#( v. hell on heels. )

[subsequentibis]

figuring out headcanons for my three weed smoking girlfriends (and yes they smoke weed)

[vaugarde]

ok the kalos slander in journeys is getting out of hand

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[axelsagewrites]

Hey, can I please request Jacaerys x aunt!reader where he goes to her after the dance as she had been imprisoned in the dungeons and he offer her to let him have her or she'll be sentenced to death or sum. And reader is as pious and religious as Alicent and she is horrified by the idea of being sullied by ""bastard seed"" but she reveals to be c0ck-drunk by the end of it?

Jace Velaryon*Perfect Wife

Pairing: Jace x f!reader

Word count: 2809

Warnings: dub con, imprisonment, held at knife point (not during smut), praise, degradation, nipple play, p in v sex, hickeys, spanking, bruising, forced marriage, smut 18+c

Masterlist here

You weren’t much of a warrior. You had been raised the way a princess should have been. Well, that’s what your mother told you. However, when two days had passed since Aemond and Aegon had left to confront Rhanerya, and everyone refused to tell you what was happening you decided to get the hell out of there on your dragon.

Maybe you’d end up in Essos and sell a dragon egg for a home. Maybe even Dorne. You could try throw yourself on their mercy. After all, their ambassadors had always seemed to enjoy your company. However, all your plans soon crumbled when you accidentally flew into what you’d assumed to be an empty clearing.

You’d landed in a small field and had quickly tried to ‘borrow’ an apple from a local farm when you felt a strong grip on your arm and a sharp blade on your neck. So cold it had to be Valyrian steel. “And who do we have here?” you recognised Jace’s voice clearly. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you pretty girls shouldn’t go about dawdling?”

-

The stone floors bruised your knees each time you knelt to pray but you didn’t complain or even wince at the pain. You’d counted the days you’d been here by etching marks in the stone with the corner of your Seven-star necklace your mother had given you. 27 days so far. Each morning you prayed. Well, what you thought was morning. Then each afternoon then evening. Each time to a different member of the seven. Even the stranger since perhaps the god of death was the one you truly needed right now.

“My lady,” a sing song voice called out, “Lunch is ready,” Jace said as he approached your cell with his usual grin. He didn’t come every day but when he did it only seemed to add to your punishment. “I made sure to pick you the freshest apple,” he crouched down, holding it out to you.

You kept your eyes on the ground as you tried to finish your prayer, “C’mon now. They’re clearly not listening to you,” he mocked, sitting down the tray in front of the bars to your cell.

Still, you ignored him as you wrapped them up. Jace sighed and just as you finished your prayers he stood, taking the tray with him. “Where are you going?” you called, moving to stand on your feet and grabbing the bars, “That’s my food,”

“No this is my food,” he said, as if he was calling the sky blue, “And you never took it,”

“I was praying!”

“Not fast enough,” he teased. “Maybe next time you’ll remember to acknowledge the heir to Westeros,” he said as he turned to leave.

“My brothers not here,” you mumbled, turning around to go take your place on the wooden bench they called a bed.

The wine cup clattered against the wall, missing your head by only an inch. You span on your heels to confront him, but the only trace was your food dropped on the ground in a head and the apple slowly rolling towards your cell.

It stopped just out of arm’s length of the bars as if the gods really were mocking you. It took you laying on the ground, stretching out the tips of your fingernails to manage to roll it closer so you could grab it. You consoled yourself knowing he never came twice in one day.

Yet this time he did.

Jace arrived with a meal so nice looking it almost reminded you of what you used to eat. There was even a whole chicken leg on it. when he saw the apple core in the corner of your cell Jace couldn’t help but laugh. “Here,” he said, reaching it out for you to try manoeuvre through the bars when he suddenly pulled it back, “Aren’t you going to thank your prince?”

“Thank you,” you glared, reaching your hand out.

Jace just smirked, “Thank you what?”

“Thank you, dear nephew,” you offered with a fake smile.

“Say it. say that I am the true heir, a true prince, and I will be most obliged to give you this chicken leg. Straight from the queens table,” he said, showing it to you once more just to rub it in.

You could feel your stomach rumble, but you couldn’t say it. not after all this time. Not after all the battles. Not for a chicken leg. “My mother isn’t here,” you said through gritted teeth.

Jace reached through the bars, grabbing your neck before you could react. His grasp was tight but despite his fingers digging into your skin you weren’t afraid, “I can only be so patient,” he warned before letting you go. He turned to leave, taking the food with him, “besides, who said your mother is even alive?” he mocked before slamming the door shut behind him.

The stalemate continued for another day and a half and suddenly you were regretting not rationing the apple. At least the guards had kept your water jug topped up, but you didn’t want to risk that being taken too.

“I have a new deal,” Jace said, walking in empty handed.

“Where’s my food?” you said, not even standing from where you sat on your bed.

“That’s not very polite,” Jace tutted, leaning against the bars, “How would you like to get out of here?” you couldn’t help your eyes widening at the idea. Something Jace seemed to revel in. he unlocked your cell and despite wanting to run you sat still as he closed the door behind him. “Come here. Let me get a closer look at you,”

You wanted to slap him but instead you stood up and slowly crossed the floor while Jace’s eyes scanned your frame. “Still so beautiful,” he mumbled before he finally brought his eyes back to yours as your cheeks burned, “I have a new proposal for you,” he said, reaching to stroke your cheek. He was gentle but you still flinched at his touch.

He stepped closer, moving his hand down till he was toying with your necklace, his eyes not so subtly on your chest, “Marry me,” he said, and you instantly grimaced at his words, “Be my wife and I will let you free,”

“I wouldn’t be free,” you snapped, “I’d be the wife of a bastard, a nobody, a waste of space- “you began to spit your venom at him only to be cut off by his tight grasp around your neck.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I was you,” he warned, “What I’m offering is generous. You should hear what Daemon had planned for you,” he dropped his grip and you instantly stepped back, trying to recatch your breath.

Jace slowly began to circle you, eyeing you up from every angle as you silently thought over his offer when suddenly a thought popped into your head, “What’s in it for you? Last time I checked you already had a betrothed,”

“Alliances can change, we both know that” he drawled, his chest pressed against your back while his hand grazed your hip. Not mine, you thought, but you stayed silent instead. “Besides I need a wife. Someone to show off in court,” his hand trailed up from your hip to your waist making you shudder through the thin dress they’d gave you, “Someone to bear children. Someone to warm my bed,” he said, his lips pressed against your ear.

His hand went to move to your front, but you grabbed his wrist before he could touch anything, “I’d rather die,” you spat.

Jace grabbed your hips, spinning you around and pulling you flush against his chest, “That can be arranged,” he warned but he still wore his teasing smirk, “You think you’d survive here without me? A pretty young things like yourself in nothing but her night dress roaming around court, think of the scandals. Gods help you if you even make it out the castle. What do you think the small folk would do with a princess like you?”

“Perhaps they’d save me. If they believed in the true king,” you said, trying to hold firm but feeling yourself shake.

He chuckled under his breath, “There is only a queen. C’mon, I can’t be that bad surely. You saying you’ve never thought about it?” he said, his hand moving down to your ass, his lips moving to your ear, “Its not just the gods who know your dirty little secrets,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your neck.

“I want my dragon back,” you said suddenly making Jace lift his head from where he’d been dragging his lips across your neck, “If I’m to be your wife,”

“As soon as your belly swells with my seed,” he said, “Anything else?”

It felt like a trap, but you tried anyway, “And separate rooms. I don’t want to see you more than I have to,”

He chuckled this time, “That can be arranged, anything else?” you eyed him carefully before shaking your head no. one child and then you could escape with your dragon. It would take a year, maybe two, and then you’d be free. “Good. I shall have them draw up a treaty. But in the meantime,” he said, grabbing your ass so suddenly you gasped, “I want some kind of reassurance you won’t back out,”

“And what’s that?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” he said making the words dry up in your throat, “And if I didn’t know any better id say you wanted me too,”

“And if I say no?” you asked.

Jace dropped his grip, but a smirk fell on his lips as he began to walk away. “Then no deal,” he said, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” you called, reaching out to grab his arm. Jace turned his gaze back to you with a knowing smirk, “I suppose if you are to be my husband. The gods, they’d understand,” you said, trying to rationalise it all.

Jace moved closer to you till his chest was flush against yours, “I’m sure they’d understand after all,” he said, pushing the hair out of your face, “Who could blame you for wanting some pleasure in your life?” he said, his hand trailing down till he grabbed your tit, squeezing it softly, “Why would something that feels so good be so wrong?” he whispered in your ear, his hand traveling lower to your thighs, toying with the hem of his dress.

His lips moved to kiss down your jaw, across your neck till he was kissing your undiscovered sweet spot making you moan softly. His arms moved to slip around your waist, pulling you somehow closer to him as your hands rested on his shoulders. You gasped when he squeezed your ass and winced at the quick slap, he gave it before his hands moved to the hem of your dress.

The cold air rushed over your frame, making your nipples harden as Jace pulled the dress over your head in one swoop. The only thing to cover you was your necklace but right now that felt even worse. Jace’s eyes travelled your frame, soaking up every inch, “The gods have blessed me with you,” he murmured.

“You do not know the gods,” you glared but Jace just chuckled as his hands went to cup your tits, stroking his thumbs over your perked nipples making you whimper.

“Perhaps you don’t either,” he said as he led you by your hips to your bed. He sat on it, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you into his lap.

His lips moved to your collarbones, kissing and nipping at the soft skin. Your brain told you to push him away, but a strange feeling was overcoming your body as his hands moved to your hips. You could feel a hard bulge under his trousers as he began to move your hips, pushing your core onto his clothed cock. You moaned at the friction, his bulge rubbing perfectly against your clit sending shock waves up your body.

Soon you felt your hips begin to buck and move of their own accord. You felt his smirk against your skin as his hands moved to your tits. You gasped when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers making you moan. “Oh god,” you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when he took one into his mouth, sucking on the perked bud.

You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, your moans growing louder as you took the gods in vain at the top of your lungs. You felt your peak hit you like a boulder before you slumped into Jace’s chest.

He moved to kiss your cheek with a chuckle. “Not even fucked you yet and look at you,” Jace said, slipping his hand down to rub against your sensitive core making your body lurch, “So wet for me,” he praised, his hand moving to unlace his trousers. “Can’t wait to see what my cock does to you,”

Before you could protest you felt his tip pressing into your entrance. You gasped, your hands moving to grab his shoulders, “Aw,” Jace pouted, “Does it hurt?” he mocked, pushing you down further, “Too fucking bad,” he practically growled as he used your hips to push you all the way down.

You almost screamed at the feeling, as if you were being split in half but Jace groaned, throwing his head back against the wall as you felt his cock twitch inside you, “Fuck you’re so tight,” he praised, giving you a moment to adjust. Your hips betrayed you again, moving without your mind thinking making him chuckle.

“Such a desperate little thing,” Jace mocked, grabbing your jaw as you tried to move away. His thumb ran over your bottom lip before using it to pry your mouth open, resting it on your tongue, “Good girl,” he praised, his free hand moving your hips.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you felt him hit all the right spots. You gave up trying to resit as your hips began to grind onto his cock.

Jace’s hands moved to your hair, grabbing it suddenly and pulling it back so he could have full access to your neck. You were sure by the way he kissed it there would be marks tomorrow but that didn’t matter now. Your hands went to his hair, tugging it softly making him growl against your skin.

His free hand went to your ass, grabbing it tightly before suddenly leaving stinging slaps against the soft flesh. You could feel your second peak fast approaching and when Jace moved to run quick circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves you felt your cunt squeeze around him as it came crashing down again.

“Fuck,” Jace mumbled, a stream of profanity tumbling from his lips as his hands moved to your hips so he could fuck you through your orgasm, “You feel so good,” he praised, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You felt yourself coming down from your high and his movements began to slow, “Don’t stop Jace. Please gods don’t stop,” you began to beg, and you could feel his smirk.

“Begging suits you,” he teased, grabbing your jaw so he could make you face him, “You look so good right now. So drunk on my cock. Is that it?”

“Yes,” you whined, “I need you please,”

“Aw my poor baby,” he teased, “So desperate for her king,”

“Yes,” you weren’t even thinking any longer, and a spark ignited behind his eyes, “Need you. Want you my king,” you moaned.

Jace grabbed your hips tightly, standing suddenly before turning as you back slammed against the wall. You winced until you felt his hips begin to snap up against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tight against you. This new angle had him hitting newer spots that had your legs wrapping tight around him.

“So good,” Jace mumbled against your skin as you felt a third orgasm approaching, “My perfect little wife,” his words sent you tumbling over the edge.

Jace couldn’t resist anymore as your cunt squeezed around his cock and with a couple more pumps, he began to spill his seed. His thrusts became slow as he rode out his own peak, fucking his seed deep inside you. You were both panting as he pulled out, his forehead resting against yours as your feet finally hit the ground again.

“I always knew you had a dark side in you,” Jace chuckled as he pulled away.

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you in your sleep, husband,” you threatened but the last word made him smile. Maybe this was a good trade after all.

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[polyo-nym-y]

The Pushy Demon, a Drabble.

————————————————————

Alastor x Female!Reader

[WARNINGS: Al fucks you in the elevator, you’re stubborn and put up a fight despite liking him, rough fuck, manhandling, dubcon??reader says stop but doesn’t really mean it, p in v sex etc etc MDNI!!!NSFW!!!!]

This is unedited so be warned !

I am once again posting a discord inspired prompt. This is for you guys ;3 I hope you enjoy it.

————————————————————

Initially, you thought the Hazbin Hotel was God's last gift to you. You thought he might’ve taken pity on your poor sinful soul. That hopeful thinking died quickly on your very first day there.

Because this was Hell after all and every sinner was doomed to live eternity in agony. And agony is exactly how you’d describe your current situation.

It has been months now that you’ve suffered Alastors attacks. Since day one he seemed to target you as he actively sought you out. He relished every reaction he coaxed out of you with every tease and jab.

But it wasn’t his teasing that actually brought you agony. No, rather so it was the realization that you had grown quite fond of it. You used to groan at his jests and feel nothing but annoyance. But now? Now you felt a blush rising to your cheeks. His mere presence now seemed to wash waves of burning heat over you. You’d sooner double die than give him the satisfaction in knowing your fondness for him, though.

For a while this task was easy as the extermination date drew closer and closer. Alastor kept himself busy and a part of you felt upset that he wasn't making any effort to chase you. You felt like a silly child when your disappointment morphed into jealousy, eyes watching him pour his focus onto others. You knew it was ridiculous to feel envy as he showed more attention to the hotel. Which is exactly why you made an effort to avoid him completely now.

Alastor was perceptive, however, and your obvious avoidance didn't go unnoticed. At first he was amused by it as he watched you hurriedly run from him any time you saw him. But the game was getting old and he was growing bored. So when he heard from Charlie that you weren't feeling well and wouldn't be attending today's lesson, he was more than annoyed.

He sat in the foyer amongst the other residents, his eyes staring at Charlie and Vaggie. He pretended to listen as his talons tapped the arm of the chair rhythmically. He unfortunately found his mind wandering to you as he tuned out the lesson. Knowing well that you were not sick and that this was going to end tonight.

His ears twitched as he heard a faint shuffle across the lobby. His eyes didnt leave Charlie as his shadow looked for him. When he saw you peeking around a corner he had to fight the laugh that wanted to slip out. How cute.

You watched from a distance as they all attended that day's lesson. Your eyes lingered over Alastor as that stupid envy bubbled back up within you, upset that his eyes weren't on you. Disgusted with yourself you quickly turned on your heels and began walking back towards the elevator.

You didnt hear the lesson suddenly stop nor did you hear Alastor curtly excuse himself. You did however hear the familiar clacking of shoes trailing behind you. Instinctively you quickened your strides as you stared at the Elevator door just ahead of you. Surely it wasn't him, you thought, he didn't see you right?

You got your answer when you glanced over your shoulder. Alastors tall figure radiated annoyance as his long legs closed the distance at a terrifying rate. Without even thinking you broke into a sprint as you rushed forward. Your hands fighting against the metal lattice door as it got jammed. But once you finally opened it you stumbled into the brightly lit elevator, hands quickly trying to shove the still jammed door closed. A large black hand shot out as it stopped the cage door from closing, his dark gaze peering through the bars down at you.

“Going up? How perfect! So am I!” His smile widened as his eyes trailed down your throat, watching you swallow that delicious mix of fear and nervousness. He waited for you to drop your hands from the door before he slammed it open roughly. The act earned a flinch from you as you stepped back into the far corner.

Your arms crossed over your chest as you forced your nerves into annoyance. A glare being sent up to him as he cheerfully stepped inside and closed you both in. “I thought you were supposed to be attending today's lesson.”

“And I thought you were sick.”

“I was feeling better… but now I’m feeling worse.”

He pressed the top floor before glancing to his side, to you. You quirked your brow as you watched him look you up and down. “Hm, you do look terrible.”

Your eye twitched as you watched his shit eating grin grow. You bit back the remark you wanted to give him and chose to instead lean into the corner. Your eyes staring at the ground as you tried to ignore him.

The elevator rattled to life after a delay before it began to ascend. Alastor began to hum as he stepped closer to you. Your hands clutched around yourself tighter as you stepped away but Alastor only followed. With your shoulder now pressed against the cold metal wall Alastor made himself comfortable against your other shoulder. His larger body purposefully pressing against you.

Your heart began to race now that you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about him. Feeling the warmth of his body and the tingling static that hung in the air around him. You were contorting trying to avoid his touch, your face pressing into the wall. Alastors hum grew lower as he cocked his head, his deep gaze watching you carefully. With an annoyed groan you pushed yourself from the wall and away from him, shuffling to stand across from him. “UGH- this has to stop!”.

“You’re right, my dear, this does need to stop.”

“Wha-” Before you could even question what he meant the elevator began to stutter. The lights flickered above you as you reached your hands out trying to steady yourself. Suddenly the elevator came to a screeching halt as the lights went out completely, the only thing visible was Alastors glowing eyes.

A shiver ran down your spine when your eyes met his in the dark, the intense look had you frozen in place. He’d snap his fingers “Tch, looks like the elevator broke, how unfortunate.” A chuckle left him as you watched his eyes draw closer, his heels clicking as he took a single step forward. You sucked in a nervous breath as you stepped back, the metal cage rattling behind you.

“Alastor..” you warned as he took another slow step forward. “Turn it back on.”

“Turn what back on? You’re not insinuating that I have anything to do with this, are you?” He feigned offense. “I’m stuck in this predicament just as you are.”

You watched his eyes, the only thing you could see, as he continued to step forward. Stumbling, you felt your way along the wall as you side stepped him just before he caged you in. “Alastor, stay away from me-”.

A growl left him as he turned to follow your figure in the dark. “And why should I?” He hesitated for a moment before his grin widened. His eyes slipped closed and suddenly you were completely bathed in darkness. You swallowed nervously as you tried to make out where he was. The elevator creaked and suddenly you felt hot breath ghost against your ear “I know you’ve been avoiding me. But why is that, mon cher?”

Your hand flew out to smack him but you hit nothing but air. His voice now came from behind you as you felt sharp claws trail up your back and over your shoulders. “Missed me~” He'd laugh darkly as you opened your mouth to yell at him. But once again his actions silenced you as his large hands roughly pushed you forward.

Your hands flew out before you fell face first into the elevators wall, the force of your body had the elevator swaying and creaking. “FUCK- you wanna know why Im avoiding you?? Its because im fucking tired of playing your stupid games!”.

His hands were on you before you could turn around, a firm grip finding its way around your wrists. He pressed his chest against you as he pinned your body against the wall. You squirmed frantically as you tried wrenching your hands free but he only tightened his hold on you. Pressing you so harshly the cold metal began to sting your cheek. “Oh, darling, do you take me as a fool?” He dipped his head as he grazed his lips against your hair, inhaling your scent with a sigh. “You think I dont notice the red that blossoms on your cheeks? Or how your heart races- just as it is now.”

You gritted your teeth, still too stubborn to tell the truth. “Thats because your horrifying- a pushy demon who doesnt fucking know personal space!”

An unhinged laugh rumbled through his chest and into you. “You want to pretend its fear? Fine, then fear me. I’ll be that horrific demon for you.” Without another word he pressed his hips against the plushness of your ass, grinding into you slowly.

Your body tensed as you felt your stomach begin to flip. You tried to fight against him once more, your body thrashing against his. “AL-” Your words died in your throat as he kicked your legs apart, wedging his knee between your legs. One hand kept a tight hold on your left hand whilst his right arm snaked around your waist. He tugged you up onto his thigh and pressed his knee against the wall, your toes barely reaching the ground as he forced a pressure between your legs.

“Hm~?” He hummed a reply as his eyes slipped open once more. He felt your legs tremble and tense as you tried to lift up from his leg. His arm around your waist slithered back to settle on your hip as he grinded you down into him. “What is it, dear? You’ve gone awfully quiet. Too scared to speak?”

“S-Stop-” You choked on your words trying to bite back any moans that dared to slip out. As he grinded you against his thigh you felt the slickness that soaked your panties begin to seep onto his pants. Aimlessly you tried to push at him with your free hand. As if wanting to make a show of how weak you were he let your other hand go. Both of your hands now trying to grab at him from behind you.

“I wont. Plead all you want. I wont stop.” His left hand snaked under your shirt as he tore your bra to allow your breasts to spill out. Sharp talons scratched along sensitive flesh as he pinched and toyed with your hardening nipple. His hand at your hip stopped as it dipped under your waist band. Reaching to slide his fingers between your soaked lips just to bring them back out. “Especially not when you're this wet already.” He made a show of rubbing your fluids across your lips, knowing well you couldn't see how his fingers glistened in the dark. His talons wedged past your lips as he tried to pry your mouth open. When you refused he settled his mouth over the shell of your ear and gave it a bite. His fingers darted in as soon as you gasped, pressing against your tongue ensuring you thoroughly tasted yourself.

Your head began to grow foggy as you felt yourself beginning to relax into the pressure of his thigh. Hips twitching, desperately wanting that friction again. Instead, you bit down onto the fingers that invaded your mouth. A sharp hiss left Alastor as he fish hooked your cheek, yanking you back into his chest. His other hand came to wrap around your throat as he gave a warning squeeze. “HA! You want this to hurt, don't you?”

He continued yanking you back until your neck was craned, forcing you to look up into his glowing eyes. The dark amusement that swam in his red gaze sent a shock wave straight to your core as your thighs tightened around his. Despite every fiber of you screaming to submit, you refused. Your mouth struggling to suction closed with his fingers in your cheek. You tried to muster as much spit as you could as you sputtered up at him, messily spitting up at him and onto your own face.

He didn't say a word as his only reaction was his twitching eye. Slowly he took a deep breath before he removed his fingers from your mouth, knee suddenly slipping out from under you. “You are the most pathetically stubborn thing I have ever met.” With his hold on your throat still he threw you onto the ground like a ragdoll.

You winced at the impact before quickly trying to crawl away from him. “Wh- wait-AH-” his hand wrapped around your ankle and dragged you back to him as he settled on his knees. You held your breath as you stared into his eyes like a moth to a lamp, the sound of his zipper deafening in the small space. You felt him settle between your legs as his hands tore your underwear apart. “Al, wait-” when you tried to sit up his palm pushed you back down by your head as his fingers dug into your cheeks.

“You never listen do you, Mon cher?” he’d purr with a sweet tone that didnt match his rough hands. “You said it yourself. I'm a horrifying pushy demon who knows nothing about personal space, right?” you felt his swollen head swipe up between your lips before he quickly snapped his hips into you. You choked and gasped at the sudden intrusion as he bottomed out in one thrust. His cock twitched inside of you as your cunt fluttered around him. “To think I’m dizzy for a dame like you.” A forced laugh left him before he was pushing your legs open wider.

He was suddenly thrusting into you at a brutal pace as his hands gripped and clawed at your flesh. A desperate mewl left your throat as all of your fight left you, your shaking hips trying to push into each thrust. “A-Alastor- f-fuck-” you moaned out mumbled words. His hands settle on your hips to hold you still.

“Mm-mhm? Are you going to be honest now?” when your hips still tried to fight against him he pulled from you. Your limp body being flipped onto your stomach quickly before he buried himself back into you. One hand kept your hips up whilst his other tangled into your hair, pressing your face down to force your back into an arch.

You could only cry and moan into the floor as your spit pooled below you. Legs shaking as he fucked into your cunt like his afterlife depended on. Each thrust had his heavy balls smacking against your clit, a jolt of electricity sent through you each time as you felt that coil tighten quickly. You tried to nod but his hand against your head made it difficult, but you couldnt manage a real response right now. “Ah-h, theres my good fucking girl.” He’d coo down to you between pants. You swore if honesty was the cost for this? Youd never utter a lie ever again.

His claws dug into your flesh as he rutted into you. The burning pain mixed with your quickly approaching release and you felt like youd die again. Your shaky hand tried to cover your mouth to stifle the erotic sounds you were making. The elevator creaked with every deep thrust, his own movements getting sloppy as he felt you tightly clenching around him.

The lights began to flicker to life just as you began to reach your peak, eyes squeezing shut at the sudden brightness. His hand in your hair yanked your head up from the floor as you felt the elevator stutter before suddenly descending. You felt fear prickle every nerve as a scream ripped from your throat at the feeling of falling rapidly. Your orgasm didnt stop though as your fearful scream turned into a raspy moan, your cunt twitching around Als cock as he buried himself deep into you. A groan leaving him as he reached his own release, his seed spilling into you as he grinded it in deeper.

With a jolt the elevator stopped its sudden descent as the light fully turned on. The small space fell silent as he released his hold on you. Before he could even pull out his head snapped towards the lattice door.

A very shocked and disgusted Husk stood in front of the elevator door. Angel peaked over with a surprised grin. “Holy shit it reeks of sex. No fuckin’ way you and smiles just banged in the elevator!”

All you could do was groan into the ground.

————————————————————

*Dizzy with a dame: 1920s slang ‘to be deeply in love with a woman’.

[dungeonpuppykai]

Hey sweetheart 😘 I really hope requests are opened and you don't mind me sending in a request 🤗

I thought of something where you and Bucky are close friends with huge feelings for each other but you're both too stubborn to admit. So one time you're having movie night at the compound and you take your spot besides Bucky, enjoying the closeness. As some intimate scene appears, you feel Bucky all tense up and excusing him, so you later find him in his room wondering what's wrong, and finally he admits that he got nasty thoughts about you doing all that to him so he had to leave. You think about his words and before he can back out, you push him on the bed, straddling him, riding him, giving you both the pleasure you held back for too long. Afterwards he's a huge cuddle bear and asks you to be his girl ? 🤗 Hope that's okay with you 🫶🏼

Hello! And yes, requests are open and you certainly can send them in! Yours is definitely okay with me and maybe a bit too okay because it made me stray from my usual hc form 😵‍💫 I really, really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! Happy reading 🩷

| Clueless |

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes | Avenger!Reader. 

Warning(s): Kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex, cowgirl, nipple play, thumb sucking, Bucky's vibranium arm because I am a mental slut, Bucky mildly being the old man that he is, size kink, dirty talk, creampie, fluff. Minors do not interact.

"Bucky?" You call after softly knocking on his door before opening it. Your eyebrows furrow when you don't get a response and so you peek inside to scan the room. 

You're about to turn on your heels and go look someplace else when you notice him on the balcony, back turned to you as he leans on the railing, a bottle in hand. 

"Hey," he doesn't turn his head to look at you when you approach him. The super soldier probably already heard you when you were down the hall. "What happened? You didn't come back." You lean one arm against the balcony confine on the spot besides him, leaning your head to the side and watching him as he takes another swig.

Bucky takes his time swallowing, his heavy Adam's apple bobbing as he keeps his eyes trained on the grounds of the compound. His broad shoulders shrug only when he has gathered his thoughts a bit, legs shifting before he answers. "Just because." Your features scrunch in confusion. 

What?

"Just because… what?" You voice your confusion and he sighs at your cluelessness. When he just shakes his head to himself you roll your eyes with a huff. "What, talk to me! What even happened?" The way he turns to his other side and his vibranium arm barricades you away from him pisses you off as you stomp to the other side. 

Bucky has confusing moments like this sometimes that he eventually gets over but never provides you any explanation for them. 

"Bucky, I can only know if you tell me…" You try though you know it'll be in vain, as usual. "What the hell happened? We were watching a movie and then you said you'd be a second and then half an hour later I realize you're not back and then I find you sipping beer in your room all by yourself like we weren't having movie night!" 

The male sighs and shakes his head again before lowering it and turning once more. "Just so clueless…" When you go to speak again, he spins a 180° and walks back into his room. "But what else can I expect from this generation?" That makes you scoff as you tail him like a vulture, hot on his heels.

"What the hell does that even mean–"

"Language!"

"Oh, my God!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "What has gotten into you lately?! You're becoming more and more like Steve by the passing day!" The mention of the male shifts something in his expression and he half turns his head to look at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "And that means annoying!" The addition seems to ease the tension in his huge shoulders.

Just a bit.  

Something has been going on with him and he refuses to share it with you even though you are the closest with each other out of the entire team.

"You seriously don't know what was wrong? Are you really so clueless?" You rake your memories to recall what he is on about since the movie was quite innocent in that sense except… 

Oh. 

You roll your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. "Well, I am sorry not all of us are conservatives from the '40s, gramps" now it is Bucky's turn to scoff.

"Oh, really?" When you hum and nod with just as much agitation his frustration gets the best of him. "You know what a conservative from the '40s would really do?" 

"Yeah, no. Do enlighten me please!" You know he doesn't appreciate it when you get too sassy with him but what is he going to do about it? 

You are a girl with a mind of your own and no one is going to tell you or give you any shit.

"He would ask the potential lady love out on a nice dinner instead of hanging out with her right in the beginning!" Your eyebrows furrow as he sarcastically emphasizes the words. "I mean, what even is that supposed to be?! It doesn't make any sense!" Bucky clicks his tongue in disdain as one of his hands move in the air to help express his frustration. "There is an order, a code, a way to do these things! Fancy is not supposed to be treated so casually! You kids have ruined the sanctity of the whole idea!" 

"What even are you on about, Bucky?!" You go on cluelessly. "This is absurd! So what, friends can't watch movies together now?! I am sorry that things are less complicated now?!"

"They're not less complicated!" He is beyond annoyed and you can tell. "Not by a long shot! If anything, it's worse! Because now I have to deal with watching a provocative scene while the girl I like is cuddling into me but I can't do anything because we are just friends having a casual hangout and I can't do anything about my hard cock that wants nothing more than to show her that the scene that has her gripping my arm so tight is nothing in comparison to what I can do to her if she just stops being so fucking clueless!"

Bucky's teal blue eyes are wide and he is nearly breathless by the time he finishes his little speech. Your own state is not much different as you blink up at him in shock. It is only when he has recovered a little that he realizes what he has said… or rather, confessed. 

"I-" the super soldier goes to shake his head but then stops before half tilting it to the side, visibly at a loss of words as his ears turn beet red. "Y/n–" 

Your fingers are curling around the neckline of his shirt before you know it, the pull of your hand tugging you towards him instead of doing what you had intended, his heavy body unbudging. 

Bucky's arms hang limply at his sides as he stands against you utterly dumbfounded, barely kissing you back if at all as he tries to decide whether this is another one of his dreams or you, the only girl that has managed to reach into his heart after so long that it honestly feels kind of like the first time, really is kissing him.

What he doesn't know is that you are having difficulty with determining the same thing. 

You pull back when your lungs are on fire and you are heaving for air desperately, fingers still tightly holding onto his shirt in bunches with the fear that he might vanish into the air if you let go. 

Bucky blinks as he sputters out some incoherent nonsense, eyes wide as he watches your face to try and grasp what just happened. "I–" 

You shake your head with a roll of your eyes and a tut. He's insufferable with all that chivalry. You do find it endearing at times but it's moments like these when he's so clueless and formal about it that it gets annoying. 

"Just shut up and kiss me, old man" you whisper as your eyes flicker down to his pink lips and you're on him again. 

This time though, your words seem to have snapped him out of it and his hands shoot up to your sides as he holds you back just as tightly, fingers reaching down for your ass cheeks before he squeezes them hard. You are forced to break the kiss, your face still remaining against his lips as you audibly shudder at the feeling, shivers shooting down your hips and straight to your intimate parts from the delicious ache that it causes. 

Within the next few minutes, you have managed to back Bucky into the bed as he's distracted with touching, feeling and groping as much of you as he possibly can. He lands on the bed with a heavy thud but before any words can be exchanged, you are straddling his thick and muscular thighs. 

Your hands hurriedly snatch his shirt off before you push him down, raising your own arms above your head to let him do the same as you grind into his hard on that feels so thick that some tiny part of your brain cannot help but fear for your pussy. 

"Mmm, solnyshko, you're so fucking pretty" Bucky rasps out the nickname he gave you when you both realized you had reached that stage in your friendship. But now, with his very recent confession fresh in your mind, you see the meaning of the word, 'little sun', that he had told you with an air of awkwardness in a very different light. 

"Look at all this pretty fucking body, solnyshko. I could cum just by looking at it alone." Emotion overcomes your senses and you suddenly feel a bit sensitive. A whimper escapes you as a result and you can't help but clench against his bulge, hands reaching to squeeze his hands that are feeling up your boobs now that he has fished them out of the bra cups. 

"B- Bucky…" He seems to have sensed it already, and so one of his hands trail down to your side to caress it encouragingly. 

"Go ahead, baby" the endearment is just as foreign for you as it is for him. "You're doing so good, keep going for me" you feel a twitch below you and you can't help but parrot the curse that slithers from his lips. 

Though you are on top, Bucky still seems to have the upper hand as he always does. But you have never really minded that with him because he isn't nasty about it and you know he only means well. You have learnt that through various outcomes many times. Besides, not that you'd ever admit it but you do need the extra care and guidance sometimes. 

It is tough to play the all-knowing hero all the time. 

Bucky is your sanctuary to deconstruct and just be yourself after a long day.

You hope you are the same for him as well. 

With newfound confidence that you have his praise to thank for, you whine as your hips start to circle and twist against his stuff bulge, your clothed pussy already pleased because of how needy and desperate it really is. 

Your back arches as you moan out loud when his fingers go to circle around one of your nipples, twisting it between them before his fingernails dig in them while his vibranium hand finds your mouth. "Bucky!" Your face is flushed and cheeks hot as you feel his thumb graze the shape of your lips before pushing inside them. "Mmmm~" your brows furrow when you feel yourself leak some more before clenching around the air again.

Okay.

Grinding isn't gonna cut it. 

You need him inside you. 

You have waited for way too long to rub it out. 

He just has to be all over you… and that includes all the openings to your insides. 

Your lips tightly wrap around his thumb as you suck so hard that the sound of it resonates in the air, pulling a sharp string of whispered curses from Bucky. Letting go of his arms you now claws at his belt until it gives way to your ferocity and you nearly tug the fly off the fabric.

You whine louder than you would ever like to admit when he goes to tug your shorts off and you have to shift away from where you are grinding against him, the rude protective growl you end up letting out causing him to chuckle as he pulls the shorts off your legs with a soft spank to your ass; a signal for you to improve your crazed behavior.  

Bucky has a way of keeping you in your place. 

"Tsk, solnyshko, patience!" His playful words fall on deaf ears as you literally jump back up on his cock, planting two stubborn hands against his shoulders before pushing him down flat against the mattress from his half risen position. 

Your single-mindedness once you zero in on something is a joke amongst the team. And though you deny it with every fiber of your existence, your actions and manic possessiveness over his cock right now is not helping your case. 

"Mine" you whisper as you move back to now rub against him skin to skin, your fingertips tracing over the bumps of his body as your usually bright eyes watch him with a dark hue over them. A hiss leaves Bucky when your warm and soaking pussy drags against his member, causing for his hands to bolt to your ass as he squeezes with all his might to withstand the sensory overload. It is to avoid flipping you over to fuck you into oblivion. 

Because that can come later. Right now is your first time with him and he prefers for you to take things at your pace; ease into whatever this will become. 

"Just like that, solnyshko, good girl" the words cause you to whimper as you raise yourself by propping your body up against your heels, wrapping one hand around his intimidating girth before you slowly pump and spread both your precums along its destructive length. 

Your bottom lip juts out a little at his scary size and you can't help but look up at him with a whimper. It is so easy because he is your safe place and understands every single one of your quirks with no words exchanged. 

Everything makes sense with Bucky.

"It's okay, baby. You can take it, I know you can" he reassures you as he caresses your thighs comfortingly. "Go ahead, I'll take care of you if I have to" you nod gratefully, your usually smart mouth mum. Though when you look down at his rather monstrous cock again, you have to gulp to yourself as you arch your back before moving the thick tip against your entrance, the sensation causing you to hiss almost instantly.

"Hnnng, Bucky!" You feel yourself stretch and widen around his smooth skin, but then you slide down further and the shape of his thick bulging veins grazes against your trembling walls and your thighs quiver, causing your knees to shake. "Oh!" The most vile moan you have ever let out rings in the air as you reach for his shoulders sensitively, wincing and lowering your head against his to let him kiss you everywhere he can reach while your hips lower against his. 

"Fuck, solnyshko, you're so fucking tight for me" his hands fondle your ass and breasts rather bluntly as he peppers kisses all over your face, moving his own hips in sync to yours to help you out because you are clearly struggling with accommodating and handling him. "Good girl" his lips capture yours in a clingy kiss, your mouths nearly sticking to each other's. You break away for enough time for Bucky to let out, "such a good fucking girl for me, baby" before you sink down on his cock again and bite his bottom lip as a result, loudly whining into his mouth. 

The super soldier curses as he twitches inside you, his tip easily reaching the sensitive bundle of nerves that ks hot and eager to be touched. "Fuck, you're so biiiig!" You mewl as your eyes roll to the back of your head, fingers clasping around his shoulders as you find a rhythm and start bouncing, the aid of his hips causing a loud smacking sound to fill the otherwise quiet air. 

You feel your loins tense each time his stiff veins graze your weeping pussy that desperately tries to return to its original state whenever he lifts you almost all the way up and off his cock only to have you sheath it back again from the tip. 

You are trying your best to keep the control to yourself but the truth is, were it not for Bucky's guiding hold on your hips, you would have collapsed from the sensitivity of your core and the size of his impaler long ago. 

"Look at you, solnyshko" the male cooes while panting but doesn't break off the sync of your bodies, one hand now dipping between your legs to let his vibranium thumb rub your clit. The action causes your limbs to spasm as you moan loudly, your back arching while your pussy clenches again. "Lookin' so pretty bouncing on my cock. Almost as if that's all you were made to do" his words make you grunt as you dig your nails into his skin.

Fuck, he is too good. 

Not so chivalrous after all, was he?

"Oh, Bucky!" You have never moaned like this before. "I am gonna–" in control yet so powerless. "I- I am gonna cum!" No one has ever made you feel so good, so dirty, so used and yet so taken care of all at once. "Oh, please!" You have no idea why you are even asking his permission to do so. Before him you had always been the boss of your life. 

But with Bucky, it just feels right. 

Like that is the order of things.

That is just the kind of man that he is. 

"Go ahead, my sweet solnyshko" his other hand slaps your ass and stars appear in your vision. Fuck. You had not expected him to be this dominant. "Fuck yourself dumb on my dick like the cock starved slut that you are" his referral to your crazed greed from some minutes ago makes you blush furiously but before you can protest, his thumb swipes faster and faster against your nub and renders you speechless. 

Your toe curling orgasm os one that leaves you momentarily numb and deaf, the only thing your mind being able to register the overstimulation of your walls as Bucky chases his own orgasm now, basically using you as a cock sleeve as you motionlessly slam up and down his length, the upper half of your body hunched forwards as your cheek rests against his. Your mouth can only let out incoherent murmurs in his ear as you snake your arms around his neck and nibble on the skin of his shoulders until his hot seed explodes through you, filling your cavern up until it overflows and the white liquid trickles down your legs. 

You are eventually moved down and off his cock to which you whine, your hole blinking around air at the loss of contact. That causes Bucky to chuckle as he wraps you up against him in his thick arms and moves your bodies further up the bed until you are resting against the pillows. 

"Don't go~" you softly murmur with a pout when he turns to reach for his bedside drawers. 

The arm that he has around you further tighten in reassurance as he fishes something out. "Aw, baby, don't worry. I am not going anywhere" your pout deepens when he turns towards you and the object comes into view. "Just–"

"Noooo~" you whine as you tighten your arms around his chest and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. "L- Leave it on~" one of his eyebrows raise before a little smirk appears on his face. 

"Oh, solnyshko, you sweet girl" Bucky puts the tissue box away as he moves your hair out of your face before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "Aren't you precious, hm?" As he untucks your flushed face from his neck to look at and caress one of your cheeks lovingly, you blush harder and busy yourself with examining his dog tags to avoid his eyes. "Who would have thought that the baddest avenger would be such a cutie deep down?" You roll your eyes when he playfully quotes what you like to refer to yourself as. "Not wanting to be cleaned so she can remain covered in my cum–"

"Alright, alright. You can stop now" your voice is hoarse due to your vocal exercise from a couple minutes ago. 

"Stop?" Your eyes flutter when his nails comfortingly scratch your scalp before one of his fingers snake through the strands of your disheveled hair. "But I haven't even started with you yet, baby" a snort leaves him when he feels you clench with a whimper at his words.

Your limbs are tangled as you lay relaxing in each other's scents, one of Bucky's thick thighs buried between your legs. 

"Not even started with me yet?!" Your shock makes him snicker. "After all that?!' 

It is safe to say that he has fucked the living daylights out of you.

… And he was not even on top when he did so. 

Bucky shrugs. "Only one way to find out…" His eyes search for yours with hope. 

You finally look up at him with a small smile, your heart thumping as your fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags. "I would love to, Bucky." Before you could shy away, your now boyfriend has captured your lips in his. 

"Oh, and honey?"

"Yes… b- babe?"

"We really have to do something about those sassy little eye rolls of yours."  

I know I made him dominant but it's literally Bucky, how could I not?! 

[buryustogether]

yandere alastor x fem!reader hcs

sfw + nsfw below

i have this idea that, when you were both still human, alastor married you for a marriage of convenience (probably tax purposes). he's not one for love, but he does quite like to make things easier for himself, as well as a bit of reliable companionship from someone he can trust. he found it rather cute that you were head over heels in love with him.

he insists upon keeping you at his side almost 24/7. you accompany him everywhere; to his station while he's broadcasting, about town as he runs his errands, even to his overlord meetings, though you are forced to wait outside. he knows you won't up and disappear; even if you weren't such a good little pet, there isn't anywhere you could run that he couldn't find you.

the other overlords tease alastor about his little 'pet' he keeps on such a tight leash. he doesn't ever object to this title.

gives you dancing lessons and doesn't allow you to rest until you can copy his movements exactly. if you collapse from exhaustion before that, he'll coo and brush your hair out of the way, then haul you to your feet and start again from the beginning.

he won't have you doing much other than keeping your shared home clean and occasionally cooking a meal or two. you're his darling, he can't have you wearing yourself out taking care of him. he'll do most everything - he just wants you to sit there and look pretty for him.

won't allow you to leave the table until you finish the meals he makes for you.

loves to have you hanging on his arm. you're like a precious little trophy for him to show off - only his, and no one else's.

being alastor's beloved companion makes you a prime target for blackmail and kidnappers, but he doesn't want you to fret, dear - he has it covered. his shadows are on your trail in the extremely rare occasion he's not with you, and he's killed demons for less than even looking your way.

doesn't allow any kind of modern technology inside his home or upon your person, even if you died long after him. he considers cellphones to be the property of his enemies, and you wouldn't want him to catch you wearing the symbol of the v's, now, would you?

he picks out your outfits for each day, even has them custom made at the tailor's just for you. he knows best, darling, so don't fight him on this. he doesn't want you going out looking like some common harlot, not when you belong to the radio demon.

often takes out his frustrations of the day on you at night when you're alone in his bedroom. he bites and scratches and thrashes like a beast trapped in a snare, and he relishes in having you wear the marks when he's done.

his favorite position to have you in is plain old missionary; not only is it traditional, but he enjoys having complete control over you while he bucks up into your heat.

like most animal-based demons in hell, he enters a rut once a month and rarely emerges from his quarters; which means you don't, either. at least three times a day, and he only stops to give you rest and to whisper the filthiest things you've ever heard in your ear.

enjoys bondage to an extent, but only on you. he's not opposed to pretty little collars wrapped around your neck, either.

now, when you're in the mood and he's not, he's not totally cruel. while he won't fuck you when and wherever, he'll allow you to straddle his thigh and hump his leg like an animal while he continues whatever work he was doing before.

he may often be brutal, he knows aftercare is extremely important. he can't leave his darling bruised and broken for next time, can he? licks up any blood he may have drawn and ensures you drink when you're done, even if he has to hold your back against his chest and tip your chin up to force the water down your throat. he'll usually run you a bath and, surprisingly, will gently bathe you before dressing you in the finest bedroom silks in hell and putting you to bed.

he doesn't sleep much, but since meeting you, he's replaced many of his nighttime activities with sitting at the side of your bed and watching you sleep.

alastor doesn't love; but he knows he would tear hell apart at the seams if you were ever taken from him.

[atticrissfinch]

I’ve Got My Red Dress on Tonight | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

Part 5 of Meet Me in the Back

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When your Valentine's Day date doesn't show, you decide there's one person who would be happy to see you. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), drug use (marijuana), daddy!kink, fingering (vaginal and....anal!!!), v brief foot fetish, squirting, praise!kink and degradation!kink (use of slut/whore), unprotected PIV, creampie, some ~touching in public, smoking, taking pictures mid-coitus, really nasty gross fluff i'm sorry about it. lemme know if i forgot something i gotta go fast i wanna post word count: ~7.8k jesus christ | ao3a/n: much thanks for the anon who suggested a V Day fic for these two <3 Thank you to my love Iris @papipascalispunk for making sure my commas and em-dashes are where they're supposed to be. ALSO. Chloe, resident sleazy!joel expert, wrote a little drabble inspired by Joel in this fic!! Please check it out after you've read this chapter! The Sighting by ChloeAngelic <3 Divider by @saradika-graphics ❤️ Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

The dress feels ungodly tight, but you had figured it would be worth it. 

It wasn’t. 

In fact, the dress hasn’t seen anything but the inside of your apartment. 

Your hair was done just the way you love it, you pulled out all the stops with your makeup, and you had squeezed yourself into this glittery, red mini dress that makes your tits look stunning, which you bought just for this night. 

You’d been out with Brent twice before, and even though you’d thought it was a little early in your “relationship” for a Valentine’s Day dinner, when he asked to “make it a special night” for you, you agreed. The last thing you wanted was to be alone on this godforsaken holiday. 

Well, at least he’d had the courtesy to give you twenty minutes' notice that he was bailing on you instead of just leaving you waiting on your couch wondering if he would come at all. 

Now you’re just waiting on your couch, wondering what the fuck to do. 

You open your messages on your phone and swipe away from your broken plans. The next thread under it is Joel’s. 

Joel: i swear 2 god i saw one tho

You: you did not see a UFO, Joel 

Joel: yes i did!!! it was way the hell up there flashin its lights!!! saw it clear as day!!!

You: that was most definitely just a normal plane, old man. Turn off Ancient Aliens once in a while. 

Joel: ur gonna be real sorry wen im FAMOUSS for findin the first REAL aliens 👽 🛸 

You: I’m sure I will be

Joel: u can make it up 2 me by flashin me them headlights of urs again 😈

Joel: honk honk 😈

You: Bye 🙄 😒

Joel: 👅

A smile tugs at your lips as you read through the conversation from earlier this evening. You hadn’t told him about the date. Or dates, rather. If this one had gone well, you might have. If things wound up back at your place and actually moved a step toward something. 

You deflate against the back of your couch. Because there’s nothing now. Just you, your suffocating dress, and your stupid heels. The vicious claws of insecurity start to scrape at the back of your neck. 

Brent didn’t want you. You weren’t good enough. You’re not good enough for anyone.

Tears prick at your eyes and you dab them with the side of your finger to keep your mascara intact, following it up with some deep breaths and your head tipping back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull.  

That’s not true, you recite to yourself. You know there’s always someone who’s happy to see you. 

Another deep breath. 

Someone who would be dead on his feet seeing you dressed like this. 

On your next breath you’re already shimmying out of your panties and checking the mirror to make sure no one is getting a free show who doesn’t deserve it. 

You scurry as quickly as you can to your car, shivering so fiercely it feels like your goddamn pussy has goosebumps from being exposed like this. You weather through it, chanting in your head some quote you heard about how hoes never get cold. 

When you get to the gas station, you scamper from your car into the store, shuddering when the heat hits you once you open the door. You tug your dress down and glance around, not immediately seeing Joel anywhere. He’s not at his usual spot, parked behind the counter. You venture further into the shop, peering down the aisle. 

“Evening,” someone says just behind you, and you jump, whirling around. 

It’s not Joel. It’s some other schmuck with a scraggly, graying ginger beard and a crooked, lumpy nose. His smile is friendly enough, but it lacks that trademark sleaziness that typically oozes from the person you’re accustomed to seeing man the store. His name tag reads Walter. 

“Evening,” you squeak out, cringing and clearing your throat when your voice spills out much higher pitched than you expected. You tug on your dress again. 

“Help you with anything?” he asks, and you’re relieved to find his gaze holding steady on yours, not drifting elsewhere despite the swathes of skin on display in your chosen outfit.

Joel wouldn’t even be able to begin to know where to fucking look, your mind provides, and you find yourself trying to come to terms with the apparent fact that… Joel isn’t here. 

He isn’t here – on Valentine’s Day. 

“I’m, um…I’m actually looking for Joel?”

Walter’s eyebrows shoot up, then fall into a furrow. “He been hiring on the clock again? Goddamn it, I told him not to fucking do that anymore,” he mutters, shaking his head down at the floor before looking back up at you. “Miss, I’m real sorry, I know you’re doing honest work and all, but I can’t have that shit here.”

It takes a moment for you to fully register what he’s saying, but when you do, your eyes go wide. “Oh, sir, I’m not— you’ve got— no, no. I’m just a friend of Joel’s.”

“I'm sure you are, Miss, but I—”

“I’m not a prostitute,” you insist under your breath, glancing around to ensure no one is in the vicinity. “I swear to god, I just had a date tonight, or I was going on a date, and then I wasn’t, and— I swear, I’m just dressed for a date. A normal date.”

You’re not sure your frantic insistence has Walter very reassured, but he just nods, a skeptical look in his eye. “Well, in any case, he’s not here. He’s got the night off.”

“Got it. Okay, thank you,” you say, wincing a little at the palpable awkwardness. You rush past him to leave, your heels clicking loudly, and apparently, whorishly, across the floor. 

“Stay safe out there, honey,” Walter calls after you. 

Your car is blessedly still harboring warmth as you clamor back inside and start the engine. You catch your breath and mull over what to do next. 

He wasn’t there. On Valentine’s Day. You feel like that can only mean one thing. Something squiggles and squirms in your belly at that thought. 

You have one more shot, and you take it, speeding off toward the outskirts, hoping you can go fast enough to drown out the weird feeling in your stomach. 

—

His truck is there. And it’s alone in the gravel next to his trailer. 

You see light through his weeping blinds, a warm yellow glow accompanied by periodically flickering colors that you assume is his television. A good sign, you think. 

The wind whips around your bare legs as you climb his steps carefully in your stilettos, staring up to admire the waxing gibbous moon shining absurdly bright against the speckled black sky. You lean against the dilapidated railing of his tiny porch in front of his door. The sky is never this bright where you live. It fills you with a sort of warmth. Comfort. You hear the distorted sound of voices on his television and the faint aroma of weed seeping out the frame of his door. 

You don’t hear anyone else. 

So you knock. 

You hear a nasty cough from the other side of the door and the volume of the TV ticking down. The door swings open and you’re hit in the face two-fold—with a wall of smoke and a wall of bare-chested man. 

Joel blinks and squints reddened eyes as he blocks the entire doorway, billows of haze attempting to escape around him to the fresh air. Then recognition glows in his eyes and his gaze drifts. Up and down. And his jaw goddamn drops. 

Your arms clasp at your back as you rock on your teetering heels. 

“Hi.”

Joel crams his eyes shut again, shaking his head like a dog like he’s trying to clear a fog over his vision. But he opens them again, and you’re still standing there, and he expels a long, narrow breath through his lips. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. This is heaven, right? Or— jesus— fuckin’…hell, in that devil of a dress,” he shakes his head again, slower, more like disbelief, and a smile pushes at your mouth. “You just showin’ up on my doorstep? Dressed like that? I must be fuckin’ dead.”

You temper your broadening grin, reining in your utter delight at receiving exactly the reaction you were craving. “So, you’re saying me, weed, and…” you crane your head to peek at his television, “And SVU is your idea of heaven?”

“Damn near fuckin’ close,” he says, a reverence about his tone as he drinks you in gratuitously. He pulls himself out of his stupor and hurriedly gestures inside. “Jesus, sweetheart, come in. Gotta be freezin’ your gorgeous tits off out there.”

His hand falls to the small of your back as he ushers you inside, the sweet tang of his evening stress relief burning stronger in your nostrils in his living room. 

Joel shuts the door behind you both and lets out a sharp whistle. “Sweet Mary Mother’a God. That fuckin’ ass,” he mutters under his breath. 

You peer your head around your shoulder to take in the sight of him, just as he does you. One hand frozen against the door, soft belly poking out over the hem of his sweatpants, dark hair sweeping over the curve of it and up his chest. And, of course, that fucking tent at his crotch, growing larger by the second. 

“Be still my fuckin’ heart – the hell are you doin’ here in that, darlin’ girl?”

Your cheeks begin to heat. 

He’s never said it like that. Darlin’ girl. It’s usually some iteration of one or the other, but never together. 

Darlin’ girl. 

You fill in a blank for yourself — unintentionally, but so fucking naturally. 

My darlin’ girl. 

Where your stomach was squirming, it now flutters. You swallow it down. Pull your mind back. You just want to feel wanted. That’s why you’re here. 

Then he’s at your back, pressing all of him against you. The softness of his torso, the scratch of his facial hair, the hardness of his cock. Planting feathery kisses along your neck with teasing bites. 

A giggle bubbles up your chest and you free up more of your neck for him to devour. “I’m here to see the stupid aliens, you dumbass.”

His lips pause on your neck. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles against your skin. 

“Yeah,” you laugh lightly, “Where’s your flying saucer? Your flashing lights?”

Joel’s hands sweep up your sides and cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them tight in his grip. “Right fuckin’ here, baby,” he growls into the underside of your jaw, “Let me turn ‘em on for ya.”

You throw your head back with another easy laugh and you feel the shape of his smile against your cheek as he massages your covered tits. 

“Mmmm,” he hums, rocking his hips against your ass, his massive length nestling and sliding between your cheeks over your dress. “Come smoke a bowl with me. ‘N then tell me why you’re dressed like living sin in my living room.” 

“How about you just fuck me,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into Joel’s hair and holding his lips to your neck. 

“‘Cause I wanna stare at you in this dress a little while longer ‘fore I rip it to fuckin’ shreds,” he says, his words increasingly muffled by the exposed skin of your spaghetti-strapped shoulder. 

A shiver trembles down your spine and you take a steadying breath. “Okay. Then you better detach before all that shit goes out the window.”

Joel takes a deep breath and rolls his forehead over your shoulder with a moan. “Smart. You’re so goddamn smart. So goddamn pretty. Got my Peter pipin’ up a storm down there.”  

You roll your eyes and will yourself forward, toppling onto his sagging couch with him trailing along behind and groaning as he sinks into it. 

Your hands go to the straps on your heels and you begin to unfasten when you hear a definitive nuh-uh. You glance up and Joel’s eyes are fixated on your blood-red satin heels. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Really?”

“Really. Those naughty fuckers stay on,” he orders, and you have no choice but to let your hands fall away. 

“Okay, then.”

Joel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly. “Shit. Alright. Where the fuck was I?”

Joel busies his hands – his focus – with topping off the contents in the bowl of his bong. He graciously offers it to you. 

“Light it for me?”

Joel smirks and flicks his lighter as he holds the glass contraption steady. 

Once you’ve taken a healthy puff, Joel sets the devices aside and crooks a finger under your chin, coaxing you forward. The burn curls in your throat as you hold the smoke. Joel’s nose traces a delicate line down your cheek before hovering his parted lips over your mouth and tracing his thumb over your painted red lip, smearing the color down your chin. 

“Let it out,” he mutters, his heavy, rosey stare shimmering into yours. 

The smoke cascades from between your lips into Joel’s waiting mouth where he inhales it with practiced ease, holding it for a moment before exhaling the remnants of it over your face with a lazy smile. 

“So fuckin’ sweet spillin’ outta that mouth, little Sugarplum,” he croons, continuing to futz with the color on your lips. 

You wrinkle your nose at him and laugh. “Dude, you’re so fucking high right now, my asshole would probably taste sweet.”

“It does,” Joel drawls, rolling your bottom lip down and watching it snap back up. “I got first-hand ‘xperience. Or…first…mouth…” Joel’s train of thought floats off from there as his eyes transfix on your lips. 

“Another hit, please.”

That refocuses his attention and he nods, a little sluggish. You take the reins this time, lighting the bowl yourself and savoring your pull. 

As you exhale again into the thick air of his trailer, Joel takes another, more modest puff to maintain his already achieved high. 

“Shit, I needed this,” you groan, feeling more and more boneless as you melt into his couch. “That’s good shit.”

“I don’t skimp on what’s important,” Joel mumbles, slumping over until his curly mop plops into your lap. 

You chuckle at him, stroking a hand through his hair and receiving a very pornographic moan in response when your nails scratch against his scalp. 

“Fuckin’ Christ. You’re my fuckin’ angel. Angel in devil’s clothes.”

Cleverness begins to fail you as the cozy tendrils of the weed start to lighten your brain into something a little more relaxed. So you just sink into the couch, playing with his soft locks and humming to his lethargic babble. 

When you’ve waded through the deepest of the haze, Joel sits back up, cradling his cheek in the crook of his arm as it balances on the back of his sofa. “So what are you doin’ here, Sugarplum? You get all dressed up for me? ‘Cause I somehow doubt that.”

You smirk at him in what you hope is playfully, but lands somewhere closer to dopey. “Why do you doubt that?”

He just fixes you with a telling look, and you concede. 

“Okay. No, I um– I had a date tonight.”

Joel nods, a little exaggeratedly in his current state. “Pretty little thing had a date. ‘Course she did.”

“Well, I did,” you say, pulling your legs up onto the couch and folding them to your side, maintaining what seems like a silly level of modesty given your present company. “Until he canceled on me about twenty minutes before he was supposed to pick me up.”

The divots between his brows seem to grow impossibly deep at that. “You gotta be goddamn jokin’ me. No fucker in his right mind would stand up a thing like you.”

You dip your head down, picking at the fraying threads of his couch cushion. “Not so sure about that.”

“I am. I’m damn sure.”

You shrug, “I just didn’t want the dress to go to waste.”

“Sure as hell didn’t.”

You hum in response. Picking. Tugging. Picking. Tugging. Until you feel fingers pinching your chin and guiding your attention up. And his eyes are still watery, still tinged with red, but are so unwavering as they burrow into your own, brimming with wetness for a wholly different reason. 

“Hey,” he utters, soft as anything, soft as his hair, soft as his belly, soft as his eyes. “It sure as hell didn’t,” he repeats, and waits for you to acknowledge it. 

And you do, with a small nod and sniffle. 

“Good girl.”

Your lip quivers at that, and the words tumble out. “Fuck me. Right now.”

Your back hits the seat cushions and his mouth is on yours, tasting sweet and a little bitter as his tongue strokes between your teeth. His noises pitch upward as you tug lightly at his hair, and his knee situates itself between your legs, providing you with delicious friction against your already dripping core. 

Joel’s breath wafts hot over your ear as he rasps, “You take your panties off for him or for me?”

“For you,” you reply breathily, moaning as he nips and licks at your ear, his increased breath reverberating in your head so loud it makes your pussy throb with the influx of intimacy. 

“All for me?” he asks, maneuvering a hand down to where you’re wet and begging for him, “Goin’ commando in this tight ‘n tiny little number, riskin’ givin’ anyone on the street a flash of your drippy little slit?”

Your moan bounces off the walls when he slips two fingers inside of you, pumping and curling them with a rehearsed accuracy that has pleasure fraying your edges as soon as he sets his pace. 

“And you brought it here to me? Brought me this sexy, heart-shaped box of yours all wrapped up in a pretty package?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, wrapping a heel-clad foot around his waist to spread yourself open for him, “Brought it for you. All for you. Please.”

“You gonna come for me, you naughty little angel? Come on daddy’s fingers.”

You whimper as he strokes at you with those fingers, his other hand descending on your clit to rub circles with his thumb. Your hips buck into his hand on your clit and down onto his fingers pistoning inside you, and you feel yourself coming apart all at once, your voice breaking as you call out for him. 

Joel showers you in praise as he fucks you through your release, resting his forehead on your temple. “Good fuckin’ girl. All that for daddy. Good girl. Squeeze daddy’s fingers, just like that, baby. Fuckin’ shit. So fuckin’ pretty.”

A whine kicks up in your throat as the overstimulation starts to throb in your clit, and you bump at his hand to stem the sensation. Joel’s fingers web through yours as he pins your hand above your head on the arm of the sofa, his two fingers slowing to a methodical crawl within your pussy. 

“Love how you feel around my fuckin’ fingers, sweetheart. Love seein’ how tight you clench around ‘em, knowin’ I’m about to stretch you wide open on my cock and feel you just as tight.”

“Fucking love your cock, daddy,” you keen as your hips undulate in time with his continued ministrations inside you. “Wanna be filled with it right now.”

“You want daddy’s cock now?” he teases, the tips of his two fingers dragging delightfully against the most enticing spot of your inner walls, drawing a tender gasp from your lips. 

“I really, really do,” you whimper, grinding onto his hand harder, “Need you to split me open, daddy.”

“Can I get a ‘please’ all pretty-like for me?”

You whine again and nod. “Please, daddy. Fill me with your cock.”

“You deserve it, don’t you, sexy girl?”

And the way he asks it, the way his eyes bore into yours when he does, you feel like he’s asking you to admit to more than you’d otherwise be willing to offer yourself. 

Tell yourself that you deserve good things. You deserve this pleasure. 

“I—” your breath hitches as his fingers crook inside you again, your nerve faltering at your lips. 

Joel’s lips part as he keeps drawing your pleasure tighter again, and you feel your core building that pressure again. “Tell me. Tell daddy you deserve his cock.”

“I— I deserve it,” you force out through the mounting pleasure in your brain, gasping when his fingers pick up momentum. “Oh, god, that…it feels…”

“Yeah, pretty girl? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for daddy, I can feel it too. You deserve this, baby,” he coos, releasing your trapped hand to press firmly above your pulsing cunt. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet for me. Show me how wet you are for daddy, make your little hole gush for me.”

“Daddy, I…oh,” you squeak out as a wave of pleasure washes over you, pulsing out your limbs. And more than that, you feel a steady stream of liquid flow out of you, you hear the wet slap of Joel’s fingers, his palm, as it floods his hand. 

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s it, darlin’ girl. Soak my fuckin’ hand. Such a naughty little bitch. Squirtin’ out your filthy little snatch for daddy. That’s fuckin’ right,” he babbles as his palm smacks lewdly up against your cunt with a fresh wave of wetness. 

Your hips jolt with the heightened sensation, and you can’t muster anything more than barely audible moans as Joel fucks you until you have nothing left for him to coax out. 

“Fuckin’ shit, sweetheart. Messy fuckin’ girl,” he grunts as he wipes his dripping hand on his sweats before tucking both behind your knees and spreading your legs to admire your drenched, finger-fucked cunt. “So juicy for daddy, huh? Daddy’s gonna slide his big straw into that sloppy little juice box of yours. And when I’m done you can suck on his big straw like a good little girl. How’s that sound, sweetheart?”

“Can you please just fuck me?” you beg, slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders to push your dress and strapless bra below your tits. Joel stares hungrily as you play with them for him. 

“Fuck me. Yeah, your little box is ready to get stuffed, ain’t it?” he moans, tilting his head to the side to kiss up your calf and up to your ankle, still encased in your shoe. His teeth bite at the strap and buckle, skimming his lips wetly down the curve of your foot to the arch of it and sucking at the side of it he’s able to reach. 

“Joel,” you whine helplessly, desperately as your pussy screams for that bulge in his pants to bury itself inside your body instead. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“Worshippin’ my slutty little goddess. You blessed me with this little dress, this tasty little puss, so I’m gonna show my appreciation,” he mutters into your foot. 

And it shouldn’t feel good, but you’ve never had anyone put their lips on your feet before, and you’re so fucking horny for this man, you let yourself feel it. Your other heel drapes over his shoulder as his mouth drags over the slope of your foot and back up your ankle. 

“Such a pretty outfit, so I’ve decided not to tear it apart. Nasty little whore, you made it easy to access whatever I want anyway,” he chuckles a bit, gliding his teeth up until he can bite at the skin under your knee. 

You groan and press your head into the couch cushion, “Not the first person to accuse me of being a hooker tonight.”

Joel pauses for a second with a suspicious look. “Who was the first? Better not’ve been that shitty fucker who stood you up, or I’ll deck his lights out,” he says with a gentle aggression that has a rolling heat burgeoning in your stomach for a reason you can’t quite place.

“No, it was that old guy at your work tonight.”

Joel cocks his head. “Walter? Walter said you were a hooker?”

“I said I was looking for you and he just…assumed, I think. You hire hookers on the clock? ‘Cause he seems to think so.”

“Only a handful of times,” he mutters, his eyes going shifty, uneasy, almost…embarrassed. “I don’t wanna talk about that. Not with your slutty little hole winkin’ at me like that.”

“Fair enough,” you dismiss, tapping your heel against Joel’s back to spark his attention. “Stop making me fucking wait for what I came for.”

“Already came twice,” Joel says under his breath, but he uses the hand not gripping the back of your knee to work his cock out of its confines, springing out angry and red and as intimidating as ever. He leaves it bobbing free as he takes up his hands behind both of your knees to spread you wider. “Guide it where you want it, pretty girl. He’s all yours.”

You bite your lip at those words. He’s all yours. Your hand wraps around his girth before you let your mind race too far. You stroke him softly and revel in the way his chin droops down to his chest and a groan rumbles in his throat at the first real stimulation of his cock. 

“Let me feel that red velvet pussy, baby.”

You finally notch the fat head of him at your entrance and wiggle your hips down the couch, gasping as it parts your opening with a dull sting. When you capture Joel’s gaze, you beg softly, “Fuck it, daddy. She’s all yours.”

His face caves into an expression so aroused it almost looks painful. And then he’s groaning to fill the hush of the room and spearing into your cunt with every inch of him at once. 

You’ll never get used to the sounds that he pushes out of you when he fucks you full, when he enters you for the first time and smacks you in the face with how gigantic he is in comparison to the tight ring of your pussy. Like a wounded animal, like prey falling to a predator, like you’re irreversibly changed once he’s claimed you for his own. 

His rhythm sets off harsh and frantic and consuming, keeping your legs spread to feast his eyes upon your ravaged flesh. 

“Fuck, so goddamn perfect. Feel so perfect around my cock. Milkin’ daddy just right with this tight little hole, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, tweaking your hardened nipples between your fingers and massaging at your tits as his hips smack against yours, the drenched state of your pussy enhancing the sound. 

Joel secures your legs over his shoulders and leans in over you, bracketing your head with his hands and snapping his hips into you as you cry out with the change in angle, pulling him deeper inside you. 

“Yeah, daddy’s so fuckin’ deep, huh? You love this fuckin’ cock? You love daddy fuckin’ this dirty snatch so fuckin’ deep?”

“Yes,” you keen, flinging your hands back to dig your nails into the arm of his couch and using it as leverage to fuck yourself down onto his length as he shoves it in, falling into a blissful harmony. 

“Fuck daddy’s cock, slutty girl. God, I fuckin’ love that. Suckin’ it right up your cunt like a pro. Pussy’s so tight I got it molded to my cock now, don’t I? Ain’t gonna fit right with no other cock, is it?”

“No, daddy,” you whine, plunging yourself down onto him again and again just to feel the tip of it dragging along your cervix in that way you have come to fucking crave. Joel’s cock fucks you open and curves up into that perfect spot inside of you in the most flawless rhythm, and it has you spiraling into another orgasm with no discernible warning. You pussy clenches and spills around his cock, soaking the both of you with what Joel had already primed you for with his fingers. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Joel moans as he lets his cock slip out of you to watch you gush onto his thoroughly soiled couch. He fucks back into you in a single push and withdraws again, just to see more of it rush out. Joel fists his cock and slaps it down onto your spread folds in a series of heavy smacks, then rubs the head of it against your clit as the rivulets cascading from you subside. “Gushin’ like a fuckin’ jacuzzi. Where you been hidin’ this little party trick?”

“I don’t fucking know,” you pant out, trying to get a grip on your shaking thighs as Joel’s cock slides through your folds. “Fuck. I didn’t know…”

“Well if anyone was gonna teach you, it would be your big dick daddy, now wouldn’t it?” Joel brags, smacking the full length of him against your lips and lower belly. 

You twitch with residual aftershocks as the weight of him jostles you, and Joel chuckles. 

“You’re shaking like a leaf darlin’,” he says, tapping one of your quivering thighs. “Flip over for me. Daddy’s gonna dick you down real good.”

“Gonna?” you squeak out, staring at him incredulously, “What have you been doing so far?”

Joel presses his lips together to stifle a laugh and smacks at your thigh again. “Ego’s already big enough, darlin’. Don’t go pumpin’ it up for me now.”

“Can say that again,” you mutter with a small smile, but flip over until you’re flat on your stomach and resting your head in your arms. “Big dick, bigger ego.”

Joel grunts behind you as he settles on top of you, slipping his arm under and around your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. He grinds his cock into the cleft of your ass before pulling back and aligning it at your entrance again with his hand. He hums in your ear and says with laughter in his voice, “Imagine if it was my ego I was shovin’ into this tiny cunt. You’d be fucked.”

Your reply is replaced with a gasping moan as he presses back into you at a different angle, this one rubbing intensely along the front wall of your pussy. The groan you release is embarrassing, abhorrent to your own ears, but Joel’s answering moan has all concern fluttering from your conscience. 

“How’re you still so fuckin’ tight after I’ve fucked you open so many times, huh, Sugarplum?” he asks, voice clearly forced out through his teeth, like he’s fighting for his life not to spill his load inside of you in the next few seconds. But he bottoms out and fucks you slow, staying balls deep and making a home for himself there in the deepest part of you. “Jesus, need to dust off the ol’ cock ring. Wanna fuck you for hours, baby. Fuck you raw and stupid on this dick. Fuck you ‘til you fall asleep on it, you’re so goddamn tired. Fuck you ‘til you forget what it feels like to not be stuffed full of me.”

“Daddy,” you whimper into your arms, already overwhelmed by the sheer heft of this man making room for himself inside your body, not even giving your pussy an ounce of space to relax that isn’t around him, isn’t on his terms. “Feels so fucking good inside. So fucking big.”

“I know it, sweetheart. So good at takin’ this cock. That first time I thought you was gonna pass out on it. And look at you now – shakin’ and beggin’ for it like a bitch. You daddy’s bitch, nasty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine as Joel starts to slam his hips harder, faster into you, “Yes, I’m your bitch, daddy!” And you’re suddenly screaming it for him as his fingers dig into the back of your shoulder, holding you steady as he uses you. 

“Fuck yeah,” he growls out, hoisting himself off you and hauling your hips into the air along with him. He fucks down deep into you as you moan into the couch, allowing him to take what he’s rightfully earned from you, simply by appreciating you, knowing how to make you scream, knowing how to make you come. 

And you’re fairly dizzy with the experience, but you aren’t far gone enough to not feel the slippery thumb massaging circles against the tight ring of muscle he’s only ever explored before with his tongue. 

A mewl escapes your lips as the tip of the digit teases your resolve. 

“You gonna be my little slut, baby? Let daddy put his thumb in your ass. It’s real good for ya. It’ll be real good,” he speaks in breathy pants as his cock maintains its devastating tempo. 

You let out a pitiful whimper, and you’re only partially surprised that the only answer in your head is yes, yes, yes. 

It’s apparently also on your lips, because without even registering that you’ve said it aloud, Joel is rumbling out a deep and resonant, “That’s my darlin’ girl.” You swear you feel your eyes roll back in your head as the possessive praise inextricably clings itself to the sensation of his thick, meaty thumb gliding into your asshole up to the knuckle. 

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this good having his cock filling you to the brim and then even more of him filling your ass. You’ve never liked anal, you’ve never even been interested in it, but this fucking tornado of a man has everything spinning in your head, disorienting your thoughts, screaming at you that what you thought was wrong is so, so right. 

“Lemme get a picture of this, sweetheart – of you all plugged up with me.”

“Okay,” you gasp, constricting your grip around his thumb as if needing to hammer into your head that there’s a finger in your ass. A thick finger. He can probably feel his own cock through the separating skin. 

Joel groans as you flex around his finger. “Spread yourself for the camera, baby.”

Your hands move to your cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to feel shame for this. Not for shit like this, with him. Not anymore. He makes you feel dirty and sexy and beautiful and worth his time. Why the hell wouldn’t you want to document this?

“Fuckin’ hell. Just like that.” You hear a series of shutters, and then his thumb slides out of you and he uses it to pull at the small established gape he’s made of your asshole. A few more shutters and Joel is muttering perfect, fuckin’ perfect, as he tosses his phone aside.

The words flow through you like hot honey tea, even if you weren’t meant to hear them. How does a man like him make you feel so treasured when you’re with him? You don’t belong to him, but he treats you like you do, in the most respectful of ways. He drags you down with him into the depths of his depravity, and yet once you’re there, you’re pleasured like… like a goddess. Like his goddess. 

Joel’s hips ramp up again, timing his thrusts with that of his thumb as he fucks you in both holes at once. “God, so fuckin’ beautiful like this. Wanna stretch this hole open until you can take this whole cock up your ass, baby. Spill my load in there, watch it drip down your cunt.”

And you had said unequivocally no. You had said, not tabling. Off the table. But, god, deep down you know he’d make it feel so good. Somehow, he’d make it worth it. And it’s fucking killing you. You can’t admit that to him, you can’t let him know that you’re convinced he could make anything feel good. That’s too close to something. And this isn’t something. This is I make you feel good, you make me feel good, and we go our separate ways. 

So you just moan for him in response. A verbal confirmation is too much. Giving him too much power over you. And Joel seems too lost in the clutch of your body to parse the difference. 

“Velvet fuckin’ pussy, darlin’,” he chants to the rhythm of his hips colliding with yours, and you’ve come to recognize the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. His sounds start to fluctuate in pitch, his hips more stuttered in their movement, his fingernails indent your skin as he frantically clings to the final moments of euphoric crescendo before the cymbal crash. 

And crash it does, announced with an unabashed groan of sheer pleasure as he spills himself inside of you again, so many times now you’ve lost count, lost sense of the level of responsibility in your actions. Too feral, too dependent on the soothing, post-fuck tranquility of his come dripping from the deepest part of you. A balm to your stretched, aching wound that he caused, because you asked him to — keep asking him to — again and again. A reminder of where he’s been, what he’s done to you, what he’s done with you in all these private moments. 

He slips himself free, and you feel the trickle of him, evidence of how much he’s pumped into you. Leaving you open and gaping, yet so fucking full of him, even after he’s gone. Pulled out and dripped free of your heat and hold. 

Lazy kisses paint up your back where your dress has ridden up your spine, and then back down to bite more reminders of him into the flesh of your ass, until he guides your hips flush to the couch and blankets you with his weight. 

Minutes of quiet breath-catching tick by, feeling the scratch of his hair where your bare skin meets along your bodies, until Joel breaks the silence to say, “Stupid bastard was out of his fuckin’ mind.”

And you’re not positive why, but you feel tears stinging your eyes again. You steel yourself, refuse to let them fall, force them to dry out before they betray you. 

You clear your throat of any traitorous frogs before you speak again. “Sorry about your couch.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout,” he reassures, grunting quietly as he shifts himself off you and slips behind instead, pulling you into him, “Plus, Doreen’s got one of them special little steam cleaners she lets me borrow from time to time. Get it cleaned up real nice.”

“Doreen?”

“Little old lady ‘cross the way,” he says into your hair. 

You do your best to turn slightly and look at him. “You’re friends with the little old lady across the way?”

“You doubt my charm?”

Your eyes search his face — the wide, dopey smile, the drooping eyelids, the dwindling glassy rose in his eyes from the weed — and you smile back. 

“Maybe. Feel like you would be a kind old lady’s worst nightmare.”

“Nah, I’m a good boy. Just ask my mama,” he quips. 

“Sure,” you joke, positioning yourself back into a proper little spoon. 

You feel a kiss on the back of your head. “Gonna step out for some fresh air and a smoke. Keep me company?”

You grumble as Joel props himself upright on the couch and pulls his sweats back up. “‘S’cold outside,” you groan, watching him as he stands and slips on a shirt from where it was strewn onto the back of a chair. 

Joel studies you where you lie, your dress a flimsy accordion with the top and bottom convening at your torso, leaving Joel’s favorite bits on display. And as much as you assume it probably pains him to have your body hidden from his view, he says, “You can wear my coat.”

Your eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Joel masks a grin and grabs the coat off the peg by the door, throwing it to you. You know this coat. You’ve worn it before. And although you don’t want to give yourself away by inhaling its scent too gratuitously, you don’t capture any hints of your perfume on the fabric in your covert sniffs. It’s been too long. 

You push yourself onto only moderately shaky legs and work yourself back into your dress properly before slipping your arms through the coat and zipping it around you. You feel a bit like a giant marshmallow in the padded utility jacket, but when you look back up at Joel, there’s a shimmer of something in his eyes, on his face. And something like a twitch in his mouth, like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Joel hold his tongue over anything, so it’s likely just a trick of the light, the lingering effects of your high. 

Joel’s eyes only tear from you to swipe up his smokes and lighter from the coffee table and step into a pair of slides before he’s leading you out the door. 

The cold is bitter, but Joel’s coat is warm enough. Your legs prick with the chill breeze as Joel sticks two cigarettes into his mouth and lights them both, handing one off to you. You rest on the railing with him side by side, taking reasonably synchronous puffs as you stare up at the moon, the stars. 

A couple screams at each other a few lots down, their voices only muted by the distance and the persistent, humming buzz of Joel’s porch light. 

“Right on cue,” Joel mumbles around his cig as he scratches his beard. “Kev can’t keep it in his fuckin’ pants for the life of ‘im.”

“Mmm. Sounds like someone I know.”

Joel’s sidelong glance is sprinkled with a sort of childlike mischievousness as the corners of his mouth lilt. “Maybe so. But I wouldn’t step out on my girl, though.”

His lingering gaze has the back of your neck growing hot. You hum in agreement as you take another drag, tapping the ash with fingers half-obscured by the length of Joel’s sleeves and watching as it falls to the gravel below. 

Joel flicks the ash of his own smoke against the railing to plop down next to yours, and exhales a cloud as he stares off in the direction of the feuding couple’s trailer. “When I got a girl, that’s all I need. And it’s been a rare blue moon that my girl ever went and got it somewhere else.”

He takes in a steady, clean breath and shrugs with his head before continuing. “And whenever they did, they came crawlin’ right back. Always come to find that their daddy lays the best pipe. Ain’t never seen one of my girls spread ‘em open for no one else after they stepped out the first time. Not ‘til after it was over.” 

Your focus catches on his lips as they wrap around his cigarette again, the barest concave of his cheeks as he sucks, the pout of him as he expels into the night air. And you ache to say something. You feel heavy with it. 

The opening chords of a melodic ballad fall upon your ears, and you both swivel your heads in the opposite direction of the screaming pair. Instead, you’re graced with a couple coming together in an embrace, slowly rocking to the music floating from their porch. 

A soft laugh escapes you as you watch them wistfully. “Now that is how a Valentine’s Day is supposed to end.”

Joel glances at you. He takes one last drag from his smoke and tamps it out on the wood before dropping it into a chipped mug on the railing, housing a dozen cigarette butts. He holds a hand out to you and tilts his head toward the pavement. 

You stare at his outstretched hand, and your mind trips over itself to unravel the intent behind it. “What are—”

“Dance with me.”

Your eyes snap up to his, and you’re met with an easy smile on a disheveled, glassy-eyed, gorgeous man. Braving the cold in sweats, a wrinkly and hole-riddled Henley, and slides on tube-socked feet. Asking you to dance while clad in his coat and your stilettos. 

You chew on your lip as you watch his fingers wiggle impatiently as your cigarette butt kisses Joel’s in the mug when you discard it. And then as your hand slides into his. 

“Atta girl,” he praises you softly, tugging you down the steps with him and onto the pavement. 

Joel isn’t fancy with it. He just pulls you close into him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you drape your head on his shoulder.  He sways the two of you from side to side following the beat of the music. Your heels scrape the asphalt, your nails scratch the back of his neck, and his hands dip below the hem of his coat to tease at the round of your ass over your dress. 

“Sure I ain’t said it enough, but you’re a goddamn knockout tonight,” he rumbles quietly into your ear, his fingers groping at the bottom curve of your cheeks to emphasize his point. 

And after your date flaked on you, after you got dolled up for him, got your hopes up for a nice night, and had your plans disintegrate between your fingers, just for Joel to swoop in and illuminate your sky with stars, those words spear right through your heart. 

And you know you should say something traditionally sweet back. Something like thank you or you too. But as those softer words rattle around your brain, you feel wetness trickling down your inner thigh, and you opt to whisper something more personalized. Something you know Joel would find sweetest of all to fall from your lips. “I can feel you dripping out of me.”

A groan vibrates up his chest and one hand slips between your bodies until you feel the cool press of his fingers at your cunt. 

“Fuck me, darlin’,” he breathes, bringing up two thick fingers for you to see, glistening opalescent in the moonlight. 

He doesn’t ask, you just drop your jaw and stick your tongue out for him, sucking your shared juices off his skin as your eyes lock. He pulls them free and replaces them with his mouth, tasting the two of you off your tongue. Joel’s hand nestles under your dress once more to cup your pussy. Not to slide inside, not to get you off. Just to hold you as close as he knows how. To catch where the two of you fall. 

He nuzzles your nose with his and tucks your face into his neck with his other hand as he sways with you. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sugarplum.” 

You sigh into his neck and lay your hand over his beneath your dress. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, daddy.”

Next

Read Chloe's Account of Joel's UFO sighting here!

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[torasplanet]

❝𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙎𝙇𝙐𝙏.ᐟ❞

BONTEN + BIMBO!F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you didn't plan on showing your new tattoo to save your ass but this wouldn't have happened in the first place if you weren't being such a stupid slut in the club!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, gangbang/groupsex, rough sex, sloppy sex, degradation, praise sorta, p in v, oral (reader giving), handjobs, anal, like a lot of sex, voyeurism, belly-bulging, reverse cowgirl, dumbification, humiliation, recording, jealousy sex, reader wears makeup, petnames (baby, dollface, princess, etc), UNEDITED and skin color not mentioned

It wasn’t your fault. You just wanted to have fun at the club for once because finally, none of the Bonten members were looming over your shoulder like a hawk because they had ‘different’ business to attend to, well that’s what they told you. Still, you knew that just meant they were going to kill someone or something like that. It’s not exactly ‘okay’ to do that but you were kind of glad it was happening because usually, they didn’t even let you have more than three shots at the club; Haruchiyo sometimes snuck you one more or let you get a bit of his coke but that’s it and you weren’t able to actually go clubbing. Regardless of what you took, you still had to sit next to them wherever they went and by the slight chance that they’d allow you to, someone would go with you.

They were so protective that it was annoying. Couldn’t even talk to the bartender without Koko or Takeomi coming behind you draping their arm somewhere on your body and asking what you were doing. So of course you weren’t paying attention to shit when you were finally left alone.

As you danced with your friend, running your hands all over your body and smoothing down the fabric of your short dress to the rhythm of the music. Your tongue hanging out and everything with your eyes closed; you were lost in the moment. So lost that you didn’t realize your friend was no longer behind you and instead, there was a guy. And yes, you will admit that maybe you should have noticed this or at least looked back at your friend but it’s still not entirely your fault! If you leave your cat in front of a open door, they’re gonna leave without a second though so what did they expect you to do?

But when you heard your name getting called and saw Mikey and Rindou glaring at you hatefully, you realized that there’s a reason why cats are supposed to be kept inside. Well, you didn’t realize that immediately because at first, you just didn’t understand why they were all ignoring you. After all, they weren’t explaining anything…you hated it when they did that. They knew you weren’t the brightest so you spent practically the entire walk to the car, and when you got in the car, begging Mikey just to explain to you but he stayed silent. Barely spared you a glance and everyone else did the same.

You sat on Mikey’s side staring at him with a frown on your face just wanting him to pay you some attention and tell you what you did wrong. “Mikey, please…’m just confused.” You whined grabbing hold of his arm. You’d been begging the entire time and he hadn’t even said anything to you, only pushing you away. Hell, you even took off your heels to run after him and the rest of the guys on your way out of the club because they were ignoring you purposefully and walking fast as hell. Probably by the orders of Mikey.

Ran sighed and ran his nimble fingers through the multi-colored strands of his hair “Shut the hell up, god.” He said with a groan and Haruchiyo chuckled, his diamond-shaped scars on the sides of his mouth stretching.

“Can’t really expect her to be quiet can you? I mean baby girl just confused, ain’t you?” The pink-haired man said turning his attention to you and you nodded violently as Mikey pushed you away from him. You quickly hopped over to the green-eyed man who was welcoming you with open arms to sit on his lap while Takeomi grumbled about Haruchiyo’s sweet spot for you which was ridiculous for him to say.

If anything, Haruchiyo was the most sadistic out of them all. Shoving a gun down your throat and making you suck on it, inviting you into the execution room and making you shoot one of the traitors knowing how sensitive you were about that and that you were going to cry about the blood and how it splashed on you. He only did shit like this when everyone else was mad to piss them off even if he was just as mad. Kokonoi, Kakucho, and Rindou were the ones with the soft spots (any maybe Mikey just a bit) but that’s for another time…

“Haru, what did I do…? Tell me.” You asked into his ear whilst wrapping your arms around his neck, you really wanted someone to tell you what you did wrong so you could make up for it. Haruchiyo merely shrugged at you with a sick grin on his face, you turned your head to locate the heterochromatic-eyed male who was always sure to stick up for you when everyone else was being so mean. “Kaku…” You muttered standing up from Haruchiyo’s lap while he tried to get a glance under your dress. Kakucho merely sighed as you plopped down onto his lap looking at him with those wide teary eyes.

He felt bad, he really did but it was your turn to learn. Almost every punishment, he was there for you; kakucho always went soft on you and praised you but he couldn’t do that this time.

This wasn’t a just normal thing you did like annoying everyone, it was more than that and he was upset too. So he stayed silent. “Sorry pretty.” He muttered placing his hands on your hips. You opened your glossy lips to let out pleas and whines once again not even noticing the sound of the safety of a gun clicking off.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mikey said in an unnaturally soft tone interrupting whatever you were going to say. Your head turned to look at him to ask why he was being so mean but your eyes widened seeing his gun pointed right at you. Mikey’s finger was nowhere near the trigger but you didn’t look at small shit like that, you saw a gun in your face and you went quiet. It’s hard to keep talking when Bonten’s leader has a gun pointed at your forehead.

You stared at Mikey with your lips parted slightly in shock. Ran grinned in amusement at this as did Haruchiyo and Koko but everyone else had a straight face waiting for more to happen and wondering what you would do. Would you keep talking like a dumbass or shut up? It was always a surprise which one you’d choose. “Hopping from lap to lap asking what you did wrong like a stupid slut. If no one’s answering you that means we don’t want to hear your fucking mouth!” Mikey shouted making you flinch and shut your eyes.

“While we were doing our job, we got word that you’re in the club acting as if no one fucking owns you all over some fuckhead; so I had to stop our meeting mid-way because clearly, you have no fucking brain in there!” Mikey said with a frown decorating his face, he was clearly pissed off at you. More than anyone else and it made sense. You may have been Bonten’s whore but in the end, you were Mikey’s, you went home with him, and slept in the bed with him beyond sex so of course he was the most upset about it.

It didn’t matter what you had to say about the situation and thinking that it was your friend because it wasn’t making Mikey any less angry. It wasn’t making any of them less angry at you.

“But–” “Get the fuck over here.” Mikey interrupted you with a demand which you were hesitant to oblige to. You didn’t even get a chance to look at Kakucho or anyone for help because the Hitto man gently slapped your bottom before taking his hands away from your hips signaling you to listen to Mikey. You hesitantly stood to your feet and slowly walked over to the white-haired man with your hands balled up in fists. Mikey tilted the gun down in a direction for you to get on the ground and you nervously played with the hem of your dress.

Staring up at him with your mascara-coated lashes just waiting for him to give you a direction made him rock hard “I’m tired of hearing your excuses, you’re gonna stuff your mouth until I feel like hearing you. Understand?” Mikey asked. You were lucky really. Usually, when Mikey was this upset at you, he wouldn’t ask if you understood or not and just would’ve shoved your head down on his cock because you had no choice but to not understand. But you still had something to say.

Maybe if you told him about the new tattoo you got, he’d stop being so mad at you. You got the Bonten tattoo right on your pelvis and was just waiting for the moment to show them all; this was not the time you planned but it’d hopefully get them off your ass about this situation. You hooked your fingers on his boxers and pants, pulling them down slowly debating if he’d let you live long enough to even mention the tattoo once you opened your mouth. Blinking up at him ignoring the gun above your gaze, you grew nervous but still decided to speak “M-Mikey…I–” Mikey’s other hand came to the back of your head before shoving your open mouth down on his hard dick not letting you get another word out.

“Didn’t I tell you I was tired of hearing you?” Mikey said as tears burned in the back of your skull from his harshness, your acrylics dug into his pale thighs as you sat there on the floor of the limo under all their eyes. It was embarrassing and it made your panties drenched in your arousal. “She’s stupid, what’d you expect?” Koko said with a scoff as he typed something on his phone, hardly interested in what was happening because he wasn’t getting his dick wet. 

Ran leaned against the back of his hand staring at Koko “Boss said he didn’t wanna hear her whining, think you should shut up too.” He said and the long-haired male rolled his eyes muttering ‘Whatever’ and then he began to type harder on his phone before turning it off and putting it in his life. Sheer seconds later, Ran’s phone notification went off making the male’s grin extend but he stayed quiet. “We need to do something about Misaki.” Mikey started to lower his gun as he spoke before discarding it on the seat beside him letting you relax a bit but you didn’t dare take your mouth off his cock. He’d be upset if you stopped sucking.

No one said anything and just waited for him to continue “Sanzu, Takeomi, you’re going to keep track of him and all his guys.” Mikey said with a small grunt and Haruchiyo’s face twisted into one of confusion and anger.

“Why the hell do I have to go with the old man!? That’s what Mochi’s for.”

“Believe me, I’m not exactly joyful to go with you either.”

Ran laughed at their banter before his gaze traveled to you “Well, if you haven’t noticed, Mochi is taking care of that animal back at the club because little miss slut…” He places the bottom of his incredibly expensive shoe on the back of your head making a whimper come from your mouth “Wanted to get her princess parts touched…” Ran ended with a mocking tone almost talking in a baby-ish voice whilst pressing his foot down harder on your head. You gagged around the shorter male’s cock as tears slowly came down your face.

You hadn’t even noticed Mochi was missing because of how busy you were trying to find out what you did wrong and even apologizing despite not knowing what you did.

You just didn’t want them to be upset but it seemed your attempt at that just made them more angry at you “Ugh, should’ve let me do it. I’d make that fucker suffer.” The mullet-haired man said leaning back against his seat and grabbing the cigarette from Rindou’s hand “You get too messy.” Mikey stated simply glancing down at you as you continued to look up at him but when his dark and gloomy eyes met yours, your eyes dropped immediately “Oh like you’re not gonna make her a mess.” Haruchiyo replied and grinned at his boss with narrowed eyes.

Mikey didn’t reply and only looked down at you once again and you did the same thing as before. He didn’t like that at all.

He knew you wanted something from him or more like you needed to tell him something but for some reason, you didn’t. You never made eye contact with him when you were keeping something from him “Stop looking at me like that. Talk.” Mikey said planting his hand on your forehead before pushing you off his dick harsher than he intended making you fall back on your elbows.

You coughed lightly while wiping the small tears that hadn’t yet dared to mess up your makeup. “I-I…I wanted to show you something.” You said nervously as you shifted onto your knees grabbing at the hem of your dress and trying to gather up the confidence to look at him in his eyes, you knew how he hated it when you didn’t look at him when he talked to you and he was getting a bit upset with how often you were looking away from him.

Mikey lifted his hand off his knee gesturing for you to do what you wanted. You slowly stood to your feet in front of Mikey, his knees on either side of your body leaving a bit of space between himself and you. Mikey watched as you lifted your dress just below your boobs and his eyes immediately caught the tattoo on your pelvis that dipped into your panties. It was the Bonten tattoo with the only difference being the dot in the middle was a heart, he ran his thumb over the tattoo and pulled the waistline of your thong down just a bit so he could see the full inked skin. “…Wanted to make it cute.” You said with a smile forming on your lips at his reaction.

Mikey continued to stare at the tattoo in awe running his fingers over it to see if it was real and wouldn’t wipe off “It is cute baby.” His voice was softer than before as his eyes flickered up to yours, his hands went to your hips “Think you should show everyone else.” The Sano man didn't give you any time to react or protest (though you wouldn’t have) before he turned you around making your bare torso visible to everyone.

“Holy shit…” “Fuck pretty you’re so hot.” “Cute.” “C’mere dollface.” The compliments from the men made you grin wider, almost giggling at all of the attention. Koko then grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you out of Mikey’s arms and toward him before he began to rub his fingertips over the tattoo “You pay for this yourself love?” The long-haired male asked not looking up at you, you merely shook your head with a negative hum “Used your card.” A smile stretched across Koko’s mouth at your words before he pressed a small wet kiss to your pelvis on the ink “Good.” Rindou then reached over and grabbed your other arm, pulling you over to him and into his lap before you could respond to Koko.

His palm was placed directly onto the tattoo as he chuckled in your ear with Haruchiyo and Ran on either side of him chuckling as well “Gonna have fun with this, that’s for sure.” Ran said and Haruchiyo nodded in agreement with a devilish grin on his face, Rindou’s hand slowly drifted into your thong with his fingers trailing down to your clit “This why you wanted to be ass up so bad the other day?” Rindou asked tilting his head, his lips ghosting over yours and of course, when you went to connect them, he pulled away.

As nice as rindou was compared to those monsters, Takeomi, Haruchiyo, and Ran, he could be just as mean well…not exactly as mean.

Haruchiyo’s hand grabbed your chin harshly and he turned your attention toward him “Gotta let me eat this pussy baby…” He said licking his lips and once again, before you could even say anything, you were interrupted. “Who says you get to have ‘er first?” Ran said with a scoff as he put his hand on your leg, it was only adding to the small bit of pleasure his brother was giving to you by circling your clit. Takeomi scoffed as Kakucho just shook his head “She needs someone soft first. You guys will tear her in half.” The scarred-face man said folding his arms across his chest but his words only earned more noises of disapproval.

“Oh please! You’ll end up coddling her anyway.”

“Dollface loves getting split in half right?”

“You’re a bunch of selfish fucks.”

“And you’re not? Don’t act like you didn’t keep her to yourself all day yesterday Koko.”

As the men began to argue, you felt yourself being torn from Rindou’s lap and it seemed no one noticed.

You looked behind you to see the culprit of the action, Mikey. You gave him a small smile as you sat down on his lap but he didn’t return it and just continued to stare at you with his tired eyes “Take them off.” You weren’t really smart but you didn’t have to know rocket science to know what he was referring to. Nervously glancing at the men who were raising their voices at each other fighting over who got to use you first and then back at Mikey who was, surprisingly, waiting patiently. You began to pull the panties from your hips and let them drop to your ankles before stepping out of them staring at the damp spot in them as they lay on the floor useless as they always were.

You went to turn around to face Mikey but he stopped you “Look at them and be quiet.” And you did as you sat back down on his lap but this time, you felt his cock sliding inside of your slick hole making you shiver. You let out the smallest moan but it gained the attention of most people in the room, the people who didn’t hear only looked at you because everyone else went silent and turned to you. “Didn’t I say be quiet? Can’t listen for anything…” The short-haired male whispered in your ear while he held onto your hips.

“Oh shit look,” Ran said pointing at the bulge in your tummy that happened to be angled right where the tattoo was, making it poke out. “Fuck…are you gonna have her all to yourself, Mikey? Shit’s not fair.” Takeomi said letting out a low hiss and Haruchiyo nodded in agreement “Yeah, you told–” “She gotta get her present before her punishment.” Mikey said interrupting the long-haired male as he put his chin on your shoulder to look at you with his dead eyes. You glanced at him nervously, you thought that this would make him less mad at you and stop this ‘punishment’ but I guess not. “Well…shouldn’t that be the other way around?” You asked putting a manicured finger on your lip.

Mikey hummed raising his voice a few octaves to mock you “Well…you’re taking it this way.” His voice returned to normal halfway through his sentence “And stay quiet, we’re still talking. Now get moving, I’ll help after.” Mikey demanded slapping your leg and earning a whine from you but you nodded in agreement before beginning to move slowly with your lips glued shut not trying to let out any noises as all eyes were locked on you. When Mikey cleared his throat, their gaze focused past your form.

Your hands grabbed at Mikey’s skinny thighs as a support line as you heard him open his mouth to speak “Sanzu, Takeomi, I expect you to be professional about this. Do not have a repeat of last time.” It was ridiculous how he could speak so calmly when he was stretching you out. You felt like you were getting torn in half from the way his girthy cock was bullied into your…

It was too hard for you to move when he was stuffed inside of you like this but you kept trying, Mikey would never help you get what you wanted if you didn’t do it by yourself for a bit. That’s something about Mikey you hated! It didn’t matter if he was rewarding you or doing the opposite because he’d make you work for it just for a while until he took over; Mikey didn’t believe in that pillow princess shit, if you wanted something, you were going to work for it but maybe if he was in an extraordinarily good mood…the most he’d do is make you tell him what you wanted in LOTS of detail.

“Yeah, Yeah, I won’t shoot him or anything,” Haruchiyo said folding his arms across his chest with a sigh of annoyance but when he caught the sight of you resisting the strong urge to moan made him grin. He didn’t give a damn about going with Takeomi because of what you did at the club because he still gets to have you every day and see you in that state every time and Kakucho nor Koko could complain about how mean he was being because…well, you deserved it this time.

Haruchiyo looked at you like he wanted to do what Mikey wasn’t: Fuck your brains out and you wanted him too. It didn’t matter if it was him honestly, you just wanted to be taken care of…was that too much to ask? “Haru’...” You mewled looking at Haruchiyo through the mascara-coated lashes that you batted at him in hopes he’d give you what you wanted before Mikey could condemn you for talking. It’s best not to get your hopes up when it comes to him especially because all he did was laugh at you and grab his phone. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” The sano man asked you as your makeup started to smear with you knuckling away the tears in your eyes. Haru was ignoring you and starting to record you in such a vulnerable and pitiful state.

“Yes but–” “Then shut up, it’s as simple as that,” Mikey said interrupting you once again and making it clear that he did not want to hear any of your excuses but you needed him too! It wasn’t fair that he had you sobbing like this while Haruchiyo was busy recording it. He never posted them but he did send them, especially to the guys who had the confidence to text you or give you their number with a text about how you were busy and it was so embarrassing. Haruchiyo just loved to humiliate you even when you were getting a reward. You could only imagine what he would do when it was time for you to be reprimanded.

Haruchiyo turned to Rindou and bumped him with his elbow “Put ‘em in her mouth.” He said gesturing to the thong on the floor and Rindou grinned before leaning down to grab the undergarments. The long-haired brother reached over grabbing your jaw with his hand “Open wide sweetie.” You did as he asked opening your mouth but you were barely able to open it wider before he stuffed them inside of your mouth silencing the pathetic whimpers that were an attempt to get him to pity you so maybe your punishment after this wouldn’t be so bad. You saw that it worked on him a bit but not enough for him to say anything.

“Since you can’t do anything on your own, I guess I’ll just give you what you want,” Mikey said running his hand up your thigh, dragging his fingertips over the tattoo to your scrunched-up dress before snaking his hand under the fabric. His fingers wrapped around your tit squeezing it lazily as he began to man spread forcibly spreading your legs for everyone to see what was between them. His other hand grabbed your hip before bringing you up and slamming you back down on his cock making you whine behind the fabric as hot tears ran down your face messing up your mascara. The black droplets of tears stained your pretty face as Mikey forced you up and down his cock.

You heard his grunts from behind you before they went quiet with his deep breath “I meant what I said. I don’t want no fucking shoot-outs.” Mikey said to the other men in the car. It seemed like you should have stopped at the hideout by now…wait, was the car even moving? You hadn’t even noticed if it had stopped. “Got it.” The voice was familiar but you couldn’t tie an exact face to it. Your eyes were squeezed shut and you were losing yourself in your pleasure already. Haruchiyo was probably having the best time of his life watching you fall apart in Mikey’s grasp and getting it on record.

“Do you? Last time you said that and I had to take funds out of the Bonten portion to pay off the cops because you are an idiot!” That was easily recognizable as Koko’s annoyed voice. Your eyes opened at the feeling of fingers grazing your chin and you were met with the camera of a phone. Your eyes trailed down to see the Sanzu man on his knees grinning up at you, his diamond-shaped scars stretching on the ends of his lips “Uhm, hello? I’m talking to you.” Koko said looking at the pink-haired man annoyed glaring at him whilst the man ignored him and just focused on capturing all of your whining excellence.

Haruchiyo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth “I don’t give a shit. Pretty girl’s more important than anything you’re talking about.” He said dragging his fingertips over your skin making you shiver into him and Mikey’s touch. You whimpered through the fabric that was dampening from your drool. Koko didn’t respond and only rolled his eyes before relaxing further in his seat to add to the other eyes concentrated on you.

Mikey’s hand ran all over your body “Gonna cum?” He asked lowly in your ear with that baby-talk voice he and everyone else used to mock you but you didn’t care; you only nodded dumbly in response “Uh-huh! Uh-huh!” You screamed and your mumbles were loud enough to be understood by everyone. You began to bounce on your own chasing your orgasm, the back of your thighs slapped loudly against Mikey’s which were much skinner than yours “Yeah?” Mikey asked as Haruchiyo grabbed your panties from your mouth before forcing you to look down at him and not just at the camera.

“Feel so-oh good! Want more!” You moaned loudly glad that your cries were finally being heard. Haruchiyo’s smile widened evilly at your words as he lowered the camera down to take in how you sucked in Mikey with ease “Don’t worry, we’re gonna give you what you want.” Obviously, you didn’t think much of these words. It’s not like you thought much but he was telling you about giving you what you wanted…and that’s all you cared about.

You moaned louder, your sounds becoming more high-pitched as you grew closer to the edge “Cummin’! ‘M cumming!” You squirted all over Mikey’s cock triggering his own orgasm that was unwarranted. You gasped in shock at the warm feeling of him filling you that you were so used to, you felt yourself slipping from not only your thoughts but Mikey’s hands. Mikey didn’t catch you when you began to fall forward and neither did Haruchiyo but Koko (being the closest to you other than those two) did. 

You blinked up at the white-haired man with a blissed-out look on your dirtied face with small sobs escaping your lips that were in a pout. He didn’t say anything and allowed you to climb onto him; when you landed in his lap, your cunt leaking all over his expensive clothes, your arms immediately found their place around his neck “Aw…so sensitive.” Koko said teasingly when you spazzed into his body at the feeling of his hand just grazing over your clit.

“Don’t get too comfortable over there.” Your head turned at the voice and you saw all the eyes that were staring at you now with a hungry look in their eyes like you were their prey. You were and you have learned to accept it but it never failed to make you quake. They were not done with you whatsoever.

“Ah, ran that hurts…” You muttered gripping Mikey’s shoulders tightly as Ran pushed inside your second hole but you couldn’t even do that because Haruchiyo grabbed your hand and Koko grabbed your other so the only support you had was Mikey’s hands on your hips. It was a small burning pain but the pleasure from…everything overtook it by a lot. Whimpers left your messy lips as they manhandled you not caring that Mikey was still inside of you and you were moving all around him. They treated you like you were nothing but a toy for them, yet you found yourself growing wetter at their actions.

Your fingers wrapped around Haruchiyo’s cock with your other hand doing the same thing to Koko “Ah, you’ve taken it here before. You’ll be fine.” The eldest haitani brother responded to you with his hands creating hand-shaped bruises on your hips. Kakucho, who sat closer than before with his cock in his hand, rolled his eyes at Ran’s harsh treatment of you “Could have at least lubed her up, I see why she comes to me all sore.” Kakucho said which only earned chuckles from the other men in the room. You couldn’t even begin to respond to him, you could barely form anything other than moans and whines from how you were being used and pulled in every direction.

Despite this mindset, you saw Rindou stalking over from the side of your eye and your attention turned to him. He sat down in front of you on the seat as you along with Ran and Mikey, who were buried deep into your holes, sat on the floor “Keep your mouth open pretty.” Rindou said beginning to slide his slacks down to pool at his ankles, you did as he asked and opened your mouth wide and it wasn’t long before he shoved himself into your mouth muting your mewls “Tch. Why do I always get left out?” Takeomi questioned taking in the sight of you being stuffed in all holes possible.

Haruchiyo threw his head back as you moved your hand up and down his shaft, his pre spilling all over your hand and your long nails. He tilted his head back to look back at the older man “‘Cos it’s playtime and you’re too old for that.” The mullet-haired man said with a laugh triggering another mini argument between the two of them which no one paid attention to but at least it distracted him from recording you. “So pretty. This color looks so nice wrapped around my dick.” Koko complimented as he slicked his hair back to prevent it from sticking to his forehead which was growing wet with sweat. Koko was so glad he got to pick the color of your nails this time, his pleasure felt so much better knowing that especially because he picked it specifically because of how beautiful it looked around his dick.

You tried to thank him for the compliment but you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of Mikey taking in your nipple in the wet cavern of his mouth; not like he’d be able to hear it anyway…

Mikey took full advantage of your tits being shoved in his face because you attempted to reach Rindou as you sucked him off. Ran groaned as he threw his head back while he continued his strokes deep inside of you “Fuck keep doing thing, she likes that, yeah?” Ran said with his hand snaking around to lie on the moving bulge in your tummy that was right under that tattoo, he’d be sure to pay some extra attention to that later. You weren’t even able to nod because Rindou had a tight hold on your hair as he practically fucked himself down your throat.

“Mmph!” Mikey’s cold hands groped your other tit as the other rested on the fat of your ass, you felt him smile at your muffled moans as he continued to fuck up into your sloppy cunt. Your body shuddered as his mushroom tip grazed over your g-spot “Oh fuck–ngh…pretty, you’re doing so–fucking–good.” Rindou moaned bucking his hips into your mouth slightly, you glanced up at him with teary eyes as makeup continued to run down your face showing your pathetic and slutty state.

Your stomach tightened and your legs nearly clenched together if it wasn’t for Mikey sitting between them as you felt your orgasm coming. “Gonna cum? Yeah?” Mikey said taking his mouth away from your nipple as he grunted at the feeling of you squeezing around him, he had to hold himself back; he had an issue with cumming as soon as you do just because of the feeling. “Mhm! Yeah, Yeah!” You shouted as Rindou yanked your head away from his cock as he began to jerk himself off for a few seconds until he came all over your face only adding to the mess “Ugh! C-Cummin’!” Koko laughed at your sputtering while you bounced up and down on Mikey to work yourself through your orgasm.

“You always cum so easy, don’t you beauty?” Koko asked with a teasing laugh.

You didn’t even respond and just murmured as you kept rocking back and forth because of Ran’s thrusts, he wasn’t letting up until he came and you couldn’t feel it coming yet. “Says you, every time we share ‘er, you cum within seconds.” Haruchiyo added looking back at the white-haired man who breathed heavily “You’re boutta cum right now, aren’t you?” He added making Koko grunt in annoyance, he placed his hand onto yours as you continued to jerk him off.

“Ugh, if you wanna kiss me just say that.” Koko responded with a roll of his eyes and Haruchiyo’s grin widened.

“If you cum easily like a virgin, just say that.” 

“I don’t!”

“Prove it.”

“Shut the hell up, nobody wants to hear you,” Rindou said with a raspy voice as he scooted away from his place on the seat. Dragging himself over to a farther seat to sit there and relax, rindou glared at his co-workers who looked at him and then at each other. Haruchiyo didn’t say anything but his look seemed as if he was challenging Koko and the other man accepted.

Your skin burned at the feeling of Ran’s long fingers digging into your skin as you breathed heavily slumped over onto Mikey’s shoulder. Ran leaned forward and kissed all over your shoulders while his hips continued to snap into your ass faster than before “Gonna give you two loads, ‘kay baby?” Mikey said pushing you off his body so he could look at you, his eyes narrowed at you when you didn’t respond and just mewled while sniffling and it made more globs of tears spew from your eyes as you nodded.

“C’mon love, use your words…taught you better,” Kakucho said as he slid into the empty space that Rindou had currently sat in. “Okay Mikey…” You said glancing up at Kakucho. He always tried his hardest to keep you out of trouble, even if you deserved it. Kakucho’s hand was placed on your head as to congratulate you for being good.

“Fuck, I’m cumming right now,” Ran grumbled as he pounded into your tighter hole harder making you yelp and your back arch. Your arms wrapped around Mikey’s head as you cuddled closer to him, your legs were numb by now but you felt them quake as Ran filled you to the brim and soon Mikey followed. So that’s what he meant by two loads…

Your tongue lolled out at the feeling of being filled up completely while you breathed heavily but your comfort didn't last long because your hands were snatched back and placed back on the cocks you took them away from “Stop playin’ dollface, we’re tryna have a competition here.” Haruchiyo said as he moved your hand around his dick again while Koko tried to resist cumming, he couldn’t let Haruchiyo win another fucking bet. “Sor–ah!” You couldn’t count how many times you’ve been cut off this night from saying anything.

You gave Koko an apologetic look as you winced at the feeling of Ran’s touch leaving your skin after pulling out. That’s what did it to him, there’s no way he can hold back when you’re looking at him like that…so Koko let go and allowed himself to cum all inside of the palm of your hand. You gasped and looked down at your soiled hand as your fingers unwrapped from him. Staring at his burning red tip that was twitching, you smiled a bit before looking back at him “Looks like you lost pretty boy.” Haruchiyo said grunting. You had completely forgotten he was there. “Shut up,” Koko said joining Ran and Rindou who were busy tucking themselves back in and coming down from their high.

Your head turned as you brought your hand to your lips gently licking Koko’s mess from your hand “Hm, haitani already ruined your face…” Haruchiyo said as you glanced up at his phone that was lazily held in his hand, you weren’t even sure if the camera was taking in your filthy form. You wondered what Haruchiyo was going to do next but your thoughts were ripped away when your hand was brought away from your mouth to wrap around yet another cock making you whine. Your arms were almost as sore as your throat, you were getting extremely tired…

“Don’t act all tired now. You can rest all you want after.” Takeomi said with his gruff voice as you began to lazily move your hand around his cock, rubbing your thumb over his tip to tease him a bit. Before you even got to say anything, you felt warm ropes of Haruchiyo’s cum not only landing on the side of your face but in your hair. “Mikey! Haru made a mess in my hair…I paid so much to get it done…” You complained looking at your boyfriend(ish) not paying attention to Ran commenting how he actually paid.

See, Mikey didn’t really give a shit that your hair got fucked up or any of that shit because it was supposed to be a punishment. However…he did not want to deal with you whining to him the whole time after this about your hair, you were already going to be upset about your makeup and your underwear that had been torn to shreds by now and he really did not want to hear this. He never heard the end of it when some of his cum accidentally landed on your hair when he was giving you backshots. “Get away,” Mikey said to Haruchiyo as you wrapped your arms around his neck looking up at Kakucho who looked at you sympathetically.

“Come on Mikey, I’ll buy her a new one or whatever,” Haruchiyo said a tad bit annoyed that he was getting scolded over this. You weren’t really focused on Haruchiyo anymore or what Mikey was telling him, only on Kakucho now that you were facing him and you had discovered that he had been jerking himself off. Well, he wasn’t anymore but he was.

Kakucho’s unused hand went to your head and he pulled apart strands of your hair to see if it was as bad as you thought it was “It’s really bad, right…?” You asked to sniffle and Kakucho grimaced at the sight of Haruchiyo’s seed on the side of your head but he still tried his best to get it out regardless of his disgust “Not that bad. I can help wash it out.” Kakucho told you with a sweet voice. That’s what you liked so much about Kakucho…he was so nice to you no matter what you did wrong.

And you’d never say it aloud because of how jealous most of them would get but Kakucho would be the first person you’d run to in a situation when you know you did something wrong. He was always just so nice to you…he deserved a lot for being such a sweetie all the time! “Thank you…” You muttered as your hand that was free of Koko’s mess trailed up Kakucho’s leg and grabbed him making him stiffen. “Oh, that’s bullshit. How come we have to sit out but Scarface over there still gets his?” Haruchiyo asked with a frown ignoring how Takeomi was glaring daggers into the side of his head. You felt the need to mention how most people in Bonten had scars on their faces but you made your first smart decision not to. They’d probably get offended…

“He’s nice to me.” You said glancing back at the pink-haired man as Mikey sat below you silently, leaning his temple against your bare side. Your whines of sadness instead of pleasure had brought out that soft spot in him and he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. “Sweetie, I don’t give a fuck about that nice shit,” Haruchiyo said rolling his eyes as he snatched whatever Rindou was lighting up. You merely huffed and looked back at Kakucho who stared down at you in all of your glory.

He observed how your body would jolt and the little noises that would leave your throat ever so often maybe because of the lingering pleasure or Mikey moving in the slightest. Either way, your blessed-out expression was so cute, especially with that pout of anger. “Well, I do.” You muttered before beginning to move your hand up and down on Kakucho’s cock while resting your cheek on the top of Mikey’s head.

“O-Oh shit…” Kakucho mewled as he watched as you took him in your mouth, your hand remained around the length that you could not take in. His back arched just slightly at the vibrations that your whines and groans sent to his dick that rose to the pit of his stomach where his orgasm formed. “Mmpfh…” You said lowly as you rocked back and forth to grind on Mikey which just made him even more impatient to get his way with you. He needed Kakucho to hurry and finish.

Kakucho’s large hand found its way to the nape of your neck just resting there as he moaned breathlessly. He resisted the urge to fuck your face because he didn’t really want to but it was just so good that he couldn’t help but crave more. That feeling in the pit of his stomach grew so large that he could barely keep his eyes open anymore but he tried to, he wanted to see those eyes that stared up at him so teary and wet. So beautiful.

He could see how Koko came so easily just from how you looked at him. His ring-clad fingers traveled from the back of your neck to the back of your hair. Running his fingers through the clean strands and gently pulling at it “You’re going so good…shit oh my–” Kakucho’s words were cut off when he came without warning into your mouth making you choke just a bit. Taking him out of your mouth, you stuck your tongue out as you lightly coughed and he gawked at the sight.

Mikey’s hand went from roaming around your back and grasping your hips “You done with her?” The tired male asked in his usual raspy voice and Kakucho confirmed that he was with a puffed-out response. Within a few seconds of Kakucho’s response, Mikey had you on your back on the floor of the car and you grew a bit embarrassed at the eyes on you. They were always there, staring but instead of feeling their gazes, you could actually see them.

The roughness of his fingertips pressing against your love handles made you squirm as you babbled about how he was being so rough. “You know who you belong to, correct?” Mikey asks as he begins to move inside of you with slow strokes. His hands trailed down to your thighs and found their place on the back of them “Uhm, y-yeah…” You replied trying not to moan so you could at least answer him properly. Mikey pushed your thighs up so that they met your chest as he continued to stare at you “So why act like you don’t?” He continued to ask as you groaned at the new angle.

Only babbles left your lips as you insisted that you didn’t act like that and that’s why you got the tattoo but it seemed that no one was buying it. “I mean you were all over that…ugh. So clearly you don’t.” Koko said shrugging his shoulders and you only whined at his words. “How many times do we have to teach you? We know you’re a little dense but you’d think you would learn by now.” Mikey said bluntly watching as you arched your back at the little pleasure he was giving you.

“Mikey…p-please jus-just want more.” You babbled to him as hot tears streamed down your face. Haruchiyo smacked his tongue across the roof of his mouth. This was supposed to be a punishment for you but you were too much of a cockwhore to not want more of what you were given. Haruchiyo had so many more methods for putting you in your place but apparently, he was ‘too harsh’.

Mikey blinked at you and leaned closer to you only getting deeper into your warmth. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear as you waited patiently for him to talk “You’re lucky if I ever let you go out with those fucking friends of yours again, understand?” He whispered to you and you nodded immediately not thinking much of it. “Great then don’t fucking complain later.” The short-haired male said narrowing his eyes at you.

The sano didn’t waste any time to begin thrusting harshly inside of you. The prominent veins on the sides of his cock rubbed against your fleshy walls that were already soaked with his seed “Ugh! F-Feel so g-go–ood!” You shouted dragging out your sentences as you moaned loudly. Your arms wrapped around Mikey’s neck and you clawed at the back of his shirt while trying to contain yourself. Your body moved up and down and even though your eyes were squeezed shut, you could practically see the smirks on the haitani brother’s faces at the sight of your tits bouncing.

They were also probably smiling at the noises that came from Mikey’s cock leaving and entering your soaked cunt. The sounds were so filthy and so wet, it was like music to their ears. One of Mikey’s hands found its place right back on top of your tattoo and he groaned loudly throwing his head back at the feeling of his cock poking through your skin and rubbing against his palm. 

Your walls tightened around him as you felt yourself nearing the edge. “Hold it, I want you to cum with me,” Mikey told you. “No! I-I can’t…” You shouted out as you brought him down to be closer to you. “If you cum before I tell you to, I swear to god you won’t cum for a month.” Mikey threatened making your skin run cold. Mikey was so mean to you sometimes…it wasn’t nice at all!

“I’m s-sorry! Ngh…I won’t–fuck–go with another guy e…ever!” You were barely able to get out a clear sentence as you felt Mikey hit your G-spot. You couldn’t hold it in for long, it just felt so good that you needed to cum now. “Tch. If you can even call it that.” Rindou snickered not taking his eyes off how you couldn’t even close your mouth with how many moans were continuously emptying from your lips. 

Mikey put his face in your neck as his hips sped up, undoubtedly to discolor under the pressure of hitting your thighs. He breathed heavily into your neck occasionally letting out groans with how you pulsed around him eager to cum under his touch and only add to the cum ring that formed around the base of his dick.

He groaned at the feeling of you sucking him deeper than he could possibly imagine. It always happened. No matter how much he thought he couldn’t get deeper inside of you, he did. Mikey loved the feeling of your plush walls hugging his cock tightly and he loved it more when you let out sobs and purrs expressing how much you loved it when he fucked you like that. It only turned him on more.

“Now.” He commanded and just as he pleased, you both came together with your moans swirling with his beautifully. Your back only arched off the floor more at the feeling of him stuffing you full of his cum once again “Uhn…so full.” Your eyes closed as you relaxed against the floor and Mikey’s harsh press of your thighs to your rest softened. Mikey pulled out making you gently wince and peek your eyes open.

The short man sat on the seat of the car before he began to pick you up so you could sit next to him. Mikey stared at you for a moment taking in how pretty you looked with a tear and cum-stained face with small touches of ruined makeup here and there before he went to get your dress from one of the executives. He smiled a the sight of you knowing that he couldn’t stay mad at you for long and of course, you had to make him smile just a bit more with your words and girlish giggles that adorned it. “Nice butt.”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[compatiissante]

🤲 [ gladstone's a little better than pokemon villains, right~? ]

Send 🤲 to cradle my character's face in your muse's hands.

you see, one touch is all it takes to get maya to pause-- better yet, the act of cupping her cheeks took all of two seconds to just get her to melt completely with a hum.

this was all she ever could have wanted in life. in that instant, it was only the two of them, and god, was this one simple action enough to make her dizzy with giddiness.

"thought i was gonna say something, but-- can't remember now. but y'know what? i don't even care that i don't remember."

there it is, there's that dopey smile.

[deadghosy]

Okay so I just started reading Hazbin stuff on your blog, but they're AWESOME!! I'd like to request some Catnap!reader headcanons with the Vees if that's possible?

SURE! Thanks for the suggestion anon🦆💗

CATNAP! READER W/ THE VEES FOR A DAY

prompt: one of the Vee’s grabbed you out of now where and brought you to their tower to hang out.

You didn’t know how this flat faced person got your attention…more like grabbed your tail like a untrained child 😭

Vox grabbed your tail dragging you to the Vee’s tower as you sighed, leaving some red gas out of your mouth annoyed.

I feel like somehow you would agree to hang out with the Vee’s as long as you don’t see them in your hellish life forever.

I can imagine a picture of you and the Vee’s taking a selfie, but Velvette is on her phone, Vox is smiling at the camera, and Valentino is trying to blow a kiss at you.

Valentino was trying to cook for the other two Vee’s and you only for the kitchen to burn down as you and Velvette order take out as Vox gets the fire extinguisher. Valentino is trying not to touch the ✨pretty fire✨

I headcannon Valentino finding you attractive because if your tall frame. But also your smile as you just stand there smiling having your hands behind your back.

Imagine Valentino showing off his guns and you’re like. “Who needs guns when I can do this.” You said smiling as poppy gas slides through your teeth and knocks Valentino straight out on the ground when you smirk.

I can see the Vee’s and you going in a shopping spree and you decide to fuck with them and spend almost all their saving worth. Vox knew what you were doing so he stopped you.

I feel like the Vee’s will try to use try to get info on Alastor. But that’s mostly Vox so it would useless as you don’t anything form Alastor other than Alastor hates when you knock him out for bedtime

You literally sat there as Valentino was trying to get you to watch one of his sex tapes…you knocked him out and left the room as you grumbled.

I can imagine if it was sleepover it would chaotic as hell as Vox would be the one to fall asleep first and duct taped to the ceiling as the other snicker

For shits and giggles, Velvette will say you give off Lana Del Rey vibes as you just side eye her saying, “what tf you know about Lana Del Rey?”

You two are the best music buddies of modern genre.

Imagine a cute little headcannon where they all have secret matching bracelets and they let you have one.

Vox brought you on his channel to talk about your weird and cocky appearance. You were just on there to be clowned until you smirked letting poppy gas as the camera man fell breaking the camera.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! You dumbass cat!” “I’m dumb?” You said glancing at the man beside you as you slapped him smoothly with your tail as he had a shocked face touching his cheek.

I can see Valentino trying to get catnap! Reader to wear heels only for catnap! Reader to break them in their hands shaking their head no as they walk away again

I headcannon that the only V that catnap! Reader finds tolerable is Velvette because of her whole personality and not how she tries to bring catnap! Reader down

You definitely have that fun friend troupe with Velvette which is sweet and wholesome.

Velvette and you were hanging out on her side of the tower as she was getting you dressed in [style aesthetic]. You actually liked it as you gave her a thumbs up and grin.

I headcannon Velvette and Vox to try to make you do those dumbass TikTok dance trends with them so they could get #1 on the trending board.

I can imagine catnap! Reader ordering one of tose bug zappers to only electrocute Valentino

Velvette posted you and her doing a fashion walk as Angel was shocked seeing this on her page and shows the staff of the hotel.

The hazbin hotel gang will be like: “why tf is our resident hanging out with them?” As you are just trying to see why people even love the Vee’s.

I can headcannon that Vox forced you into a group chat with them

I can see that every time you hang out with the Vee’s, your phone gets blown up with worried text from the hazbin hotel crew. And then Vox will try to hack or get into your phone to disable your phone.

I imagine you and Vox literally shitting in each other. Like you say “why as you so short.” While he thinks of a comeback to say back to you.

I headcannon that if you and the Vee’s played uno together, you’re rigging it. Cause ain’t no one gonna win today.

At the end of the day, you left their asses as you used your red smoke on them…well idk about Vox cause that bitch has a tv head. You probably gave him a virus to circuit.

BRO WHO TF MADE THAT SMIRK FOR CATNAP?! EHH? Anyways I hope you guys liked this🦆💗

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

[gutsby]

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Warnings: NSFW. Every TWD character is drunk in this. Unprotected p-in-v. Soiling Michonne’s decorative towels and almost drowning Eugene. Carol-mandated makeup time with Daryl turns to edging and angry sex.

And the Oscar for Best Faked Orgasm goes to…

“Y/N,” Daryl groaned, shooting his load deep inside you.

You arched your back and curled your toes, even let out a sultry little gasp for good measure. Forced your walls to clench around his cock then pulse, periodically—you counted a silent one, two, squeeze in your head every so often and tried to make it so your tremors felt authentic. You practically had this shit down to a science by now.

Women like you weren’t built for quickies. You needed more time to cum, no matter the occasion.

You simply couldn’t and wouldn’t ever make it to climax with fifteen seconds of foreplay followed by Daryl throwing you up against the counter and jackhammering you hard on the edge for three minutes max. This wasn’t a porno, and you didn’t have a clit made of firecrackers.

Men like Daryl couldn’t stand the thought of you not cumming every time you had sex, though, so you sought to ease his mind on the matter during times you knew it was a physical impossibility to reach bliss. A liar you were not, but an occasional teller of euphoric fibs? Hell, you might’ve been tempted to dabble every now and then.

You adored the way he looked down at you when he finished, chocolate locks matted to his forehead and a smile shining bright on his face. He was tender and sweet, always gentle to pry you off of the sink, and he’d be watching you with admiration all the while.

Rick and Michonne’s booze-fueled pool parties had that effect on you both—always scrambling for a spare room to fuck in the second you arrived like you’d forgotten how good the other one looked dressed in swimwear.

Daryl shimmied the bottom half of your lime green bikini back up your legs and patted your rear with affection.

“I think Rick would be proud,” he said.

“I think Michonne would be pissed.”

You glanced down at the lovely little decorative towels Daryl had used as a sweat rag and made a mental note to wash those back at your place. You yelped when Daryl dropped his hand back down to your heat.

“Still sensitive?” he smiled.

“Uh huh.”

You were already trying to slide past his frame toward the bathroom door, where the sounds of the party outside were growing louder each minute. In truth, you knew that spot where Daryl’s fingers had almost grazed would have been a lot more sensitive had you actually just came, and that tell alone would have given your act away. You couldn’t have that, so you quickly pulled him in for a kiss and pushed his hands back up to your hips.

Daryl’s tongue traced the seal of your lips and parted them for a far more passionate kiss than you’d expected. You let his tongue roam anyway, but inside, you felt slightly confused as to why your boyfriend was still so…horny when he’d just blown his load a minute ago.

You moved languidly toward the door as Daryl continued to kiss you. He was touching your waist a little strangely, the more you came to think of it. Maybe frisky from the whiskey?

Your hand reached the doorknob the second his did. Daryl pulled away and let the corners of his mouth twist almost cruelly in a grin before turning the handle and nudging you out.

You shuffled a few awkward steps past the door. Daryl was hot on your heels, hand at the small of your back when his lips returned to your ear—just for a second, this time. He leaned in close, now, and murmured real low:

“I know you faked it.”

Then he pushed you forward again, only for you to trip over your own two feet trying to turn and face him.

“What?” you hissed. Playing dumb.

But if you could play dumb, Daryl was more than happy to play stupid as fuck. He ignored your outburst altogether and waved at someone behind you, pretending not to see you staring up at him with exasperation painting your face.

“Eugene! Swim trunks look great.”

Across the room, Eugene extended a lengthy ‘thank you’ and told Daryl that he, too, was looking snazzy, and you knew better than to try and pry Daryl’s attention away. Reluctantly, you turned around and made every effort not to show your present emotions on your face. In truth, you were nervous as fuck wondering what Daryl might do now that he knew you’d faked your climax.

You could try and make it up quick. Minimize the fallout.

The second Eugene departed, and it was just the two of you standing in the kitchen, you shamelessly reached for the outline of Daryl’s dick in his shorts.

Daryl swatted your hand away.

“My penis only goes where it’s appreciated,” he told you quietly, feigning that same stupid smile that signaled to everyone else who might pass by that things were fine.

They weren’t. Daryl probably hated your guts right now.

His seed was still dripping from your cunt, and you longed for the feeling of having him inside you, whole. But you got the sense that that wasn’t happening any time soon, as Daryl promptly greeted two more familiar faces and obliged you to mingle too. You faced Rosita and Abraham with a thinly veiled look of despair, and you gathered that the former picked up on it pretty fast.

“What’s up?” Rosita asked, pulling you to the side while Daryl and Abe chatted.

“I fucked up bad, like— legitimately screwed the pooch.”

“What did you do?”

You pursed your lips and felt the burn of Daryl’s glare over Rosita’s shoulder, sensing then that you’d probably be better off just keeping your mouth shut.

Hurriedly, you said under your breath,

“IfakedanorgasmandDaryl’sreallymad.”

“Daryl’s mad at what? Why?” Rosita said, shrill as ever.

You wanted to clamp your hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Daryl was quick to find your form lingering on his periphery and took your waist in one arm in a lasso-like motion. You guessed you’d be taken off to the slaughter any minute now—which was just getting chewed out by Daryl or given a half-dozen grumpy looks. You almost would’ve preferred the knife to the throat.

Confirming your worst fears, Daryl raised a beer with Abraham and suggested you all go for a swim.

That sounded like a setup if you’d ever heard one.

Perhaps overwrought with paranoia and a few too many Twisted Teas, you found your feet shuffling as slow as you could toward the thick sliding doors and Rosita at your rear asking what the hell was going on.

You made a big, fat ‘O’ with your hands and shook your head, hoping she’d understand—and Daryl wouldn’t see. It turned out neither of your wishes were to come true in that moment, and your boyfriend only pulled you closer to his side while the four of you strolled outside.

“Real mature,” he muttered.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted.

“Could we please talk at a level most humans can hear?”

That last interjection was Eugene, sidling up to the group with his floaties already strapped to his biceps. You eyed the man, then his beer, then his bright red flotation devices, and hoped like hell Daryl wasn’t about to start playing drunk trivia now that your genius friend was plastered. Or worse yet, encourage him to swim.

“How many lies does the average woman tell in her life?”

You really needed to start keeping your hopes and dreams to yourself. You glared at Daryl.

Eugene was already devising some half-baked formula in his brain, or else retrieving another far-removed factoid that he’d learned on a game show in 2005, and presently answered Daryl’s question with a quirk of his brow.

“I…can’t say it’s a gender-dependent question, my friend. If I were to make an educated guess I’d give—”

“A million more for men,” Rosita interrupted, flashing a wry smile at Abraham, “Most men lie like they breathe.”

“Amen!” Carol called from the tiki bar. You loved and you hated Alexandria’s grown-up parties sometimes.

“Well maybe— maybe men lie more to get sex, but women lie about sex.” Daryl shot the most conspicuous look in your direction, and you’re fairly certain Rick and Michonne shared a look of, ‘Ah shit,’ simultaneously.

Inside, the two were secretly hoping they’d catch wind from the babysitter that Judith and RJ wanted to be picked up, or else learned that a horde of walkers had laid siege on one of the outer-facing walls, because they knew from experience that these fights never ended well. The last time you and Daryl ticked each other off in public there had come a very loud and very obnoxious karaoke rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Silver Springs’ sung drunkenly between the two of you, and frankly, no one at the party wanted to see a repeat of that.

You wrested your arm out of Daryl’s hold and took a seat opposite Carol at the bar. Nodding when she offered to pour you some tropical concoction with a lot of rum, then pretending not to see Sasha eye Daryl warily.

“Whiskey dick give him trouble?” she murmured to you.

“You say his brother’s name in bed?” Rosita quipped.

“First off, he’s dead,” you said, before dropping your voice to a whisper, “Second, it wasn’t the whiskey or anything, I just…couldn’t cum, so I faked it. That’s it!”

You figured if Daryl was airing out your dirty laundry for the whole group to hear, you might as well beat him to the punch when it came to your closest friends. You could tell Sasha was trying hard not to smirk.

“That’s…that’s it?” she reiterated.

“Just now,” you mumbled, “Don’t tell Rick and Michonne, but we were holed up in the bathroom an—”

“Anyway, okay, no details but you told a little lie, so what?” Sasha proceeded without a hitch.

Carol waved the margarita she was making in vehement agreement and handed it over to you. Telling you to drink, now, with her eyes as soon as she caught a glimpse of Daryl’s disgruntled expression across the way.

“Yeah, so what? You told a fib to keep his ego intact, what’s the harm?”

“I’m saying!” You pointed to her before taking a sip.

“I think honesty is the best policy,” Daryl declared out loud like he’d just discovered the Atlantic.

At his side, Eugene eyed him up and down as if to say, ‘What the fuck are we talking about?’ You surmised that probably only half the group understood what was going on between Daryl and you, but most got the gist that the two of you were beefing. Again. Carol proceeded to drain her piña colada like her life depended on it, and Abraham and Rick suddenly gained interest in something inside.

Daryl wasn’t backing down. In fact, he raised his voice.

“And if she’s willin’ ta lie once, who knows how many other times she—”

“Be fucking for real,” you rolled your eyes, “I wasn’t faking most other times, and you know it.”

“Most times? So ya did it other times?”

“Folks, I cannot say with utmost certainty that this is a healthy coping mechanism for a relationship like y—”

“Shut up, Eugene.”

You could tell just how incensed Daryl was by the color of his cheeks. In a world that almost never raised the hue above a baby pink, you were alarmed to see him turn a shade or two shy of crimson. You knew something lewd or unkind was likely to flare behind those cobalt eyes any second now.

“How many times for Spencer, then?” Daryl growled.

He knew that shit was off-limits. A happenstance situationship that started and ended long before you’d ever dated Daryl. Now he was just being mean.

“Alright, guys, how about we take a second to cool off?” Michonne was using the same voice she assumed whenever trying to talk Judith or RJ out of a cranky mood. You saw Daryl already had the insolent pout of the children down pat, that was for sure.

“Maybe if you’d asked Leah she would’ve said the same,” you spat.

Daryl abandoned his beer and moved closer to you, just narrowly checked by Sasha’s warning touch and even more persuasive gaze. He paused for a second, crinkled his nose, and seemed to be considering something a moment or two longer before finally deciding to be petty.

“At least I didn’t have to ask Leah to swallow.”

That was it. You reared back and chucked your bright pink strawberry marg directly at Daryl’s head, unleashing a string of unsavory names as you did so. Daryl easily side-stepped, and the next in line to receive the airborne drink was Eugene. Completely defenseless, per usual, and not at all prepared to be hit in the face by a plastic glass filled with syrup, liquor, and slush, the man was a sitting duck.

He shrieked the second it struck him below the eyebrow. His hand clamped over his eye, and he stumbled back a few steps.

“Eugene!” came more than one voice, including your own.

The mulleted man wailed and spun perilously on his heels, trying blindly to make a beeline for the house but ending up walking straight into the pool ahead of him. Your whole party jumped to their feet and scrambled after him.

Apart from the aid of his arm floaties, the man was completely unable to swim—and still blinking fiercely through a sheet of strawberry-flavored ice as he flailed about in the water and cried for help.

Sasha, Rosita, Michonne, and Daryl didn’t hesitate; all four dove head first into the pool to save their friend.

Two hours had passed, and you and Daryl were still in time-out—courtesy of Carol and Michonne.

Deprived of your right to drink, smoke, fight, or fuck (at least not with condoms), you and your boyfriend had been placed in indefinite non-solitary confinement sitting perched outside the hot tub with instructions to make up, or else. So far, no words had passed between the two of you, and it had just started to rain.

Daryl waved to the kitchen window, where Carol was watching you both with narrowed eyes.

“Can we come inside now?” he groaned, motioning to the storm clouds overhead.

Carol gave him one emphatic thumbs down and turned to stir her broth on the stove.

This was your group-imposed “getting along” punishment: stay outside until you make amends. You kicked your feet in the bubbling water and cursed yourself for ever thinking it was a wise idea to stroke a man’s ego and fake an orgasm in the first place.

Then you lowered yourself into the water, seeing as there was not much else to do.

“Ya tryna be human stew? Get out,” Daryl snapped.

“Great, maybe Carol can throw me in her soup and I won’t have to continue this stupid fucking conversation.” You knew the dangers of swimming in a rainstorm, but you didn’t want to give Daryl the satisfaction of knowing you’d stop for his sake. You sank deeper into the hot tub.

Daryl slid across the wet slab of rock and concrete and reached for your shoulder.

“Quit bein’ difficult.”

“Quit being pushy,” you said with an ineffectual splash in his direction. His fingertips still seared hot on your skin as he touched you just above the shoulder blade.

“Oh, was I also bein’ pushy—” Daryl cut himself short.

You looked up, curious. Still refusing to budge.

“Pushy when?”

“When you took your pretty ass outta this tub before you got struck by lightning.”

Daryl received an unamused scowl in return. When you pressed again, he bent down and took you underneath both armpits, hauling you out of the hot tub with infuriating ease.

“Or when I…wanted to have sex and you clearly didn’t.”

Ouch. You jumped back in the water with an even deeper frown.

“I still wanted to have sex, Daryl! I just couldn’t get off as quick as you.”

“So you lied.”

You hastened to the other side of the mini pool when Daryl climbed inside. Your back flattened on the rock, and your eyes shot him a critical look as if to say, ‘I ain’t coming out.’

“Technically, you never asked,” you shrugged.

Daryl scoffed and straightened his own posture on the opposite end of the hot tub, feigning amusement but likely inflamed with irritation inside.

“I touched— I rubbed your pussy to see if you were sensitive. Don’t that mean somethin’?”

“Means you didn’t ask me shit. I never said I came.” You folded your arms across your chest in defiance, but deep down, you knew that a lie by omission was still a lie. Daryl’s facial expression communicated as much as he swam in your direction.

“So you couldn’t…ask me to wait a little longer to help you finish?” Daryl approached you close enough to graze your knees, so you felt obliged to press yourself harder against the wall, “Ya know I’d eat the cum out yer pussy if I knew it’d get ya off, sweetheart.”

Indeed, you knew. You should’ve known better than to accuse him of selfishness or inadequate communication—Daryl was a generous lover, and one who was always willing to wait, whether that meant delaying his climax or putting a pause on sex altogether. You felt an unlikely shiver in the boiling hot water when your boyfriend’s frame slipped between your legs beneath the surface.

“Even if I’d finished first, ya know I’d lick ya clean and make that pretty pussy cum all over my face an’ fingers. Ya do know tha’, right?”

He wanted to hear you say it. His hands had just started to trail a slow course up your legs as you released a shaky breath and nodded your head.

“I know, baby, I just— I just like seeing how riled up and sweaty you get when you fuck me for a quickie. You always seem so…satisfied pulling out I just hate to make you get hard all over again on my account.” Your voice was quieter then, breaking off in the gentlest whimper when Daryl’s knuckles grazed your heat.

Then, with the other hand, he moved your fingers to feel how hard he was under his swim trunks.

“Thought ya knew me better’n tha’,” he tsked you softly as he rubbed your hand up and down the length of his clothed erection, “I’m always hard fer ya, honey.”

You swallowed and sighed the second you felt him throb in your hand underwater. You wanted him now.

When your fingers fumbled for the drawstring of his shorts, however, Daryl nudged your touch away. Brought his own to the bottom of the bright green bikini you were wearing and slipped a digit underneath the fabric.

“This poor little clit,” he lamented, circling just lightly enough to draw breathy mewls from your mouth.

You spread your legs even wider to allow him access. When he pulled you to his chest, you felt his heart thrumming as fast as yours was. The light drizzle of rain overhead was growing heavier by the second.

This was not the makeup session Carol or Michonne had envisioned when they’d sent the two of you off to talk. You and Daryl just happened to make amends a little differently than most—semi-publicly, sometimes.

“Can’t imagine how bad it’s been achin’ since I last fucked that pretty little hole,” Daryl continued, index and middle finger now rubbing lazy circles over the spot where he’d pried your bikini to the side.

You sat, spread eagle with your mouth ajar and your eyes on his. Oh, how he loved you like this: partly supine and looking so pathetic. His fingers worked even faster.

“Been needin’ daddy’s touch, has it?” he teased before moving his digits to your slick entrance. Then, pressing just a finger inside and feeling your walls instinctively contract, “Now tha’s a believable squeeze.”

He smiled and you realized he knew a real clench from a fake one by now. That dramatized show you’d put on for him earlier almost made you feel ashamed now, gathering just how good a proper fingerfucking felt when you actually gave your boyfriend the chance to try.

He pushed another finger inside and curled them both with expert precision. You let out a helpless moan the second he grazed your g-spot.

“Baby, I need it,” you whimpered, “I need to cum so, so badly.”

Daryl nodded as though feeling your pleasure—and pain. He worked a vicious rhythm against your cunt and let a smile spread across his lips the longer he watched you writhe and moan amidst the hot, churning waters. When your stomach started to flutter and your entrance gave a warning pulse, you didn’t even need to inform him of your impending climax; you closed your eyes and prepared for the sweet bliss in expectant silence.

That was, until, Daryl retracted his fingers and climbed out of the hot tub.

Sorely misled ecstasy withered before your eyes.

You whined. Louder than you meant to.

“Daryl!”

Your boyfriend had taken up a spot standing at the side of the hot tub, pretending to be so overcome with heat exhaustion that he just couldn’t stay in a second longer.

He wiped his brow and watched you smugly.

“You say sumn’, sugar?” he asked as he sat down on the water’s edge to plant a kiss at the top of your head.

“You’re sick,” you muttered, dodging any additional condescending smooches by scooting over. When Daryl slowly leaned down toward the water, you scowled.

Then he patted the wet slab of concrete beside him.

“Jus’ want you to cum on my tongue. C’mon.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world—clearly he couldn’t eat you out underwater, so he was just being kind to give you a place to sit while he tonguefucked you silly.

You pretended not to notice the smirk twisting at the corners of his lips as you climbed out of the hot tub and reluctantly followed his motions.

Your legs spread just a little, now perched at the edge of the sauna while Daryl sank back in the water and positioned his head perfectly with your core. A sidelong glance to the nearest window showed that Carol had disappeared from the kitchen, but you knew you would have to make this quick.

Without ceremony, you yanked a tuft of Daryl’s wet hair and guided his face even closer to your heat. Far past the point of pleasantries, you pulled your bathing suit to the side and presented yourself, bare as ever, to Daryl’s eager tongue and lips.

Your boyfriend supplied you with both in an instant, dragging his tongue up the whole length of your slit with a groan. Wanting to savor the taste, were it not for your quiet pleas for him to finish this, please, Carol could be back any minute.

Daryl lapped between your folds, happy as ever, and left a series of suctioned kisses on the spots where he knew you needed him most. Gripped your thighs in either hand, pulled your bottoms so far he almost snapped the fabric in half, and practically devoured that needy cunt.

The man was a pussy-eating prodigy, to put it mildly. He dove deep between your thighs like oxygen was the furthest thing from his mind and sucked on your clit as if it were a lifeline. Your back arched out of instinct, legs clamping on either side of his head and chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths. You moaned and felt Daryl’s own grunts join the reverberations shaking your body; for a second, you thought you were almost seeing stars.

When Daryl inserted two fingers and swirled his tongue around that sensitive nub, you were certain that moment was soon to come.

“Mmm, just like that, baby, fuck,” you breathed, rutting your hips ever slightly against his face. Daryl, soaked with your arousal and waves of scalding water, just held his place and kept licking over, and over, and over.

Your grip fastened harsher in his hair the second a pleasant coil pulled tight along your tummy. You planted your calves on either side of Daryl’s neck, braced your body to the concrete, and felt a heady bliss make its second appearance of the night.

A quiet slurp marked the sudden disconnect between Daryl’s mouth and your aching core. You almost fell off the edge of the hot tub as your mind and body both stopped devastatingly short of full climax. This time, you almost shrieked.

“DARYL!”

“Got a tongue cramp. Sorry.”

Too bad he was grinning from ear-to-ear with no trace of a muscle spasm anywhere on his face. You splashed him with a massive wave and went scrambling to your feet.

“Fuck this. I’ve got a vibrator at home.” You were already pulling your panties back in place, muttering some less-than kind words under your breath, and kicking yourself twice for ever believing Daryl was mature enough to treat this as anything other than a game.

“Hey! Baby, wait!” Daryl called after you. Then he was getting up and getting out too.

“You blame me for fucking around, and you— you go and pull some shit like this?!”

You waved a silent, dismissive hand when Daryl started after you, trailing hot on your heels with a look that almost would’ve seemed apologetic had he not been fighting a laugh the entire time.

When his hands landed on your shoulders from behind, you moved to shrug him off and told him, with a finger supplanting your words, to get fucked. You groaned internally when Daryl pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“It’s called edging, sweetheart,” he hummed in your ear.

“It’s called being an asshole and shutting my orgasms down on purpose.” You wriggled to free yourself from his arms but found the man behind you unwilling to cooperate; in fact, the more you struggled, the more snug his grasp got. You battled against his far superior strength no longer than a minute or two before Daryl plucked you right off your feet and into a bridal hold.

“What do we say when we really wanna cum?” he asked, almost patronizing. Then, as if to put a finer point on it, he ambled toward the edge of the pool and swayed your soft, soaking frame over it.

“You’re fucking crazy!” you hissed, still wrestling against his chest.

You sensed that might not have been the wisest choice of words given your current predicament, but Daryl didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Did I hear a ‘please’ in there?” he asked, rocking you back and forth over the water’s edge.

“Please put me down.” Your voice was low and importunate, eyes warning him just the same.

“O-kay.”

And down you went. Into the pool. Your boyfriend still cradling you in his arms while you thrashed and splashed and called him every profane name in the book.

You’d just swept the wet mass of hair from your forehead when Daryl pinned you to the wall. Your back was flush to his chest, and his breath was hot on your ear.

“Promise y’ain’t gonna fake it this time?” Daryl murmured through gritted teeth, one hand yanking your swimsuit bottoms to the side and the other pulling his own down his hips.

You gripped the side of the pool and cast a quick look to the kitchen. Carol was nowhere in sight, but who knew how much longer she—and everyone else—would be gone? You bit your lip when Daryl dragged the head of his cock between your legs.

“We can’t do this, Dar—”

“I said, are you gonna fake it? Pretty simple question.”

Your folds had already parted with his length in between them, hole pleading for his entry when all he had done was rut his hips in place and tease your slit. You pressed your ass right into him and tried hard not to whine as you sensed your cover could be blown at any moment. Daryl nipped at the skin behind your ear and repeated his question, this time enveloping your frame with his when he bent you over the side of the pool.

Your eyes flickered to the warm glow of the kitchen, and you felt the rain come down even harder—your vision, with the distance and the downpour, was almost totally obscured.

Fuck it.

“Promise I won’t— I swear.” Your voice now scarcely above a whisper.

That seemed to satisfy Daryl well enough. No more than a second later, he was plowing inside you, gripping your hip for support and your hand in his own for what seemed to be encouragement of sorts. You squeezed his fingers back as soon as the first influx of pleasure rolled through you.

“Quiet, quiet for me, baby,” Daryl warned close to your ear, gaze scanning the house for any new onlookers, “Jus’ stay. fuckin’. quiet.”

He wasted no time railing you from behind—an impressive feat for a man standing halfway underwater—and simultaneously kept a lookout for your friends inside. Before him, you’d folded like a lawn chair over the wet concrete, yielding to each thrust like you were born for this position and made to take his cock. Then your walls clenched around him, whimpers came loud and fast, and the rain beat a shrill cadence all around.

Daryl dropped a hand to your clit and smiled the second you whined and almost bucked him off. Finally, that sweet sensitivity was back.

He knew from two false starts and more hard edging than you ever would have liked to endure, you wouldn’t last long. You felt a pressure on your neck bringing you up to his chest and those same, ardent lips almost charring your skin when they pressed above your ear:

“Who’s a good girl?”

Another sharp thrust in your cunt.

“I am,” you cried, clawing at his wrist the second his fingers started tightening around your throat. Almost unable to bear it, but loving it all the same.

“Gonna be honest with daddy ‘bout those orgasms?” Daryl chided, “Make a mess of daddy’s cock like yer s’posed’a?”

You nodded as best you could with your throat trapped in his hold and your lips damn near turning blue the second he got to kissing them. Your back arched into his chest, and your body convulsed with pleasure the deeper he went. Daryl loved the way you watched him as he did.

That was what he’d missed. That was what he knew you couldn’t muster in your piss-poor performances of late, what had tipped him off to the truth of your euphoric state with times like today. This was what he needed to see every time he fucked you from now on—if he had to spend a lifetime or two trying to get you there, so be it.

Daryl caught your lips in a long, heated kiss before bottoming out inside you. The sharp nudge to your insides and the brush against your most delicate spot was more than enough to push you over the edge.

Bliss broke through your body like a bat out of hell, and your moans rang loud in Daryl’s mouth as he fucked you through it. And, sadistic motherfucker that he was, he actually smiled when your teeth sank through his lip and drew blood from the surface.

All he cared was that you came, no bullshit this time.

As a metallic tang and an ecstatic trance washed over you, your body went limp in Daryl’s arms. He pulled out, still hard, and rubbed a hand over your ass underwater.

You could feel him beaming with pride right behind you.

But, just when he moved to turn you around, a sight in the bushes sent your heart in your throat. One dark patch of foliage shook with unusual force a few yards away, and you heard some sticks break as someone, shielded by leaves, appeared to lose their balance.

Daryl’s grip on you locked, then tightened, then dropped altogether when a clumsy form came tumbling out.

“EUGENE!”

[siriuslyapuff]

mic'd up for aces v fever/ k.martin

kate martin x reader!

summary: you're mic'd up at the Aces game versus the Indiana Fever as your girlfriend plays her (and your) best friend.

!𝑨𝑩𝑩𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺¡

okay okay my first wbb fic on here (lol pls be nice)

also, this is my first ever y/n fic so...

Two days before the Aces were set to play the Fever, you were sent an email from the Aces media team. Kate had been sitting behind you as you opened it, laughing immediately at their request. They were practically begging you to be mic’d up at the game, courtside. They wanted you of course, due to your connection as a Hawkeye, deciding to come back for a fifth year instead of entering the draft as you were going for your masters. It also helped that their star rookie was your girlfriend. 

It was an easy decision. You told them, yes, ignoring the teasing from your girlfriend as you did so. Honestly, it seemed like a great idea to you, getting to commentate on your girlfriend and your best friend as they went head to head for the first time as pros. 

“Baby, you realize this is the perfect opportunity for me to embarrass the hell out of you and Cinamon?” Kate got quiet real fast after that threat. 

🂡🂡🂡

The day of the game had arrived, and you decided to go with Kate to the lab, as it was a home game for the Aces. As soon as you arrived the team swarmed upon you, laughing and asking for you to add in specific commentary tonight during the game. 

“No Syd I will not tell everyone you’re single and ready to mingle,” you playfully shove the older woman, laughing with everyone else as she starts to fake cry. “Go away you baby, I gotta go get mic’d.” 

They all began to hype you up as the media crew came over with a little clip-on mic and pac. You listened intently as they walked you through how it would work tonight. You’d be seated right next to your coaches, and former coach Lisa Bluder, and would have the mic the whole game. You couldn’t be more excited as you knew this would give your girlfriend even more publicity and love from the media and fans. 

You turned to her as she grabbed your hand. 

“I’ll see you in a bit when we head over to Michalaub,” she leaned in, connecting your lips, leaving you wanting just a little bit more. 

🂡🂡🂡

The media team had your mic on as you and Kate made your way into the arena for pre-game shoot-outs. The Fever was already there practicing and you giggled to yourself as you saw Caitlin stretching. 

“Hey guys!” You turned to the cameras, “My name is y/n l/n, some of you may know me as number 26 for the Iowa Hawkeyes, and my favorite title, Kate Martin’s girlfriend!” 

The entire team started laughing as you introduced yourself and you turned around to shush them. Cait couldn’t know you were mic’d up yet. It had to be a surprise. 

“Anyways, I’m going to be mic’d up courtside tonight at the game versus the Fever. But for now, I have a reunion to get to.” You winked at the camera, spinning on your heel and cupping a hand to your mouth. 

“Hey, Cinamon!” Her head whipped around from where she was standing with your girlfriend, the two of them having had their reunion. 

“Tink?” Her eyes went wide with disbelief, she’d known you’d be at the game but had no idea you’d be at shoot around. 

The pair of you collided, and she spun you around the same way Kate had done to her. Tears immediately pooled in your eyes at the contact. You and Caitlin had been friends for years, both of you meeting when you played for USA in 2018. You both committed to Iowa and roomed together Freshman year, she was the sister you’d always wanted, and it had been painful to be away from her. 

“How are you?” You whispered, being mindful of the fact that you were mic’d up. 

“I’m fine,” she smiled at you, repeating what she’d said to Kate, and you knew she’d also seen through the bs answer, but you let it go. 

“I’m all mic’d up tonight,” you grinned, pointing at the mic on your shirt, “Kmart’s scared I’ll embarrass her.” 

“Hey, I never said that!” Kate butted into the conversation, “She’s lying CC.” 

“You calling me a liar right now?” You raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing down at the mic on your chest. 

Kate folded immediately, “No Baby, I would never.” 

You and Caitlin look at each other before bursting out into laughter. Some things never change. 

🂡🂡🂡

“Hello, Las Vegas!” You had a cameraman pointed at you from next to one of the hoops, the media crew had told you they had a few different angles on you, all connected to your mic. “I’m here with some of my favorite women!” 

You wrapped an arm around your former head coach as she laughed, wrapping her own arm around your shoulders. 

“Hey Tink,” she pressed a kiss to the side of your head. She’d been the one to give you your on-court nickname. It started as ‘Tinkerbell’ because you would flit around the court like you were flying while playing defense, and the team eventually just shortened it to ‘Tink’. 

“Hey, coach! You excited for tonight?” You pulled on your shirt so she could talk into the mic. 

“Very excited, it’s going to be weird not yelling at Kate and Caitlin, but I guess I’ll manage.” You and Coach Jan erupted into laughter, and so did Coach Hammon who was listening in with a smirk. 

“I’m also joined by my new head coach!” You positioned your body to face Jan, grinning at her. 

“You excited to see our girls play?” 

“Of course I am! I’ve got my phone ready to take all the behind-the-scenes pictures and videos.” 

“Me too!” You grin, “I can’t wait to hit Caitlin and Katie with the evil 0.5s.” 

You hear the whistle blow, and watch everyone come out onto the floor. 

“There’s Cinamon!” Your eyes find Caitlin and she sends you a grin. “Look at her, my sister from another mister.” 

You watch as the Aces get possession of the ball, eyes following Caitlin as she defends Kelsey. Moving down the court you can’t help but laugh as you watch Jackie attempting to guard her. 

“Jackie’s in for a challenge, CC is hard as hell- oh shit- wait fuck- no sorry, am I allowed to swear? Whatever, Cait’s hard to guard. She’s knocked me on my ass -sorry- a few too many times.” 

“Let’s go!” You stand up as Jackie drains the three, smirking at Cait as she runs past you. 

“Cait that's not your basket.” You laugh as she shoots after Kelsey gets a foul. 

Cait turns the ball over and you share a look with Coach Bluder, this has been a problem since you were Freshmen. Caitlin just sees the game differently and is six steps ahead of everyone else. It was you and Kate who were able to keep up with her pace, which is what made you so unstoppable on the court. It would take time for the Fever to match what she was putting down. 

“Come on Cait, shake it off.” You watch as she misses a three, shaking your head, “she's gonna be pissed about that.” 

Your eyes flit away from the game and onto the figure of your girlfriend as she sits on the bench, eyes fixed on Caitlin and the game. 

“Kmoney is locked in everyone, she’s got her serious face on.” 

Caitlin fouls and you let out an audible “oh shit” before apologizing into your mic again. 

“Cait never loses the ball like that- oh she got it back!” 

Your eyes flick between the bench and the court, waiting for the moment Kate takes off her warmups. 

“A’ja’s going to have a nasty bruise from that.” You watch her get popped in the face, the entire crowd going crazy over it. 

“Guys I’m just sitting here waiting for my girlfriend to go in,” you smile at one of the cameras pointed at you, before pointing at the jersey you’re wearing with Kate’s number on it. 

“I'm repping 20 for a reason. Ooo that sounds like the Sabrina Carpenter song ‘Pushing 20’,” you start humming the song. “Kate when you watch this, that should be your theme song.” 

“LET’S GO!” You jump up from your seat as Caitlin drains her first three of the night, holding up three fingers at her. “That’s my best friend!” You side-eye your girlfriend who’s looking at you with a raised eyebrow “Sorry Katie. You’re still number one in my heart.” 

“Okay CC’s on the bench guys, geez she looks wiped already, girl needs some sleep.” 

“Okay, Megan’s getting ready to check in, a win for the Hawkeyes tonight.” You high-five her as she passes you. “Guys I never played with Megan, but she was a legend when CC and I came in as Rookies.” 

Your girlfriend comes running towards you, “Yes Baby!” You catch her warmup shirt that she tosses aside slapping her ass as she passes. 

“My girl is so fine,” you’ve completely forgotten your coaches are sitting next to you until Julie reaches over. 

“Hey, that’s still my niece Tink!” 

“Sorry, Julie!” Caitlin also gets up to check in, squatting down right next to Kate. You watch them exchange smirks, knowing they’ll be guarding each other. “Here we go, Coach!” 

You nudge Coach Bluder who looks a bit teary-eyed herself. 

“Shit Kelsey,” you catch the ball that bounces out of bounds keeping KP from falling on you. 

“Sorry y/n,” she grins before locking back into the game. 

The buzzer goes and you stand up as Kate and Caitlin check into the game together, “That’s my girl!” 

“Guys I might start crying and that’s embarrassing.” You say as you sit back down, eyes filling up with tears. “It’s weird seeing them in different colors, and sitting on the side instead of being on the floor with them.” 

“Sorry guys you might have to cut this,” you stifle a small sob as you watch them defend each other. It was one thing talking about it, and making jokes, but seeing it happen, and not playing yourself was a whole other thing that had your throat tightening. 

“I’m filming!” Jan says, making you let out a choked laugh. You push back the tears, telling yourself to be happy that they’re both living out their dreams. 

You pull out your phone, taking a few photos and videos of your girl and her best friend as they guard each other for the first time outside of carver-hawkeye. 

They’re both trying to play it cool, but the smile on their faces as they sprint down the court towards you tells a different story. 

“CC and Kmart together again.” You point to Cait who points back giving you a grin. 

“All that’s missing is their Tink.” Coach Bluder says, patting your knee. 

“Look at my girl go!” You grin, pointing at Kate who grabbed the ball in the turnover, making her way down the court. 

“How is that not Aces Ball!?” You’re just as pissed as your girlfriend, who’s gotten good at challenging ref’s over the years. “She’s going to complain about that to me later guys,” you whisper into the mic. 

“Okay guys, the first quarter is over. We had our on-court reunion with my favorite Hawkeyes. How are we feeling, because I’m emotional.” You’re having a one-sided conversation with yourself as Coach Bluder gets up to go sit with the commentators for the second quarter. 

“Guys she’s starting in the second quarter! My girl is a pro now!” 

“I’m never letting that go CC,” you say as you watch her basically throw the ball out of bounds. 

“Look at her, I’m literally the luckiest girl in the world.” 

“Cait just missed that three and it landed in Katie’s hands, once upon a time that would have ended up as an assist.” 

Your eyes widen as you watch Kate go down, her knee at a weird angle, your heart in your throat. “That better not be a bad fall.” You say to Jan, “Thank God.” You mutter as she gets up, sprinting down the court.

“Oh shit, that looked like it hurt,” all respect for your language went out the window the moment Kate fell. You were fired up, the worry for your girlfriend at the max. Even as you watched Cait get smacked in the eye. 

“Cinamon shoots two.” She drains the first, “nice CC,” drains the second, “easy money.” 

“Good job Baby,” Kate smiles at you, hand grazing your leg as she walks back to the bench. 

“Syd babes that was a flop.” You laugh watching her go down. 

“Get some Money!” Kate runs past you again to check-in. “Katie in, CC out.” 

“Shit Kate!” Your hand flys to your mouth as you watch her ankle go, and the limp-hop she does after. “That is not good guys. She shook it off pretty good, but I can tell when my girl is in pain.” 

Kate goes down again, and you can’t help but clench your teeth as you hear the skid of her thigh on the court. “Come on baby, shake it off.” She gets up slower this time, you can tell it’s wearing on her, but she's pushing through. 

“Yes, Money Martin with the assist!” 

“Jesus Christ, is it throw y/n’s girlfriend to the ground day or something?” Kate goes down yet again, this time a foul is called, thankfully. A’ja runs to pull her up and you grin, “Look at A’ja helping my girl out like the good vet she is.” 

You turn your head to look over at Caitlin who has her face buried in her towel, only her eyes showing, and you know it’s her way of keeping her eyes on the game without revealing anything. But you can see worry in the crease between her eyebrows, you’re both not liking the ground time Kate’s been getting. 

Kate walks past you as she comes in for the time-out. She sends you a nod, letting you know she’s okay. 

“Okay guys, sorry for the lack of comments, it’s been a bit tense here. Gotta make sure my girl is fine before I can be commentating.” 

“You would make a terrible sports commentator,” Coach Bluder says, laughing at the put-out look on your face. 

“Cooked by Bluder, everyone!” You hold your hand to your chest in mock hurt, “demolished by my coach. But alas, she’s right. I’d just be too busy talking about my girlfriend to be a good commentator.” 

Coach leans closer to you, “She’s censoring herself for you guys, these are tame compared to the comments she drops during Hawkeye practices and games.” 

“Okay, enough mic time for you coach!” 

“Look at her go bringing the ball up! My little pro.” You practically have heart eyes, and for the first time, you see yourself projected on the jumbotron. 

“Oh okay, I see how it is,” You grin, finding the camera that’s projecting you, winking pointing to your jersey, then the court where Kate is.

The crowd goes insane, causing some of the players to look up, earning a laugh from Caitlin and a wink from Kate. 

“I’m more popular than both of them combined.” 

Kate comes back to the bench again and you squeeze her hand as she passes. She sends you a smile, finding her seat next to Megan again, both of you locking back into the game. 

“Let's go! Halftime baby!” You stand from your seat. “See you guys after the break!” 

🂡🂡🂡

“Okay everyone I’m back! Let's go! I have a feeling we’ll be getting some money this quarter.” 

You turn to look at the empty seats around you. “Well, you may notice I am now awkwardly here alone. Coach Bluder and Coach Jenson are off socializing, so I’m left to man the fort.” 

“I can’t believe they called that a foul,” you mutter, as Coach Hammon goes to challenge the foul a second time. 

“My lover is back in the game, you guys.” You watch as Smith misses both foul shots. 

“That was a waste of a foul.” 

“MONEY!” You shout, jumping to your feet as Kate scores her first points of the day, draining a three with ease. “That’s my fucking girl! Let’s fucking go! We are so back!” 

Kate points to you as she runs down the court, making a heart with her hands as you hold up three fingers. 

“Get her babe!” Kate’s on Caitlin again, and your bias towards your girlfriend begins to show as she plays solid defense. 

After A’ja’s fouled you can see Caitlin talking to the ref about Kate, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s got Kate smirking. 

“They’re talking mad shit to each other, I just know it,” you whisper into the mic. “I wonder how personal those insults are getting.” 

“Baby’s gone beast mode,” you say as you watch Kate celebrating A’ja’s shot. 

“Look at her cheesin’ isn’t she the cutest.” You watch Kate grin at whatever Caitlin says to her. 

“Kmoney for the block!” You yell, “a fucking beast!” 

You stand as she goes for the three, but it rims and falls out of the basket, “shake it off, baby! Plenty more buckets to make!”

“Quarter three is over guys, and my beautiful girlfriend has been burning up the court!” 

“That’s my fucking girlfriend!” You stand throwing up three fingers as Kate drains her second three of the night. “Redemption baby!” 

She points at you as she runs back down the court. 

“Kmart is on fire right now guys!” 

“That’s a fucking foul! Yeah, call that shit! It’s in Let’s fucking go!” You’re on your feet, ignoring the laughs from your coaches at your yelling, you’re saying everything you can’t say when you’re on the bench. 

“My girl is the goat guys. She’s on fucking fire.” 

Kate's eyes find yours, grinning when she sees you standing, clapping for her, a triumphant smile on your face. 

“Drained it!” You watch her make the foul shot, clapping your hands together as you finally sit back down. The jumbotron is split between the two of you, one half showing you’re over the top reaction and the other replaying her basket. 

Caitlin stands in front of you as she checks back into the game. “Let’s go CC,” you can’t see her face, but you can sense her little smirk. 

“Y’all see the bruises on that girl’s arms? Geez, maybe I need to send her some arm guards for real.” Coach Bluder bursts out into laughter at that. 

“Katie’s back on the bench guys, so my commentary will be limited as I will now spend this time admiring her.” Your coaches snort, as they know this is a very common occurrence for you. But you ignore them, eyes finding the tired ones of your girlfriend. 

‘you okay?’ you mouth, looking at her intently. 

She nods, ‘I’m good, love you.’ 

‘I love you too.’ 

Your eyes move back to the court, finding Caitlin’s very tired-looking figure. Her hands are on her knees and you just know she's done for the night. She spends more time in the game than on the bench, and it’s wearing on her. WNBA is way more physical and demanding compared to the NCAA, and Caitlin is getting the short end of the stick. 

You pull out your phone, pulling up her contact. 

‘cinnamon, if i don’t receive photo evidence of you resting over the next few days. i’ll fly to indiana and sit next to your bed while you sleep.’ 

You hit send, knowing she won’t see it until after the game, and that you could tell her in person, but this way she knows you were thinking about it during the game itself. 

“CC is 100% done for the night guys, she’s tired.” You say as you watch her check out of the game and head to the bench. 

“But my girl is back in playing the last few minutes of the game!” 

The quarter moves on and your eyes intently follow Kate as she runs up and down the court. But you’re silent as you observe, too entranced with Kate to remember your mic’d. That is until she’s fouled again.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her knee go at a dangerous angle yet again as she goes for the three. 

“You’re literally kidding!? Yeah, that’s another fucking whistle!” You watch her take a few stumbling steps before regaining her footing. “You got this Katie.” 

“Three foul shots, if she makes just one, guys, she’ll go double digits for this game!” 

“Get in there… YES!” You grin, clapping your hands together as you will the ball to go in. 

“And she hits the second, that’s my fucking girlfriend!” You can hear A’ja laughing at you from the bench and you send her a look, getting a grin back in response. 

“All three! Twelve points tonight for my girl!” 

“And Aces win!” You jump up from your chair as the buzzer sounds. Your arms wrap around Coach Jensen as she stands up as well, both of you laughing with joy for Kate. You pull away, your eyes finding Caitlin on the floor, sending her a smile, asking with your gaze if she's okay. She nods at you, knowing you want to spend the next few minutes with Kate. 

‘See you later?’ you mouth and she nods again. 

“Kate was on fire tonight!” Jan exclaims, “Twelve points is incredible for her!” 

“She was amazing,” you say as you see her heading back from the commentator stand. She jogs over to where you guys are, launching herself into your arms. 

“Hi baby,” she says into your neck, hands around your waist. 

“Hi lovebug,” you tighten your arms around her neck, “you played so well tonight.” 

“Mmm,” she mutters, nose still pressed against your throat. “I need you at all my games now.” 

“Every game this summer till training camp for Iowa, baby.” She pulls back, finally pressing her lips to yours, not a care in the world for whoever is around. 

She pulls back, glancing down at the mic still attached to your shirt. “Alright guys, I hope you had fun listening to my amazing girlfriend’s commentary, but now I want her all to myself.” 

Kate plucks the mic from your shirt, handing it off to one of her coaches before taking your hand and leading you towards the rest of your little ‘party’. 

🂡🂡🂡

After the game, you meet up with Caitlin, pulling her into your arms, knowing how she beats herself up after a loss. She melts into your arms as if you’re sixteen again and living without a care in the world. 

“You played good tonight cinnamon, don’t beat yourself up. You’re drained from your game in LA.” 

“I know,” she mumbles, “it still sucks.” 

You rub her shoulders, sending Kate a reassuring smile at the look of concern on her face. “It’ll get better CC, you just can’t let yourself burn out. You gotta take care of yourself.” 

“I’m trying Tink. It’s hard. But I’m trying.” 

“Call me whenever you get down, okay?” You pull back, looking her in the eyes. “I’m here for you, Katie’s here for you. We want you to be happy and enjoy yourself. So talk to us okay?”

“Okay.” She smiles, a mischievous look crossing her face, and you know what’s coming because you saw her do it to Kate and yelled at her for it. 

“Don’t you fucking dare Clark!” 

“Too late,” she smirks, hand connecting with your ass. You yelp shoving her away. 

“Hey, woah woah, hands off Clark.” Kate pulls you into her arms, making sure you don’t step on her, as she’s not wearing shoes, again. 

Cait puts her hands up, grinning. “Sorry Cap.” Kate makes a face, hand going down to wrap around your waist, keeping you at her side and away from Caitlin’s ass slaps. 

The three of you were back together again, and you knew, somehow everything would be okay.

[hintsofhoney]

Don't Forget It

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to.

Tags: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart), rough sex, jealous dean, spanking, light dom/sub dynamics, sex in a public place, begging, voyeurism if you squint

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Just another finished work that's been sitting in my drive, collecting dust. Beta'd by my loves @makeadealwithdean and @wayward-dreamer; love you both to the moon and back 🤍 GIF is mine. Enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

You don’t miss the way Dean’s eyebrow raises when you lift one leg to sit on the man’s desk, twirling your hair and batting your eyelashes as you try to get him to confess. You’re fully aware of the way your pencil skirt is riding up, revealing more skin than you care to show to this douchebag probably-murderer, but it’s clear that he’s way more interested in speaking to you than Dean. If it helps move the case along, you can turn on the charm.

Dean’s watching you from the corner of the room as you flirt with the sleazebag, his jaw clenching as he reminds himself that you’re just doing your job, but it doesn’t make him want to remind you who you belong to any less. Especially when you look like that . Tight skirt, the top three buttons of your blouse undone, and then when you lean over pretending to laugh at something this guy had said, he catches a glimpse of your black lace bra, and he finds himself trying not to think about ripping it off of you. Not that it was working.

“You know, you’re a pretty little thing, Agent,” the man smirks, and then he’s reaching for the exposed part of your thigh and you’re wishing he wouldn’t , and Dean clears his throat so loudly it startles the both of you. You hop off the desk as the suspect turns around to look at him.

“I think we’re done here,” Dean says, walking over to the desk and pulling a fake business card with his real phone number on it out of his inner suit jacket pocket. “If you remember anything, Mr. McAnn, give me a call.” He tosses the card carelessly onto his desk.

Mr. McAnn huffs. “Yeah, alright, Agent.”

You and Dean both know the phone call isn’t coming; you’re going to need to find another way to prove the dickhead sitting in front of you murdered his wife — possessed or not.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” Dean grits out, his eyes not leaving Mr. McAnn’s as he walks to the door. You follow suit, and the anger in your boyfriend’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Dean’s already ten steps ahead of you by the time you’re fully out of the office.

“Dean!” you call after him, speed-walking to match his brisk pace down whatever corporate building hallway you were in. “Slow down, I’m in heels!” 

You catch up to him and grab his wrist, spinning him around. 

“The hell’s gotten into you?” 

He huffs in disbelief, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of how to answer that question. 

“You can’t be serious,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows, realizing what’s gotten his panties in a twist. “I was trying to get him to confess , Dean.”

“I’m not — I know. Okay? But —” he pauses, beginning to stalk towards you, a hunger in his eyes that tells you exactly where this interaction is heading. You nearly trip over yourself as you walk backwards, a soft gasp leaving your lips when your back hits the wall. “Doesn’t mean I like watching you slutting it up for the asshole.” 

He’s got you fully caged in between his arms now, one hand on either side of your shoulders, his face inches away from yours. 

“You’re mine .”

You roll your eyes. As hot as he is when he’s jealous and possessive, it’s not like he can fuck you in this hallway. Plus, he’s being ridiculous anyway. 

“Your point ?” you prod, probably further than you should. 

“My —” he huffs again, his hands back on his hips, shaking his head before looking around. “Oh, I’ll show you my fucking point, sweetheart.”

He grabs your wrist, ignoring your squeal, and drags you a few feet down the hall, turning into the women’s bathroom and locking the door behind him. His eyes quickly scan underneath the three stalls before he determines the two of you are alone. 

“Dean —”

He cuts off your protest with his hands on your waist, walking you back into the nearby sinks before hoisting you up onto the counter. 

“Dean!” you yelp in surprise. 

He pays it no mind as he reaches for your blouse, tearing it open in one quick motion, plastic buttons clattering to the floor.

“Dean!” you scold, and Jesus, how many times can you say his name in different ways in one minute?

He remains unphased, focused on two things and two things only, both of which he reveals as he pulls down the cups of your bra.

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands as he stares at them like it’s his first time ever seeing boobs. His thumbs flick over both of your nipples at the same time, and you arch your back as a moan escapes you.

“Mm, fuck.”

He leans in, his breath fanning over your earlobe as he continues tweaking your nipples. “Might as well have shown that dickhead in there these fuckin’ tits, the way your shirt was hanging open. Left really fuckin’ little to the imagination, Y/N,” he whispers, drawing more sounds from your throat. “He was probably sitting there thinking about doing all the things I’m doing to you right now. And I don’t like that. That’s my fuckin’ point.” He pinches one of your nipples, a yelp leaving your lips. “Understand?”

You nod, unable to form words.

“I can’t hear you.” He pinches the other peak and pulls a little. 

“Oh — fuck! Yes, I understand,” you answer. “I’m yours, I’m yours.” 

“And don’t forget it.” 

His lips find your breasts, and soon he’s sucking bruises into your skin and teasing your nipples with his tongue. He’s everywhere at once, everywhere but where you really need him, and you’re not sure how much more of this torture you can take.

“Dean, please,” you gasp, and he lets out an irritated grunt as he pulls his mouth off one of your breasts, seeming annoyed that you had interrupted his fun with your begging. You can’t blame him – he’s a boob guy. Especially if they’re your boobs. 

“I’m not done yet,” he states, before resuming his attack – for lack of a better word – on your breasts.

You groan in protest, the heat between your thighs building, and you spread your legs as far as your skirt will allow. The cool air that hits your core reminds you that you had chosen to forego underwear today, and you reach down to shimmy your skirt up to your hips while Dean’s still focused on your breasts. You’re able to spread your legs a bit further now, and you can’t help but chuckle at the fact that your boyfriend still hasn’t noticed you fully on display. 

He pulls away an inch or so when he hears your giggling. “Somethin’ funny?”

“You really are a boob guy, huh?” You shake your head in disbelief, biting back a smile. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and you use the opportunity to lean forward, simultaneously pulling him towards you by his shoulders so you can whisper in his ear. “You’ve been so focused on them you haven’t taken the time to look down yet, have you?”

He pulls away, still confused, until his eyes dart down to your core. “Jesus – wait – did you –”

“Was debating between those panties you really like or just foregoing them altogether,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he breathes, staring at your dripping core for a few moments before a second wave of feral hunger hits him. “ Fuck .”

Before you can even process his movements, you’re bent over the counter instead of sitting on it, your legs kicked apart with two fingers plunging into your heat. 

“Oh my – Dean !” you squeal at both the abruptness and the roughness of it all.

“Don’t know what you expected, sweetheart, walking around with everything on fuckin’ display.” He crooks his fingers at just the right angle, and you bite back a scream.

“I – fuck – nothing w-was on display – oh God !” 

“Might as well have been. This tight little skirt of yours doesn’t leave much to the imagination, either. And then to find out there’s been nothing underneath it this whole time?”

“Ow!” you exclaim, as a loud smack fills the air, courtesy of Dean’s hand landing on your bare ass. 

“ Louder ,” he growls. “I want the whole fuckin’ building to know they can imagine whatever they want, but I’m the only one who gets to act on it.” He pulls his fingers out of you and spanks you again.

“De – oh, fuck !” you choke out. “Please, Dean.”

“Please what?” he asks nonchalantly, and you can hear his belt buckle clinking behind you.

“Fuck me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

“ Need me to, huh?” You hear the zipper of his slacks, and you shift your weight in anticipation, your ass squirming. He lands another smack on your left cheek – the hardest one yet.

“DEAN!” you yelp, and you’re certain the entire building heard that one.

“There you go. Now beg that loud and I may just give you what you want,” he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your face up from the counter while he runs his cock through your soaked folds. 

“Please!” you groan.

“Mm-mm, not hearin’ you, sweetheart.”

“Deaaaan!” you whine, pushing your hips back, trying to force him inside you. 

“You know what to do, Y/N.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath – there’s only so much of this you can take. You focus on his cock teasing your folds for a few moments, and that’s all the encouragement you need.

“Please, Dean! Please, fuck me!”

“That’s better. Louder.”

“Jesus fucking – FUCK ME, NOW!”

You’re rewarded immediately, and he bottoms out inside you with ease. 

“Was that so hard?”

“Fuck me,” you reply through gritted teeth, “or I’m gonna go get Mr. McAnn to do it.”

That is both the very wrong and very right thing to say. 

You yelp as he yanks up harder on your hair, your chest leaving the counter. His hand moves to rest on your neck – not choking you, simply holding you in place – and then he pounds into you harder than he ever has before. 

“You are something else, you know that?” he hisses, his thrusts hard and fast. “I know you were only acting like a slut for Mr. Douchebag back there, but it just comes so – fucking – easy – to you, doesn’t it?” He punctuates his words with more thrusts. “And not wearin’ any underwear – that wasn’t for the act, hm? That was because you were hopin’ to end up like this, yeah?” His hand moves from your throat to grip underneath your jaw when you fail to answer. “ Yeah ?”

“Yeah – oh m-my God – fuck , D-Deaaan.”

He smirks, watching you in the mirror above the counter as you slowly come apart on his cock. “No, you don’t have to act like a slut for me, sweetheart. You just are one, hm?” 

You nod to the best of your ability. 

“Open your eyes, look at yourself,” he orders, his grip on your jaw tightening as his thrusts speed up. You do as you’re told, meeting your reflection in the mirror. You’re not sure if your mascara is smudged because of sweat or tears, your hair looks like a bird has made its home in it, and you can’t remember a time that you’ve looked this fucked out. “See what I mean?” Dean questions. “Sluttiest you’ve ever fuckin’ looked. Not that I’m complaining.” 

You feel the dam inside you about to break, and you let out a whimper in warning. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, almost out of breath, his tone laced with pity. “Are you gonna cum?”

“Mm-hm,” you nod, whimpering again.

“You like being my slut that much, hm?”

“Dean, please,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, stalling your release as much as you can. You’re not sure why – it’s not like you have to wait for his permission – but you find yourself wanting it. 

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, quickly realizing what you’re asking for. His thrusts are becoming erratic, and you know he’s close too. “Hold it, baby. Can you do that?”

“I don’t –”

“Mmm, I think you can. I’m – fuck – I’m close. Be a good little slut and hold it. Want you – shit – want you to cum with me, sweetheart.”

You find yourself nodding, focusing on Dean’s pants in your ear instead of the precipice of your release, and a few seconds go by before expletives are falling from his lips and you know it’s safe for you to let go.

Your dam breaks. “Oh, God – fuck – Dean!”

“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, filling you up. He lets his forehead fall to your shoulder as he catches his breath, post-orgasmic shivers running through him as you ride out your high, your walls clenching around his cock. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he pants, lifting his head to press a kiss behind your ear. “Such a perfect fuckin’ slut.”

You manage a soft giggle as your body settles. “Only for you, babe.”

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as he stares at your reflection in the mirror. 

“And don’t you forget it.”

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Intruders

➳ Summary: Getting moments to yourselves is hard when you have pets (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, anytime during 6 year timeskip or after

➳ Word count: 1.6k

➳ C/W: Half-assed oral (f!receiving) & p in v

➳ A/N: I just wanted regular casual sex smut (I'm lazy) (By lazy I mean I have like 40 drafts but I'm so busy for the next two weeks I'm going crazy) (I had to take a picture of my own damn socks for this ☠️)

Daryl's hands dragged roughly over your clothed waist, you giggling some against his lips then cheek as he hastily stumbled down the hall with you towards your bedroom, kisses moving down to your jawline as his groping descended to your ass.

“God, sunshine… yer so damn sexy,” He mused, shoving open the door and hitting his heel back against it in an attempt to get it to shut, too focused on peeling your shirt away to take note of any success: closely followed by his own. “Make me need ya so bad.”

Just as he pushed you down, landing you on your back with your legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, a brown blur bounded into the room and up onto the bed.

“Nah-, Dog-.. stop tha’!” Daryl grunted, waving his hand while the shepherd was basically stepping all over you, excitedly wagging his tail and mouth hanging open as he tried to lick your face.

“Hey buddyyy,” You purred, bringing hands to both sides of his head and rapidly scratching the fluffy fur beneath his ears, forcing him back a little so he wasn't directly in your space.

“Don’ indulge him. Want ‘em outta ‘ere!”

“You didn't close the door.” You couldn't hide your playful grin as you sat up, ruffling the dog's scruff and laughing as Daryl scoffed, clapping his hands to try and redirect Dog’s focus from you.

“I tried. Now c'mon … Dog, c'mon. Out.” He patted his back a couple times, earning a look and light cocking of his head. The man raised his eyebrows, snapping his fingers and aggressively pointing towards the exit. “Out.”

Dog turned, nearly hitting you in the face with his tail and jumping from the bed, trotting out of the room as Daryl immediately shut the door behind him. He spun back on his heels, undoing his belt as he'd been intending to before and dropping his jeans to pool on the floor.

He loomed over you, finding your lips in another kiss as he worked the button on yours and helped you wriggle out, hoisting you up the bed so your head rested on the pillows. “See? Got fur all over yer tits. Gon’ have'ah hairball lickin’ it all away.”

“I dunno, maybe you'll be a hot dry-heaver, archin’ yer back ‘n all.”

“Shuddup.” He shook his head, pressing a wet kiss to your neck that cut off your taunting giggle by drawing out a moan. His palms smoothed up the curves of your figure, reaching under and undoing the clasp of your bra before tossing it aside.

“M'tha only one who should be all over these like tha,” Daryl murmured, cupping both breasts and smothering his face between them before taking one of your nipples into his mouth and rolling the other between calloused fingertips.

“Mmm, mhm? They all yours Dixon?” You trilled, to which he gave an affirming grunt and sucked a bit harder, sliding a hand down under the hem of your panties and beginning to circle your clit.

As he was starting to set his rhythm, there was an odd scratching at the door and the sound of metal clicking, before it burst open and Dog came running right back into the room, shoving his maw into Daryl's face and driving him back as he tried to pounce on him.

“How tha hell ya-? Dog, stop.”

You were snickering at this point, propping up on your elbows to watch, Daryl leaning up and straddling you as he tried to ward the canine off. “Did you lock the door?”

He bowed his head a little, failing at obscuring his embarrassment with his hair. “Thought I did…. He'sa dog anyway! Shouldn't be openin’ damn doors..”

“He's a smart dog, baby. Don't know whatcha expect from him.”

“I expect him tah not break in ‘ere like ‘es rabid or sum'thin’,” He huffed, slouching for a moment in defeat before grabbing the dog and gently pushing him off the bed, a little harder when he resisted. “Dog. S'aint gon kill ya tah be outta tha room fer thirty minutes.”

“That's cause he knows ‘thirty minutes’ turns into two hours.” Daryl gave you a look, and you traded back an innocent but knowing smile. He begrudgingly swung his leg to have them on one side, sliding off the bed and forcing Dog with him: placing hands on either side of his chest and literally walking him out of the room, once again closing the door, and putting emphasis on the little ‘clink’ when he set the lock.

He let out an exasperated sigh, resuming his position but skipping ahead on his ministrations, having grown impatient. He hooked fingers around the band of your panties, groaning a little at the way you wiggled while he brought them down, flirtatiously biting your lip and covering your breasts.

“Don’ be actin’ like'ah tease.” He parted your legs, hands feeling over your hips and thighs while he lowered his head and drew a slow lick up your center to spread your folds, openly moaning at the taste.

“Fine. Only now cause Dog's been doin’ it for me,” You chuckled, and the archer just narrowed his brows, grasping harder at your flesh as he traced circles around your clit before lapping again and sucking it into his mouth.

“Ya always so fuckin’ wet for me, always gon’ love tha’,” Daryl hummed, tugging you flush against his mouth and delving into your enterace for a quick moment with the thrust of his tongue. Your fingers wove through the roots of his locks, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “You gon��� tell me how good it feels tah have me eat'cher perfect pussy?”

You opened to respond, but were interrupted by an obnoxiously loud whimper outside the door, left saying his name for the wrong reason: “Dar…”

“I know, jus’ ignore it,” He said, voice muffled against you, trying to hone both your attentions only on the feeling of his tongue working your core. But the malinois grew noisier, scratching at the hardwood floor and struggling to shove his nose beneath the small gap in the doorframe.

“Daryl.”

He groaned deeply, placing another kiss to your cunt before releasing his hold and unwinding his arms, going to deal with it. “Ts'aint tha kinda whinin’ I wanna be hearin’.”

Turning the handle just slightly to shoo him, Dog barged right back in again, leaped onto the bed again, and just twirled around with a clueless grin to look back at Daryl, confused with how displeased he appeared. He took steps towards the shepherd, hands out, and Dog growled just a little when he moved to rid you of him.

“Ay! Ts'ma woman! Not yers. Get tha hell outta here ‘nd quit buggin’ me,” The man snapped, Dog completely unphased as if the frustration in his tone didn't resonate at all. Daryl gave up and grumbled something under his breath, going to the top drawer of your shared dresser and retrieving a pair of his socks.

He dangled it in the air, the pup immediately locking in on it like he was hypnotized. He barked once, excitedly following as Daryl walked down the hall and threw the bundle down the stairs, which was essentially throwing them into the pits of Hell. Far too many pairs of his socks had met grim fates when Dog would steal them from the laundry, either of you finding him later surrounded by shreds of fabric. But the sacrifice was necessary.

“Lemme have sum damn privacy when Ah'm with yer ma!” He shouted down the steps as that brown flash scurried to descend them. He scoffed again and how simply Dog'd abandoned his efforts, then returned to you, closing the door and locking it once more.

“You finally get him gone?” You taunted as Daryl discarded his boxers and settled over top of you and between your legs once more, silencing your amused remarks as his mouth found yours. You latched your arms around his neck, bringing him close to deepen the kiss as he slicked the tip of his near weeping cock between your folds, edged by all the disturbances.

He waited for a few seconds, like he expected something more, then thrusted into you, head falling to your chest with a pleasure-filled exhale. He maintained the stillness, another beat passing.

“Jus’ go, angel. He's distracted,” You reassured him with a kiss to his hairline, and slowly he pulled back before rocking in again. Daryl kept a steady hand on your hip, the other propping him up by your shoulder as he began to relax, garnering speed and listening to every filthy noise your bodies made when you connected, his grunts reverberating against your collarbone.

“That's the kinda gruntin’ I wanna be hearin’.” Daryl chucked at your comment, palm leaving your curve so the pad of his thumb could press against your clit, massaging it in pace with his movements and drawing out a whine from you.

He threw his head back to clear the strands of hair from his face, looking down to watch you for a moment; watch himself disappear in and out of your walls then came near again. “Shit, ya feel so fuckin’ good…”

But then another something hopped onto the opposite side of the bed, much lighter and more sophisticated. Door was still shut, still locked.

“Sweetheart… you forgot the cat.”

Daryl didn't even glance back, rolling his eyes and muttering another curse. “Ion even care anymore.” And he just found you in another kiss.

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