside. He rolls the mower up to the gate and smiles at you. You wince, jolted by the reminder of him. You offer a flutter of your soapy fingers.

He stops and stares at you through the window. You blink, uncertain what to do. He’s just looking at you. He winks and you wince at the gesture. He slaps his hand back down on the mower and pushes it through to the front yard. That was odd.

Or maybe you’re just awkward.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #the girl next door #series #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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whimsicalpolitical · 6 months ago

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Garden - Ross Macdonald

18+mdni in which ross and you spend a lovely evening planting vegetables, unlocking the ‘garden daddy’ in him. the day ends with soft loving on the couch

content warning: chest riding, mild dirty talk, fluff, p in v,riding

The sun dips gently below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the garden. You push open the door and step out onto the cool grass, the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut lawn enveloping you in a fragrant embrace. The potting soil and cucumber seedlings, neatly packed in their delivery box, lie at your feet.

"Ross!" you call out, your voice carrying a mix of excitement and urgency. "Help me get this in.”

From around the corner, you hear a familiar chuckle, and Ross appears, his eyes twinkling. He's wiping his hands on a rag, a casual grin spreading across his face. "Eh, what’s all this then?" he asks.

“I ordered stuff for our garden remember?” You say, nodding your head at the big packages on your door step.

“Ah-ha stuff,” he chuckles, “let’s get this in then, you need to help me though, s’not like I can carry this alone.”

“Of course, let’s do this then,” you sound very exciting and you are. Gardening is one of the hobbies you love the most.

You and Ross struggle to maneuver the heavy bags of potting soil and cucumber seedlings, huffing and puffing as you lug them into the yard. The weight of the load strains your muscles, and a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead.

“Whew,” you gasp, fanning yourself with your hand. “This is already a workout.”

Ross laughs, wiping his brow. I think we’re going to need some wine to get through this evening.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. "Wine sounds perfect right about now."

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Alright then, let’s make a deal. I’ll grab the wine, and you start unpacking these bags. Deal?"

"Deal," you reply, still catching your breath.

As Ross heads inside to fetch the wine, you set to work unpacking the seedlings and potting soil. You glance at the small, green cucumber plants, already envisioning the lush vines and crisp cucumbers they will soon yield. By the time Ross returns, a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand, you’ve arranged everything neatly on the ground.

"Here we go," he says, pouring each of you a generous glass. "To gardening and making it through with some semblance of sanity."

You clink your glass against his, the sound ringing out like a promise of teamwork. "To gardening," you agree, taking a refreshing sip.

Ross glances at the array of gardening tools and plants spread out before you. "So, what’s next, love?" he asks, his tone light.

"Next, we get these cucumbers planted," you say with a grin. "And don’t worry, it’s easier than it looks."

He raises an eyebrow, still skeptical but clearly amused. "You do remember that I'm absolute rubbish at gardening, right?"

"Last time, I managed to ruin everything. Everything, love.”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "Nonsense," you reply, waving off his concern. "You just need the right teacher. Besides, how hard can it be to plant a few cucumbers?"

He lets out a laugh, taking another sip of his wine. "Alright, alright. Let’s give it a go then. Just promise you won't laugh too hard when I muck it up."

You roll your eyes playfully. "No promises. But let’s get to it. These cucumbers aren’t going to plant themselves."

Ross takes your glass from your hand and sets both on the table. He puts the bottle of wine in a huge ice bucket so it won’t get hot outside.

You kneel beside the garden bed and open the bags of soil, inhaling the earthy scent that wafts up. You start scooping the rich, dark soil into the garden bed, spreading it evenly with your hands. Ross watches for a moment, then follows your lead, albeit with a bit more hesitation.

"Just like this?" he asks, mimicking your movements.

"Yep, just like that," you assure him. "See? You're a natural."

As you work, you can’t help but laugh at the way Ross tentatively handles the soil, his brow furrowed in concentration. You show him how to create small mounds for the cucumber plants, spacing them carefully to give each one room to grow.

Next, you both set to planting the seedlings. You gently tease the young plants from their trays, careful not to damage their delicate roots. Ross watches, his eyes wide with fascination as you show him how to plant each one in its own little mound of soil.

“Just like this,” you say, demonstrating how to nestle the plant gently into the earth and pat the soil around it. “Easy, right?”

He nods, a little more confident now, and carefully plants his first cucumber seedling. "Look at that," he says with a grin. "Not bad for someone who can’t keep a houseplant alive."

"See? You're doing great!" you reply, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“Hm,” he hums, “thanks to my amazingly gorgeous teacher.”

You both continue planting, working side by side, occasionally standing up to take a sip of your wine.

Taking a break from the gardening, you sink onto the cool grass, legs stretched out and hands behind you, propping yourself up. You take a moment to catch your breath, enjoying the serene atmosphere and the scent of earth and greenery that fills the air.

Ross is still at it, kneeling in the garden bed with an amused determination. You watch him as he carefully pats down the soil around a seedling, his hands moving with a mix of hesitation and newfound confidence. He glances over at you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, his eyes twinkling with that familiar warmth.

“I see how it is,” he says, “showing me what to do until you’re budging out f’ this, no?” He laughs.

You shake your head offensively, “can’t I catch my breath for a second? Besides, looks like you’re having fun.”

Ross snorts, “just want to get this done before it’s getting dark.” He hides the fact that this is amusing. He likes to spend time with you no matter what you’re doing, appreciating the precious time after tour.

As he shifts to grab the watering can, you notice the way his T-shirt clings to his frame, a testament to the effort he’s put in today. His broad shoulders and strong arms are slightly smudged with dirt, giving him an effortlessly handsome, earthy appeal. There’s something incredibly charming about seeing him in this natural, unguarded state, fully immersed in the simple task of nurturing young plants.

As you stand up, brushing the grass from your hands, you take one last sip of wine before setting the glass aside. You stretch your arms above your head, feeling a pleasant ache from the day's work, and then stride over to join Ross, who looks up with a welcoming smile.

“Back for more?” he asks, handing you a trowel with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Of course.”

Together, you resume the task of planting. You sink your hands into the cool earth, feeling the satisfying resistance of the soil as you carve out small holes for the next set of seedlings. The rhythm of planting becomes almost meditative, each movement deliberate and unhurried. You carefully place a tender cucumber plant into its new home, covering its roots gently with soil and patting it down with a reassuring touch.

Ross works beside you, occasionally glancing over to check your progress or to share a lighthearted comment. You watch as he tends to each plant with surprising attentiveness, his earlier apprehension replaced by a quiet confidence. There's a natural grace to his movements now, a balance of strength and gentleness that mirrors his personality.

The garden is taking shape around you, each row of plants standing tall and hopeful in the fading light. You pause for a moment, your hands resting in the soil, and look at Ross. His features are softened by the golden hues of the setting sun, the dirt smudges on his face adding a rugged charm to his look. His hair, dark and slightly tousled, falls just over his brow, and his eyes, warm and kind, meet yours with a look of shared satisfaction.

“We make a pretty good team,” you say, a note of pride in your voice.

He nods, smiling broadly. “Yeah, I think we do. Who knew gardening could be this fun?” He leans in, obviously wanting to kiss you but you laugh and cover his mouth with your hand.

“Have you seen yourself.” You laugh, his whole face and yours covered in dirt and sweat.

“So? C’mere.” Ross takes a step towards you and before you can flee, he wraps his arms around your waist, trapping you against his body.

He leans his head down, to capture your lips in a kiss. You groan as he smiles into the kiss, aware of the feeling on your lips. “Ross,” you whine, backing away from him.

“What?” He laughs, throwing his hands in the air, “it’s just a bit of dirt.”

“Well yes, that’s kind of the point.”

“Alright,” he says, turning away from you. He picks up the garden hose and you think he’s just going to water the freshly planted cucumbers. Instead he directs the hose at you before he turns it on. “Now better?” He jokes, laughing like a teenage boy at your wet face, water dripping down your shirt.

“Ross!” You yell, “are you serious?!”

You run towards him to take the weapon away from him, getting himself wet in the process. His now blue shirt looks more like black and his bun is ruined.

You’re standing closely together, in a truce, the soil abandoned on the floor and your bodies pressed together. You shudder at the disgusting feeling, not liking when your shirt is wet.

“Look what you’ve done,” you look down at yourselves.

He raises an eyebrow, his hands trailing down to squeeze your ass shamelessly. “What I’ve done?” He laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

It’s more urgent now, his tongue sliding through your lips.

You find yourself lost in the kiss, the warmth of Ross's mouth mingling with the cool evening air. His hands roam over your back, pulling you closer, and you respond with equal fervor, savoring the moment. The garden around you fades into the background, your world narrowing to the heat of his body and the taste of his lips.

But then, a stray thought of the scattered tools and dirt-covered gloves brings you back to reality. You pull away reluctantly, your breath coming in soft gasps. “Ross, we need to clean up,” you murmur, glancing around at the garden bed littered with gardening tools and half-empty wine glasses.

Ross groans, his forehead resting against yours. “Do we have to?” he asks, his voice tinged with playful exasperation.

You chuckle, giving him a gentle nudge. “Yes, we do. Come on, you know we’ll regret it if we leave everything like this.”

With a resigned sigh, Ross releases you and takes a step back. He grabs the wine glass, tipping it back and taking a long sip, his eyes still smoldering with desire. “Alright, alright. Let’s clean up, but we’re picking up where we left off later,” he says, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

You laugh, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you at the thought. Together, you set about tidying the garden. You gather the scattered tools, placing them back in the storage box while Ross rolls up the garden hose, shaking out the excess water. The rhythmic tasks are soothing, a grounding counterpoint to the earlier heat of your embrace.

After a while, the garden is back in order. The tools are neatly stored, the plants are watered, and the wine glasses are empty but set aside for washing. You both stand back, surveying your handiwork with a shared sense of pride.

Ross wipes his hands on his jeans, smudging the dirt already there. He turns to you with a grin, his earlier frustration forgotten. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

You smile, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “No, it wasn’t. And now we have a beautiful garden to show for it.”

You smile and open the backyard door to go inside when you look down at each other.

“We need to get out of these clothes before we track dirt everywhere.” You laugh at the state of you.

Ross nods, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveys the dirt streaks on his own clothes. “Good idea. Wouldn’t want to ruin the floors.”

You start peeling off your grimy shirt, revealing a tanned, sweat-slicked body underneath. Ross follows suit, tugging his shirt over his head and exposing his broad chest, still glistening slightly from the exertion. He tosses the shirt aside with a flourish, a playful look in his eyes.

You can’t help but smile at his antics, feeling a flutter of excitement despite the dirt and exhaustion. As you reach for the button on your jeans, you catch Ross’s gaze lingering on you, his eyes darkening with that familiar heat. You slip out of your jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and look up to find Ross doing the same, his jeans joining the pile with a quick, careless motion.

You can’t stand the heat, that’s why you mumble a quiet ‘gonna take a shower’ before you try to head inside.

Ross is faster though, his strong arms are around you, pulling you close. You yelp in surprise as he lifts you off your feet, your heart racing as he carries you effortlessly into the living room.

“Ross, what are you—” you start to protest, but your words are cut off as he lowers you onto the couch, his grin widening. The cushions sink beneath your weight, and before you can catch your breath, Ross is on top of you, his hands finding your hips and pulling you into his lap.

You gasp as you feel the warmth of his body against yours, the dirt and sweat mingling in a way that’s oddly intimate. Ross’s fingers trace patterns on your skin, his touch both gentle and possessive. “I can’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You look ravishing like this.”

“Like this?” You chuckle, knowing that he means you looking like mud.

“Exactly like this.”

His hand on your cheek moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. It's soft, loving, his lips giving and taking everything at once. Your hands grip him, one in his hair, the other on his shoulder. His tongue runs over your top lip, asking for permission, you accept, holding onto his shoulder as tight as you can when his tongue begins sliding against yours.

His hands begin to roam, sliding over your naked body, fingers digging into your skin. You press more into the kiss, whimpering softly when he nips at your bottom lip. One of his hands moves down, ready to slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, you grab his wrist, breaking away from the kiss, “We can't, we’re getting the couch all dirty.

His brows furrow, one hand still holding onto your bare side, the sensation of his fingers makes you tremble.

He chuckles, shaking his wrist free from your grasp, “Too late, love, just stop worrying f’me.” His voice is low and breathy, making everything in your body tense and release.

“I-” you stutter against his neck, feeling his hands grasp your hips once more.

“Get up for a second,” he says, releasing you.

You stand up, looking at him confused. He smiles, moving back into the couch a bit, spreading his legs wider. Your eyes drift to the bulge in his pants, wondering if he wants you on your knees, but instead he moves you closer and pulls your panties down.

He pulls you onto his boxers.

He places a finger under your chin, making you look at him, using his other hand to grab your side again, god his hands are so big on your body. He pulls you into a bruising kiss, encouraging you to start moving your hips. You melt into the kiss, grinding against his bulge.

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, getting the friction.

Ross’ crotch is warm and firm between your legs, the pressure from your movements and the drag of your clit against his cock has you gasping. He kisses you wet and sloppy, moaning into it.

“Ross-“

You think when he grabs your hips and pulls you upwards he’ll grind you on his crotch again, but when he pulls you onto his belly you frown. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like, hm? C’mon, grind.”

You begin rolling your hips slowly, trying to get a feel for it. You are doing slow movements, grinding yourself up and down as you took your time.

The hairs on his stomach give you the extra friction that you didn't even know you needed, making you moan in pleasure.

Ross grabs onto your ass while he smirks at you. “Y’like that?”

"Uh huh, it feels so good," you mutter as your voice shakes from overwhelming pleasure.

You continue sliding yourself up and down on Ross’ stomach, while his hands hold onto your hips.

Ross enjoys watching your reaction, so much so, his boxers start to become hot and uncomfortable.

He lets go of your hips and grabs the waistband of his boxers. Ross wiggles a bit underneath you as he takes it off, kicking them off onto the floor.

"Ahh, that's more like it," Ross says as he sighs in relief.

"Feeling better?" you chuckle, reaching behind you, you give a quick tug on his cock.

Ross lets out a groan, followed by a small laugh. "S’much better.”

"Good," you drawl out with a smile. Leaning in, you press your lips against his, kissing him lovingly, and moaning into each other's mouths.

Pulling back from the kiss, you sit up, place your hands on his chest, and continue grinding on his stomach. After a few more minutes of you mewling in pleasure as you ride his stomach, you slide down far enough to where you feel the tip of his cock just barely entere inside you.

Ross clenches his teeth and digs his fingers into your skin as he moans, feeling the warmth and wetness from you, enveloping the head of his cock.

A small smug appears on your lips, you know he wants more. But of course, you couldn't just give it to him all now.

Deciding to mess with Ross, you don’t go down far enough and pull away.

Ross sighs out a 'fuck' followed by a groan of frustration. You continues to do this a couple more times, riding his big, hairy, doughy belly and then barely sliding the head of his dick in for just a few moments, only to be pulled out again.

You can tell Ross can’t take much more of the teasing anymore. He is whispering and moaning out pleas. His cock is uncontrollably twitching and dribbling with pre-cum.

“No teasing, missus,” he says, “wanted to do you a favor and you’re being’ unfair.”

You giggle and slide back down, right onto his dick. “Don’t want to, need you right now.”

“But-“

Ross never even thinks about his own pleasure before you didn’t finish and he rarely lets you take him without convincing.

“Feel me, I’m ready Ross, really really need you.”

Before he can object you’re already lining up your entrance with his tip.

“Christ, love, alright, you got me," Ross grunts when you lower yourself onto his shaft, your arms trembling as you use your thighs to hold yourself up with your head tucked into his shoulder.

“Take what you need.”

Ross lets you set your own pace, his hands holding your hips as his face scutches in bliss from the feeling of you.

The feeling of your heart beating so hard that he can feel it against his chest, his arm snaking around the curve of your waist to help you balance yourself out, listening to every small nose that parts from your lips.

“I love you Ross,” you whine.

As you shift your hips to slowly take all of him, coaxing the same moan from each other, Ross rests his head against your chest, pulling you in closer, practically hugging you as if his entire cock isn’t buried inside of you.

The feeling of him stretching the warmth of your walls makes you feel light-headed. Most of the time sex is like this with Ross. Sweet and slow and loving no matter who’s on top.

“I love you, darling,” he half groans pulling back to give you a sweet kiss on the lips.

Your hips stutter, raising them slowly before starting a more stable pace.

He tightens his grip around your waist, restarting himself to not snap his hips to match your pace, wanting you to have full control this time.

"Ross, fuck,” you mumble, the fan of your breath against his ear, slamming your hips and grinding against him. He feels like he is going to pass out.

"You feel so good," Ross rasps. "So fucking perfect." His words of encouragement make you feel drunk just from his words.

Your hips rocking at your own pace, it is starting to become unbearable on Ross’ side of things. His hips are trembling to the sound of your wet folds struggling to take him all the way down to the base.

The cool metal from his fingers brush against the warm skin of your thighs, his hips shifting up almost like he is struggling to restrain himself.

You look down and instantly recognized the pleading look, the look that tells you that he needed every inch of you. Your lips meet in approval as his hips bucked up into yours at his own pace.

“Keep going.”

Ross groans in agreement.

Your head drops in pleasure, resting your forehead against his shoulder, your moans echoing like a sweet tone in his ears.

He can feel the trembling in your legs, struggling to hold yourself up as he has his way with you.

“Forgive me, I’ll make it better in a second.”

The moment he pulls out of you, your insides feel weird, like a ghost of him still lingering inside of you pulling away as he picks you up by your thighs with a grunt, shifting your position so that you lie with your back against the couch.

There is a cute moment when the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, a dopey grin on his face being replaced with a moan that fell in rhythm with yours. You both feel reconnected, he slides his entire length back inside of you where you thought he belonged all along.

"S’better like this f’you, don’t have to hold yourself up," Ross explains, his voice low. "You gotta let yourself go, love. Come on, I know you want to." leaning down as you chase after his lips, kissing him deeply.

His tongue slides into your mouth, parting your lips as the rough skin of his thumb rubbed rough circles against your clit.

“Ross- I- fuck,” you moan against his mouth, too high on the edge to kiss him back. It’s just your lips against each other, messily trying to connect.

The new sensation is enough to drive you over the edge, and Ross is watching your body tense and tighten from under him. “S’good, darlin’ show me how good I make you feel.”

The feeling of you squeezing around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm, his thrusts stuttering as he continued to ride out yours.

His fist clench around the couch just beside your head as he ducks into the crook of your neck.

“jesus christ.”Grunting against your neck with every thrust, his orgasm un tumble the feeling from his eyelashes fluttering from squeezing his eyes closed as he falls limp against your chest, a breath being thrown from your lungs.

The feeling of Ross laying his entire weight against you comforts you and soothes you immediately.

He doesn’t pull out yet, kissing your shoulder up to your neck. “I can get used to planting shit ‘f it ends like this.”

You giggle and hit his lower back lightly but wrapping your legs around it at the same time, making sure he doesn’t leave. Ross is already familiar with how cuddly you are after sex and he doesn’t mind.

“I’m joking,” even though you can’t see it, you know he’s smiling against your skin in between kisses, “but we really need that shower now.”

Your gaze drops to the couch which is fully covered with dirty. Your eyes widen, “fuck,” you whisper which draws a chuckle out of ross, “how will we get this clean?”

“Don’t worry, I know how. Matty’s a proper child, I can’t tell you how many times he spilled things onto a carpet or couch.”

“Fine.” You’re not convinced but you have no other choice than to wait and see what he’s going to do.

For a few more minutes you stay like this, ross softening inside of you, giggling and keep kissing to show you just how much you love each other.

The both of you hiss when he pulls out of you but you’re close again when he lifts you into his arms again. “Let’s shower and then we’ll take a look at our masterpiece, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum, too tired to really say anything else. You let yourself fall against him, enjoying his presence in your home finally after he was gone so long. “S’go.”

“Think you’re a bit knackered.”

You shake your head but he’s right, he knows it and you know it.

“Alright then, let’s just stay awake for the shower okay?”

You manage until you both washed the dirt and sweat off of you, but when your back hits the bed you’re deep gone in sleep. Exhausted from all kinds of activities today.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald one shot #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald blurb #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic

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houserautha · 8 months ago

Note

Thinking of reader waking up Feyd with a blowjob to positively reinforce him staying in bed longer and them waking up together 🤭

Whew I’m replying to this late, my apologies🙃

Reader would DEFINITELY like Pavlov’s Dog him into staying in bed and Feyd is a slave to his simpler whims.

The first morning you would slip over him, straddling him, and gently lay kisses down his stomach to rouse him before closing your mouth over his cock. Feyd always wakes up with morning wood. And his lids would flutter and he would moan and arch into your mouth, still torn between sleep and reality.

And as the days increased in which he would stay, you would reward him in different ways — waking him up by suddenly taking him in your mouth or perhaps pumping his hardened length first. You enjoyed this part of your mornings, looking forward to the bliss in his gaze as you gazed down at you, satisfied that you’ve managed to keep him to yourself for a little longer.

Then, one morning you sleep later than usual, exhaustion wearing at you. You wake to find Feyd staring at you questioningly.

“Hm? What is it?” You mumble, wiping crust from your eyes.

“I—” Feyd looks ready to explain himself, then snaps his mouth shut. “Nothing.”

“You woke me up for nothing?”

For perhaps the first time since meeting him, something akin to a sheepish expression crosses his face. “I thought you would…” he trails off, brows furrowed.

You grin at him, catching a glimpse of the erection lying against his muscular thigh. “Spoiled, are we?”

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #fanfic writing #feyd smut

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deepdisireslonging · 1 year ago

Text

No Cum November Part 6: Dripping

The Reader is used in a ritual to summon the ghost that’s been terrorizing campus.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings/Promises: canon-level danger, ritualistic SMUT, bondage, wax play, double penetration (split-roast), bukkake (of a sort… just, the boys get messy, okay?)

Word Count: 670

Note: Really had fun with this one. Whew! Let me know how you guys are enjoying the series, I love hearing from you guys. Happy reading!

Part 5: 2 AM Quickie

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Dean paused in tying the next knot around your wrist.

“You guys are gonna be here, right?” You breathed a sigh of relief as Sam nodded.

“The whole time. You remember how to get out of the knots?” He waited for your affirmative hum. “Good girl.”

It may have been just another run as bait for you, but this ghost was going to be summoned with your actual arousal. At first, the ghost had been summoned by the group of horny freshman with a book from the archives. Having found it during your excursion with Sam in the library a few days ago, the possessions and deaths had stopped. But, through trial and error, you three found out that the spirit was tied to the campus, not the book. Nobody knew of a potential grave. The only way to end it permanently was to summon it.

The team was happy to oblige.

Which is why you were currently tied to a desk with candles fluttering all around. The boys had taken turns massaging protective oil into your skin. Dean tied the last slip knot and nodded at Sam, who picked up a candle dripping with wax. He started to chant the summons. Drip by hot drip, he guided the weeping candle over your body. You hissed and writhed under the sensation, and under the gaze of the Winchesters. They watched your chest heave. How your thighs quaked. They panted in time with your mouth falling open to moan. After a few minutes of chanting with no response, Dean took his position.

He filled you slowly, accidentally dripping wax on your lower stomach. You arched, spearing yourself on him faster than he anticipated. He fell forward, stumbling in his words. Sam took over with the chanting, leaving his brother to take care of you.

Maybe the summons was working. Or maybe the way you twisted under the candle max was doing something to Dean. Either way, he gripped your hips tighter, pulled you onto him harder, needed more than ever to hear every way you could scream. His nails scraping up your stomach worked loose some of the wax, leaving ridges in their wake. Sam’s chanting stumbled. The sight of the wax remnants of Dean’s act resembled a way to claw into your skin like never before. He touched himself while refocusing on the chanting.

This was taking too long. Not that you could complain. But the ghost wasn’t coming. When Sam said as much, Dean didn’t hesitate.

“Be a shame to let such a pretty sacrifice go to waste.”

He continued to thrust into you, letting more wax drip around your breasts. Sam’s chanting of the spell switched to chanting your name and whispering filthy things that made your skin flush. You opened your mouth wide for Sam’s cock, happy to relieve some of the pressure he’d built watching Dean ravage you. Filled from both ends and covered in wax, you were too floaty to want to cum. When they needed to spill, the Winchesters added their cum to the ritualistic drippings already covering your body.

They helped you out of the knots. And massaged your joints that had been tied down. Dean wrapped you in the fluffy robe they’d brought after Sam wiped down your sweaty brow. They would clean you the rest of the way at the hotel. While Sam gathered the candles, you removed the tablecloth you’d used to cover the desk. Not a speck of evidence of the failed ritual would remain in the room.

Still, Dean needed to adjust himself.

“Dude, we just fucked her ten ways past Sunday, and you’re still hard?”

With a shrug, Dean grabbed the books. He held them to his chest, looking very much like a guilty student. He caught your eye. “Can we- for the bunker, we can buy candles, right?

You pulled the collar of the robe over your smile. “We can definitely buy candles.”

***

Series Masterlist

Part 7: Double Possession

#dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #winchester x reader #winchester smut #reader insert #dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

Note

Emmett, Garrett, and Edward(separate) with a mate that when turned has ice abilities(yes like Elsa I can't help it 🤣) as always please and thank you!

❝the cold, never bothered me anyways❞

✭ pairing : garrett x reader , emmett cullen x reader , edward cullen x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : Garrett, Emmett and Edward just learn of their mates gift and let’s just say they are amazed

✭ twilight masterlist

Garrett :

Garrett, the rugged and adventurous vampire nomad, had always been drawn to unconventional beauty and unique experiences. That's why, when he met (Y/N), he couldn't resist her allure. They were two kindred spirits, seeking adventure and excitement in the world, and their connection had grown stronger with each passing day.

One sunny afternoon, Garrett and (Y/N) found themselves lounging in a meadow near the town of Denali. The day was sweltering, the sun blazing overhead, and Garrett couldn't help but voice his thoughts.

"Whew, it's a scorcher today," Garrett remarked, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "I wish it were cooler, maybe even a snowy day. That would be perfect."

(Y/N) glanced at Garrett, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She had a secret, one she had been waiting for the right moment to reveal. As her hand brushed against a blade of grass, it instantly froze, turning into a delicate icicle.

Garrett watched in astonishment as (Y/N) summoned her icy powers, forming a small flurry of snowflakes that danced around them, cooling the air around them. The sweltering heat gave way to a gentle, refreshing chill.

His eyes widened with wonder as he realized what was happening. "Did you just... make it snow?"

(Y/N) smiled mischievously as she continued to manipulate the ice and snow around them. "I have a little bit of Elsa in me," she admitted, referring to the beloved Disney character with similar powers.

Garrett couldn't contain his excitement. "That's incredible, (Y/N)! You can control the weather?"

With a nod, (Y/N) answered, "It seems that way. I can create snow and ice, even on the hottest of days."

Garrett couldn't resist the urge to playfully scoop up some of the snow (Y/N) had created and toss it in her direction. She giggled as the icy flakes landed on her skin, creating a delightful sensation.

As they enjoyed the unexpected snowfall, Garrett realized that he had found something truly extraordinary in (Y/N). Her unique abilities only added to her allure, and he couldn't wait to explore the world with her, one snowy adventure at a time. This day marked the beginning of a thrilling journey they would embark on together, their love and their lives forever intertwined with the magic of ice and snow.

Emmett Cullen :

Snow blanketed the town of Forks, transforming it into a winter wonderland. It was a day that Emmett Cullen, the jovial and strong member of the Cullen family, had been eagerly anticipating. He and (Y/N), his beloved mate, had planned to spend the day together, reveling in the beauty of the freshly fallen snow.

Emmett's enthusiasm for the day was infectious, and his excitement had been building for weeks. He couldn't wait to see (Y/N)'s reaction to the snowy landscape, as it held a special surprise he had been keeping secret.

As they ventured into the snowy forest, hand in hand, Emmett's grin was as wide as ever. "Isn't this amazing, (Y/N)?" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "I knew you'd love it!"

(Y/N) smiled back at him, her eyes filled with affection. She had always been drawn to Emmett's zest for life and his ability to find joy in the simplest of moments. "It's beautiful, Emmett. I'm so grateful we can share this together."

Emmett led her deeper into the woods until they reached a secluded clearing. The trees were heavy with snow, and the world seemed hushed in a serene stillness.

"Close your eyes, (Y/N)," Emmett instructed with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I've got a surprise for you."

(Y/N) obliged, closing her eyes and feeling the cold, crisp air on her cheeks. She trusted Emmett implicitly and eagerly awaited the surprise he had in store.

Emmett took a step back and then, with a flourish, he clapped his hands together, creating a miniature snowstorm around them. Snowflakes swirled through the air, dancing in intricate patterns, and (Y/N) felt the magic of the moment wash over her.

As she opened her eyes and witnessed the enchanting display of snowfall, her heart skipped a beat. But something extraordinary happened. She felt a strange connection to the snowflakes, an inexplicable power coursing through her veins.

In her excitement and amazement, (Y/N) raised her hand, and to her astonishment, the snowflakes responded. They swirled and danced at her command, forming intricate shapes and designs. It was as if she had control over the very essence of winter itself.

Emmett watched in awe as (Y/N) unwittingly harnessed this incredible power. "Wow," he whispered, his voice filled with reverence.

Realization dawned on (Y/N) as she stared at her hands, her eyes wide with wonder. "I... I have ice abilities.”

Emmett could hardly contain his excitement. "That's amazing, (Y/N)! You're like a real-life snow queen!"

As they continued to explore her newfound powers together, (Y/N) and Emmett's bond grew stronger, their love warming even the coldest of winter days. Little did they know that her abilities would bring an extra layer of enchantment to their lives, and the snowy day in Forks would forever be etched in their memories as the day they discovered her unique gift.

Edward Cullen :

The small town of Forks lay beneath a thick blanket of snow, its streets and houses gleaming white in the winter sunlight. Edward Cullen, the introspective and empathetic member of the Cullen family, had been planning a surprise for (Y/N), his beloved mate. He had been monitoring the weather forecast closely, waiting for the perfect snowy day to reveal his plan.

As (Y/N) and Edward prepared to go out for a romantic drive, Edward couldn't help but smile at his mate's excitement. She had always loved the snow, and he knew that today's surprise would be especially meaningful to her.

As they stepped outside, (Y/N) marveled at the winter wonderland that surrounded them. "It's so beautiful," she sighed, her breath forming a frosty cloud in the cold air.

Edward chuckled softly, his golden eyes filled with adoration. "Just wait, (Y/N). I have something special planned for today."

He led her to his car, which was buried under a thick layer of snow and ice. (Y/N) watched as he handed her a snowbrush and began to clear the snow from the car.

But as (Y/N) reached out to help, something incredible happened. Her touch sent a wave of energy through the snow and ice, causing it to melt and evaporate before their eyes. The snowbrush in her hand was unnecessary; the ice and snow retreated at her mere presence.

Edward stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in astonishment. "Did you just...?"

(Y/N) looked down at her hands, realizing that something extraordinary had just occurred. "I... I didn't mean to," she stammered. "It just happened."

Edward's smile returned, filled with awe and wonder. "You have ice abilities, (Y/N).”

Realization washed over her, and (Y/N) couldn't help but smile in return. "I suppose I do."

As the last of the ice and snow disappeared, (Y/N) and Edward stood before the now-clear car. The surprise he had planned had become even more magical, thanks to her newfound abilities.

Together, they embarked on their romantic drive, reveling in the beauty of the winter landscape. For (Y/N) and Edward, this snowy day marked the beginning of a new chapter in their love story, one filled with warmth and enchantment, even in the coldest of seasons.

Garrett, Edward and Emmett :

The anticipation hung heavy in the air as the Cullen family, including Garrett, Emmett, and Edward, stood on one side of a vast snowy field. On the opposing side were the Volturi, the ancient vampire royalty, led by Aro, Caius, and Marcus. Tensions had reached a breaking point, and a battle between the two factions seemed inevitable.

(Y/N), their beloved mate with ice abilities, stood at the forefront, her powers at the ready. The snowy field was the perfect canvas for her unique gift, and she was determined to protect her family and her mates at any cost.

The confrontation escalated, and as the Volturi advanced with menacing intent, (Y/N) raised her hands, her fingers poised like a conductor about to lead an orchestra. In an instant, the snow beneath her feet began to transform.

Spikes of ice erupted from the ground, forming a formidable barrier between the Cullens and the Volturi. Each spike glistened with deadly beauty, ready to defend against any threat.

Garrett, Emmett, and Edward watched in awe as their mate's power unfolded before their eyes. They had known of her abilities, but seeing her wield them with such precision and strength left them speechless.

Emmett grinned, his admiration shining through his usually jovial demeanor. "That's our mate," he exclaimed, pride and affection in his voice.

Edward, usually composed and analytical, was equally astounded. "She's incredible," he murmured, his eyes never leaving (Y/N).

Garrett, the adventurous nomad, couldn't help but be captivated by the sight. "I knew you were extraordinary, (Y/N), but this is beyond anything I could have imagined."

(Y/N) stood her ground, her icy spikes forming an impenetrable barrier. She was ready to defend her family and mates against any threat from the Volturi. Her love for them was unwavering, and she was prepared to use her unique abilities to protect the ones she cherished most.

As the standoff continued, the Volturi hesitated, their confidence wavering in the face of (Y/N)'s formidable display of power. The snowy battlefield had become a testament to the strength of their bond, a bond forged not only by love but by the extraordinary abilities that united them.

In that moment, (Y/N) knew that she had found not just love but a family that accepted her for who she was, powers and all. And her mates, Garrett, Emmett, and Edward, realized that they had found a mate whose strength and determination were matched only by her unwavering love for them. Together, they stood ready to face whatever challenges the future held, bound by a love that could weather even the fiercest of storms.

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