#At least. At least Miles got Angel? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

velvetydream · 1 year ago

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꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

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The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor x reader #x you #x reader #imagine #imagines #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine

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bloodrvvvsh · 7 months ago

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I Have No Shame. | Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Spencer joins the Mile High Club with your help.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Warnings: Handjobs, semi-public sex, they get caught (sort of?), soft sub!Spencer, soft dom!Reader, Spencer being a whimpering whining mess, facials, cum eating, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, honey, good boy), literally so much praise, a little bit of crying from Spencer, like one (1) use of Y/N, slight dumbification, begging

Word count: 1.5K

Notes: My first Spencer fic wow!!!! It’s been so long since I��ve written an actual fic, I missed it so much. Anyways I hope you all enjoy! For this I imagined like s1-s4 Spence but could technically be interpreted as any season

Cross-posted on A03.

Spencer Reid was not a bold man.

In fact, he would go as far to say he was the total opposite. At least, in his personal life he certainly was. He never made the first move, always waiting for that perfect time that never came.

He didn’t like taking risks. Even calculated ones were too much for him sometimes. So he stayed in his little bubble of comfort and safety. He liked it there. Sure, it might make him the subject of a bit of teasing and he missed out on a few things, but at the end of the day he still liked it there.

Until he met you.

You were everything he wasn’t. Outgoing, daring, bold. In some ways, you could even be described as a bit of an adrenaline junkie. It’s actually partly what led you to joining the FBI. You liked the thrill, the high stakes, the way it got your blood pumping when you had to chase down a criminal on the loose.

You lived for taking risks. The idea of never truly knowing what might happen made your spine tingle, every one of your hairs stand on. There wasn’t a better feeling than feeling a little sick to your stomach with nerves and excitement for you.

It's an interesting dynamic you and Spencer had - he was all for playing it safe and keeping to himself, while you could be a wildcard. Spencer learned that very quickly after you two started dating. And while it wasn’t that you were trying to change him (you would never!), you were simply opening him up to things he wouldn’t have thought twice about.

Everyone else on the jet was fast asleep. Slumped over and curled up in positions that would certainly give them a knot in their neck later. Spencer had his head laid over your lap, curls sprawled across your thighs while you mindlessly twirled the strands around your fingers.

You were still wide awake. The rush of the case just closed still ran hot through your veins. You’d most definitely crash later once in the sanctity of your apartment, but for now you were full of energy. You tried to distract yourself by staring out the jet window, watching the world go by, but it wasn’t working.

You glanced down at the pretty boy sprawled across you like a sleeping angel and a little thought popped into your head. You shifted in your seat, sitting up straighter, before you gently threaded your fingers into Spencer’s hair. Your nails scraped across his scalp and you almost swore you could have heard a little purr rumble in his chest.

You leaned over him, breathing slowly in vain attempt to settle your already racing heart. “Spence,” you crooned softly. “Spencer, wake up, baby.” Once Spencer actually fell asleep, he was a fairly light sleeper. It didn’t take much before he was stirring awake with a quiet groan.

“What is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. His hands raised to rub at his eyes and you could only smile. “Did we land?”

“No,” you said a little too quickly, “No, I just..” You trailed off a little as your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip. “I had an idea.” You stood to your feet and offered your hand out to him. He quirked an eyebrow, glancing between your face and outstretched hand, before slowly placing his in your grasp.

There was a little bit of a bounce in your steps as you led him in the direction of the bathroom and in that moment, Spencer regretted agreeing to whatever you were about to do. He squeezed your hand and you tossed him a smile that reeked of mischief over your shoulder.

It was a tight squeeze once inside. Because, like most airplane bathrooms, it was meant to only fit one person at a time. That didn’t stop a lot of people, though. And you were one of them.

You crashed your lips against his the minute the door locked behind the two of you. It was hot, full of passion and lust as your hands roamed over his body. He whimpered softly against your lips before relaxing into the kiss. His hands were warm and broad against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

You didn’t waste time when you wanted something, and you wanted him right here and now. Your hands drifted until they hit their target - his belt. You broke for air, panting heavy and hard, as you tried to make quick work of shedding the layers between you and his dick.

“Y/N-” he gasped. “Wait, wait-” He took hold of your wrists, halting your movements. His eyebrows pinched together and his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly. “What if we get caught?”

You grinned at him. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to be quiet so we won’t.” You knew just how much of a struggle it was for Spencer to keep himself under control when he was feeling good. The noise complaints from your neighbors were proof enough.

Your hand dipped into his pants and underwear and you tried to suppress the smirk that threatened to spread over your face when you wrapped your fingers for his half-hard cock. He gasped, but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth when you shot him a look.

His eyes rolled back as you began to stroke along his length. Your thumb brushed over the tip, smearing the pre-cum gathering and Spencer’s knees buckled. Your pace was slow, almost languid, teasing.

“Please,” Spencer whined. You grinned once more.

“Please what?” you murmured. You leaned even closer to him, somehow, hovering over his lips. You were both breathing heavily and practically sharing breaths. You took a moment to look over his adorably flushed face. “You’re so pretty, Spence..”

“Please.” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, pleasure clouding his usually bright mind. “Please, please, pl-ease.” His voice cracked when you sped up, his head lulling back. “F-feels so good, oh god.”

You cooed at the state of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Faux pity coated your words, making Spencer whine again. “Come on, use your words, honey. I can’t read minds.” You snickered.

His hand jumped to grab your wrist, not to stop you, no. He was too far gone to stop you now. He simply held it there, keeping a tight grip on you as you jerked his cock.

He looked like a total mess. An absolutely stunning mess, but a mess nonetheless. Curls sticking to his forehead and cheeks, plush lips parted in soft moans, eyes squeezed tight, face flushed shades of red. His hips arched into your touch, cock twitching in your hold.

“Are you gonna cum?” you asked and he nodded frantically. His lips twitched into a soft frown as tears began to well in his big brown eyes. God, he always the prettiest he was all dumb and fucked out. “Good boy,” you crooned at him.

You dropped down to your knees. You finally freed his dick from the confines of his underwear and he hissed at the feeling of the cold air. You didn’t waste a moment to resume your ministrations.

“Look at me, Spencer,” you commanded and he immediately followed the order. He nearly lost it at the sight of you on your knees before him. “Good boy, that’s it..” You picked up the pace even further, hand almost a blur stroking him.

“I’m- I’m gonna-” he stumbled over his words, unable to even form proper words as the pleasure grew. You shook your head.

“Do it, Spence,” you commanded again. “You can do it. Cum all over my face, pretty boy.” And that’s all it took for Spencer to tumble right over the edge. He tightened his grip on your wrist, back arching as he spilled over your face in thick spurts.

You worked him through his orgasm, stroking slow and gently, until he began to whine from overstimulation. You slowly rose to your feet and Spencer was already offering you paper towels to clean yourself. You ran a finger through one of the streaks of cum on your face and brought it to your lips, eyes fluttering shut and soft groans escaping you as you tasted him.

When you opened your eyes again, he was beet-red and looking oh-so shy and cute. You giggled. You gladly took the paper towels and began to wipe away the remnants of his cum.

You connected your lips in a chaste kiss when you were finished, making him blush even more. “You did such a good job, angel,” you praised before pressing another kiss to his lips. He tucked himself back into his jeans and buckled them back up. You entangled your fingers together, leading him out of the bathroom.

You made your way back to your seats, a sense of satisfaction settled in your chest. “Reid?” The call of your boyfriend’s name had you both glancing back to see Hotch awake in one of the jet chairs. “Don’t do that again”

Heat washed over both of your cheeks and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the growing smile on your lips. “Yes, sir,” Spencer said with a nod of his head.

At least you had fun.

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dutiful-wildcraft · 2 months ago

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This one is for all my retail pals

John Price has never worked retail in his life and it shows.

Price x reader, meetcute? if this qualifies

You're scrambling, have been since you walked through the door. They were already calling your name by the time you clicked your radio on.

From that moment forward you were hustling back and forth across the store, helping who you could, pulling orders for customer pick ups, trying to answer questions for the seasonal team members who got thrown to the wolves with slap dash training.

You're tired, you're hungry, and you've been listening to the same 5 christmas songs on repeat since the 1st of November.

You're trying to make it back to the break room for a quick snack, walking at mach speed, head lowered, praying that those you passed could see the sheer overwhelmed energy radiating off of you in waves and not ask you anything.

But there is always one.

“Excuse me!”

Your blood pressure shoots up immediately.

You stop short, try to school your expression into something friendly. He's a big man, shoulders wide enough to fill a doorway, with mutton chops that strike you as odd, but suit his face. The man hustles toward you, holding an expensive jacket out to you like a toddler.

“Can you tell me the price of this?”

Everyone thinks you have a scanner.

The chops age him, but a closer look reveals that he must only be a little older than you, pretty blue eyes scrunched apologetically. You think this grown ass man should be old enough to see the scanners staged on every other aisle, the big signs attached to the ceiling highlighting their location. Irritation wells up like a geyser as you pull the garment from his hand searching for a tag.

You search and search, even fishing around in the pocket to see if some kind soul accidentally yanked it off and put it back.

“Must be free!” Chops chuckles, and you think you should be able to pass out one free throat punch a day for simply working under these conditions.

It takes effort, not to shrivel up like a raisin over the monotonous comment. Trying desperately to focus on finding the fucking price and ignore the way the big bastard bores holes into your face. He could have looked it up on his phone, you're certain, but instead he's standing a little too close, watching you flounder, at least his cologne is nice.

A painful silence falls between you when you don't even giggle at his joke. But you must have a scrap of patience left in you because the angel of good will tugs on your ear, reminds you that not everyone stares at this shit day in and day out like you do, and he probably would have trouble finding it online anyway.

You suck in a deep breath, fish out your own phone to pull up your company's website.

“M'sorry for the trouble sweetheart” he murmurs, rolling almost sheepishly on his heels, hands reaching at his shoulders as if to grab something that isn't there, falling uselessly at his sides as he hovers over your shoulder.

The pet name should piss you off, but the rumbly timber of it tickles you somewhere in your monkey brain, he is a handsome thing, and something about the way he crosses his arms, peers over your shoulder like this was a problem he's helping you solve is kind of endearing.

You feel bad immediately for your bitchy attitude toward the fella.

“Sorry It's taking a second, I'm trying”

“I can see that, I appreciate you. I know you lot are busy, think I've seen you make a few laps now.” he teases, nodding to the bustle of people about the store, rummaging through once neatly folded tables like it's a yardsale.

You type in the style number with a little amused huff. “You have no idea, I get in miles trotting around this place” you joke, scrolling through site’s workwear options to match the jacket in your hand. It's one of the nicer one's the store carries, a sturdy brown canvas with a fleece lined collar and interior. You try to make small talk that you're notoriously terrible at.

“You must work outside.”

“Something like that” he muses, “been meaning to get the house prepped up for winter, I waited a bit late.”

You snort, “Hell me too, I barely have enough wood left for the stove myself, I'm just going to pile on blankets this winter!”

“Well that won't do.”

The hard tone of Chop's voice breaks you from your searching. A quick glance confirms he's serious, brows pinched as his posture has shifted to looking directly at you. Chin tucked to his chest.

“What?”

“You've got no one taking care of you?”

Nosy fuck. You don't know why you get defensive. “I take care of me just fine.” you retort confidently, finally pulling up the stupid jacket and telling him the price.

“Negative.” is all he replies, looking at you with the same stern gaze. You suddenly feel like a child, wanting more than anything to prove to this man you were more than qualified to handle yourself. You work retail for fucks sake.

He cuts you off before you can smart off again. “You're going to write down that number for the coat, and your number, so I can bring a load of lumber by. I won't have a pretty thing like shiverin’ in the night.”

Something inside your brain purrs at the idea. The idea of somebody looking out for you when you barely have time to keep your clothes washed and body fed was…appealing. Especially coming from a pretty gorgeous stranger. And yet?

“I'm not giving my number to a stranger, sir.” you retort with some semblance of authority.

Chops is having none of it, he makes a pointed show of raking his eyes down to your nametag dangling against your chest before flickering back up to your face. Your name rolls off his tongue easily, and you can't help the little shiver up your spine at the timber of it.

“John Price” he offers after, big paw curling around your own to shake playfully. “Not strangers now are we?”

#retail sucks but I can fix it in fantasy land #john price #captain john price #price cod #price call of duty #price x reader #wildcraft writing

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meazalykov · 28 days ago

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pick a side

gio queiroz x uswnt!reader

summary: you feel forced to pick a side during the national break

warnings: swearing, google translated language

this match has been fast-paced.

the stands in this los angeles stadium are packed, the crowd yelling with excitement as the game nears its conclusion. you’ve kept your head down for most of the match, focusing on your role, finding your rhythm, and working to break through brazil’s backline.

the banter on the pitch has been light, even playful at times. you’ve exchanged a few teasing smiles and glances with gio, your girlfriend of eight months, but nothing that would draw attention… at least, that was the plan.

it’s the 87th minute now, and the game feels like it’s teetering on the edge. tied 1-1, neither side is giving an inch. the sun has dipped low, painting the sky a hazy orange as the stadium lights flicker on. the ball pings around midfield, and then lindsey charges in, her presence commanding, as always for someone who needs to fulfill a captain role.

gio had the ball, but lindsey steps in hard on gio, winning the ball but making contact that’s just a bit too aggressive. you see gio stumble back, not falling but she almost did. the brazilian’s face twisting in frustration as she plants her feet.

lindsey straightens, turning to walk away, but gio isn’t letting it slide.

"que porra é essa?" gio snaps, her voice carrying just enough to draw a few heads. you recognize the tone immediately.. sharp, challenging. your eyes widen from forty yards away.

lindsey pauses, pivoting back to face her, jaw tight, eyes narrowing.

"you got something to say?" lindsey shoots back, her voice calm but laced with that signature edge. she’s keeping it together.. for now. you can see her fingers curl slightly, her composure fraying just enough to be noticeable.

gio waves her hand dismissively, a clear gesture for lindsey to back off.

"fuck off," gio mutters, shaking her head. the motion isn’t aggressive, but the intent is clear, and you know lindsey well enough to know it’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

lindsey takes a step closer, her head tilting slightly, her voice dropping lower but losing none of its sharpness.

"what’s your problem?"

you instinctively start to move toward them, but trinity’s hand stretches out across your chest before you can take a step.

"don’t," she warns, her voice quiet but firm.

"i think you should stay out of it luv."

you glance at trinity, your brows furrowing in silent protest, but you know she’s right. lindsey doesn’t need you stepping in, and gio doesn’t need you choosing sides.. not here, not now.

that doesn’t stop the unease curling in your stomach as you watch the exchange unfold.

gio plants her hands on her sides, her expression unwavering, meeting lindsey’s glare with equal intensity. they’re inches apart now, voices rising just enough for the crowd closest to the pitch to pick up on the spat.

this is when sonnet, and angelina from the other team start to run up and break things apart before they go too far. your heart pounds as you stay rooted in place, the tension crackling like static in the air.

your position at striker suddenly feels miles away. you can’t hear every word, but the tone is unmistakable.. neither of them is backing down. of course not, gio had never broken down from a challenge. even when you played against atletico madrid in barcelona, your club, she was the last person to accept defeat for the sake of her own ego.

you feel your hands ball into fists at your sides, every instinct screaming for you to step in, to diffuse this before it escalates further.

trinity’s hand presses against your shoulder again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"i know you want to help your girlfriend and linds but it’s not your fight." you nod reluctantly, your eyes flickering between lindsey and gio.

you just hope neither of them crosses a line they can’t step back from.

your hopes go to waste. one second, lynn is stepping in, arms raised in a gesture to calm things down, her voice steady as she tries to play the mediator. the next, gio jerks back, her expression shifting sharply, mistaking lynn’s approach as something hostile or aggressive.

“don’t touch me!” gio exclaims, her voice cutting through the noise, and it’s like a spark to dry grass. the reaction is instant. a few of the brazilian players rush in, their protective instincts kicking in as they misinterpret lynn’s movement.

your eyes widen, heart pounding in your chest as the tension erupts into chaos. voices overlap, sharp and heated in english, portuguese, and even a bit of spanish. players from both teams converge, trying to either escalate or diffuse the situation. you see gabi arguing with lynn, their gestures animated. lindsey steps forward again, her captain’s armband visible as she squares up, shouting something you can’t quite make out.

the ref’s whistle blows, shrill and piercing, but it barely cuts through the commotion. she rushes into the fray, trying to separate players, her face stern and authoritative, but it’s clear she’s losing control of the situation.

you feel rooted in place, torn between stepping in and staying back. trinity’s hand is still lightly on your arm, a silent reminder to hold your position. beside you, sophia jogs up, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“are they still upset about the gold medal game?” she asks, glancing toward the brazilian players who seem particularly agitated.

trinity lets out a soft, almost incredulous giggle, but you shut it down quickly, your voice firm.

“no, they’ve moved on.” you mean it, mostly. gio and the others had congratulated you last year, telling you the better team had won, and there was no lingering bitterness.. at least, none you’d picked up on.

watching the scene unfold, it’s hard not to wonder if the loss still stings, if the weight of that match lingers in moments like this, where tempers flare and emotions run high. your eyes dart to gio, who’s still gesturing animatedly at lynn, her voice raised, though the words are lost in the noise.

a minute after lynn came through and.. attempted.. to break things up, the collective retreat is almost comical, like someone hit an invisible pause button. players from both teams step back, hands raised or resting on their hips, the tension diffusing in unison as if they all silently agreed this wasn’t worth escalating further.

the ref stands at the center of it all, her whistle still gripped tightly, her face a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

you watch as she raises two yellow cards, one in each hand..one for lindsey, one for gio. it’s not exactly shocking. both of them are fiery, unafraid to stand their ground, and, honestly, it could’ve been worse.

still, you can’t help but roll your eyes, letting out a soft exhale as you shake your head. you mutter to yourself, “of course.”

as you jog back to your position, your gaze instinctively shifts to gio. she’s standing about twenty feet away, her expression unreadable at first. then, she meets your eyes, and you see it..a look that’s part curious, part questioning. it’s subtle, but you know her well enough to catch it:

are you on my side?

you bite back a groan, unwilling to let her pull you into whatever narrative is brewing in her mind. instead, you mouth the words, exaggerating them just enough so she can catch them from the distance:

we will talk about it later.

you emphasize the later, hoping she understands there’s a time and place, and it’s definitely not here.

gio smirks faintly, her head tilting as if to say, fine.

the game resumes, but not without a sigh from almost everyone on the pitch. the board goes up at the 90th minute, signaling 8 extra minutes. you don’t even have to ask; you know those minutes are for the chaos lindsey and gio stirred up.

"unbelievable," you mutter under your breath, repositioning yourself and shaking off the lingering tension. this match just couldn’t end quietly, could it?

finally, the final whistle comes which brings a sense of relief for you, the tension melting away as both teams fall into the familiar post-match routine.

players exchange handshakes, some linger to chat with club teammates, and there’s an easy camaraderie between many of the players despite the earlier chaos. you weave through the crowd, smiling and greeting a few friends, like angelina and gabi, catching up briefly before your focus shifts to the stands.

you’re about to walk over to greet the fans when a hand gently catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. the touch is familiar, as is the soft voice that follows.

“can we talk? i don’t think i’ll be able to wait until we’re back in spain.”

you turn around, meeting gio’s eyes. there’s a softness there now, a sharp contrast to the fire she showed on the pitch earlier. you give her a small smile, trying to keep things light.

“can we swap?” you ask, tugging lightly at her jersey… her lips curve into a smirk, but she doesn’t let you off that easily.

“you’re avoiding the conversation,” she says, the teasing lilt in her voice clear.

“i am,” you admit, not bothering to deny it.

“because that moment was ridiculous, gio.”

she chuckles softly but doesn’t argue as you both swap jerseys, the smooth motion practiced after years of playing. you pull on her green brazilian home kit while she slips into your blue popsicle-colored away jersey, your name standing out boldly on the back.

“i’m sorry,” gio starts, her tone quieter now as she rubs her hand gently on your shoulder.

“i just thought you’d be on my side. you saw how your captain pushed me right before.”

you sigh, meeting her gaze evenly.

“i know. it was a wrong move, but you know it didn’t have to escalate that far.”

gio nods, her head dipping slightly.

“i know, and i’m sorry, baby.”

the corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk, though you try to keep it stern.

“gio…” your tone is warning, but playful. “there’s a time and a place.”

she exhales dramatically, though her smile doesn’t falter.

“again, i’m sorry. i know you’re on her side—”

“i’m not on lindsey’s side,” you cut in quickly.

“in fact, i think she might talk to me about this since, you know, i’m your girlfriend and all.”

gio winces slightly but recovers with a sheepish grin.

“again, i’m sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you tell her firmly, your tone light but sincere.

“there’s nothing to apologize to me about.”

“fine,” she relents, her smirk growing as she steps closer and pulls you into a hug. the warmth of her embrace melts away any lingering frustration, and just as you’re starting to relax, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“i know you’re on my side, as much as you don’t want to admit it.”

masterlist

#gio queiroz #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #brazil wnt #awfc #atletico madrid femenino #lindsey horan #uswnt

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leaderwonim · 1 year ago

Text

smart, sexy, lacy, i’m losing it lately.

pairing. student!yang jungwon x student!fem!reader

summary. jungwon has always hated you, right from the start. you were too nice, too smart for your own good, and lately—you’ve been starting to get too pretty for yang jungwon to handle.

author’s note: HAPPY BDAY YANG JUNGWON WOOOOO here’s a post dedicated to my bias, the loml. this fic is entirely based off of olivia’s song “lacy”, one of my favorites off her guts album!

Yang Jungwon thought you were the most insufferable person he met. Not only were you overly nice, but you were so smart that you got the highest scores unlike bitter Jungwon who always managed to score second place.

“I’m losing it,” Jungwon whispers underneath his breath as he lifts his paper up into the air. A big red 99 was scribbled on top of his paper.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset.” Sunghoon, a friend of Jungwon’s, took a seat next to the mess of a boy who was currently ruffling his hair in stress. “A 99 is good Wonie!”

“No it’s not,” he mumbles, placing his head against the table. “No it’s not. Song Y/N managed to get a 100 again.”

Almost as if the universe knew Jungwon was talking about you, you passed by the two boys, waving a quick hello to Sunghoon.

“Don’t wave back.” Jungwon mumbles, lifting his head up slightly to glare at Sunghoon.

“What? Why?” Sunghoon whines, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know why you hate her, she’s a sweetheart.”

“Look at her,” Jungwon mutters in disgust as he finally straightens his posture to look at you. “God’s favorite child—Song Y/N. Those stupid ribbons in her hair make me want to barf.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say it, but he’s ultimately very concerned for Yang Jungwon. He’s known the boy for years and it confuses him on why he hates you so much. You have been nothing but nice to the both of them since freshman year of high school.

“Why do you care so much Won?”

“I don’t.”

It’s a lie, one that Sunghoon detects from a mile away.

Yang Jungwon cares. He cares a lot. He lets his hatred of you take over his life, and it leaves him feeling miserable.

When Yang Jungwon walks into creative writing, his favorite class of the day, he is hit by the overwhelming smell of your perfume.

He’s practically memorized it by now because everytime it’d come into his presence, his nose would flare up and his body would tense. Vanilla and macadamia, of course you’d wear something like that.

You probably don’t notice—or at least Jungwon hopes you don’t notice—but he’s always staring at you, quickly looking away when you make eye contact. Sometimes, he’d huff under his breath about how ridiculous you look with your ponytail, even though Yang Jungwon knows it looks adorable on you.

Being around you was like sweet torture in the young brunette’s eyes.

“Jungwon!” You say as you make your way to him on one afternoon. “Congratulations on making it as class secretary! I knew you could do it!”

Jungwon bites the inside of his cheek, not expecting your input.

You’re too nice. You’re way way too nice to him. He thinks.

“Thanks.” He clears his throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Although you were complimenting him, it felt like bullets piercing through his skin.

“I dyed my hair, do you like it?” You give him a smile, oblivious to the current crisis that Yang Jungwon was going through.

You did dye your hair. It was a bright blonde now, kind of reminding him of Regina George, you know—minus the bitch part.

“It’s… okay.” He mutters. “Listen Y/N, I have a lot of work, do you mind?”

You shake your head quickly, muttering out a small apology before taking off to find your friends.

Yang Jungwon wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but you looked dazzling in your newly dyed hair. You looked like Bardot reincarnated, and Yang Jungwon was so fucked because he knew that he couldn’t escape you wherever he’d go.

It was almost as if you were made out of Angel dust.

“Are you out to get me?” Yang Jungwon slams his hand on your table, jolting you from your work.

“What are you talking about?” You say, still putting on a smile despite being confused.

“Are you out to get me?” Jungwon feels out of breath now that he’s all up close and personal to you. “You poison everything I do!”

“What do you mean?” You frown, the feeling of sadness suddenly seeping over you. “Jungwon?”

“You know that I just loathe you lately? Do you Song Y/N?” Jungwon looks away in distress, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “My mind, it’s like I can’t get you out of it, and I don’t know what to do. I hate you—I swear I do—but I don’t know anymore! My mind practically worships you Song Y/N!”

Jungwon’s eyes widen when he realizes he’s said too much, especially when he comes in contact with your face that’s bright red in shock.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Jungwon, it’s okay.” You take his hands into yours, rubbing it comfortingly. “I kind of knew for a while, Sunghoon told me. I know all these feelings must be confusing but you know I’m here for you regardless.” You smile at him. “I like you Yang Jungwon.”

Jungwon’s mouth goes dry, and for the first time, he can’t think of anything to insult you with. “I.. I like you too Song Y/N.”

“Finally.” Sunghoon emerges suddenly from behind you two, making Jungwon gasp in shock.

“Yah! Don’t do that hyung!” Jungwon complains, hands still holding on tightly to yours.

“Sorry, had to get my two favorite kids together.”

Yang Jungwon wasn’t sure of many things, but he was sure of 2. One: he liked you a lot, and two: he was definitely going to kill Park Sunghoon for telling you everything.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen texts #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x you #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #jungwon x reader #enhypen jungwon #jungwon

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started. Joel clears his throat.

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult."

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips.

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person.

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it.

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs.

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!"

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees.

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?"

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree.

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover.

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire.

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize. You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks.

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off.

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway.

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark.

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window.

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop.

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.”

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary.

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half.

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating.

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head.

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?”

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave.

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.”

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you.

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest.

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space.

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves.

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin.

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says.

“From what?”

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him.

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap.

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel.

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask.

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says.

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room.

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back.

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands.

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel.

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully.

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm.

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael.

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night.

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships.

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down.

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips.

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish.

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses.

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #dark content #cult leader!joel miller #cw age gap #cw dubcon #cw age difference #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark joel miller

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msnmnt · 1 month ago

Text

The Very First Night

Notes: Happy New Year’s Eve Eve!

I think this is my longest fic yet so I really hope you enjoy. Feedback is very much welcomed as always 🥰

Summary: On New Year's Eve, Mason’s car breaks down, leaving you both stranded in the middle of nowhere. With no choice but to find shelter till you can be rescued in the morning, you stumble upon a little B&B where you end up sharing a bed for the night. Lots of fluff as you navigate the uncertainty and awkwardness of unexpectedly being so close early on in your relationship. 🩶

You tried your best to keep your smile at bay as you looked out of the passenger window of Mason’s car. The soft sound of the radio played in the background, enjoying an otherwise comfortable silence as Mason navigated the winding country roads that looped around the lakes, guiding the two of you home.

Your fingers absent mindingly traced at the edge of the map you’d been following throughout the day, spending hours in quaint cafes, visiting quirky shops as you enjoyed some time together away from the non stop festivities.

The day had been nothing short of perfect - just the two of you away from everything with no real direction as you let the day unfold as it pleased.

After meeting at a mutual friend’s Halloween party, Mason had taken you on a few dates with each one topping the last, but you knew this one would be even tougher to beat.

The sun had began to dip beneath the horizon when a jarring sound suddenly interrupted the quiet of the car. A loud thump was followed by a scraping noise and Mason’s eyes darted to the mirror as the car veered slightly to one side.

“Shit," he muttered, slowing the car as he led it to the side of the road. "I think we’ve got a flat tyre.”

Your heart skipped in your chest as you turned to him, your voice light with worry. “Seriously?”

Mason let out a soft laugh in disbelief this was actually happening, running a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately I think so, angel.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest once more, this time at the nickname Mason had recently given you.

Mason managed to get the car into a lay by, parking it up as close to the side as possible. The evening was growing darker by the minute and all that was on Mason’s mind was how he could keep you as safe as possible.

“Wait here, I’ll go check what the damage is.” You watched on from the comfort of your heated seat as he scrunched up his brows, his tongue darting out as he inspected the tyre. After a few more moments of him shining the torch light from his phone to inspect the damage, Mason signalled it wasn't good news as he shook his head, his disappointed eyes meeting yours.

You unbuckled your seatbelt before stepping out of the car and joining Mason, straight away noticing the sharp nail that had somehow ended up impaling your transportation home.

You glanced around, tugging your bottom lip between you teeth as you thought about what you were doing to do. It was New Year’s Eve, you were quite literally in the middle of nowhere and the nearest town, or even a shop, felt miles away.

“What do we do now?” you asked, uncertainty creeping into your voice.

Mason walked around the car, inspecting the flat tyre again, He shook his head, his expression half-amused and half-annoyed. “Well, it's New Year's Eve so everyone’s probably at least half cut by now.” He signed. “And the wait for recovery is bound to be hours.”

You swallowed, trying to push down the nervousness that bubbled in your chest. "So… what, we’re just stuck here?"

Mason looked back at you with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he tried to comfort you, sensing your apprehension at being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Mason took your hand in his and suddenly everything felt like it would be okay.

The quiet of the countryside was broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees and the occasional car driving by in the distance, too far to flag down to ask for any kind of help.

“We passed a bed and breakfast not long ago, it’s just back up the road.”

You nodded, thankful to have somewhere where the two of you could feel safer than the roadside till someone was sober enough to come to your rescue in the morning.

Mason tightly gripped your hand as he spun you around so he was walking closest to the road offer he led you back in the direction you had came from. Luckily after around just 10 minutes later, you arrived at the cozy, ivy-covered inn that Mason had spotted earlier. The B&B had an old-world charm, bright lights from the windows gleaming in the early evening gloom.

You let your body embrace the warm as soon as you walked in, leaving Mason to do all the explaining to the old woman behind the desk. Luckily she was sweet and accommodating, gushing at how cold and worried you must've been.

“You're in luck, we have one room left,” she explained, her voice raspy but kind. “It’s got a large bed, so you two should be fine."

Mason glanced across to you, his heart suddenly thudding harder than it had all day. Your eyes flicked up to his, equally unsure of what to say. You'd been on a few dates, but the pair of you had agreed to take things slow.

And sharing a bed?

That was new ground entirely.

“Is that okay?” Mason asked, trying to sound casual but failing a little as he snapped you from your thoughts.

You hesitated at first but quickly nodded when you realised, offering the lady a thankful smile. “I think we’ll manage."

The room was small but charming, a warm looking quilt covering the bed and lace curtains blowing gently in the cool breeze that came from the window which was slightly ajar.

The light from a single lamp cast a soft glow over the room, and you felt your nerves spike, unsure of how you were going to handle this unexpected first night together.

A self proclaimed control freak, a B&B in the middle of nowhere was not how you had invisioned your first night with Mason.

He put the few belongings he did have down onto the small wooden desk, consisting of a phone charger and a small toiletries bag that he was grateful he always kept in the boot of his car.

“I hope she didn’t think this was a one night stand.” Mason spoke, the idea of the sweet old lady thinking he had bought a one night stand to her small and clearly family run B&B making him feel a little guilty.

You mockingly gasped, your jaw dropping open and eyes widening. “Excuse me, do I look like a one night stand kind of girl?” You thought your voice was clear with sarcasm, but Mason’s jaw tensed slightly as he became overcome with worry that he had offended you. Mason knew your relationship was still in its early days, and he daren't put even a foot wrong to mess up what he was sure was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Mason internally cursed himself for his comment, looking like a deer in the headlights as he tried to explain himself. “No! No, not at all, I just meant because we have literally like almost no belongings between us, I didn’t mean it like th-“

Your lips turned upwards as a giggle fell from your lips, a sound Mason was sure was one of the sweetest to have ever graced his ears. A wave of relief washed over Mason as he realised you were only playing around.

“Did you, um, would you want my shirt? To sleep in, I mean.” His eyes dropped down to take in your attire, a long sleeved knitted dress with a bulky cardigan over the top. “Dresses aren’t the most comfortable to sleep in.”

You raised your eyebrows. “And do you have much experience sleeping in dresses, Mr Mount?”

Mason’s cheeks reddened as he struggled to come up with a response, and you begun to feel a little bad at your relentless teasing. As much as you loved seeing him getting flustered, you felt a little guilty and didn’t want to end up accidentally pissing him off, especially when you were stranded in the middle of nowhere with no means of getting home.

You bowed your head slightly, unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, sarcasm is my defence mechanism when I’m nervous.” You mumbled out, offering a shy, apologetic smile.

“Why’re you nervous, angel?” He stepped forwards, reaching out a hand to cradle your face. It was your turn to blush this time, his long fingers cupped perfectly around your burning cheek, which did wonders to settle his own nerves. “There’s nothing to worry about, it’s just me.”

Your heart jumped in your chest as his dark orbs stared so intensely down at you. “Sharing a bed with a pretty boy is a little nerve wracking.” You admitted sheepishly.

A grin plastered across his face at your words. “Just imagine how nervous I feel with how gorgeous you are then.” He booped your nose with his thumb and you couldn't fight a big smile from forming on your face, perfectly matching his.

“I’d like it. Your shirt, if that’s still okay.”

Straight away Mason nodded. “Of course.” he took a step back and pulled at the collar of his white tee, stripping it off his body and over his head.

He muddled with the shirt, attempting to fold it up before walking over to the queen size bed and placing it on top of the duvet. Your eyes raked over his body, your heart booming as you stared at his perfectly defined back, blood rushing straight to your head as he turned to face you and you took in his bare chest for the first time.

His heart soared as your eyes became fixated on his abs, scanning over the ridges of his muscles, the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. You were completely and utterly enamoured with him.

You knew you had been caught by the smirk that was spread across Mason’s face, but he was more than happy to let you indulge in his body all you liked, deciding not to risk potentially embarrassing you by drawing attention to it.

“I’ll go to the bathroom, give you some time to get changed, okay?”

You just nodded, words escaping you as your gaze moved to his slight smile, being unable to look him in the eyes.

As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut, you let out the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding in.

You wandered over to the small mirror that was above an old fashioned wooden desk, tousling your hair between your fingers before rubbing at the smudged eyeliner under your eyes, trying your best to rub away the mess.

You removed your cardigan, carefully placing it over the chair underneath the desk. It looked equally as ancient as the rest of the furniture in the room, and you definitely didn’t want to break anything.

You slipped off your dress, cursing yourself for not wearing matching underwear. You frowned at your boring baby pink bralette and white knickers. You couldn’t never preempted that this was the way the day was going to end.

Walking over to the end of the bed, you picked up Mason’s top and pulled it over your head, the familiar smell of his aftershave enveloping you. The shirt just about covered your bum, hitting the top of your thighs.

“Am I okay to come out?

You jumped at the sound of Mason’s voice from behind the en-suite door, taking one last look in the mirror before quickly making your way over to the bed.

“Yeah.”

If he was at home, Mason would never go to bed in anything more than a pair of boxers. But he didn’t want to risk giving you the wrong idea or making you feel uncomfortable, and so he decided to keep his jogging bottoms from the day on.

Right on queue, Mason walked in to you flopping onto the bed, stifling a laugh when the bed made an almighty creak as you settled atop it. You frowned, sitting yourself up and cringing as the bed squeaked further at your every move.

“So minimal movements throughout the night, got it.” Mason laughed, climbing onto the bed himself.

He finally turned to you, a sickly sweet feeling swarming in his tummy as he took in the sight of you in his shirt. You begun to feel nervous as you felt his eyes taking in your body, feeling a little self conscious, repositioning to enable you to tug the duvet up and wrap it over your lower body.

Mason joined you under the duvet, quickly extending his arm and beckoning for you to come snuggle up to him. You gladly obliged, tucking your head under his arm and wrapping your arm around his bare chest. The warmth of his skin against the side of your face made your mind feel hazy, the new position adding an element of intimacy to your relationship which you hadn’t been expecting to come so soon, but now it was here, you were glad to welcome it.

The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder than it had before. The quiet, steady rhythm of its hands echoed in the stillness of the room as the pair of you laid intertwined, barely moving as you just enjoyed the intimacy of the situation you had ended up in, your legs tangling together as you listened to Mason’s steady heartbeat.

The warmth from the bed had settled between you, but it was the quiet energy in the air that made it feel like time itself had slowed. You were close - closer than you had ever been before, and despite the nerves you couldn't deny how right it felt to be held in Mason's arms.

Outside, the faint sound of fireworks popped in the distance, echoing through the dark and signaling the approach of the new year. You looked back over at the ticking clock on the wall before glancing at Mason, your breath catching when you realised how close to midnight it was.

"Ten minutes to go," you murmured, voice quiet, barely above a whisper.

Mason nodded, flicking between you and the clock, then back to your face. You lifted your head slightly, still comfortably in his arms, his eyes dark and warm in the low light. They quickly locked on your lips for a brief moment before he pulled his stare back to your eyes, but the look hadn't gone unnoticed.

There it was again - the pull, the undeniable magnetic force. You felt it more now than ever.

“So, you got any resolutions?” Mason asked, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to shake the nerves. He shifted a little, the arm you weren't laying on coming down to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing gentle strokes on your bare skin.

You felt shivers go up your spine, your cheeks warming as he held you so tightly to his chest. Your lips twitched into a smile. “Maybe… to stop feeling so nervous around you." You paused, then added with a teasing glint in your eyes, “And to learn how to stop blushing whenever you look at me.”

Mason laughed, low and soft, but his eyes softened when they met yours. “I don’t think you can stop blushing. I mean… it’s cute."

Your heart skipped again, and you couldn’t help the way your face warmed, despite your attempts to play it cool.

You gave in, hiding your face into his chest which vibrated as he chuckled at seeing you flustered.

You gathered the courage to raise your hand up to his bare chest, gently tracing little shapes with your finger tip. A low laugh hit your ears and you swallowed at the feel of being so close to Mason for the first time. You loved his warm skin on yours, his heart now thudding loudly away under your touch.

“Tickles, baby.” Mason mumbled and you smiled, secretly rather pleased with yourself, switching to use your nails to drag random patterns over his abs. The sensation made Mason tighten his grip on your waist making goosebumps form on your body.

You let out a satisfied hum, rather pleased with yourself before stopping and twitching slightly to nuzzle further into Mason’s grip.

You cuddled back into his chest and Mason was quick to wrap his arm tightly around you once more. You laid there in complete content, not being able to stop your eyes from fluttering closed.

Mason smiled to himself, happy you felt comfortable around him.

“You sleepy, angel?” He murmed, and you barely managing to mumble back a yes.

“I wasn’t but you’re warm and cosy.”

He chuckled at that, his heart warming.

Mason lent down and gently placed a tender kiss to your head, his lips barely brushing your forehead before caressing the bare skin of your arm with the pads of his fingers.

The sound of fireworks echoed through the room, the familiar tone of the new year ringing out across the quiet, making the moment feel all the more real. Your pulse quickened, and for a moment, the world outside - the fireworks, the noise, the time - it all faded.

The pair of you were only aware of each other.

You turned your head up to Mason just as the last chime rang out. He glanced at you lovingly, taking in the moment. You swallowed, your heart beating louder in your chest. His gentle movements, the way he held you as the clock struck midnight. You knew you were right where you needed to be.

"Happy New Year, y/n." He whispered.

Before you could respond, his hand gently cupped your cheek. He leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for something, permission, maybe, but you didn’t want to wait anymore. You tilted your head slightly, feeling your breath catch in your throat as you closed the distance.

The kiss was tentative at first, a soft meeting of your lips that lingered longer than either of you expected. A simple touch, almost shy, yet full of everything you were yet to say. Mason's lips were warm, his hand brushing a lock of hair behind your ear as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your hand found its way back to his chest, feeling the drum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. When he pulled back, just a fraction, your foreheads met, and for a long, lingering moment, neither of you moved.

“I didn’t think we'd end up here tonight.” Mason whispered, his voice rougher than before. “I mean, in bed with each other.”

You smiled, lips tingling from the softness of the kiss. “Me neither.” Your fingers gently traced the edge of his jaw, your gaze locked with his. “But I’m glad we did.”

“Me too,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted closer, the warmth of his body against yours sending an electric thrill through your veins.

You both knew it was more than just a kiss. It wasn’t just about the timing or the situation shared between you. It was the feeling - the way everything about today now felt like it was leading to this exact moment. A kiss shared in the quiet of an unexpected new year, both of you uncertain and shy but so completely, undeniably there in the moment.

For a moment, you just stayed close, breathing each other in. The fireworks were lighter now and through the light curtains you could see bursts of bright colours against the dark sky. But inside the room, it was just the two of you. Silent, content, and intertwined in a way neither had imagined would happen yet.

Mason didn't want to push his luck, completely respectful of your boundaries and not wanting to risk making you feel uncomfortable. But when he saw your eyes fixated on his again, following them down as they flickered towards his lips, he gently brushed his lips against yours once again, this time allowing himself to deepen the kiss as he slipped his tongue past your slightly parted lips. The moment was still soft and tender, both of you basking in the intimacy.

When you finally pulled away, it was slowly, as if neither of you wanted to fully break the spell.

You looked at Mason, cheeks flushed, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Happy New Year, Mason."

He returned your smile, his eyes shining bright with excitement for what was to come in the year ahead for the pair of you. “Happy New Year, y/n.”

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount smut

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ohdeerfully · 2 months ago

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incredibly short and sweet self indulgent fic tonight..... had surgery yesterday (not nearly as bad as reader here i just like the dramatics) and have been fighting for sleep for like 7 hours. its nearly 5am im so tired. so heres some fluffy comfort fic?????! i need season 2 to come out already so i dont have to reuse gifs ),:

Battle Scars

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: reader is injured but no graphic descriptions. alastor is grossly sweet here masterlist join my discord! ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

After the latest attack from Heaven, you found yourself one of the many stuck in recovery. A gnarly wound on your abdomen and a fractured jaw left you covered in stitches and bedridden. It was embarrassing, almost, feeling so helpless. The attention you got from the kinder residents of the hotel ironically didn’t help you feel any better, although they meant well.

“I really appreciate it, really, but I don’t need this, it’s too much,” You spoke slowly, and it felt like you were nearly chewing on your words as you spoke to Charlie when she came to your room a day after your surgery with a whole gift basket of goodies and a small wooden knick knack of your favorite animal. You tried pushing it back into her hands, but it took no strength at all for her to keep it on your lap. She waved her hand dismissively.

“You fought so hard for us!” She said with assurance and gratitude. “It’s really the least I could do.” She removed the basket from your lap and rested it on a nearby vanity. She spoke a few more pleasantries and offered you your thousandth “feel better” before leaving the room. A light smile crossed your lips at her gestures, but it soon fell from your face again as your focus returned to your poor state.

Painkillers in Hell were less than ideal, although that would come as a surprise to nobody—it was Hell, afterall. Truthfully, “real” pain medicine did nothing to help, and the only real solution was some hard drugs to take the edge off. You opted to call up Angel Dust as a last resort.

For the next few days you were practically a ghost floating through the hotel, only shuffling out of your room to grab a meal and fluids. Every step ached, shooting pain up your body and through the mediocre stitches on your chest. Eating was no less painful, especially considering you never had an appetite and only really ate out of necessity. You couldn’t chew well, so you were stuck eating a mostly soft and liquid diet. It was miserable.

The days were blending together, especially due to the fact many of your nights were sleepless. You spent hours turning this way and that, desperately trying to find that perfect position that would let sleep finally turn off your pain for just a few hours, but it never came. Every night you eventually got fed up and sat in a rocking chair by the window, watching the red-casted city just a few miles away.

You heard a light knock at your door, but before you could reason enough at who would be awake so late in the night you felt a sensation of the air blowing before a presence materialized behind you. It took no time at all to recognize the familiar prickling of static on your bare skin. Instinctually the recognition brought relief, but your guard soon went back up after you had a moment to think.

A weird mixture of feelings crossed your mind as Alastor approached you, stopping at the side of the chair you sat in. His claws gripped around the head of the chair, stopping the gentle rocking you had been lulling yourself with.

“Why are you up so late, ma moitié?” He bent slightly to peer down at your face, his ever present smile more gentle than usual. You cast your eyes up to his, studying his face for a moment while you tempered your emotions and thought of a response.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You finally answered, averting your gaze when his piercing eyes became too much to look at. It hurt so bad to speak. You heard him chuckle, although it was empty of any real humor.

“You know better than anyone I don’t sleep much,” He responded, fingers trailing along the wooden carving of the back of your chair. His fingers eventually found themselves trailing onto your head and gently playing with your hair. A tense chill went through your body, but you allowed yourself to fall weak to his touch. You were always weak to him.

The intimate contact finally broke the dam of emotion you tried to reserve in order to maintain what little dignity you had in your broken state. You didn’t cry, but the tears that filled your eyes threatened to spill at any moment. You were embarrassed, but couldn’t help it in your sleepless state.

“Where have you been, Alastor,” You said, barely above a whisper. It had been days since the attack, and after his one on one with Adam he had completely disappeared. You didn’t know if you wanted to miss him or hate him for leaving you like that. You were sickeningly worried. He didn’t respond immediately, but you knew he heard you well enough when you saw his ears twist momentarily in the reflection and his expression shift.

“Let’s lie you down, first,” He offered, already moving to wrap his hands around your shoulders to aid in you standing up. As upset as you felt, you put up no fight and obeyed his touch as he guided you to your disheveled bed. He settled himself next to you, remaining propped up on an elbow as he peered down at you. You wished he would stop looking at you so hard, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious of your unwashed hair and swollen, bruised jaw.

“I found myself in a similar state as you,” He eventually responded to your earlier question, his voice much quieter than you would ever expect from him. You were no stranger to the softer side of him, but it always came as a shock when his usual attitude is rather obnoxious and unserious.

His fingers gently trailed at your wrapped up body, somehow knowing exactly where the stitches hid underneath the bandages. His hand reached your own, gently cupping it and pulling it towards his own body. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed before, but Alastor had his own set of bandages covering a bloody spot on his chest.

You pulled your hand away from his and brought it up to cup his cheek. It took him a moment to accept the gesture, lightly pressing his head into your hand.

“Why didn’t you come back to me?” You asked quietly. “After seeing Adam strike you, I was so worried you went off and bled out alone somewhere.”

Alastor grinned a little wider at your comment, but it soon fell to be quite small and strained.

“I was weak. I don’t want anybody seeing me like that—especially you, my dear. I had my own battle to face and I couldn’t come back until I felt a little more… sane.”

You didn’t quite understand the latter half of his statement, but knew better to question him further. He likely wouldn’t open up any more anyway. You were slowly just accepting that he was back with you, which lifted a weight you forgot was even on your mind.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t protect you from your own fight,” He added after a few quiet moments, the sincerity in his voice poking at your already emotional heart. His arm had come to wrap protectively around your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him.

“I don’t need protection,” You spoke a bit stubbornly. You watched his eyes glance down at your battered torso before looking back up to you, but he made no further comment. “But I am glad you finally came back.”

He brought his head down, resting his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and breathed in his familiar smell, almost overwhelmed with the comforting familiarity of it. You had managed to block out your worry about his absence for the past few days, trying to focus on your own recovery, and it had all come flooding back at once. Before he would have a chance to notice tears forming in your eyes, you aggressively threw your arms up and around him, pulling him down and closer to you as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

The uncertain tension in his body was dismissed when he felt a jolt of your body as you bit back a sob. He curled both of his arms around you, pulling you against himself while also bringing his legs up to cradle your curled up form.

The room was dead silent, the only movement being your shuddering body as you fought to stop yourself from crying. It hurt tremendously to cry, but the emotions you felt made it near impossible to stop.

It was only when Alastor began threading his clawed hand through your hair were you able to calm yourself down. His touch was delicate, maybe a bit unsure, as he did his best to comfort you. You shifted impossibly closer to him, and in response he simply pulled you tighter to his body.

“Don’t do that shit again,” You whispered after the tears stopped flowing.

“Nothing in Heaven or Hell can keep me from you,” He promised, speaking as if he was challenging something to test that fact. You felt him shift for a moment before a light kiss was pressed on your forehead. You melted into the contact, finally falling silent as his gentle touch in your hair and against your skin lulled you into sleep.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #fluff #comfort #guys im so tired #i got my wisdom teeth removed and i cannot eat ANYTHINGGG #or sleep #im going to go crazy #very short fic but its all i have power for #goodbye see u in another eight months

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 months ago

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My Angel

Sam and Dean & teen!reader, Castiel & teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re a daughter figure to team free will, and you have time/location travel powers. One time you accidentally time travel back too far, and you have to face TFW before they met you.

Warnings: panic attack, then pretty much fluff

“Hey Sam?” You knocked on Sam’s door softly—no answer. You slowly pressed the door open, peaking in and seeing Sam fast asleep on his bed. You took a step back, pulling the door closed as silently as possible; you’d wanted his help to study for your test, but he hadn’t been sleeping much lately while he dealt with all the hunters now living in the bunker, so you wanted to let him sleep.

Next stop was Dean—but he was out on a hunt with Mary. Finally, you wandered around looking for Cas. You found him in the library poring over lore.

“Cas?” You approached him hesitantly, a notebook hugged to your chest. “Do you think you could—“

“Not now, Y/N,” Cas huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I need to finish this.”

“Oh.” You bit your lip. “Do you think maybe later you could—“

“Not now!” He snapped. “I’m a little busy trying to keep your brother from dying!”

You snapped your mouth shut, turning on your heel and leaving without another word.

“No, wait…” Cas’s regret came a split second too late. “I’m sorry!”

…

You clicked the lock shut on your room door, tossing your notebook on your desk before dropping down on your bed.

“Calm down calm down calm down,” you whispered to yourself over and over, rubbing your face and a few stray tears. The pile of homework on your desk already had you panicked, and you hadn’t been prepared for Cas to yell at you like that. Not only that, but on top of the homework you had a huge test, and you knew you weren’t ready.

Your handle on your emotions had been slipping lately due to all the stress, and with that came a lack of control on your powers. That had led to a lot more “incidents” lately—usually you’d just get transported to a few minutes in the past, or a mile or two away, but you were always scared that if your emotions got big enough, there would be bigger jumps.

“Stop it,” you willed your pounding heart to no avail. Your breath was coming in quicker and quicker gasps, and it was all you could do to sit up and try to keep the room from spinning. “It’s ok, you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine…”

You closed your eyes tightly as the panic took over and your head started to pound—a sure sign that you were traveling.

“No no no,” you whimpered. “Not now, just stop, just stop!”

The pain grew and your breath still hadn’t returned. You opened your eyes, but everything was still spinning, and black spots were flying around the edges of your vision. You tried to stand, but something sharp smacked against your head. The darkness spread, faster and faster and—

And nothing.

…

“What the heck?”

A man’s voice was the first thing you heard as you tried to force your eyes open through the pain that pounded behind them.

“Sam! Dean! Get in here!”

You groaned, blinking your blurry vision away. Dark wood lined the floor, and as you forced yourself to sit up, a room came into focus—an old couch slumped in the corner, an oak desk sat right next to you. An old man was crouched in front of you, a gun in his hand—

“Bobby?” You breathed. You’d seen the man in pictures before, but you’d never met him.

The gun twitched.

“How do you know who I am?” Bobby demanded.

“What’s going on?” Dean’s voice caught your attention—he rushed through the doorway, followed by Sam, and both froze at the sight of you. “Who the heck is that?”

The boys were younger than you’d ever seen them, by a few years at least, and you knew from what they’d told you about Bobby’s death that you must have gone back at least six or seven years—long before you’d met the boys.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Bobby insisted, cocking the gun in his hand. “And I’d better find out in the next five seconds.”

“Ok ok wait!” You insisted, holding up your hands. Your head was pounding—you’d probably hit it on the desk when you traveled, and you could swear that you felt blood running down the side of your face. “I’m…I’m from the future.”

Three blank stares.

“Right,” Bobby scoffed. “And I’m Bill Clinton.”

“It’s true!” You insisted. “I-I have powers, but I jumped back too far.”

“Do you expect us to believe—“

“It’s true.” Dean’s protest was cut off with a flutter of wings and the deep voice of Castiel. “She’s telling the truth, she’s from the future. I can sense it.”

“So what, she can just jump around time and—“

“No,” Castiel insisted. “No, no one should have that power.” His eyes flashed blue. “I need to take care of this problem.” He took one step forwards, but Dean jumped over to block him.

“Whoa whoa, hey, easy,” Dean insisted. “She’s just a kid, what are you gonna do?”

“She shouldn’t exist,” Castiel argued. “She’s dangerous.”

“Cas?” You whimpered, backing away from him.

“How do you know me?” Cas demanded, stiffening.

“We…you…” you swallowed. “We met…or, I guess, we will meet…in a few years. You try to help me control my powers. All three of you do.”

“Three?” Bobby asked, but you kept your mouth shut.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Castiel continued. “I would’ve killed you—I should’ve—you’re dangerous.”

“And-and you’re a lot different here than you are in the future.” Your lip quivered as you spoke, still keeping as much distance from Cas as you could. He wasn’t the gentle, caring Cas that you knew—he truly looked like the dangerous angel you knew he could be.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Sam spoke up. “Shouldn’t she go back to her own time?”

“I still don’t think she should be in any time,” Cas argued, his hand twitching—probably for his angel blade.

“Please.” A tear dripped onto your hand, and you wrapped your arms around yourself—despite the familiar faces, you felt surrounded by strangers. “Please, I-I just want to go home. I didn’t mean to come here, I didn’t mean to—“ you noticed Castiel’s hand relaxing slightly, and you took a deep breath. “Cas, you…in the future, you’re like a father to me. And I just want to get back to my Cas, I just…please help me get home.”

Cas took another step forward, and Dean didn’t stop him. You flinched when Cas lifted his hand, but he just placed it gently on your shoulder.

“I…I think maybe I can get you home,” Cas said slowly. “But you need to be more careful. If you jump like this again, you could disrupt the flow of time.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

“Ok.” Cas’s eyes softened. “Then let’s get you home.” He pressed two fingers to your forehead. There was a faint pulse of blue before your world went dark.

…

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You jerked upright to the sound of a harsh knock at your door. You blinked hard, rubbing your eyes, then your face—the cut on your head was healed.

You got to unsteady feet before unlocking your door and swinging it open to see Cas, looking frazzled and worried.

“Cas!” Cas staggered back in surprise when you through yourself into his arms.

“Are you ok?” He demanded, holding you close.

“I missed this you.” Your voice came out muffled against Cas’s trench coat.

“I…you what?” Cas asked.

“Never mind.” You sniffled, pulling away. “I’m just glad to see you.”

“N/N, I’m sorry,” Cas insisted. “I-I didn’t mean to yell at you earlier, I just…I guess I was feeling stressed.”

“It’s ok,” you insisted.

“No it wasn’t,” Cas argued. “I’m here for you, for whatever you need.”

“I think maybe school needs to take a back burner,” you said slowly. “Can you help me…with my powers?”

“I did say whatever.” Cas smiled. “So let’s get started.”

Taglist:

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#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #castiel & winchester!reader #castiel & reader #castiel x winchester!reader #castiel x reader #castiel x daughter #spn castiel #castiel novak #castiel supernatural #castiel

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wandasaura · 1 year ago

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MY FACE IN A RED FLUSH

summary — your first mistake was thinking natasha wouldn’t use the time away to tease you, your second mistake was thinking you could handle it

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, smut, sexting, phone sex, teasing, fingering, nipple stimulation, degradation, praise, daddy kink, dom/sub relationship, bathroom encounter (nothing like… bad bad), begging, threats of punishment, wanda slaps r’s ass ;), the idiots banter but what’s new

authors note — i got carried away with this but hey, we got some development between wanda and r going on at least, also some insight to wandanats relationship and their dynamic + how the contract came about

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Natasha was going to be gone on business for two full weeks. You’d expected the hardest part of that fact to be how you were sure to miss her, but you were severely mistaken. When day ten came around, and she still wasn’t home, you weren’t at all surprised to find that the several notifications waiting for your attention were all from her. She’d been doing her best to keep you informed in regards to her plans and meetings, and for the most part, she’d been behaving herself well, but the first glance at her messages had effortlessly set your mood for the remainder of the day.

Natasha | Daddy misses you, angel.

Natasha | I bet that sweet pussy misses me too.

Natasha | image attached

You couldn’t help but audibly groan when you opened your iMessages. It was instinctual, you never wanted to leave her messages unanswered, but you regretted your urgency to appease her the second you came face to face with her visibly damp panties and toned thighs that had acquired quite the tan since shipping off to the tropical island just over a week and a bit ago. The deep red material that you were all too familiar with was an even deeper shade of maroon now, so damp that it molded to the shape of her labia, and the bulge of her clitoris was captivating. A throb shot through your own core as you fantasized about taking care of her little situation with your mouth, tonguing at her panties until she got so annoyed with your teasing that she tore them in two and forced your head in close, but she was a thousand miles away, and you were under strict instructions not to touch yourself without her permission.

For a second, you questioned if Wanda had received the same image. If she had, which you were absolutely certain she did, you knew that the lawyer was rightfully hot and bothered, but you doubted she had the same rules as you. Wanda did not seem the type to submit, even if it meant appeasing her wife. After all, there would be no need for you in their relationship if she allowed Natasha to take the reins every once in a while, and you found yourself envious of the woman who could relieve herself at any chance.

You whined at the deep ache in your core, your panties positively ruined beyond a point of salvation when another image rolled through, though this time, she’d taken away your privilege of seeing her well defined lips and clit, however, she’d replaced what you’d lost with the sight of her hand buried in the material. It was her left hand, and the diamond on the center of her engagement ring pressed against the tight materials of her panties. You’d always found it exceptionally hot to be fucking a married woman with consent from her partner, but something about seeing her touch herself with the very hand that Wanda had kissed with adoration in front of all of their family and friends was truly vulgar. She wasn’t playing fair at all, but you suspected she had never intended to make this easy for you.

You | Daddy

It was a simple response, one that in no way encapsulated the millions of scenarios running through your head, but you had no other words to share with her. Not when you’d only just woken up and your sole interest was devouring her. You’d never been particularly good at communication, especially not when it came to sexual circumstances, but god did Natasha love to make you work for it. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise to you that she would pull a stunt like this, but you supposed your naivety was what captivated her so ferociously.

Natasha | Yes, angel? See something you like?

You | You.

You | Daddy, please.

Natasha | Please, what? Don’t you have a class to get to, I wouldn’t want to make you late. Get ready for school, moya lyubov.

Natasha | image attached

She was really playing dirty now. The unspoken promise that you wouldn’t be allowed to touch yourself felt like pure torture, but that had only worsened the blow for when the next picture rolled in seconds later. You’d half expected it to follow the saga of the others; some kind of display in regards to her dripping core and drenched panties. Would she pull them off to the side and bury two or maybe even three fingers into her pleading hole? Or perhaps she would take them off completely and give you an unconstructed glimpse of her cunt. You had been good afterall, Wanda hadn’t relayed any instances of bratty behavior to your knowledge, so she had every reason to reward you. Clearly she was not feeling generous, because the picture you were confronted with at seven o’six in the morning was of her naked chest, and just slightly off-screen you could make out the straps of her favorite lacy red bra. Her nipples were pebbled, undoubtable from the combination of her arousal and the broken thermostat in her suite, and they were a color that attempted to resemble a pinky-mauve. Her manicured fingers pinched at the left bud, but her right remained untouched and begging for the same attention. Her back was arched, leaning into the pain, and while you couldn’t see her shoulders, you could image the tanlines that graced her unblemished skin.

You | You’re not playing fair, Daddy

Natasha | I don’t have to play fair, malyshka. I suggest you start getting ready for class, and I would think twice about trying to touch yourself before I give you permission.

Your lips, already in a pout, had seemed to turn even more downward at her blatant disregard for your sanity. You’d just barely survived nine days without her touch and now, on the tenth, she decided to make that worse by teasing you? Even if she did decide to give you permission, nobody, including you, could make you cum the way she did. It would be foolish to even try and compete with her skills.

You | I can always skip

Natasha | I find out you skipped and you won’t be cumming until summer break

Your heart plummeted faster than a free falling elevator at the implication of spending the next four and a half weeks without an orgasm, especially because you knew that just because she wouldn’t push you over the edge, didn’t mean she wouldn’t tease you and work you up to that point. She would make your life an absolute living hell if you gave her the chance, and that was not a fire you wanted to play with, not now and not ever.

You | I’m going!

Natasha | That’s what I thought. Good girl.

Begrudgingly you pulled yourself out of bed and shuffled over to your duffle bag of clothes in the corner of the room. Ever since the night of the sixth day, when you’d crashed into Wanda’s arms and ratted out your professor, you’d been sleeping at the Maximoff residence. The Sokovian lawyer didn’t seem to be minding your presence, or at least, she hadn’t told you that she minded, but you still tried your best to tiptoe around her. She was always up before you, always in the kitchen when you ventured down the stairs in an outfit that was progressively getting shorter and shorter as the weather warmed. She had breakfast waiting for you most days, and if she didn’t, there was a note on the countertops that said she was already at the office and hadn’t wanted you to eat cold food. She didn’t need to know that on those days, you didn’t have any breakfast at all. On the morning of the eighth, she learned that you hate oatmeal. You’d tried your best to eat it all, or at least an amount that would appease her, but after you gagged for the third time, she pulled the bowl away from your face and scolded you for not saying something the second she put it down in front of you. It was weird. Neither one of you really sought the other out, but when you did cross paths, the atmosphere wasn’t as cold and dark.

It wasn’t as warm as it had been in recent days, so you took full advantage of the wind and the gloomy skies to wiggle your body into a pair of black leggings and one of Natasha’s hoodies that had been left laying around. You adored the start of spring and the mid-summer warmth, but you detested the fact that when those days came, you wouldn’t get to wear the womens clothes as frequently. You supposed you could always steal some of her t-shirts, but there hadn’t been much opportunity to do so yet.

Wanda was in the kitchen that morning, much to your delight. She wasn’t Natasha, you don’t know if she’ll ever mean as much to you as Natasha does, but you liked the simple fact that the house felt lived in when she was around. Her presence served as a distraction from the icky wetness collecting in your panties, and yes, you had changed them only minutes ago, but nothing could stop the floodgates until Natasha allowed you even the slightest fraction of relief.

“Your wife is mean.” You didn’t bother with pleasantries, didn’t even bother to look her in the eye as you walked your way to her fridge and pulled out the pitcher of orange juice. It had become sort of a routine. Wanda made breakfast for the both of you and you got the drinks. You liked having little responsibilities, because even if you knew that you were more than welcome here, you felt the need to earn your keep.

“My wife, huh? Thought she was your Daddy.” Wanda snorted, but the clench in her jaw was enough of an indication that she had received the same messages and wasn’t completely lost on the reason why you were pawning Natasha off so easily. You were annoyed to find that she was handling the teasing better than you. You were absolutely certain that your entire body was as jagged as a sharp rock, and petulantly, you hoped that Natasha stubbed her toe on the way to her next meeting.

“Nope. You can have her. She’s being a tease.” You huffed, bracing your hands on the edge of the counter before you scooted back into a comfortable position against the floating cabinets. Well, as comfortably as possible with the ache between your thighs that you were trying your absolute hardest not to mess with, even though it would be so easy to cross your legs and hope to god that it did something to relieve you. Wanda seemed to appreciate your restraint, because she sent you a soft smile in return and didn’t say anything about you sitting on her counters.

“Oh, I know.” Wanda puffed out a breath of air, the first indication that maybe she wasn’t handling the situation well, just better at hiding her frustration. “Little brat doesn’t know what to do with herself when she’s away for so long.”

You’d never heard Natasha be called anything of the sort, and the admission of her role in the bedroom had brought back your curiosity. Deciding that you couldn’t possibly get in trouble for being curious, you kicked your feet against the cabinets beneath your dangling legs and looked over at Wanda. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If you stop kicking my cabinets.” The lawyer looked at you in exasperation, entirely unimpressed with your fidgeting, though she wasn’t angry. You were thankful for that, because the combination of academic stress and sexual teasing had you restless in all fronts.

“Do you let Natty top you?” You smiled shyly once the words had passed your lips, hoping that it would soften the blow once Wanda processed your question. You weren’t sure if you had a close enough relationship with her to be asking such a thing, but over the last few weeks, you’d really started to wonder how they’d even come to the consensus of opening their relationship to a third party.

Wanda looked at you incredulously, but she shook her head anyway. “No. Why the question? You’re usually running in the opposite direction anytime we ask you something sexual.”

As if your body was trying to prove a point, your cheeks flushed scarlet and you dropped your gaze down to your lap, eliciting a chuckle out of Wanda. “I dunno. You don’t seem the type to submit, and Natty is being a brat. Guess I was just wondering about the contract. How you came up with it and all.”

“Have you talked to Nat about this? Seems you’ve got a lot on your mind.” Wanda hummed, her attention focused on the eggs she was scrambling, though you knew the real reason she was so focused was because she didn’t want to overwhelm you when you had finally gotten the courage to speak to her about this type of thing. She wasn’t wrong. Any other time she’d ever mentioned your sexual relationship with her wife you ran in the other direction, or you retorted with something rude just to get her off your back. She wasn’t as blind to that last detail as you thought she was.

“Not a lot.” You protested immediately, not wanting it to come across like you were rethinking this situation. “Her ring was… very visible in the second picture she sent. You’re married. Very happily from what I’ve seen. If anyone else that I know were in this situation, they’d think I was a homewrecker or something.”

“Is that how you feel?” Wanda frowned, her attention still on the eggs she was scrambling, but she was quickly running out of alternatives to focus on as they reached they perfect consistency.

“No! Nat’s too in love with you to ever do something that would upset you. If you weren’t okay with her… using me… then she would’ve ended things already.”

“Honey, we both know Natasha is not using you. That woman is just as devoted to you as she is to me, but you’re right, she wouldn’t jeopardize our marriage. The contract was my idea. You were my idea. Natasha would be more than happy to submit to me for the rest of our lives if I wasn’t okay with this, but I know that she needs the control as much as I do. We make sacrifices for our partners every day. A marriage is not a one way street.” Wanda smiled softly, nudging your thigh when she realized you were sitting right in front of the cabinet she kept the plates on.

“Why are you okay with me then?” You frowned, having even more questions now then you originally did. Wanda had said that Natasha was devoted to you in the same way she is with Wanda. Does that mean she feels the same as you do? Are your feelings not as unrequited as you’d been forcing yourself to believe?

“You make her happy.” There was something more on the tip of her tongue, something heavy and potentially earth-shattering, but you didn’t press her to share. She was already sharing more than enough with you, and you appreciated her honesty even if it was filtered. “Anymore questions from the peanut gallery, or can we eat our breakfast before you’re late to class?”

“No more questions.” You hopped off the counter, grinning cheekily when you saw Wanda wince out of your peripheral vision. “Would you tell her if I skipped class?”

“Are you sick?” Wanda quirked a single eyebrow in your direction, her hands full of plates as she carried eggs and pancakes toward the dining room table. You grabbed the pitcher of juice and two glasses, following her like a lost duckling despite knowing your way around.

“Does horny count as sick?” You asked, only receiving a huff of laughter and a firm shake of the head as a response.

If you thought your morning had been difficult to handle, your afternoon was even worse. You shifted uncomfortably at your desk, trying to get your cold and sticky panties away from your sensitive core, while simultaneously listening to your professor drone on and on about sentence translations and truth tables. Everytime you moved, you achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted. Your panties were so wet they clung to your pussy, and with each shift of hips and press of your thighs, a pulse of pleasure shot up through your belly and only worsened your situation.

Typically, you sat in the very front row in all of your lectures. You were what others would call a teacher's pet, always raising your hand and answering questions, always assuring that you understood the objectives of an assignment, but today, you had chosen a desk in the back row closest to the wall. Your laptop was turned away from the student on your right, and although your notes were opened, and words had been added to the document that you’d started at the beginning of the semester, your iMessages were open just beside it.

Natasha | Daddy wants your mouth, princess. You’d be good and give me your mouth wouldn’t you? I know how much you love to be on your knees for me

Natasha | video attached

You knew you shouldn’t open it, not when it was so clearly a video of her masturbating if the preview shot was any indication of its content. You knew you should just turn all of your devices on Do Not Disturb and focus on the professor, who was going over questions about the latest chapter assigned as homework, but all logical thoughts, ironic because you were currently in your advanced logics lecture, had completely fallen away from you. It had been eleven hours of teasing. Eleven hours of wet panties and sensitive nipples and Natasha’s pussy in your face but not actually. It had been eleven full hours of pure torture, and you were at your breaking point.

You closed your laptop softly, making the humbling decision to shuffle past all the other students in your row to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re sure it looked like you were having some kind of female emergency with how fast you were moving, but in a way, you were. Only, it wasn’t a result of a miscalculated period, but rather an evil dominant who had worked you up so horridly that you were willing to sacrifice your academics just to beg her for release.

The private bathroom was located in the basement, you had to shuffle down three flights of stairs just to reach it, but you would die before you got caught sexting in the bathroom on the same floor as your lecture, so you hurried down to the basement and hoped that it was free. At least some higher power was looking out for you, because you found that the light was off and when you knocked on the door, nobody had answered. You squirmed your way inside, locking the door before you pulled open your messages and played the video.

It was short, only ten seconds, but in that ten seconds you had seen the beginning of a beautiful orgasm. Natasha’s fingers hammered into her pussy, the palm of her hand making contact with her clit every time she pushed three of her fingers back into herself. Her arousal coated the digits in thick strings, and when she’d cum, when she pushed herself over the edge, you groaned aloud at not only the moan that tumbled past her lips, but the sight of her orgasm spilling around her fingers. You had seen Natasha squirt on a handful of occasions. Usually it happened when she had you eating her out time and time again. You wondered how long she’d been laid in bed for to have reached such a high, and briefly you wondered if Wanda had anything to do with it. There was not a doubt in your mind that Wanda was just as much a tease as Natasha, and the prospect of the most powerful women you know going back and forth so desperately caused another violent pang of pleasure to shoot through your core.

You pushed your pants down, letting them scrunch together at your ankles, not caring about how they brushed against the bathroom floor. You were too desperate to mind the germs, but they would be going in the garbage the second you got back to the Maximoff residence. For now, they’d just have to be fine.

You widened your stance just enough to get your camera between your thighs. The baby blue panties that you wore were absolutely drenched, beyond the state of Natasha’s if that were even possible. Every inch of your intimacy was a visible outline from how they pressed against you, and while you should’ve been embarrassed, you hadn’t even been touched and you were the wettest you’ve probably ever been, you didn’t care.

You | image attached

You | Look what you did, Daddy.

Natasha | Oh, I bet that feels so icky, baby

You | Please let me touch myself

Natasha | My dirty little slut wants to touch herself in a public bathroom? She can’t even wait until she gets home?

You | I’ve been waiting all day! Please Daddy, it aches!

You | image attached

You should’ve felt shame. You should’ve been disgusted with your desperation, but there wasn’t even an ounce of care left in you as you pulled your panties to the side. Two of your fingers swept through your folds, collecting arousal on the tips of your fingers. They glistened in the light, and much like Natasha’s arousal had done in the video she sent, strings of your need attached your dripping cunt to your digits. You hadn’t touched yourself, not technically at least. Your clit throbbed in protest when you narrowly avoided it, and it took all of your self restraint not to throw caution to the wind and give yourself the slightest bit of relief. You would much rather appease Natasha though, and so you hadn’t even made the briefest moment of contact.

Natasha | Oh that does look like quite the sticky situation, baby. Why don’t you be a good girl for Daddy and suck those fingers clean

You moaned at her words, even if they were just white letters on your phone screen. You could practically hear her voice in your head, requesting you to taste yourself for her, asking you to be good. You complied without hesitance, bringing your fingers up to your mouth, your tongue out and waiting for the treat even if you would much rather it be her you're tasting. Before you let them lay heavy on your tongue, you took a picture and sent it to her, because if you were going to be vulgar in your college bathroom, it needed to be for something. You tasted how you always do, but you forced yourself to imagine it was her lips you were tasting and not your own fingers. She loved making out after she had gone down on you, and secretly, so did you.

Natasha | Good girl.

Natasha | Those fingers all nice and clean?

You | Yes, Daddy

Natasha | Good. Pull your panties back up and wash your hands, baby. You’ve still got thirty minutes left of class.

Your jaw practically hit the floor at her response, and you whined in defeat, not wanting to listen to her. You’d been so good for her all day and she was still making you wait? What could she possibly do from across the ocean anyways? Briefly, you’d forgotten about her promise of withholding orgasms until summer break, but when that threat came back to mind, you quickly did as asked, hating that now you were even more uncomfortable. This was supposed to help, not make everything worse.

You | I want to play, Daddy!

Natasha | You’ve been good all day baby, don’t ruin it now. Panties up, hands washed. I want you back in class in the next three minutes if I’m even going to consider letting you edge yourself tonight

Natasha | Or maybe you would like a ruined orgasm more

You | No! Please no Daddy!

Natasha | Then you’ll go back to class and you won’t sneak away again.

The forty minute drive back to Westview felt like hours. By the time that you eventually pulled into the driveway and parked behind Natasha’s car, the days sunlight only lingering behind storm clouds now, your leggings were damp and clinging to your core just as uncomfortably as your panties had been for the last few hours. You were absolutely certain that if there weren’t two material barriers between your legs, that your car seats would be stained with evidence of your arousal. You’d have had a hard time explaining that the next time you got the vehicle detailed, but if that had been the case, you would’ve just burnt the entire car to avoid the looks of judgment you were sure to have received.

The front door was unlocked when you entered, an indication that Wanda had only arrived home a couple minutes before you had. Ever since your appearance on the fifth day of Natasha’s absence, she’d started leaving the door unlocked for you, not wanting another repeat of you stuck outside. You knew it made her feel vulnerable, and at one point you had tried to tell that while you appreciated the thought, she could continue to lock the door after she got in. Wanda didn’t budge on the matter, not that you were surprised, and so you just had to accept the fact that the front door would remain open for anyone to pass through until you got inside to lock the house up tight. It amazed you how Natasha’s presence could mean so much. The woman could hold her own in a fight, you didn’t doubt that, but you hadn’t realized just how much Wanda put her safety into her hands. It only further solidified the already known fact that they were perfect for each other.

Wanda was in the kitchen, already working on dinner, when you dropped your backpack on the floor and inched your way closer to her. The desperate ache between your legs was unbearable now, and every step reminded you of your unfulfilled desire. Wanda looked perfectly put together as she stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot that you hoped was sauce for her spaghetti. Even though you couldn’t see her face from where she was standing, it was clear in her posture that she was fairing well with Natasha’s teasing. You wondered if she had taken her pleasure into her own hands at some point during the day, or if she was once again just better than you at concealing her true feelings.

“I take it back.” You muttered weakly, stealing the glass of water that the redhead had been just about to reach for. It was cold, probably fresh from the filter in the fridge, and you gulped it down greedily. “Your wife is the scary one.”

Wanda laughed although you found nothing funny about this situation. “What did she threaten you with?”

“Which time!” You threw your hands out in exasperation, careful to keep hold of the now empty glass so it didn’t smash into a million tiny shards on the floor if you were to lose your grip on it. “Because at first it was no orgasms until summer break! Then it was edging! And then it was ruined orgasms! I did exactly what she asked, and she’s still being all scary and mean! She sent me a video of her cumming while I was in class!”

“Did she now?” Wanda quirked a single brow in your direction, and you knew that you had gotten your dominant in trouble simply from the way her jaw clenched at the relay of information. In the months that you’ve been in this situation with Natasha, you learned that Wanda was serious about education, a real stickler even. She always droned on and on about the importance of paying attention and taking adequate notes, you should’ve known that she wouldn’t appreciate knowing her wife had distracted you with a video of her pleasure.

“Um, no?” You tried to backtrack, tried to save Natasha’s ass even though she had done nothing in your favor since you’d woken up that morning. Your cheeks flushed as you avoided her eye, suddenly finding the floor much more interesting than her stare.

“Wanna try that again?” Wanda hummed, but you knew it wasn’t really a choice. You’re pretty sure that you audibly gulped as you contemplated your options, ultimately deciding that if anybody's ass had to be on the line, you would rather it be Natashas.

“She did.” You whispered. “But she made me go back to class! That’s when she threatened to make me edge myself or ruin my orgasm.” You added, your cheeks burning a fierce shade of red as you avoided Wanda’s eye. Both women found it cute how flushed you still got whenever anything even remotely kinky was discussed. Despite her annoyance, this moment was no exception.

Wanda hummed thoughtfully, nodding her head as if Natasha’s threat satisfied her. “Good. You shouldn’t have left class at all. I’d be making you spank yourself.”

“I– Do you– Do you make Natasha spank herself?” You spluttered over your words, hardly even able to imagine the redhead on the receiving end of a spanking.

“No. Your Daddy enjoys that far too much.” Wanda laughed, almost as if she found your curiosity insulting to Natasha. You knew she had a pain kink, that was very much obvious when she asked you to pinch her nipples harder on the rare occasion that she made you ride her strap, but you couldn’t imagine enjoying a spanking that was intended to be a punishment. “You on the other hand, start running away from her hand by the fifth spank. You wouldn’t last three if I told you to do it yourself.”

Despite your mortification at Wanda’s admission, a pang of arousal shot through your core at the thought of receiving a spanking, especially from her. You were quick to scrub that fantasy from your brain, not even wanting to entertain it. Even if you had moved past your hatred for her, you refused to admit that she was slowly growing on you. That was just too much to accept right now.

“Stop!” You whined, hunching over the counter and attempting to hide your face against the cold counter. Your cheeks had had a permanent flush to them all day, no thanks to Natasha, but you were certain that they were fire engine red now. Even the tips of your ears carried a warmth that wouldn’t vanish until you found some relief, but Natasha had been radio silent since sending you back to class, and you almost wondered if she would even reappear again before she turned in for the night. You would kill her if she left you high and dry like this.

A shriek of surprise left your lips at the sharp sensation that spread through your left ass cheek when Wanda’s palm collided with it over the thin fabric of your leggings. You’d only barely managed to contain your moan, but there’s no way she’d missed the way your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. Your back straightened instinctively and your head whipped around to find her, only to groan at the smirk of satisfaction on her lips at the sight of you. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, your eyes were dilated and almost entirely black, and your thighs, oh your thighs were the most telling. You pinched them together desperately, attempting to find any semblance of release.

“What was that for?” You whined, your hand shooting back to rub at the spot that was beginning to ache. You wouldn’t be surprised if her handprint lingered on your skin well into the early hours of tomorrow morning. Your voice is painfully high pitched and needy despite your best efforts to keep your composure, and it merely makes Wanda laugh about the effect a simple spank has on you.

“Who said I needed a reason?” Wanda shrugged her shoulders, but there was something wicked in her eyes. “You’ve had plenty of questions for me today, who says I don’t have my own?”

“You could’ve just asked!” You stomped your foot, officially at your breaking point with their combined teasing. Your eyes glimmered with unbridled tears, and your core throbbed needily, but neither of them seemed too concerned with your desperation, not enough to stop at least. “I’m going to change.” You pouted, stomping past Wanda, abandoning your backpack to be dealt with later.

Hours later, you found yourself laid in bed, your eyes wide in disbelief as you laid on your back and tried your hardest to keep your hands still at your sides. You and Wanda had eaten dinner in near silence, but the spaghetti was good, and you’d helped with the dishes afterward. Neither of you were feeling rather talkative, and that could be chalked up with the fact that Natasha had started her shit again. She poked at Wanda first, and you were thankful for the break of being her center of attention. The lawyer's phone had buzzed from where it was kept in her backpocket during meals if she was wearing jeans. Both of you knew who it was, and Wanda had reached for her phone without a moment of hesitation. It seemed that the both of you were properly whipped for the Russian, because had that text been from anyone else Wanda would’ve ignored it until dinner was over and conversations were finished. It had taken her only a matter of seconds to get into her phone, and you knew it must’ve been sexual based on the way her cheeks flushed and she furiously typed back a response. You were curious about what Natasha had sent her, curious about if you were receiving the same messages throughout the day, but you didn’t have to wait for much longer because your phone pinged next, and Wanda shot you a low warning beneath her breath.

That had been two hours ago, and since then, Natasha had disappeared, leaving you with only strict orders not to touch yourself and the lingering promise of getting your reward soon. You were naked in the guest bed, dripping onto the sheets beneath your body, writhing in anticipation. The house had been silent since both you and Wanda finished dinner, but now the house was filled with her moans. Her moans. Wanda's moans. You’ve seen her and Natasha makeout before. You’ve heard her shakily exhale, groan aloud, you’ve even heard her curse out profanities in Russian when Natasha did something particularly seductive, but you’ve never heard her moan. That felt too intimate, too wrong, but now that you were hearing them you couldn’t deny how sweet they sounded. Was she fingering herself? Was she using a vibrator or fucking a dildo so deep into her pussy that she could feel every groove and crevice against her walls? Were the sheets wet with arousal beneath her body like they were yours, or could she somehow manage to avoid leaking like a waterfall at just a whisper of praise from Natasha? The list of endless possibilities that could be occurring in the room next to yours were driving you mad, and the longer you were forced to listen to her chase her release, only amplified the cravings for your own pleasure.

You blindly reached out for your phone, squinting when it initially blinded you before your eyes adjusted to the light. You opened Natasha’s contact quickly,ready to plead and beg and cry for her to give in.

You | I can hear Wanda

You | Please Daddy, can I touch myself? I’ve been so good, please

Natasha | Aw, is hearing Wanda moan turning you on, princess?

You | Yes! Please Daddy! I want to cum, please!

You almost sobbed in relief when your screen flashed with Natasha’s contact picture, and you didn’t hesitate to raise the phone to your ear after you had swiped to accept the call. Her gravely voice was soft, too soft, soft enough to suggest that she knew damn well how frustrated and desperate you were for her, and that she was simultaneously aware of how it was all her fault. You thought for a second that she felt bad for being so cruel, but there was a lingering trace of smugness in her voice that completely went against your first assumption.

“Hi, baby.” She greeted you sweetly. You noticed that the wind was blowing past her as she spoke to you. You wondered if she was on the beach, surrounded by strangers and business partners, or if she was simply out on the balcony attached to her suite. Wherever she was, you wished that you were with her.

“Daddy!” You sobbed, both because you had missed her voice in the last three days, and because knowing you finally had her undivided attention had worsened the moisture collecting between your legs. “Please Daddy!”

“What do you want, baby? Use your words for Daddy.” Natasha cooed, and you fisted the sheets at your sides in frustration, writhing on the bed.

The words tumbled past your lips without care for how you sounded. You knew Wanda could hear you from the master bedroom, but you had not a single care for your dignity as you pleaded with your dominant to let you cum. “Please! Please can I touch myself! Please!”

“You wanna touch yourself, dorogay?” Natasha hummed, and although she couldn’t see you, you violently nodded your head in affirmation. Your babbled pleads were enough of an answer, because seconds later she was directing you to pinch your nipples for her. Despite not being the stimulation you desperately needed, you would take it, and you rolled your pebbled buds between your pointer finger and thumb needily. “Good girl, milaya. You sound so pretty for Daddy. I bet that sweet pussy is just begging for attention, isn’t it? Are you all wet, precious?”

“Yes! Yes! Daddy please! I’m so wet! I can’t– I need– Daddy please don’t tease! Don’t tease!” You sobbed out, your back arching off the bed as you continued to alternate between your nipples and pinch and twist them at the pace you know Natasha would’ve set if she was here to do it herself.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. Daddy teased you all day, didn’t she?” Natasha’s voice was thick with faux pity, and her tone only worked against you as you clambered to draw in a decent breath of air whilst also focusing on her instructions.

“Yes! Yes! Please! Please! Daddy, I can’t–, I can’t–, please!”

“Okay baby, okay. You’re being such a good girl for me, detka. Touch your pussy baby. Not your clit, not yet. Just use your fingers, how many do you want, sweet girl? Do you want two? Two fingers in that pretty pussy?” Natasha gently guided you through the motions, and you cried out in relief when you felt the stretch of your fingers. Your pussy was gushing, crying for attention, but finally you were allowed to grant the wish it had been begging for all day. There was no slowing your pace. The second your fingers had dipped between your thighs, your pace was punishing, and though you still held the phone up to your ear with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, you were sure Natasha could hear the wet sounds that filled the air around you. “Does that feel good, baby? Use your words and tell Daddy how it feels.”

“G-Good.” You cried out, but even with your fingers working the soft spot within your walls, it wasn’t enough. Your release was just out of reach and the only thing that could send you over the edge was her explicit permission to touch your clit, to finally give the pulsating nerve some love and attention. “D-Daddy please! My clit! M-My clit! Please please please!” Your mindless babbling seemed to have broken her tough reserve, and gently Natasha cooed her approval.

“Touch your clit for me, baby. You don’t have to ask, you just cum when you want to. You were such a good girl today. Daddy didn’t think you could make it all day, you made me so proud, angel. So so proud. Make yourself cum, cum on your fingers for Daddy.” Natasha didn’t need to see your face to know that you were growing closer and closer to the edge, she could hear it in your moans as they spilled from your lips and down the phone line. “Yeah? You’re getting so close aren’t you, getting so close for Daddy. Cum for me, milaya. Cum for Daddy.”

“Fuck fuck fuck! Daddy!” You cried, your back arching off the bed as you finally let the coil snap in your belly. Wanda’s moans of pleasure had increased within the same second, and your cheeks flushed realizing that Natasha’s plan all along had been to get the two of you to orgasm in tandem. “Thank you.” You croaked when you finally came down from you high, your body positively spent and your throat sore.

“You did so good for me, malyshka.” You can hear the smile in her tone, and you melt into the blankets and sheets beneath you as you accept the weight of her words. “You sleepy, baby? You’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, hating the fact that you wouldn’t last another handful of minutes before you fell asleep on her. “Go get cleaned up, please. Daddy will be home soon, I can’t wait to see my good girl.”

“I miss you.” You sighed softly, already starting to pull your body out of bed. You didn’t want to move, but you’d been so good all day, you wanted to make her proud down to the very last second.

“I miss you too, angel. Wanda’s told me how good you’re being. Daddy has a surprise for you when she gets home.” Natasha promises, and had you been any more awake then you are now, you would’ve begged her to know what she had, but you merely hummed and went through the motions of brushing your teeth, going to the bathroom, and cleaning up your thighs.

The sheets were the least of your concern, and you collapsed into the center of the bed, not even bothering with clothes as you snuggled into the blankets and let your eyes flutter closed, falling asleep in seconds with Natasha still on the line.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

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tayraedoll · 4 months ago

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Old Men Know All the Tricks

Hello! Here is part two of Old Man and this is a spicy tamale. MDNI.

Part 1 Part 3

Word count: 3,192

TW: P in V intercourse, swearing, biting, blood, mating cycles, pet names, cunnilingus, scent kink, cream pie, unprotected sex, breeding kink, heat and rut, chasing kink, scent marking.

He was trying to kill you, you were sure of it.

You have been at this for hours, it should be impossible for any being to have this kind of stamina. Sweat ran down your back, face red with exertion. Your legs shook, knees ready to buckle at any given moment.

"You are doing so well.", he says to you. "Just a little longer."

You really wish you could snap a witty retort back at him; but your ability to speak left you long ago. All you could do was keep gasping for air. Even if you could physically speak, your brain was so muddled you wouldn't be able to form the words to begin with. You could not keep this up much longer, you need a break- even just a brief reprieve just to catch your breath. You felt like you were about to faint.

"Aaaand time!", Angel shouts and you collapse onto the grass on your back heaving for air. "Nothin' betta than a 10-mile run eh toots?"

All you could do was raise a hand to flip him off, earning a chuckle from the spider. You had been doing research since you and Alastor started dating- turns out he was not kidding about the mating season or the 72-hour sex marathon. So you took his advice and started going on runs and doing yoga with Angel Dust three times a week. He did this to keep in shape for his job, this workout routine made his job a lot easier when Val would be a dick (pun intended) and force him to work a double shift. You asked to join him under the guise of wanting to increase your stamina for Alastor's lunatic dancing; no way were you going to talk to Angel Dust about cervid mating habits.

Dating Alastor was quite amazing, the man never did anything half-assed. You got flowers at least once per week, candlelit dinners in his bayou, gifts like the ruby you currently had on your middle finger, and the status that just naturally came with being associated with The Radio Demon. But the best part was his words of affirmation, he would speak pure poetry into your ear in peaceful moments alone. You had not gotten to the "I love you's" yet but he conveyed the depth of his feelings with just his honey-sweet words. His charisma alone left you breathless.

The only dark cloud in your dreamland romance was physical affection. Alastor still was not a fan of being touched, even by you, though he tolerated your touch much better than others. The extent of your physical relationship consisted of him holding your hand or resting his hand on your knee when in private, a swift peck on the cheek or lips, or an arm around your waist. You didn't necessarily mind, you were more than happy to move at his pace, but it did make you wonder what would happen come mating season.

That thought leads you back to the present. Mating season will begin any time now. It was fall, the days were shorter and the nights were colder even in Hell. Which is why you subjected yourself to the torture you just endured with Angel.

"I still can't believe yer doin' all dis just to dance with Smiles."

"You've seen the man dance, he's a hazard on the dance floor if you can't keep up.", you reply as you sit up, heart rate finally returning to normal.

"Yea, I remember the day after yer first date wit 'im. If I didn't know any betta I woulda thought you was fuckin' all night wit' the way you was walking sideways.", he wiggled his brows suggestively.

You coughed to hide the blush blossoming across your cheeks. The day after Alastor first took you dancing was a nightmare you wished you could forget; between Angel's sexual innuendos, Charlie's overbearing concern, and Alastor's cocky smirks and false atonement for making you over-exert yourself you reached the end of your patience.

"Any ground made with Husk?", you ask to change the subject. Bringing up the resident feline was a sure-fire way to distract Angel from whatever you did not want to talk about. The poor guy was down bad, but so was Husk- the tomcat just did not realize it yet.

You spent several extra minutes in the shower that night, letting the hot water relax your sore muscles. Alastor had some Overlord business to attend to so you would not be joining him in his room tonight. You tried not to think about what that means, if Alastor wasn't with you then he was with someone else and that someone else most certainly was not finding the deer demon's company as pleasing as you did.

As you prepared for bed you noticed that your chest was a bit flushed and you were feeling a little feverish. You swallowed a couple of ibuprofen- better to just nip that in the bud if you could help it. Probably got sick on that stupid run with Angel earlier, hopefully you would wake up right as rain.

Unfortunately, you did not wake up right as rain. In fact, you were worse; the fever spiked and you were sweating profusely. A fog clouded your mind making it difficult to think straight. But you felt energized, absolutely wired actually. Your senses were working in overdrive picking up every smell and sound and you could practically taste the air around you. You stumbled over to the door of your bedroom, you'd have to let Charlie know you weren't feeling well so she could excuse you from her redemption exercises.

You made it only halfway down the hall when a sharp chill ran up your spine. Before you could turn around you found yourself in a swamp. No- you found yourself in Alastor's bayou to be exact. There was a slight breeze and the stars twinkled overhead, you always found it strange that Alastor kept the bayou under the veil of night, never letting it see the sun. Your sensitive ears picked up the crickets and frogs singing all around. You weren't exactly sure where you were, you could not see the the actual room dimension; it was like you just appeared in the middle of the bayou. So you began to walk, hoping you would find the resident of the room eventually.

You only got a few minutes into your walk when suddenly everything went still. The crickets and frogs stopped mid-song, even the breeze seemed to hold its breath. You froze alongside everything, senses straining to pick up any indication as to what caused the sudden change in atmosphere. Alarm bells went off and your tail instinctively started to lift in a warning display. Your breathing came in shallow little pants as your eyes darted all around you.

Then, a voice- a voice that filled you with equal parts warm comfort and icy dread at the moment.

"Well, well, what do we have here hmm? And where do you think you were off to my dear? Don't you know it's dangerous to be alone in the woods? Especially for little does like you."

"Alastor-", you spin to face him and stop dead in your tracks. His antlers hung over his head like a grand chandelier, his pupils blown wide, and his ever-present smile looked absolutely sinister. "I-I am not feeling well. I am not sure what is wrong."

He stalked towards you slowly, like a wolf cornering a lamb. "Oh you poor, naive, little fawn. You haven't figured it out yet have you? You're in heat my dear, the mating season has begun." His voiced dropped to a sinister growl at the last sentence. Your eyes widened as you began to back away from his advance, a reaction he took much satisfaction in based on the sadistic chuckle he responded with. Your back hit a tree, there was no where else to go and he quickly closed the distance between you two. As he loomed over you he took a deep breath and his whole body shuddered violently. He closed his eyes and growled menacingly.

"W-what do I do?", you asked, this was not going how you imagined it- no candles, no soft sheets, no sweet declaration of love. You were utterly lost and completely at his mercy.

He hummed, then slowly opened his eyes and bent down so you were at eye level. "Run.", his voice was a baritone whisper.

Like a bat out of-- well- here-- you took off. You didn't know or care what direction you were going in, you just needed to get the fuck away. Maniacal laughter which was more like screeching static sounded behind you but you didn't dare look back. You ran as fast as your legs would carry you, thank Satan for those dreadful runs Angel made you do. When you could no longer hear the laughter behind you, you chanced a look back. Nothing- just the bayou surrounded you. You were just about to breath a sigh of relief when suddenly strong arms wrapped around you from the front and you barreled into a sturdy body, letting out a terrified shriek.

"Considerable effort Darling but I think we should preserve your strength for the main event don't you agree? I just couldn't let you get too far ahead...especially when you smell so delectable.", he growled out as he buried his nose in your hair, his muscles pulsing with the effort not to immediately jump on you. He grabbed your jaw in one hand, keeping your body tightly bound with the other, and lifted your face to meet his. He looked hungry-no, he looked absolutely famished. Like a man who hasn’t eaten for days who happened upon a cornucopia of his favorite dishes. You closed your eyes tightly, prepared to be eaten alive.

Instead of his razor-edged teeth digging into you as you expected, he began to gently rub his face against you. From your chest to your ears he spread his scent all over your skin, paying careful attention to your throat and cheeks. When you caught his scent all the adrenaline instantly drained from your body. He smelled of the bayou soil, bourbon, and woodsmoke but it was more than just the physical notes of his scent, you had a powerful psychological reaction to it as well. It was as if he was speaking right to your mind using his smell, and he was saying ‘trust me, your safe, I’m going to take care of you’. The fog returned to your mind worse than before, you were now consumed wholly by thoughts of the buck that held you. Your entire body went slack, a rag doll in his arms to submit to his whims.

Satisfied with your entranced state he shadowed you away, placing you gently on his bed on your back. Your head lazily lolled to the side, barely registering the food and water on a table nearby. The demon quickly regained your attention when he started kissing you softly. You melted into the sheets, eagerly taking all the affection the buck would bestow upon you.

Ever so gently, like he was afraid of breaking you out of your trance, he undressed you. Once he had you completely bare before him he took a moment to admire his gorgeous, little doe. “Si beau, ma biche.” He ran his hands up your body, starting at your hips and stopping to cup your breasts. His touch was icy fire, so warm on your skin but leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your arched your back, pushing your breasts into his hands, whimpering softly when his thumbs tweaked your nipples. His hands ran south, tantalizingly dragging his claws along your skin on the way down.

The moment his fingers touched your clit it was like lightning struck you, a wanton moan ripping out your throat. He leaned up to your head once more, his thumb applying pressure on your bundle of nerves. “Be mine. I want you mind, body, and soul. I need you to remain by my side for eternity Darling. I understand that this may be an outdated request, but wherever I go, I need you to follow. In return for your devotion, I promise to protect and love you with everything I am. Every part of me will belong to you, as you belong to me. Please Darling, say we have a deal.”

For a moment, just a split second, alarm bells warned you of making a soul deal but they were quickly overshadowed by the fog whispering ‘trust me’. You felt too good, too euphoric, and you desperately needed him. “It’s a deal Alastor, I’ll be yours.”

“Delightful!”, he plunged one long digit into you causing you to gasp out. You were so wet already that he added a second finger almost immediately, his thumb circling your clit in roughly. Green light flashed and you felt your soul tether to him, like an invisible string tied around your heart and attached it to his. You came despicably fast, if the fog in your mind wasn’t so thick you’d have been embarrassed. Your body convulsed in on itself with the force of your abdominal muscles locking, a breathless whine leaving your lips.

Before you could recover you found yourself flipped onto your belly, Alastor nibbling on an ear as he raked his claws down your back. You felt the warmth of bare skin on your shoulders and realized he rid himself of his own clothing. “You taste positively sinful My Doe. Mind if I make have a better taste?”. Without further warning he flattened his tongue to the base of your tail and licked up the entire length of your spine eliciting a whole-body shudder from you, the action nearly made you cum again. He then went back down to your lower back, where he started peppering kisses on each of your spots while dragging his tongue between them. His game of connect-the-dots had you squirming underneath him, rubbing your thighs together as slick pooled at your entrance.

When the buck made it back up to your shoulders he paused, “Forgive me, My Dear”, and sank his teeth into your shoulder making you cry out, his palms holding you down by the shoulder blades. He lapped up the blood, soothing the pain. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

His proximity washed a new wave of his scent over you, relaxing you back into your trance as he lined himself up and sank into you. One hand fisted into your hair as the other held his weight above your shoulder. Al started with long, slow thrusts, making sure you felt every inch of his cock as it dragged through your walls. He slowly gained speed, leaving you a blubbering mess beneath him. His hand in your hair kept you pinned to the mattress, completely immobilized as his cock bullied your cervix, the coil in your stomach pulling tight. He ducked down suddenly and licked another stripe up your spine, ending at the bite on your shoulder which sent you over the edge. Your core squeezing him like a vice brought him over the edge with you and he delivered his first load of seed.

As soon as Alastor pulls out you roll onto your side, letting out a contented sigh. Your head was still foggy, but you felt sated for now. You get your first glimpse of your mate in all his naked glory; his taupe-colored body was covered in lean muscle, the black on his arms ended at his elbows and they were covered in scars. You felt the urge to return the game of connect-the-dots, but could not get your body to move presently. Your eyes trail lower and fixate on his glorious cock, girthy with a thick vein running up the underside and it was STILL.ROCK.HARD. The sight of him makes your mouth water, you let out a needy, pathetic whimper.

Alastor is on top of you again in a flash, his hips wedging against yours while his legs spread yours wide to give him access. He tenderly cradles your head in his hands as he kisses up your throat and lightly kisses the spots on your cheeks. "Don't worry Darling...we are only just getting started." And he plunges back inside you.

Hour 6- Sweat covers every inch of your body, you've lost count of how many times you've cum. Your hands fist in Alastor's hair as he sucks on your clit, his nails digging into your thighs leaving rivulets of blood on your skin. All you can do is lay there and take what he gives you, your thoughts completely incoherent and cock-drunk.

Hour 18- You finally get a brief break. Al hand feeds you fruits, nuts, and jerky of his own making. You do not have the energy to question what kind of meat the jerky is made from, at this moment you really could not care less. "You need to keep your strength up Sha, we are not nearly finished yet.", he coos at you as he held a bottle of water to your lips encouraging you to re-hydrate.

Hour 36- Your hands are holding onto the headboard like a lifeline, your knuckles turning white and arms trembling with the effort to keep upright as you get railed from behind. Alastor sucks on your neck and whispers "You are doing so well. We are almost there, just a bit longer Little Doe." You get a vague memory, a little Deja-Vu moment of why that should be comical to you, but your next orgasm thoroughly wipes the thought from your mind.

Hour 72- You are sure you are on the doorstep of your double-death. Every limb and joint aches, your cunt is feeling raw, your voice long gone from your cries of pleasure. You have no energy left, quite frankly you have no idea how the demon buck you are sitting on has the energy to bounce you up and down his shaft. The bed around you is covered in blood and the combined releases of Alastor and yourself, you do not know if you should be embarrassed or impressed. The man underneath you hisses as his cock twitches inside you, letting him know he is close. His thumb picks up its pace on your abused clit, with a strangled sob you come for what feels like the hundredth time since you started, tears flowing endlessly down your face. Using the last of his energy Alastor lift his hips up, using gravity to impale you as far down his shaft as he can get you before spending himself one final time inside you. You both collapse to the side, the only sounds filling the room being your erratic breaths struggling to return to normal. You feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you into his chest. For once, he does not speak, there is no reason to. All the two of you need is the closeness and comfort of each other's embrace. You snuggle into his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull you to sleep as you finally get to rest.

Thanks for reading! Planning on doing a part 3 that is all about the aftercare. Please let me know what you think!

@stattikdemon

@vxllys

@shealizxx

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #fem reader #18+ mdni

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hippiegoth97 · 3 months ago

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I Melt With You: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

Master List

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

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@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Description: It's Eddie's birthday, you spend the day celebrating with your friends. And when you and Eddie return to his trailer for the night, you have the perfect gift for him. One you've been wanting to give him for such a long time...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, virgin!female reader, fingering, oral sex, protected sex, light praise, fluff

Word Count: 7.4k

divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

I Melt With You

"Are you ready for your special present, baby?" You say to Eddie as you stand behind him with your hands over his eyes. Eddie's never been a major birthday guy, but having you in his life for the past year has changed his mind on the subject.

"You know it, sweetheart." He chuckles at your words, curious as to what kind of surprise you have planned for him tonight.

You two had spent the day with your friends Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle to celebrate as a group. You all met up at Skull Rock, drinking beer and eating pizza before presenting Eddie with gifts. Steve gave him a voucher for ten movie rentals at Family Video, and Robin got him a couple new patches for his battle vest. Nancy and Jonathan went in together on a blood red guitar strap, while Argyle presented him with a homemade t-shirt in black and white tie-dye with an intricate skull design.

When it came to be your turn, you gleefully bestowed upon him a first edition of The Hobbit. His favorite book, signed by Tolkien himself and everything. It's safe to say that Eddie was over the moon about your present in particular, scooping you up into his arms to give you a heart-melting kiss after he tore the wrapping paper away from the weathered book cover. He said it was 'the most bitchin' gift in the entire world'. You felt a little bad for upstaging everyone else, but being his girlfriend implies that it's kinda your job.

You'd moved to town in the summer of '86, living with your Aunt Sylvia before moving into the dorms for freshman year at Hawkins Community College. When you first arrived, Sylvia showed you around. There's not much to do in a place like Hawkins, but you've lived in worse places with even less to do. At least there's a movie theater and some basic shops and restaurants here. The last place you lived had a gas station/country store and two churches as the only things around for miles.

Summer was pretty uneventful, you'd go out to eat or see a movie every once in a while. But most days, you'd be helping Sylvia tidy up her home at Forest Hills Trailer Park. She's not as spry as she used to be, so you took on the chores around the house that she can't bend down to do anymore. You didn't mind at all, the work kept you busy. Something you noticed though, or more like someone, was a handsome young man who lived a couple trailers down from you. His name was Eddie, and you two talked sometimes in passing as you took the trash to the dumpster or either of you saw the other smoking on their front steps.

He said he lived with his uncle Wayne, and you told him about your aunt. Apparently they know each other, she used to bake cookies for Eddie and help him with his homework when his uncle was out. You found out many other things about Eddie over those three months. He liked metal music, had a band, and was a total nerd. He was cute, and charming, you really liked him. He seemed to like you too, but neither of you made a real move in any forward direction. You're quite shy, and Eddie appeared to share your delicate nature, despite how dramatic or obnoxious he could be.

Regardless, the two of you liked being around each other in your small ways. It was comfortable, noncommittal. You were both busy with your own lives, too focused to become entangled with one another. Or anyone else, for that matter. And when fall rolled around, you barely even said goodbye as you hauled your stuff to your assigned dorm room. You figured you'd see Eddie again in town at some point, so it didn't feel necessary to participate in a formal parting.

You wouldn't see your kinda-sorta-friend again until your first ever college party. It was being held by one of your classmates, you don't quite remember who. But your roommate, Robin, insisted you go along with her. You begrudgingly agreed, going against every natural instinct to avoid crowds that resided within you. The party itself wasn't huge, but it was certainly not what you had in mind for that evening. Robin went off with people you didn't know at the time, Nancy and Steve, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You had scanned the crowd, trying to find a singular familiar face. But nope, you were completely on your own. You found this fact to be quite overwhelming, so you stepped outside to get some air and have a smoke. And lo and behold, you found the one and only Eddie Munson all by his lonesome. It was like he was waiting for you, and you were overjoyed to see him.

"Hey, long time no see, Y/N." Eddie speaks first, looking you up and down. He really likes how you look tonight, a simple cocktail dress and strappy heels. Perfectly applied makeup painted on your face, and your luscious hair styled into an updo. He's only seen you in ripped jeans, dirty t-shirts, and rubber gloves before. He likes how you look no matter what, but this getup is certainly enticing to him.

"Hey, Eddie. What brings you here tonight? I never considered you a party person." You ask, reaching into your purse for a cigarette. You locate the pack, pulling one out and dropping the box back inside. You stick the end between your lips, digging around for your lighter. You're just about to give up looking when you hear a flick in front of you. You look up to find Eddie lighting the tip of your smoke, and you inhale deeply to jumpstart the burn. "Thanks." You say meekly, unable to hide your blushing in the moonlight. He's standing quite close to you, gazing deep into your eyes as he mindlessly returns the lighter to his pocket.

"No problem, angel. And no, I'm not into this scene at all. But it's good for business." He smiles kindly at you, hoping to put you at ease. He hides it well, but underneath the facade, his stomach is fluttering with butterflies and his heart hammers in his chest. He wasn't sure he'd see you again, at least not for more than a passing glance. But here you are, exactly where he wants you to be.

"I figured as much. I'm not really into it either. My roommate Robin dragged me here." You giggle at this admission, which makes Eddie laugh too. He gestures for you to join him to sit on the backdoor stoop. You do, slanting your legs together to sit properly in your dress. It's far from comfortable, but you don't want to flash him or something.

"Buckley, huh? She leave you all alone?" You nod, and he tuts. "That's kinda rude. Although I will say, I'm glad I get to see you again." He leans over to nudge your shoulder with his own, the leather of his jacket rubbing against your bare skin. This simple touch sets your insides ablaze, and the air between you is changing.

"I'm glad to see you too, Eds." You reply, trying to keep yourself together. You take another drag, blowing the smoke out in a large cloud as the nicotine works its way through your system. You flick the ash, the two of you simmering in silence as your faces stare out into the cool fall night. Eventually, the cigs burn away to nothing, the spent butts discarded into a nearby bush.

"Y/N?" Eddie asks, breaking the silence. You turn your head to look at him, meeting his large brown eyes. Your mouths are dangerously close to each other, and he keeps staring at your lips.

"Yes, Eddie?" You say softly, eager to hear what he has to say. You really hope it's the same as what you've been tempted to say since the second you found him out here.

He clears his throat, clearly nervous about asking you this. "W-would you...maybe...wanna go out sometime?" Eddie stumbles over his words in the most adorable way. Even though you've always wanted him to ask, you still gasp as you can't believe it's actually happening.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to ask that." You say, dumbfounded. He's about to confirm if that means 'yes', when you impulsively grab the lapels of his jackets to pull his mouth to yours. He grunts in surprise at first, before softening against you. You both melt into the kiss, and Eddie smoothly maneuvers you to straddle his lap. Your bare knees sit on the brick of the steps, but you don't care about them getting scraped at the moment. He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp. He slips his tongue into your mouth, quickly dominating yours. You instinctively grind your hips against him, already feeling an erection forming in his pants.

"You look so beautiful tonight, Y/N." Eddie says breathlessly as you break away for a moment. His hands have migrated to your waist, gripping you with the perfect balance between firm and gentle. His touch makes you feel safe, secure.

"Thank you, you're very handsome too." You repay the compliment, even though he almost always wears the same clothes. He looks sexy as all hell in them, that's for sure. You stare at one another for a moment, still rubbing yourself against him. Stifled moans leave your lips, and Eddie loves every little sound you make. He decides to take things a step further, leaning forward to kiss your neck. "Eddie." You whimper, savoring the sensation of his teeth and tongue leaving purple marks all over your throat. Your hands slip into his thick hair, tugging on it just enough to make him groan.

He attempts to make another bold move, slowly sliding one of his hands to slip under your dress. He's just about to touch your slick folds through your panties, when you grab his wrist. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asks, worried he's overstepped and ruined everything. He looks at you with a concerned expression.

Your face has hardened like stone, and you feel frozen in place. "I just- I haven't...gone all the way before." You speak sheepishly, blushing in embarrassment. He probably thinks you're not worth his time now. Your stomach turns as he doesn't respond at first, tempting your flight response to kick in any second now.

Eddie caresses your cheek, giving you another light kiss. "It's alright, baby. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. 'Kay?" Your heart soars at his understanding, and you capture him in a passionate hug. "How 'bout we go inside, hm? We can hang out for a bit, just talk and plan our date. If you still want to, anyway." He rubs his neck awkwardly, wondering if you even want to keep being around him at all.

"Of course I do! C'mon, let's go get a drink." You reassure him that you have no intention of blowing him off, standing up and extending your hand to help him off the ground. He smirks, letting you assist him. He wraps an arm around your waist, leading the two of you into the house.

To this day, you and Eddie still haven't fully 'consummated' your relationship. It's not that you haven't wanted to, far from it. But you've wanted to wait until you're ready, and he's been every flavor of patient with you. You two go on cute dates, and cuddle in your dorm or at his trailer. You attend his band practice and performances, and occasionally play D&D too. You also frequently engage in hot-and-heavy make-out sessions, and even let Eddie touch your tits from time to time. You've never gone any further than that though, until tonight. You finally know that Eddie is the one you want to give your virginity to. You love him more than anything in the world, and you want to give every little part of yourself to him. "Happy Birthday, Eds." You say excitedly, removing your hands so Eddie can see what you've done to his room.

He opens his eyes, finding every surface lit up by multiple candles. There's rose petals on the bed, and a small box wrapped in dark blue paper sitting on the pillows. "Damn, Y/N! You really went all out, huh?" Eddie exclaims, unable to believe how lucky he is to have you.

"There's more, baby. Open your present." You say seductively, nudging him forward with your palms. He chuckles darkly at your tone, doing as you ask. While he's occupied with the box, you quickly remove your clothes to uncover a very special lingerie set you bought just for this occasion. You pose seductively against the dresser, you can't wait to see his reaction.

Eddie tears the paper away on the little gift, revealing a brand new box of condoms. His eyes widen a moment, looking to you to see if you're trying to say what he thinks you are. His jaw practically falls to the floor when his eyes meet your body. You're dressed in nothing but a dark red bra and thong. The material is lacey, and almost completely sheer against your skin. "Jesus christ." He whimpers, unable to trust his eyes at the moment. He's been dreaming, fantasizing about you finally giving yourself to him. Is this really happening?

"Did you figure out what your special surprise is yet?" You ask mischievously, biting your lip. You suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze, you've never been so scantily clad around him before. Even your bathing suit is a one-piece, although Eddie adores you in it anyways. He nods wordlessly, walking over to you to get a closer look.

"Can you turn around for me, princess?" He asks, his mouth sitting agape. You slowly rotate all the way around, letting him drink in your entire form. He groans at the sight of your practically bare ass, unable to resist reaching a hand forward to grip one of the supple cheeks. "Is this okay?" He inquires while stepping even closer behind you. You moan in response, pressing yourself further into his grasp. He kneads the firm flesh, drawing more little noises from your lips. You want him to take you right now, the anticipation is already extremely intoxicating. "Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He speaks lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine.

"Yes, fuck." You rub yourself against him, his cock hardening in his jeans.

"You wanna lay down for me, baby?" He asks, intending to take his sweet time with you. You oblige his request, resting your head on the pillows while he stands at the side of the bed. "God, you're gorgeous." Eddie looks down at you in endless admiration. He removes his own clothes layer by layer, and you watch hungrily as he reveals his body to you. His jackets and shirt come off first, exposing his tattooed chest and arms. He slips off his shoes, and unbuckles his belt to take off his jeans. Your breath catches in your throat as he's only in his boxers now, his dick forming a tent in the thin fabric. He notices you licking your lips as you stare. "Like what you see, angel?" He asks teasingly, laying down next to you on his side.

"Yes, you're so handsome, Eddie." You say softly, reaching a hand up to caress his slightly toned chest. You've seen it many times before, but it's different now that he's practically naked. He carefully leans over you, pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You melt beneath him, moaning when his hand cups one of your breasts. Eddie slips his tongue in your mouth, effortlessly dominating you. You pull him a little closer by the shoulders, wanting to feel his weight and warmth on you. He shifts to put himself directly over you now, his knees on either side of your own.

"Can I take this off, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, tugging at your bra strap. He has every intention of making sure you're comfortable with what he's doing. And regardless of how horny he is, he'll stop altogether if that's what you tell him to do. He loves you so much, and he never wants to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

"Go ahead, love." You say as confidently as you can. You'd be lying if you said you aren't nervous about this, your anxiety has wormed its way to the forefront of your mind. But you know Eddie will never force you to do anything, you're perfectly safe here with him. You breathe deeply, trying to relax.

"You doin' okay?" He asks, noticing your body trembling slightly. He thought you might be cold at first, given your lack of clothing. But he knows you better than that.

"Y-yeah. I'm just a little nervous, that's all." You stutter. You see he's about to climb off of you, and shut this whole thing down. "But I want this, I want you." You insist, holding his arm to keep him in place.

"Okay, angel. I'll go real slow, alright? And if you're not having a good time, just tell me and we'll stop. I promise." He strokes your arm as he speaks, his eyes never leaving yours. He's deadly serious, and you love him even more for it.

"Okay." You smile sincerely at him, sitting up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your arms, and you lay back down with the cups still covering you. "I imagine you can take it from here." You giggle, wanting him to expose your tits himself. It is his birthday after all. He grins back, pinching the bra between his finger and thumb before snatching it away. It's tossed to the side, and Eddie takes a moment to fully appreciate your naked torso. Your breasts are perfect swells of velvety flesh, your nipples hardened with arousal.

"You have gotta be the most beautiful woman in the entire world." He says as his pupils dilate with lust. You can't help blushing at his praise, itching for him to finally touch you. He lowers his body, resting on his elbows. His large hands grab at your tits roughly, his thumbs rolling over the pebbled mounds at the centers of them.

"Oh, Eddie." You sigh blissfully, a familiar pressure building between your legs. You've never fully relieved it before, and you're really looking forward to finding out what it's like. Eddie brings his lips to your chest, leaving wet kisses on every inch of flesh he can reach. Every touch sets your insides on fire, the temperature of the room rapidly rising. Your hands tangle into his curly locks, tugging gently to draw some low groans from him. His sounds hum against you, heightening every sensation. He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples, before taking it into his mouth. "Fuck." You moan, your back arching off the bed. Eddie slips his arm beneath you, wanting to hold you up closer to him.

He continues nibbling on your sensitive bud, eventually moving on to give the other one equal attention. You're putty in his hands at this point, making the sweetest little noises. "Are you feeling more relaxed, Y/N?" Eddie asks, lifting his head slightly to check in on you. You meet his kind eyes, your heart fluttering at how sweet he's being with you.

"Yes, Eddie. You're making me feel so good, love." You coo at him, stroking his hair. "You wanna take my thong off now?" You tease, biting your lip. You're certainly more loosened up, and you really want him to go further.

"Don't have to tell me twice, baby." He speaks softly, putting you back down on the sheets gingerly. His hand goes to the strap of the thong at your hip, looping two fingers between it and your supple flesh. He hesitates, gauging your reaction to what he's about to do. Your heart races in anticipation, and you're mentally begging him to expose the most intimate part of you. "You ready, Y/N?"

"Yes." You say simply, placing your hand over his to assist him in pulling the thin material away from your hips. He finishes the job when you can no longer reach, flinging the garment across the room. Eddie makes a note to keep it as a souvenir later, saving it in a box dedicated to your relationship.

You're completely bare to him now, his eyes scanning over you intently. Eddie carefully spreads your legs apart, his large hands holding your thighs. You can't help the tremor that rolls over you, which makes him stop in his tracks. "You okay?" He questions, and you insist that you're fine. That you want this more than anything. With that, he brings one hand to your core, slowly rubbing two fingers along your dripping pussy. You moan at the contact, you've never felt anything like this before. "You're so wet for me, sweetheart." He says, as if he's surprised.

"Is that a good thing?" You don't mean to be so ignorant about sex, you feel silly even asking. But you have nothing to go on, except what you've seen in movies. Though those don't provide much actual information at all. You worry that Eddie will laugh at you for being uneducated, the nerves coming out to play again.

"Yes, it means you're enjoying yourself, angel." He says, not a hint of judgment in his voice. This puts you at ease, and he continues to drag his digits along your hole to your sensitive bud. You at least know what a clitoris is, thankfully sex-ed back in school taught you that one. It feels so good when he touches you, you can't help letting out little moans at the sensation. Your hips buck upwards when he brushes your clit, pleasure jolting through your body. "Can I put my fingers inside you, love?" He asks so sweetly, wanting to loosen you up along with making you come undone.

"Yes, please." You can't help the neediness in your voice, practically aching for him to be inside you any way he can. He brings his middle finger to your entrance, using his free hand to caress your waist to keep you relaxed. His eyes meet yours again, and he pushes into you nice and slow. You wince at the feeling at first, gripping Eddie's arm firmly. You try your best to stay calm, knowing the slight sting will turn into pleasure after a while.

"I know, princess. Just let yourself mellow out. It'll get better, I promise." He assures you once he's in you as far as he can go. You just nod, whimpering quietly. He stays still for a minute, letting your walls get used to the stretch. He tests the waters, curling his finger slightly. It strokes your g spot, pulling another moan from your lips. "There ya go." He smirks, satisfied with himself. He pumps slowly in and out of you, curving the joints just so.

"Fuck, Eddie. It feels amazing. Can you put in another one? And go a little faster?" You plead, letting your eyes flutter closed as you feel something beginning to brew in your belly. He does as you ask, making you gasp. Your cunt welcomes the fullness, and you can hear your juices squelching from the friction. Eddie watches as his fingers work you up, memorizing your fucked-out expression. He would love to gaze into your eyes as he drives you mad, but he lets you be so you can focus on enjoying yourself.

"I love the pretty noises you're making, Y/N. Tell me how it feels, let me know I'm doing a good job." Eddie's tone pushes you further, amplifying every little thing he's doing to you. You can feel yourself getting closer, your first orgasm quickly approaching.

"It feels unbelievable, Eds. Keep going, I want you to make me cum." You whimper, bringing your hand around the back of his head. You pull him down to you, hungrily kissing his lips. He increases his pace within you, and you moan down his throat. You can tell you're just about to lose it, helpless noises trapped inside your connected mouths. His tongue tangles with yours, and he massages one of your tits to overwhelm you with pleasure. Your body feels like it's on fire, a sheen of sweat spreading over your skin. You're so very close, you can feel it. You have no idea what to expect, you just know that the buildup is going to explode any second now.

Eddie breaks away from your kiss, wanting to watch you lose control. "C'mon, baby. Let it all go." He says lowly in your ear, brushing his thumb against your clit to send you flying over the edge.

"Oh god, I think I'm gonna-" You're cut off by an enormous tidal wave of bliss crashing into you. Your breath catches in your throat, before releasing in an obscenely loud moan. Your legs begin to shake, and you feel your insides clench against Eddie's fingers. Stars fill your vision, and you finally understand what all the fuss is about. This has to be the best thing you've ever experienced in your life, there's nothing else like it on earth.

"Atta girl." Eddie praises, carefully removing his fingers from your pussy. Your hips stutter at the loss of him, your walls snapping at nothing. He lays on his side next to you, letting you come down from your high at your own pace. He presses a light kiss to your cheek, though you hardly notice as you're still reeling through the aftershocks. He watches your chest rise and fall, admiring how picturesque you look with your legs still spread apart and the sweat on your skin glistening in the candlelight.

When your breathing and heartbeat slow down a bit, you roll over to face your man. You gaze at him meaningfully, the flickering glow of the burning wicks illuminating his deep brown eyes in a most romantic way. "That was amazing, Eddie. Thank you." You capture his lips in a kiss of gratitude, showing him how thankful you are to have him in your life. Eddie's hand cradles the back of your head, and you scoot closer to press your body against his own. You snake your hand down his front, grazing his skin with the tips of your fingers. He sighs at your touch, hoping you'll keep going until you reach his needy cock. You meet his waistband, stopping your movements for a moment.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Eddie whispers in a brief break from your intense kiss. You accept his invitation, slipping your hand beneath the elastic. You feel his mound of hair, going lower until you make contact with the firm flesh of his length. You gasp in surprise, it's much different than what you were expecting. That's not a bad thing, you're just not used to it. "Take your time, love. It's okay." He encourages you to keep going, and you reach for him once more. You gingerly feel around on his dick, noting how silky soft it is with a stiff center. Eddie groans at the teasing contact, he's already so wound up from giving you your first orgasm.

"Can you take these off, Eds? I wanna see you." You feel a bit stupid again, you sound like a child with all your questions. Eddie doesn't seem to mind though, and thank fuck for that.

"Of course, baby." He slips his boxers down his legs, his cock slapping against his stomach when it's set free. He kicks the underwear away, returning to his previous position. You take a minute to just look at it, noting the curve of the shaft and shape of the head. There's a small amount of sticky fluid leaking from the slit at the tip of it, giving you a sudden urge to lick it off. You imagine that fluid, and how hard he is, indicates that you have had a certain effect on him. He wants you, and this is as clear a sign of his desire as you could possibly get. "What do you think, angel?" He asks, smirking at the flare on your cheeks as you've been staring at him for a good while.

"It's beautiful, love." You say breathlessly, eyes flicking to his briefly. He chuckles at your compliment, that's definitely a new one. "Can I?" Your hand raises, waiting for permission to fully touch him.

"Knock yourself out, baby." He replies, taking your wrist to lead your palm to brush over his shaft. "Fuck." He groans, and the sound is music to your ears. You grip him cautiously, and he pulls your wrist to show you how to stroke him. You follow his silent instruction, dragging your hollow fist up and down languidly. "Just like that, Y/N. Fuckin' perfect." Eddie whimpers, he's been waiting so long to feel you on his dick. Your hand, or tongue, or pussy. Anything he can get, he wants.

You love the little noises escaping his lips, observing how his face scrunches and twists as you please him. It's making you very wet again, you can sense your arousal dripping between your legs as you become more revved up. "Lay down, babe." You want to try something, hoping it'll make him happy. He looks at you oddly, wondering what you're up to. But he does as you ask, his back meeting the mattress. You sit up on your knees, positioning yourself perpendicular to his crotch. You give him a loving glance, still pulling whines and moans from his chest. You bend over, so your mouth is directly over his swollen head. You curiously poke your tongue downwards, licking a small stripe over the bead of precum to taste him.

"Fuck, Y/N." Eddie groans, one hand balling the sheets below while the other rests beneath his head. The fluid is salty, but far from unpleasant. Interesting. It's strangely like you're conducting an experiment, testing which things you do with your mouth will please your boyfriend the best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, plant wet kisses that provide small amounts of suction, drag the flat of your tongue along his thick shaft. Everything you do to him is driving him mad. You know it'll take more than one try to be good at giving him head, but your teasing trials seem to be doing just fine in the meantime. "Feels so good, princess." Eddie praises you again, you can't get enough of that.

"You make lots of pretty noises too, Eds. It's very sexy." You decide to make a bold move, challenging yourself further. You bring your lips to his tip, opening nice and wide to slide down as far as you can onto him. You surprisingly manage to take his entire length in without choking.

"Oh my god." Eddie didn't expect you to try to fit all of him into your mouth, but the fact that you appear to have no gag reflex is another gift all its own. You're so hot and wet around him, he's not sure how much longer he'll last. It's been so long since he's had anything other than his hand pleasing his dick, and your toying around from earlier was fucking phenomenal. He tilts his head forward to look down at you, almost cumming right here and now from the sight of you crouching over with his cock shoved down your throat. "You really are amazing, you know that?" He says, in total awe of you.

"Mmhmm." You hum teasingly, making his hips buck upwards at the vibrations. You can't help smiling around him at his reaction, the power you hold in this moment is intoxicating.

"Jesus, Y/N. You're gonna be the death of me." Eddie chuckles in disbelief, wondering if he's dreaming again. You dissuade him of this thought, sliding your mouth up to his head, before bringing it back down again. "Shit." His grip on the bedding tightens, his toes resisting the urge to curl. You repeat the motion, wanting to make him cum for you. You're guessing it won't take long, especially given your newly discovered skillset. "That feels amazing, baby. Keep going if you can, and maybe a little faster?" He asks nicely, appreciating every little thing you're doing for him.

"Mmm." You hum in agreement, another moan escaping his lips. It takes everything in him not to put his hand on your head to hold you down and fuck your face. But he knows you're not ready for that, not yet, at least. You increase your speed, bobbing up and down while keeping your teeth away from his tender flesh. It's a little bit of a challenge, as he fills your hole significantly. Your jaw is gradually growing tired, but you're committed to this. You want to make your love feel just as good as he made you feel earlier. You try swirling your tongue around him as you move, and it looks like you've made the right choice by the way his noises become more and more desperate.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart. Especially for your first time. I'm almost there-fuck, your mouth is too damn good." He's so hot, he swears he's melting into the bed. Just a little more, and he'll finally get some relief. You try to go even faster, letting his tip ram into the back of your throat. You can see his stomach tensing, and his balls flexing slightly. He's gonna lose it, and it's all because of you. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Try to swallow it all if you can." He groans almost as loudly as you did with your own orgasm, his hips stuttering. His load spills down your throat, and you just barely get a taste of it. You really enjoy it, hoping there will be many more times you get to have the flavor of him on your tongue.

You release his cock with a pop once he softens. You look at the fuckstruck expression on his face. His eyes are hooded with lust, staring at the ceiling to ground himself. His chest rises and falls roughly, panting sighs forced from his lungs. You crawl up to his head, caressing his shiny cheek. His gaze flicks to you, a satisfied smile crawling across his mouth. "I take it I did a good job?" You ask shyly, your cheeks heating up again.

"More than good! That was fuckin' fantastic!" He says enthusiastically, which makes you giggle. "Seriously though, did you practice on a carrot or something?" He asks, mostly joking. But the widening of your eyes blows the humor away. "No way!"

"Maybe a little, although it was actually a zucchini." You admit, drawing raucous laughs from both of you. "I wanted to impress you." You snuggle up to him, bringing your head level to his. Your knee lays over his thigh, and you drag your nails up and down his chest. You look at Eddie from under your lashes, giving him your best attempt at 'fuck me' eyes. His arm goes around your waist to pull you nearer to him.

Your shared energy escalates, the closeness of your bodies electrifying the air in the room. Eddie's breath fans hotly against your skin before he speaks lowly to you. "Well, you certainly succeeded, Y/N." He cups your cheek, gently brushing his thumb across it. You nuzzle against him out of habit to deepen his touch. "I love you more than anything in the world, sweetheart." He whispers, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet.

"I love you too, darling." You reply just as softly. He brings his face closer to yours at an agonizing rate, it seems to take forever for his plush lips to touch yours. The second they do, however, you both give in to the feverish intensity that's been broiling inside you. Eddie bites your lip harshly, and you moan to allow his tongue access. He quickly dominates you, moving his hand to grip your thigh. He pulls your leg further over him, his fingers digging into your flesh. His mouth moves to your neck, licking and sucking to mark you up like a wild animal. "Fuck, Eddie." You whimper, savoring the pinch of his teeth.

"I'm gettin' to that, baby." He smirks, rolling the two of you over so he's on top. His dick is hardening again, pressing into your inner thigh. He's kissing all over your chest, and tenting your knees apart so he can rub his erection on your soaked pussy.

"Shit, I want you so bad." You whimper at his tip meeting your clit. You're clawing at his back, sure to leave dark red scratches all over him. He groans against your tits, nipping them over and over while his cock spreads your wetness around.

"I want you too, princess. Just let me work you up a little more, I promise it'll make things so much better." His tone is so comforting, yet darkly seductive. You have no choice but to heed his words, letting him drive you wild before the main event.

"Alright, just please don't stop touching me." You whine, grinding your hips upwards to get more friction on your needy cunt.

"Wouldn't dream of it, angel." Eddie says through a moan at your bold move. You both roll your hips against each other, making the most deliciously vulgar noises. He lowers a hand to put two fingers inside you again, curling them in that flawless way only he knows how.

"Oh, god." You can't believe this is happening. He's worshiping your breasts, teasing your bundle of nerves, and fingering you? If heaven is a real place, it's right here, in this moment. There's nowhere you'd rather be than writhing beneath your man. You can feel that familiar pressure building up within your belly once more. Eddie reaches over to the nightstand for the box of condoms, clumsily opening it with one hand to retrieve one.

When he tears one away from the long strip within the package, he opens the little foil square while still riling you up. You watch as he rolls the latex down his length, tossing the wrapper on the floor. He looks at you a moment, gripping his dick to bring the head to wait outside your taught entrance. He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "You ready, love?" Eddie asks, breathing heavily in anticipation. He's waited so long for this moment, to share his body with you.

"Yes, Eds. More than you know." You encourage him to press on, finally put himself inside you. He nods at your confirmation, gripping your thighs in his large hands. He slowly pushes his dick in, stretching your pussy more than you expect. You wince at the feeling, your fingers holding his shoulders tighter than before. Your eyes squeeze shut, this is harder than you were anticipating.

"I'm goin' nice and slow, baby. Just relax." You force your eyes open, gazing up at his comforting face. You nod, taking a deep breath.

"Kiss me?" You ask, thinking his tongue in your mouth will distract you. You plead with your eyes, hoping he understands.

"Of course, sweetheart." He brings his lips to yours without hesitation, continuing to push into you. You gasp against him when he brushes your g spot, waiting for him to bottom out. Inch by inch, he stretches your walls until his tip hits your cervix. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby." Eddie groans, stilling his movements to let you loosen up.

You two lay here for a while, giving each other little butterfly kisses and giggling like teenagers. You're in no rush, wanting to savor every moment. You're so deeply, helplessly in love, and this night is the ultimate expression of your affections. You're feeling so serene, blissful even. And you think you're prepared for Eddie to start moving. "I think I'm ready, darling. You wanna make love to me now?" You chuckle when you realize how old-fashioned that phrase sounds, 'making love'. You've always found it kinda cheesy, but 'fucking' doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

"You got it, princess." Eddie grins, slowly pulling out before slipping back in. Low moans spill out of your mouths, the initial discomfort quickly transforming into pleasure. His left hand holds your hip for leverage, while the other pins your own to the mattress. His fingers intertwine with yours, bringing you even closer together.

He begins to thrust in and out of you at a gentle pace, he doesn't want to hurt you. The sensation is really good, but you're craving more. "Eddie, please go faster. I swear I'm not gonna break." You insist, rolling your pelvis upwards to encourage him. He does as you ask, snapping his hips once to give you a taste. "Fuck!" You cry out, his cock hits your special spot perfectly. "Keep going, just like that." You beg. You wrap your legs around him to pull him deeper into you.

"You're so needy, baby. I love it." Eddie repeats the rough action, stealing your breath away. Before you have time to respond, he ruts himself against you in that same animalistic way over and over. He's not sure how much longer he can last though, you've been hugging his cock so damn tight it's insane.

As for you, you're not too far behind. Everything Eddie does feels so good. He's pounding you relentlessly into the bed, your orgasm ramping up with every stroke. Moans and curses harmonize with the slapping of skin, the room shaking from the headboard smacking against the wall. You're positively drenched in sweat, holding onto each other for dear life. "I'm getting close again, Eds. You're so fucking amazing."

"I'm right there with you, love." Eddie pants, his stomach threatening to tense to signal his end. He's determined to drag you down alongside him, enlisting his mouth to bite and lick your tits and throat with reckless abandon. His hand releases yours, snaking down to your clit to rub it in strong circles. You're overpowered by sensation, euphoric waves washing through you. Your walls are fluttering around Eddie's length, he can feel you about to lose it. He stops marking your flesh for a moment to share a loving look with you. "Cum for me, sweetheart."

Eddie's simple command, and the expression of pure admiration on his face sends you tumbling into oblivion. "Fuck, Eddie!" You cry out, your hands clawing at the sheets and pillow beneath your head. Your back arches upwards, your tits rubbing against Eddie's slick chest. Your thighs quake, and your insides squeeze around his cock as your orgasm runs its course.

"Goddammit." Eddie murmurs, the feeling of you cumming around him is too fucking good. He thrusts into you sloppily, extending your pleasure. He loves the way your beautiful face looks right now, so much so that his load spills from his cock to fill the condom. He presses a desperate kiss to your lips, and you reach up to hold him to you in response. He's still pumping in and out of you, riding out your shared highs. You exchange muted moans, slowly simmering down as your hearts stop racing. Happy tears spring from your eyes unexpectedly, and Eddie breaks away to check on you. "What's wrong, baby? Was it too much?" He's gone still within you now, becoming soft and overstimulated. He caresses your cheek, wiping the tracks away. You sniffle, shaking your head.

"Nothings wrong, Eddie. I just love you so much. Happy birthday." You look up at him, smiling brighter than the sun. This night has been everything you'd dreamed of, and sharing it with Eddie makes it so much more meaningful.

"I love you too, Y/N. Tonight has been the best night of my life. And being with you has made it so special." A couple tears of his own drip down onto your face, and he kisses you tenderly to accentuate the sentiment. You two are so perfect together, and you want nothing more than to keep it this way forever.

The end.

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