#COME HERE. COME HERE. LET ME FUCKING STRANGLE YOU
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“La Sirena” pt 2
Joel Miller x Stripper!Reader
Read part 1 here | Joel’s Masterlist


Summary: Joel wants to be with you, even if it means breaking the club’s rules. But you’re not the stripper waiting to be rescued by a knight in shining armor. Caught between the risk of losing your job and the chance at something real, you’re left torn with a decision to make.
WC: 9k
Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, lap dance, dry humping, oral (f&m!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, angry sex, mentions of sex work, joel is lonely and touch starved.
It had been three weeks. Three fucking weeks since you last saw Joel. No more booth reservations, and the silence was deafening.
And now? Now he was standing by the front desk, his hat in his hands like a goddamn apology.
“Booth six,” he said quietly.
You caught the receptionist’s glance and rolled your eyes. You didn’t even look at him when you stepped into the booth, just slid in beside him like you were already bored. Of course you weren’t, you’d missed him like crazy.
“You don’t get to disappear and then stroll back in like you just forgot to tip me last time.”
Joel winced. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“You could’ve said Hey, I’m not coming back. Or this is too much for me. Or even fuck off would’ve been better than nothing.”
“’M sorry,” he said softly. “I really am. I was conflicted, an’ hurt, an’… I know it’s no excuse,” he said, voice low, heavy with guilt.
You looked at him—steady, unflinching. “No, it’s not.”
You kept staring at him, at the way he looked smaller than before — not just older, but more worn out, like the guilt had taken up permanent residence in his body.
“You came here just to apologize?” you said flatly. “Is that it?”
He opened his mouth — and then closed it.
You let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
And before he could say another word, you swung your leg over him and dropped into his lap.
His hands immediately went up in a defensive way, “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t ask for this?” you said with a sharp tone. “Well, that's too bad."
Your hips pressed down, grinding slow and firm over his jeans. You felt his thighs stiffen beneath you and his breath caught.
“You don’t get to ignore me for three fucking weeks and then sit here like I’m supposed to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Darlin’—” he breathed, hands still raised, still trembling, like he didn’t know what the fuck to do with you on top of him.
“Don’t darlin’ me. You wanted to feel something real, huh?” you growled, lips brushing his ear, letting your breath ghost down his neck. “Then feel this.”
You rocked your hips harder—firm, deliberate, grinding down right where he was hard and aching, the friction of your soaked panties under your skirt against his jeans was sending sparks through both of you. You moved your body in the only way you knew. Rhythmic. Unrelenting. Precise. Joel’s jaw clenched, hard enough you could see the muscle jump. He gripped the edge of the seat like it might anchor him, but it didn’t, you were pulling him under.
He let out a sound, a strangled, guttural groan, like a man trying not to give in, trying not to beg, but failing anyway. It was low and raw, and it shot straight between your legs.
“F-fuck,” he breathed, his voice barely audible, strangled in the back of his throat.
You rolled your hips again, slow this time, just a filthy, deliberate drag that made his eyes squeeze shut, and his hips twitch beneath you, completely out of his control.
“I didn’t come here to—” he gasped.
“Come?” you hissed. “Too fucking late.”
Your hands slid to his chest, fingers splaying over that soft, worn flannel. You ground down with full weight, cunt pressing into his cock, feeling how it throbbed, how fucking desperate his body had gotten just from that brutal, slow press of you against the bulge in his jeans.
He was rock hard. Straining, desperate, painfully swollen beneath the thick denim, and you felt all of it, every throb, every twitch, every bit of heat he was holding back. You had done this to him, even fully clothed, angry, straddling him like you could grind the apology out of his mouth, like you could ride the guilt out of his soul.
And beneath it all laid the helpless truth:
He liked it, even if he tried too hard to hide it, even if he tried to walk away from it, even if the guilt ate him up. He still needed it, and he wasn’t strong enough to stop you.
“Come on,” you whispered, slowing your hips just enough to make it mean more. “Let go. You already ruined your jeans once, ruin them again.”
“Stop,” he begged. “Please, I—” You knew he didn’t mean it, you knew he didn’t want you to stop. And so you didn’t.
Not until his whole body tensed beneath you, every muscle going rigid, like he was trying to hold back a scream in the back of his throat. His hips jerked, once, twice, subtle but unmistakable, like his body couldn’t help itself anymore.
And then he came. Silently. Shamefully. You felt it pulsing thick beneath you, soaking into the fabric between your bodies, the mess of it caught in his boxers, in his jeans. You stayed right there, straddling him, grinding down with slow, punishing rhythm, not letting him shy away from it, not letting him pretend it didn’t happen.
You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear again. “That was for disappearing.”
Then you climbed off, smoothing your skirt. Not a single glance back. You left him siting there with the mess in his jeans and the guilt in his gut. He deserved that.
He was back the next Friday. Same flannel, same tired eyes, but this time, he didn’t book a booth right away, he just stood near the bar, hat in his hands like every week, shifting his weight like a man who didn’t belong in his own skin.
You saw him the moment he walked in, of course you did, you felt that unmistakable ache behind your ribs you’d learned to ignore. You still didn’t go to him right away, you were still pissed, so you let him approach you, and when he finally did, he stopped in front of you with that awkward, broken expression.
“I booked booth five,” he said. Voice low. “If you’ll come.”
You said nothing. Not yes. Not no. Just turned away, like you didn’t feel his eyes crawling after you, and slid into the booth across from him. You didn’t sit beside him this time, you weren’t giving him that comfort, not yet.
He looked older tonight, not because of his age, but because of something else — something that weighed heavy behind his eyes, like he’d spent the last week in a fight with himself, and lost every round.
You didn’t smile at him, didn’t offer a lap dance. You just sit there waiting, keeping your arms and legs crossed. The air was heavy with the weight of unspoken things, of the misunderstandings hanging between you, of the things you both tried hard to ignore and the feelings you were trying to bury, feelings you’ve tried to ignore for months cause you couldn’t yet admit.
Until he finally broke the silence.
“Y’know I didn’t mean to disappear.”
You raised an eyebrow. “But you did.”
He nodded. “I know. An’ I felt like shit about it every day. But that’s the thing, I feel like shit comin’ here, and I feel like shit if I don’t.”
You didn’t reply, just let the weight of the silence stretch.
He sighed, rubbing the heel of his hand over his jaw like it ached. “I ain’t good at this. Feelin’ things. Talkin’ about ‘em. It ain’t how I was raised, and I sure as hell never learned how.”
You tilted your head slightly. “That why you ghosted me?”
“No,” he said. “I ghosted you because I didn’t know what the fuck to do with myself. Because I kept sittin’ here, in this booth, starin’ at you, feelin’ like I was losin’ somethin’ every time I left. But I didn’t, cause you were never mine to start with.”
That made your throat tighten.
He swallowed, his eyes finally meeting yours. “You’re not just some girl workin’ a stage. Not to me. You never were.”
You looked away, that hurt more than it should have.
“So what am I, Joel?” you asked quietly. “Some fantasy you think you’re not allowed to touch?”
He shook his head. “No. You’re someone I want to know without these goddamn rules. Outside this place.”
You stared at him, long and hard. “You still want something real,” you said.
“I do.”
“And you want it with me.”
“Yes.”
“But you couldn’t handle it when you realized it was only ever going to happen in here, on a couch you don’t even want to sit on.”
His jaw tightened. “I left because it felt wrong. Because payin’ for your time made me feel like I was stealin’ it.”
You leaned forward now. “You think I give this to just anyone?”
“No,” he said immediately. “I know better. I just… I wanted you to want me outside of all this. An’ I knew I couldn’t ask for that. Not without breakin’ every line you’ve drawn.”
You didn’t speak for a long time, but he didn’t push or beg, he let you sit with it, just waiting. And something in that — the stillness of him — told you this wasn’t a man who said this kind of thing often. Maybe not ever.
You let out a long breath, looking at him straight in the eyes. “I’ll go out for coffee with you.”
His brow furrowed.
“But,” you added quickly, “only once. And only because I want to. Not because you wore me down or said the right thing.”
He nodded, slow, as if every word needed to be carved into him.
“And you don’t tell anyone. You don’t ask for my number here. You don’t hang around the door. You act like I’m just another girl in this place, and you keep it quiet.”
“I will,” he said. “I swear.”
“You better,” you said, standing. “Because I am breaking the rules for you. And I don’t do that for anyone.”
He stood too, almost cautiously, like he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“I’ll find a place,” he said. “Somewhere quiet. Daytime.”
You nodded once. “Next week.”
Then you turned and walked away with your heart pounding and your legs shaky, but eyes straight ahead.
Because yeah, you were breaking the rules. But somehow, with Joel?
It didn’t feel like losing. It felt like finally choosing.
You met in the early afternoon in a small, quiet coffee shop tucked away from the busier streets, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and half-burned candles stuck in old wine bottles, no one here gave a shit who you were or what you did after dark.
And Joel? He looked different in daylight. Less guarded but still heavy, still carved from something hard and weather-worn, but quieter somehow, like the weight on his shoulders was just a little more bearable with the sun on his back.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see ya in the daylight,” you said as you sat across from him, coffee warming your hands.
Joel gave you a crooked little smile, tired, but real. “Didn’t think you’d let me.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“You do have clothes that cover your belly button. That’s a surprise,” he said, smirking, taking an appreciative look of your body, not a lewd or obscene one, he always looked at you with soft eyes.
“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes, but the corner of your mouth still twitched like you wanted to smile.
The quiet stretched, but it didn’t sting this time. It settled between you like a blanket, it felt familiar, safe. You both nursed your drinks for a while. Talked about nothing, music, food, how shit the weather’s been lately. You learned he liked carving little wooden statues in his free time, hated phones, and used to play the guitar when his hands didn’t ache so damn much. He learned you liked thunderstorms, collected old postcards, and once dyed your hair blue on a dare. It wasn’t much, but it was yours.
At one point, you caught him looking at you, not the way your clients usually looked, not the way men in booths watched, but like he was studying you, trying to memorize something he didn’t think he deserved.
You tilted your head. “What?”
He blinked. “Nothin’. Just… you look different.”
“In a good way?”
“In a real way,” he said softly. “Like ’m actually seein’ you for the first time.”
You swallowed hard. That one landed deep, because you weren't sure if you’d ever let a man see the real you before.
He walked you to your car after, even though it was just two blocks away. His hand didn’t brush yours and he didn’t lean in close to kiss you, he kept space between you like a man still afraid to want too much.
You stopped beside the driver’s side door, turned to him, and let yourself say what was already hanging in the air.
“Do you want to come back to my place?”
He froze, like you’d just handed him something too fragile to touch. Joel looked at you for a long moment, like he didn’t quite trust it, like he wanted to say no, just out of habit, but couldn’t.
Then he gave you the smallest, saddest smile.
“I’d like that,” he said.
⸻
You lived in a quiet building on the third floor. No elevator but he didn’t complain about the stairs. Your apartment wasn’t much, it was clean but lived-in, warm lighting, soft blankets, a shelf full of books and mugs. Joel looked around like he’d stepped into something too soft for a man like him.
You dropped your keys in the dish and turned to him. “You want a drink?”
He nodded once. “Yeah. Whatever you’re havin’.”
You poured two glasses of whiskey, you both needed something to ease the nerves. Then you settled onto the couch beside him. Close, but not touching, not yet at least.
The glass was cool in your hand, in contrast with the hot tension between you two.
“You okay?” you asked.
Joel stared at the floor. Then: “I don’t remember the last time I was in a woman’s place.”
You didn’t say anything, just let him sit with that truth.
“But this—” he said quietly, looking at you, “—this feels different. And that scares the hell outta me.”
You set your drink down and reached out to touch his knee gently, grounding.
“It scares me too.”
He looked down at your hand, his rough fingers curling around your wrist, not pulling it away, not holding it there, just feeling it like he didn’t quite believe you were real.
Then his voice dropped lower. Hoarse. “What happens now?”
You leaned in, your forehead brushing his.
“That depends,” you whispered. “Are you gonna kiss me, Joel Miller?”
His breath hitched.
And then, finally, finally, he did.
His mouth was on yours like he needed it to breathe, like something in him had snapped the moment you said his name, the moment you tilted your chin and invited him in with that low whisper and the weight of weeks behind it.
And suddenly Joel’s hands were everywhere, on your waist, your face, your thighs, grabbing you like he didn’t trust you to stay in his arms otherwise. You climbed into his lap without hesitation, knees bracketing his hips, hips grinding down against his already hard cock pressing up through his jeans, just like you had done many times before at the booth in the club, except this time it felt different, it felt real.
“Fuck—” he muttered against your mouth, his voice so low it was barely there. “You sure bout this?”
You nodded, already tugging his flannel off his shoulders. “Been sure since the first day.”
He groaned when you rocked your hips again, hard enough to make him jolt, hips bucking up against you like he couldn’t help it. His fingers dug into your ass, holding you there, trying to slow things down even as his body betrayed him.
“Jesus,” he grunted. “’M not—not gonna last if you keep doin’ that.”
You grinned against his jaw. “Who said you had to?”
Joel’s head dropped back against the couch like he was suffering, his breath was so ragged it looked like he was struggling to breathe. “Shit.”
You rolled your hips again, slower now, grinding yourself against the thick outline of him. His hands were trembling. Actually trembling.
You kissed his throat, bit it. And that’s when he snapped. He grabbed you by the waist and flipped you, laying you down on the couch, covering your body with his own as he kissed you again, deeper now, messier, no more hesitation. Your shirt was gone in a second. His mouth was on your collarbone, your chest, sucking a bruise just above the curve of your breast like he needed to leave something behind.
“Been thinkin’ bout this every damn night,” he rasped, dragging your pants down. “Bout you. Bout the way you look on top of me—fuck—bout your voice in my ear.”
You reached for his belt, yanked it open with one firm pull, and he groaned like you’d punched the air out of him.
“Please,” you whispered. “Need you.”
“I, uh… I’ve got condoms. In my wallet,” he said softly.
“Well, look at you coming prepared, Miller.” You gave him a sly smile. “I thought this was just a coffee date.”
Joel felt heat creep up his neck. “I—uhh, sorry.”
You chuckled, reaching for him. “I’m just messing with you.” Your voice dropped. “Forget the condoms. I wanna feel you.”
Joel let out a low grunt, his mind racing. “Ya sure?”
“I’m on the pill,” you reassured him. “Don’t worry.”
That’s all it took. He shoved his jeans down just enough, hand fumbling, frantic, and then he was lining himself up, gripping the base of his cock, and pushing into you in one rough, hungry thrust.
You gasped, body arching, nails digging into his shoulders. He was thick, hot, too much all at once, stretching you open like he couldn’t wait another second.
Joel grunted, loud and raw, his whole body already shaking, barely holding himself together.
“Jesus—fuck— I can’t—baby, ’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna—”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, dragging him deeper, your hips tilting up to meet every frantic thrust. Joel groaned loud and desperate as he slammed into you, it was fast and clumsy, but so fucking deep it knocked the air from your lungs. He wasn’t polished or slow, it was messy, hungry, fucking real. All breath and sweat and need, his forehead pressed to yours, panting like he couldn’t catch up to his own body.
He was already close from the second he first pushed inside you. You could feel it in the way he couldn't keep his rhythm, the way his thrusts stutter, erratic, frantic— and then it all snapped.
Less than two minutes, just enough to fuck you through a handful of brutal, uncoordinated slams before his whole body went rigid. He buried his face in your neck, a growl got caught somewhere between his teeth and your skin. He shuddered hard as he came, cock pulsing inside you, hot and thick and helpless.
“Fuck—fuck—’m sorry—” he gasped, voice cracking as he came inside you, still grinding slow thrusts through it.
You held him, one hand in his hair, the other pressed flat against the center of his back. “Don’t be. That was great.”
You weren’t lying, it had felt amazing, maybe you’d want it to have lasted a bit longer, sure, but that wasn’t what mattered. You knew how touch-starved Joel was, how desperate, so you found it heartbreakingly sweet.
Joel let out a shaky breath, still buried inside you, forehead pressed to your shoulder.
“Didn’t mean for it to be like that,” he murmured. “Wanted to take my time with you. Make it good.”
You turned your face into his hair.
“It was good. It was you.”
He didn’t answer right away, just lay there, catching his breath while feeling your heartbeat pounding under his cheek. The air was thick with sweat and sex, your skin felt tacky, your heart was thudding in your chest like it hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that it was over, that it had happened, fast and rough and honest.
“Hey,” you murmured. “You good?”
His voice was muffled in your shoulder. “I shouldn’t’ve cum that fast.”
You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair.
“Joel, it’s okay. I liked it.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you with his cheeks flushed and brows furrowed, something like guilt swimming in his eyes.
“Don’t feel right, leavin’ you like that,” he rasped. “Was s’posed to take my time. S’posed to… fuck.”
Your lips twitched. “So do something about it.”
That was all it took. Joel slid down your body without another word, his big hands trailing along your waist, thumbs brushing your ribs as he settled between your thighs. He spread you open like he was starving, not rushed now, but determined.
You propped yourself up on your elbows. “What are you doing?”
He glanced up at you through his lashes.
“Makin’ it up to you.”
Then his hot mouth was on you, so slow you couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping your mouth as soon as you felt him. Joel kissed your aching cunt like a man trying to worship it, like he could erase the shame in his chest by drowning in you. His tongue wasn’t rushed, he licked like he had all night, like he’d crawl inside you if it meant you’d let him stay.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, head falling back. “Joel—fuck—”
It was clear at first that he was a bit out of practice, but as soon as he heard your moans, his confidence grew, finding a delicious rhythm. Long, dragging strokes, each one deliberate, from the bottom of your cunt to your clit, he lingered there, lips parting, sucking gently like he needed to pull something out of you. He dragged his nose against your clit, breathing you in like he was starving for it, before flattening his tongue and pressing up again, harder this time, wetter, letting it slide slow and deep.
You felt his hands on your thighs, holding himself steady with you as his anchor, like he couldn’t stand the idea of you pulling away. He wasn’t just eating you out, he was devouring you.
One hand slid between your legs, slow at first, thick fingers parting you with a kind of aching tenderness, like he needed to feel everything, memorize everything. And then he pushed them inside you in one deep and firm motion, in perfect time with the flick of his tongue over your clit, methodical and filthy and so, so focused.
The rhythm he found was unhurried, like he wasn’t just trying to make you cum, he was trying to undo everything he’d done wrong, one wet stroke at a time. Each curl of his fingers brushed your walls, dragging slow and deep while his mouth worshipped every inch of you he could reach.
“Feel that?” he murmured against your heat. “That’s how you should’ve been cummin’.”
Your moans cracked, high and broken, and it made something in Joel snap, not with panic, but with pride. Your thighs clamped tight around his shoulders and he growled, sounding like a man who’d won, who’d found the part of you that came undone for him.
He added a third finger, easing in beside the others like he already knew you could take it, like he’d felt the way your walls clenched around just two and begged for more. He curled them up, just so they were hitting that spot that made your breath hitch, that made your whole body go tense and trembling. And still his mouth was on you, his lips soft, tongue deliberate, sucking just enough to keep your eyes rolling back.
You were panting now, begging him.
“Joel—Joel please—fuck I’m—”
Your hands flew to his hair, your body arched, and when it hit you, it hit hard. A wave of heat rolled through your belly and crashed between your legs, your muscles clenching around his fingers. You came with a helpless and wrecked cry and even after that, he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out, his tongue still working your clit through the aftershocks until you were gasping and pulling harder at his hair, feeling too sensitive to keep going.
When he finally pulled away, his lips were shiny, beard damp, pupils blown wide as he looked up at you.
“Feel better now?” he asked.
You reached for him, tugging him up until he collapsed onto the couch beside you. You kissed him, long and messy, tasting yourself on his tongue.
“Yeah,” you whispered, grinning against his mouth. “You’re forgiven.”
Joel smirked, a little cocky now, a little proud of himself. “Next time I’ll last more than a minute.”
You rolled your eyes. “Talk big after round two, cowboy.”
He kissed your temple. “Challenge accepted.”
⸻
A few hours passed like that, you had moved to your bed, your limbs tangled together, sheets kicked down to your waists, the hum of your heater filling the room. Joel had fallen asleep for a while, and so had you, drowsing in and out with your head on his shoulder.
But at some point he rolled around, and his hands were back on you, subtle at first, warm palms skimming your back, down your hip. Then they got firmer and hungrier, like his body had finally caught up with everything it had wanted hours ago.
You shifted, slid one thigh between his legs, and felt him, already half hard and getting there fast.
You grinned against his collarbone. “Didn’t think you had another round in you, old man.”
He let out a low, gravelly chuckle. “Takes me a minute. But yeah, darlin’. ’M ready now.”
His hand gripped your hip, and he rolled you gently beneath him, mouth finding yours again, softer now, unhurried, but still heavy with want. He kissed you deep, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other sliding between your thighs to check if you were already wet.
And of-fucking-course you were.
“Christ,” he muttered, dragging two fingers through the slick mess between your legs. “Already?”
“You’ve been sleeping on me all night,” you teased. “But I’ve been waiting.”
Joel groaned like he was in pain. His cock, now fully hard, pressed against your thigh. “Turn around f’me,” he said, voice low and rough. “Wanna see your back. Wanna fuck you slow.”
You didn’t even hesitate, you rolled onto your stomach, your cheek pressed to the sheets, allowing your knees to part just a little wider. Your breath caught when you felt his hand on your hip, and those strong, grounding fingers curling tight as he pulled you back, lifting your ass just enough to arch your spine.
Joel knelt behind you, silent for a moment, except for the sound of his breathing already ragged, already thick with need. You felt the heat of him, the weight, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, spreding your wetness all over him.
One hand stayed firm on your waist, anchoring you, while the other slid between your thighs, his fingers spreading you open, giving him that glorious sight of your dripping pussy ready for him to take.
A groan rumbled out of him, guttural and rough, as he sank into you in one long, endless thrust. Your mouth parted in a gasp, nails digging into the sheets as he filled you, completely, unbearably. Joel stayed there, buried to the hilt, savoring the feeling of the stretch, the heat, of how tight and deep he was inside you.
“Goddamn, baby,” he panted. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”
This time, he did last. It wasn't rushed or desperate, it was measured and every move fully intentional. He moved slow, achingly slow, each stroke dragging out like he was trying to etch the feeling into memory, like he wanted to learn every reaction you gave him, from the way you gasped when he pushed in deep, to the way your back arched when he hit just right, or the way your breath caught every time he bottomed out and stayed there.
His hands were strong, gripping your hips just tight enough to steady you, to keep you exactly where he wanted you, but his mouth, God, his mouth was so delicate. He leaned over your back, his soft lips brushed your skin as he whispered into it, half-words, half-sighs, things like “so fuckin’ good” and “can’t believe you’re mine right now” and “don’t want this to end.”
You could feel him shaking, trying to hold back, trying to savor it. By the time you came, face buried in the pillow, moaning his name like a confession, your body trembling and twitching under the weight of him — Joel was wrecked. You clenched around him so tight he choked on a groan, hips stuttering as he tried to hold on, tried to give you every last second of it. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t stand another pulse of you around him, couldn’t bear the heat and the slick and the way you pushed your hips back into his like you needed him even deeper.
And then...
"Fu—Shit—baby, s’goddman tight," Joel moaned. "Gonna cum.. gonna fill this pussy… fuck you feel too fuckin' good."
With a low, broken growl and one final, sharp snap of his hips, he came. It was slower this time, letting the pleasure drag through him, pulse after pulse as he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there.
You both stayed like that for a long time, your bodies sweaty and spent, letting the quietness surround you. Joel lay down beside you, arm curling around your waist, one hand stroking your thigh.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured.
You didn’t say anything, didn't feel like you had to, you just reached for his hand and held it against your chest, right where your heart was still pounding.
You didn’t notice the shift at first, the club was loud as ever, music pulsing, lights dim and heavy. The usuals were there — the old creeps, the quiet loners, the birthday blowouts. You worked the floor like you always did, smile painted on, skin shimmering under the low glow.
But the eyes were different tonight, they were sharper. The manager’s assistant, Stacey, was watching you like a hawk from the bar. Her arms were folded tight across her chest, lips pursed in that I know something way that always spelled trouble.
You tried not to let it rattle you, until she called you over.
“You got a second?” she asked flatly, already walking toward the back office. The way she said it didn't sound like a question, like you had a choice. Your stomach twisted, but you followed her anyway. The hallway behind the dressing rooms felt colder than usual, the hum of bass music faded behind the door as it clicked shut behind you.
Stacey didn’t sit. She leaned against the desk, arms still folded.
“So,” she said. “You been seeing clients outside the club?”
Your mouth went dry. “No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s funny. ’Cause a little bird said you’ve been real close with that older guy. The one who keeps booking you, every week. The one who disappeared, then came back all moody and soft. And now, apparently, you've been out and about with him.”
Your heart thudded.
Stacey’s tone turned clipped. “That is against policy. You know that.”
“I didn’t sleep with him for money,” you said quickly. “It wasn’t a session. We just… got coffee.”
She gave you a look that could cut glass. “We’re not his fucking therapist, sweetheart, and we’re not a dating agency. You know how this works. Doesn’t matter if you got paid or not, you still broke the boundary. If a client finds out they can see you outside the club, what happens next? We lose control.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“You did. You made a choice and now you gotta deal with it.”
You swallowed hard. “Am I fired?”
She didn’t answer right away, she ust stared at you for a long, heavy beat.
“Take a week off,” she said. “Come back and we’ll talk.”
You nodded, blood rushing in your ears.
“Leave now.”
You walked out with shaking hands.
⸻
Joel was waiting by his truck in one of the farthest parking lots, tucked away beneath the shadows of the night, where no one from the club could spot him. It had been like that for weeks now, your routine. He’d wait for you after work and drive you out to a diner on the edge of town, somewhere quiet, so you could grab a bite after your long shift. Most nights, you ended up at his place, or he’d crash at yours. Just to crawl into bed and hold each other until sleep came. He hadn’t touched you since that first night at your apartment, you had a feeling part of him was still carrying the guilt. Guilt over how things started, over keeping it quiet, about the fact that you still worked at the club, and this, whatever this was, had to stay a secret.
When he saw your face, he stood up straighter “What happened?”
You didn’t speak, just walked up to him, gripped his shirt, and buried your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you instantly, warm and steady.
“They know,” you said into his shirt. “About us.”
Joel’s arms tightened. “What d’you mean?”
“They know we saw each other outside the club. I broke the rules.”
You felt him go still.
Then: “Do I need to talk to someone?”
You looked up, brow furrowing. “Joel—no—”
“I ain’t gonna let ‘em treat you like shit. Not over me.”
You shook your head. “It’s not about how they treat me. It’s the rules. I knew what I was doing, I just didn’t care.”
He exhaled, jaw clenched. “But I care. I never wanted to get you in trouble.”
You smiled weakly. “Well, it’s a little too late for that.”
Joel cupped your face, calloused thumb brushing your cheek.
“Joel, I don’t think I can see you anymore.”
Joel’s brows drew together.
“What?”
“I broke the rules,” you said, your voice tight. “And it’s not just about time off. If I go back and someone’s still watching me, if they think we're together then I’ll lose everything. Not just a paycheck but my safety, my freedom. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I am.”
Joel’s jaw tensed.
“I never wanted to take that from you.”
“I know you didn’t,” you said. “But that’s what’s happening, whether you meant to or not.”
He exhaled, rubbed a hand down his face. “Then don’t go back.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Stay with me.”
The silence that followed was so loud it hurt.
“I’m not some wounded bird you get to rescue, Joel,” you said, eyes sharp now. “I don’t want a man with a house and a truck and a savior complex to fix me. That’s not love, that’s a cage.”
Joel flinched, just barely, but you saw it.
“I’m not tryin’ to fix you,” he said, his voice so low you could barely hear him. “I’m tryin’ to keep you safe.”
“I’ve kept myself safe,” you snapped. “For years. Before you even walked in that club lookin’ like you hated every second of being there.”
Joel swallowed, but said nothing.
You stepped closer. “I like you. God help me. But I don’t know you. Not really. And if you really cared about me, you’d understand why that matters.”
He looked at you, like he was trying to memorize your face, then he nodded, just once.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you need.”
You stared at him, heart hammering.
“I need time,” you said. “And space. And maybe… someday. But not now. Not if the price is my freedom.”
Joel didn’t argue, didn’t beg, he just stepped forward, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and kissed your forehead.
Then he got into his truck.
And let you go.
You thought space would help, but all it did was open the door to silence. Joel didn’t text you, didn’t call you. You told him you needed time and he listened, you should’ve been grateful, should’ve felt respected.
Instead, it felt like being left behind. Who were you trying to fool? Maybe you were only ever a fantasy to him — the poor stripper who needed rescuing. And once he realized you didn’t want saving, that you didn’t need it… he got bored. Left you behind.
But then he showed up again — four days into your week off — standing at your door with a stiff jaw and tired eyes, and the wrong words came out before you could stop them.
“You really didn’t think I meant it, huh?” you snapped, arms crossed in the doorway. “That I’d just cave and come running back?”
"What's gotten into you?" Joel’s eyes narrowed. “I came to check on you.”
“Yeah? Bit late for that. Don’t you think?”
His nostrils flared. “You said you needed space.”
“I said I didn’t want to be rescued,” you corrected. “Didn’t mean disappear off the face of the fucking earth.”
He took a step closer. “Ya wanted time. I gave it to you. Now you’re mad I respected that?”
“I’m mad you didn’t fight for me!” you shouted.
That stopped him cold, and the worst part was that you didn’t even plan to say it. It just spilled out of you — the cold, ugly truth. You’d tried to push him away, building walls as high as you could. But deep down? You didn’t want him to walk away. You wanted him to break through those walls, to prove he was willing to fight for you. That he could take it all, the mess of your life, the fear and the damage — and still want you anyway.
“I don’t understand you. First, you want me to leave you alone—say you need time. An’ when I give that to you, you get pissed at me,” he said, voice tight with frustration. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what she wants.”
You flinched. Not because he was wrong, but because he wasn’t. You were truly lost, you wanted Joel, but you didn't want to lose everything you've worked so hard for.
You both stood there for a second, breathing hard.
Joel’s voice dropped cold. “You said no and I listened. Ain’t gonna chase someone who thinks bein’ wanted is a threat.”
You flinched, but Joel didn't stop.
“You think I’m tryin’ to own you? Tie you down? Maybe I just wanted to make sure you had somethin’ solid for once. A soft bed. A goddamn quiet night.”
“I never asked for that.”
“No,” he growled, “but you liked it when it was my hands between your legs and my arms around you when you slept.”
That landed like a slap. You stepped back, fury rising like bile.
“Fuck you, Joel.”
Joel’s eyes burned. “Yeah, fuck me, darlin’.”
Your chest rose and fell with heavy, panicked breaths. He looked furious and hurt, but so were you.
“You think because you came back that it means something. But you only did it to feel good about yourself.”
Joel’s jaw ticked.
“Maybe you’re right,” he muttered. “Maybe I shoulda stayed gone.”
You stared.
“Yeah,” you said. “Maybe you should have.”
He slammed the door shut without looking back.
⸻
You didn’t expect him to come back again. After the door slam and after what you said, but around midnight, there was a knock. You told yourself you wouldn't answer, but you opened it anyway. Joel stood in the hallway, still wearing the same denim jacket, like he hadn’t gone home, like maybe he’d been pacing around your block for hours, wrestling himself.
“‘M not here to fix anythin’,” he said, voice rough. “Not here to fight.”
You stood in the doorway, arms crossed tight against your chest, trying not to tremble. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were wild and pinned on you.
“I shouldn’t’ve said what I did,” he added. “Any of it.”
You bit your cheek, but your voice still cracked. “Right.”
Silence stretched between you, until Joel exhaled, stepped past the threshold without waiting for permission.
You didn’t stop him, couldn't even if you tried, because your chest was tight, your eyes burned, and your whole body ached with it, not just the fight, but the way it felt after. The emptiness that came when he walked away, the helpless, the hollow guilt after having pushed him away again and again. So when he stepped closer, you didn’t argue, you grabbed his jacket, dragged him in by the collar, and kissed him like it hurt, like you needed to make it hurt.
Joel groaned against your mouth, hands already rough on your hips, walking you backwards into the wall with the weight of him pressing into you like a punishment.
“Still mad?” he rasped.
You nodded. “So mad.”
“Good.”
His hand fisted in your hair. His mouth crushed yours, teeth grazing, tongues colliding, unsteady and unrepentant. You didn’t bother with the bedroom, just yanked his belt open and dropped to your knees right there in the hall.
His back hit the wall with a dull thud, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know whether to touch you or hold on for dear life. You pulled him free, thick, hot, already half-hard and twitching with need, the head flushed dark and glistening with precum. He groaned when the cool air hit him, when your hand wrapped around the base and your lips slid over the tip in one long, deliberate pull.
You sucked him slow, with purpose, your tongue swirling lazily, lips tight and warm, working inch by inch down his length while your eyes never left his, you wanted him to see it, to feel the way you worshipped every inch of his glorious cock, to feel the way your jaw went slack just to take more of him.
His fingers finally found your hair, not yanking, not forcing, just curling in tight, like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. You hummed around him, let the vibration run down the length of him like a promise, and then sank deeper.
“Fuck—” he groaned, bracing one hand on the wall above you, the other still gripping your hair. “Don’t deserve this.”
“No,” you whispered, tongue dragging along his slit. “You don’t.”
You pulled back just enough to tease the tip with your tongue, just a soft flick, a slow circle, and then took him deep again, letting him feel all of you, the heat, the pressure, the control. Your fingers gripped his thighs as you worked him, unrelenting but tender, every motion a deliberate promise.
“Jesus—shit—you got the most perfect mouth, baby.”
You pulled off just before he could finish, stroking him slow, then fast, eyes locked on his while you licked your lips.
“Fuck me,” you said. “Right now.”
Joel grabbed you without warning, hauling you up like you weighed nothing. He spun you around and bent you over your couch, shoving your chest into the cushions, your ass up and waiting for him, you were already dripping wet from just sucking his cock, from just hearing the little moans and groans he let out.
He yanked your panties to the side and drove into you in one brutal, desperate thrust. You cried out, the sound half-pain, half-shock, your body stretching around him so fast it burned.
“Fuck—” he growled through clenched teeth, already slamming into you again, harder this time, deeper.
Your cheek was crushed into the cushions, breath punched out of you with every thrust. One of his hands pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, pinning you in place like he couldn’t risk you pulling away. The other gripped your hip, bruising, fingers digging into flesh as he used your body like it was the only way he knew how to say I’m sorry, like if he fucked you deep enough, hard enough, fast enough, he could undo everything.
There were no words, just the sound of skin slapping skin, your soft gasps, his low groans, and the thick, obscene drag of him inside you.
“What bout now? Mad?” he growled, panting against your neck.
You whimpered. “Yes.”
“Stay mad. Want you like this.”
He was thick, and heavy, and deep, splitting you open with every punishing thrust, your soaked pussy was gripping him tight, fluttering around him like your body couldn’t help it. You clenched down every time your name spilled from his lips like a curse, broken and breathless.
“Oh, fuck, Joel—Don’t stop.”
"’M not stoppin’ till I’m fuckin’ empty. Gonna fill you up n’ make sure you feel it f’days."
He snarled low against your skin, teeth grazing your shoulder hard enough to make you gasp, not quite biting, but just a warning. His rough and hungry fingers found your clit, rubbing fast, sloppy circles that made your hips jolt against his.
You came with a loud and uncontrollable cry, your back arching like a bow, hips jolting as your body clamped down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. Joel lost it, he cursed, pulling you back hard onto him with a bruising grip as he spilled inside you, painting your insides with warm ropes of his thick cum.
“Ngggh. Fuck—fuck—take it, baby—”
He collapsed over your back, his chest heaving, arms wrapped tight around your waist as if he could hold the moment there, keep it from slipping away. You were both slick with sweat, still trembling, your breaths coming in uneven bursts.
Neither of you spoke for a long time, when he finally pulled out, you felt the slick mess of him dripping down your thighs. Joel turned you, cradled your face with his rough palms, his thumb brushed your lip.
“I’m still mad too,” he whispered. “But I’d rather be mad with you than nothin’ at all.”
Your chest ached, and you nodded, letting him kiss you soft, letting him stay. No matter the uncertainties clouding your mind, tonight you needed him by your side, the doubts could wait until tomorrow.
You didn’t sleep much, Joel did, eventually. His breath heavy against the back of your neck, his arm slung over your waist like it had always belonged there.
You watched the ceiling, because even with his body tangled up in yours, nothing was fixed, the rules hadn’t changed, you were still on thin ice at the club. You’d broken the unbreakables: no dating clients, no seeing them outside, no taking anything personal. The kind of rules that got people dropped fast.
He stirred just after dawn, grunting softly, pressing his face against your shoulder with a raspy, “Mornin’.”
You didn’t answer right away. He felt it, the tension creeping back between you, no longer fueled by sex or anger, just reality.
“Y’okay?” he murmured.
You turned slowly to face him. Joel blinked at you, brows pulling together, voice low and tired but sincere.
“You regrettin’ it already?”
“No,” you whispered. “It's not like that.”
His hand brushed down your side. “Then what?”
You sat up, pulling your knees to your chest.
“I can’t do this.”
Joel sat up too. “You just did.”
“No, I mean I still can’t… be with you.”
“Because of your job?”
You nodded. “If we keep this up It's not gonna be a week off next time I show up, I’m probably gonna get fired.”
Joel frowned, voice sharp. “Then don’t go back.”
You turned your head to glare at him. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure as hell is. You don’t owe them shit.”
You scoffed. “I owe myself. That job pays my rent, my phone, my groceries. It’s mine, Joel.”
“And what, I’m supposed to just sit here while you get punished for bein’ with me?”
You looked away.
His voice softened. “I can take care of you. It ain’t charity, it’s me wantin’ you safe, wantin’ you happy.”
You laughed bitterly. “So what, I quit, move in with you, and what? Let you pay for everything while I sit around hoping I don’t piss you off someday and get left with nothing?”
Joel’s jaw clenched. “That what you think I’d do?”
“I don’t know!” you snapped. “I don’t know you that much, Joel..”
That shut both of you up, the room went quiet except for the hum of the heater. You rubbed your hands over your face and whispered “I want you. That’s not the problem.”
Joel’s voice was low. “Then what is?”
“I want you without giving everything else up.”
He watched you carefully, his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he didn’t.
“I can’t go from surviving to being saved,” you said. “Even if it’s you.”
He nodded slowly, a heavy kind of understanding in his eyes.
Then: “You ever think maybe there’s a way it ain’t one or the other?”
You blinked, and Joel leaned back, hands braced on his knees, thinking out loud now. “What if you quit the club, yeah? But not for me, for you. And in the meantime, we figure out somethin’ else. Some other way you work, stay on your feet, and on your terms. I help, sure, but not as some white knight. Just… someone who gives a shit.”
You stared at him, he looked tired but sincere. No pride or ego in his voice, just the warmth of someone who cares.
“You’d really be okay with that?” you asked, wary.
Joel huffed. “You think I want you miserable just so I can say you’re mine?”
Your heart tugged. He didn’t want a damsel in distress to rescue just so he could play the hero and soothe his ego. No, he wanted to help you without taking away the independence you’d fought so hard to build. All your life, you’d believed that relying on other people made you weak, that needing someone was a flaw, a crack in your armor, because they could leave at any moment, but maybe… maybe accepting help from someone who genuinely cared didn’t make you weak at all, maybe it made you stronger.
“Let me help without takin’ your power from you,” Joel said. “Please.”
You looked up, finally.
“I’ll try.”
Joel reached for your hand and you let him hold it, for the first time since all this started, hope felt real.
⸻
The next morning, Joel came back. He knocked like it was his house already, with a bag of diner coffee and two breakfast sandwiches that were too heavy on bacon and eggs.
You blinked at him in the doorway, still in a tank top and underwear, sleep in your eyes.
“I don’t remember asking for greasy meat in my mouth before 9 a.m.,” you mumbled, but took the bag anyway.
Joel smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”
You rolled your eyes and stepped back to let him in.
He looked… energized, like he’d actually slept, like his wheels had been turning all night, and he’d finally settled on something.
“So,” he said, sitting at your tiny kitchen table while you sipped your too-hot coffee, “I had an idea.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Uh oh.”
He ignored that. “I got a renovation job comin’ up. House flip, just outside of town. Empty place, full gut. Nothin’ fancy, just sweat work. But it’s mine start to finish.”
You nodded slowly. “Okay…”
Joel leaned back. “Come work it with me.”
You blinked. “Come what?”
He looked dead serious. “Work for me. With me.”
You laughed out loud. “Joel, I don’t know how to build houses.”
He didn’t even flinch. “Don’t need you to. There’s all kinds of work on a job site. Cleanup, paintin’, hell, I’ll teach you how to lay tile if you want.”
You stared at him. “This is your big plan?” you asked. “Make me your construction intern?”
Joel shrugged. “It’s a job. One that don’t involve you bein’ gawked at by drunk assholes or threatened with rules that ain’t fair. You said you wanted independence, so here, work with me. I’ll pay fair n’ you'll learn somethin’ new. An’ we don’t have to pretend not to care about each other.”
You looked away, unsure what the hell to even say. It sounded ridiculous, you, swinging hammers and hauling trash bags, Joel in his beat-up flannel, wiping sweat off his brow while you fumble your way through using a power drill.
It also sounded… oddly nice, maybe even safe, safer than you've ever been in your entire life.
“You really think I could do it?” you asked quietly.
Joel’s voice softened. “I know you could.”
You let the silence stretch while you stared at your coffee cup, the steam curling upward like it might hide your thoughts.
“Listen, darlin’, it doesn’t have to be forever if you don’t love it. Just somethin’ steady f’now. Safe. It can give you time, y’know? Time to figure out what you really wanna do with your life. I’ll be here while you do.”
Finally, you said, “If I’m terrible at it, you can’t fire me.”
Joel smirked. “We’ll put that in the contract.”
“You’re gonna make me sign a contract?”
“Damn right, can’t have my newest hire causin’ HR problems.”
You grinned, and for the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest lifted just enough for you to breathe.
Joel leaned across the table, his fingers brushing yours.
“Let me build somethin’ with you,” he said softly. “Even if it’s just drywall n’ sawdust for now.”
Your heart thudded stupid and loud, and you nodded once. “Alright, boss.”
"Don't start callin' me boss, darlin’." He chuckled warmly, the kind of sound that made you feel like everything was gonna be okay. "If you do, there won’t be any work gettin’ done."
You weren’t his to save, and he wasn’t your hero. But maybe, just maybe, there was something worth building between you. Not out of pity or guilt, but out of something real. Something honest. For Joel, you were willing to try. Willing to let him in, piece by piece.
A/N: I’m seriously head over heels over the amount of sweet comments the first part got, seriously like ????? You guys are amazing and I love y’all sososososo much. Not exaggerating, you made my entire week, month, year🥹🩷
I really hope you enjoyed this second (and final) part too!! And if you were expecting a sad, angsty ending… well, too bad, because I’m simply incapable of writing that.
Thanks again for all the likes, reblogs and comments, it’s so nice to know you enjoyed it!!
Might do an epilogue one day? We’ll see, I’m not opposed to the idea.
taglist: @pillow-princess-69 @glitterspark @maiamore @sophiagladiator @lostboys1987girl @thecatgurly @pedrofan @untamedheart81 @billionairecowgirl @bueschibaby @babyangelc @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @joelsslvts @pinkiec6-rubi @preciosapascal @aquanatalie @elanorasdiary @littledes1re @bit3mebabyx @glitterfartz08 @lunarlilith @theoraekenslover @danika1994 @chrrypascal @puduvallee @ainhoetaaa @yournameiswhat @idfkimhereforsmut @millercontracting @professional-fangirrrl @athena-shifterx @havensucks @wand-erer5 @thaliagracesgf @ashleyfilm @warmdragonfly @pedros-wifey @ivyinthesun so sorry if I forgot anyone.
dividers by: @/saradika-graphics
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller/reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#tlou joel#joel smut#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller#game joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#game joel miller fanfic#joel millel pedro pascal#tlou hbo#tlou fanfiction#tlou smut#the last of us#joel miller pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal tlou#pedro pascal the last of us#pedro pascal x y/n
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‹𝟹 .ᐟ gojo’s Infinity isn’t just a defense — it’s his ultimate tease.
‹𝟹 .ᐟ unhinged gojo x f!reader , mdni , not proofread
cw: smut , teasing , humiliation , use of supernatural ability (infinity) for: sensory play, orgasm control / denial.
you’re kneeling on the bed, chest pressed to the mattress, ass raised high like you’re on display in a fucking gallery.
your hands clutch the soft sheets beneath you, fingers digging in as you try to steady your racing heart.
gojo is hovering behind you, just barely out of reach. his cock is pressed flush against your slick entrance, teasing you with shallow, maddening thrusts — sliding in, then pulling back, never fully giving you the satisfaction you crave.
his fingers twitch near your clit, tantalizing you with phantom touches that feel like fire, but he never actually makes contact, oh why is that ? because he’s using his infinity, that damned invisible barrier.
“patience is a virtue, babe,” gojo purrs, voice dripping with smug delight as he leans close, his white hair brushing your shoulder; never pausing the torturous relentless toggle between activation and deactivation.
“the best things in life come to those who wait. like this.” he presses a teasing hip against your ass, pushing you down a little further onto his cock. “see? you’re dripping just by thinking about it.”
you whimper, hips trembling. “s-toru, please…” you gasp, voice shaky. “just… touch me... f'ckin..asshole.”
he chuckles, the sound low and amused, as if you’ve just told him the funniest joke in the world.
“oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers hovering an impossible millimeter away from your clit, “i’m touching you right now. it’s just... very exclusive contact.”
you try to arch into him, reaching out to pull him closer, but your fingers hesitate — halted just shy of his wrist, as if an invisible shield shimmers between you, keeping your touch forever out of reach.
“infinity,” he smirks. “i’m untouchable, literally.”
your breath catches. the teasing rhythm is driving you insane.
“you like that? me almost touching you? that little spark? that burning frustration?” his voice is a lazy drawl, cocky as hell. “that’s the real game here.”
you bite your lip, moaning softly as his fingers twitch again. the wet heat pooling between your legs grows hotter, your hips rocking against him without control.
“nnngh, storu…” you whine, voice thick with need. “please—just one touch.”
he presses a finger closer, still not quite touching, and you shiver violently.
“mmm, you’re so needy.” he nips the shell of your ear, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “what’s this? ‘satoru, i’m gonna—mmmph!’” he smirks against your skin as you gasp, a strangled moan slipping past your lips. “already breaking, huh?”
your hips jerk, thrusting down, desperate to catch even the slightest contact.
“pathetic,” he teases with a grin you feel in his voice.
then — finally — he lets his finger brush your clit, slow and precise.
electricity jolts through you like lightning.
you cry out, hips bucking hard. “ahhh—toru!”
he chuckles, utterly satisfied at how easily he breaks you.
“attagirl,” he breathes, sliding fully inside you at last, filling you deep and slow. “now this is where the fun really begins.”
his hand curls around your hip, holding you steady as his other fingers circle your swollen clit, sending shivers down your spine.
“you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs cockily. “dripping like you want me to ruin you.”
your moans weave through the room like a whispered hymn, beneath them the wet symphony of skin meeting skin — the slick, lingering traces of desire stretching between you both, trembling in the heated air.
“satoru—mmph—fuck—right there—oh god—please—” he grins against your neck, teeth grazing the skin.
“only the best spot for my favorite brat.”
your body trembles, legs shaking with the force of your building orgasm.
“c’mon,” he breathes, voice roughening, “say it. tell me how badly you want me to make you come.”
you pant, eyes fluttering closed. “please, toru… make me come.”
he chuckles again, hips rolling in slow, powerful thrusts, “good girl.”
you’re drowning in the mixture of his cock deep inside you and his fingers circling your clit like a merciless predator.
“ahhhh—oh god, i’m—” you moan, voice breaking with need. “i’m gonna—”
“cum for me,” he commands, voice velvet dark and dangerously smooth.
your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, muscles clenching around him, breath hitching as you scream his name.
gojo holds you tight, chest rising and falling against your back.
“see?” he says smugly, voice softening. “sometimes the best touch… is the one you almost can’t have.”
you laugh breathlessly, sweaty and spent, your fingers curling into the sheets.
gojo’s grin presses against your skin like a promise: he’s just getting started.
divider by @/cafekitsune // art by momoya348 on twt .ᐟ
a/n ‹𝟹: should i make this a series + make a mlist containing all my unhinged gojo drabbles bc i have so many ideas u would notttt believe (freak) now WHO said that ??? also this was quick so it's not as good as the others but still ^_^
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk x you#jjk smut#gojo smut#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#gojo satoru x you#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk satoru#jjk drabble#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo smut#faye!writes
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POWER PLAY.
✷ e. prentiss x fem!stripper!reader



Warnings: Explicit language, fingering (r receiving), masturbation (e receiving), p in v, g!p emily, dom!emily, sub!reader, reader is a tease, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, no use of condoms. Men/minors dni.

Club Noir was particularly crowded that night, the air heavy with the scent of cheap bourbon and undisguised desire. You finished your third drink as you sat at her table, as you always did when Emily came by.
"Agent Prentiss," you purred, letting the empty glass slide across the table toward her. "Are you that obsessed with me, or do you just enjoy watching women dance for your money?"
Emily didn't take the glass. Her fingers drummed on the table, her knuckles marked by scars you knew all too well. "You know why I'm here."
"Oh, yes. The missing girls case." You crossed your legs, letting your heel dangle. "Sad. But I don't know anything."
She leaned forward, her blazer opening enough for you to see the chill under her arm. "Don't mess with me. You're the only one with VIP access."
Your eyes roamed her body, those shoulders, her hands, the posture that took up more space than anyone else in the room. You conveyed it.
"Maybe I know something. But information comes at a price, Emily." Your foot slid up her leg under the table. "And this time, I don't want money."
You saw her jaw tense. "What do you want, then?"
Your fingers played with the rim of her empty glass. "You. In the VIP room. Now."
Her laugh was more of a growl. "Are you trying to bribe a federal agent?"
"I'm giving you a choice," you urged, your hand descending on her shoulder with measured weight. "Either you fuck me against the wall like you always wanted, or you watch another girl disappear tomorrow."
Emily's eyes darkened in a way that made your stomach churn. Before you could blink, your back hit the wall, her hands pinning your wrists above your head.
"You'll regret this," she breathed against your neck.
You laughed. "I doubt it."
When she lifted you against the wall, you knew you'd won.
Emily carried you into the private hallway, opening the door to the first vacant room she saw, and throwing you onto the red-sheeted bed.
The VIP room at Club Noir was small, lit only by a dim amber light that made everything feel hotter and more dangerous. You barely had time to prop yourself up on your elbows before Emily kicked the door shut and advanced on you, her fingers wrapped around your neck, not pressure, just a warning.
"You always were terrible at negotiating," she growled, her breath hot against your lips. "Especially when what you want is so obvious."
You smiled defiantly, your legs wrapping around her hips to pull her closer. "And you've always been terrible at lying. How many nights have you spent watching me on stage, Emily? How many times have you stayed right here, alone in this room, wondering what it would be like?"
She didn't answer. Instead, her hand went down to the elastic of your panties, ripping the fabric off with a sudden movement that made you gasp.
"You talk too much," Emily murmured, before covering your mouth with hers in a kiss that felt more like punishment.
You could feel the hatred and desire mingling in her, the way her teeth bit your lip, the way her fingers marked your skin, the way her body rubbed against yours, as if she couldn't decide between strangling you or devouring you.
And you? You loved every second of it.
Your hands went to the belt of her pants, undoing it and pulling them down. When you finally pulled her boxer down, you saw what you always knew was there, the physical proof that, behind that tough-as-nails agent facade, Emily Prentiss was as affected by you as you were by her.
"That doesn't mean you won," Emily growled, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her facade of control. Her body was tense, pulsing against yours, as if every fiber of her being was at war between duty and desire.
You laughed breathlessly, your fingers exploring every inch of her body you could finally touch. "Of course not, agent. This is just... cooperation with the investigation."
Emily grabbed your wrist again, but this time to guide your hand to hers. "Stop talking," she ordered, her voice hoarse and broken.
When you finally touched her, feeling her hard, throbbing cock that completely contradicted her tough stance, Emily buried her face in your neck, a muffled moan escaping her lips.
"So this is what the great Agent Prentiss looks like because of me?" you teased, your hand moving with an intimacy that made Emily tremble.
The amber light of the VIP room painted Emily's skin in golden hues as she arched against your hand, her body tense like a bow ready to fire. You felt every tremor, every pulse against your palm, and knew you had won this private battle.
"It seems the FBI badass has a soft spot," you whispered, continuing to masturbate her with calculated slowness.
Emily clamped her teeth into your shoulder to stifle a moan, her nails digging into your back. "You'll regret it." Each word came out raggedly, her breath heavy against your skin.
You laughed, quickening the movement of your hand. "I've heard that before."
Suddenly, she pushed you back against the bed, her dark eyes burning with a dangerous mix of anger and desire. "Enough games."
Before you could respond, Emily flipped you onto your stomach in one sudden movement, her heavy body pinning you against the sheets. You felt the tip of her cock throb between your thighs, hot and hard, and a wave of anticipation ran down your spine.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" She growled in your ear, one of her hands tangling in your hair to pull your head back. "Watch me lose control?"
You tried to turn your head to face her, but her grip was firm. "Emily…"
"Shut up." Her command was accompanied by a sharp shove, and then you felt her, all that anger, all that pent-up desire finally unleashed in a single, deep thrust that made your body arch against hers.
The air escaped your lungs in a hoarse moan, your nails ripping at the red sheets. Emily didn't give you time to adjust, beginning a relentless rhythm that drove you ever closer to the edge.
"Now you see," she growled, her hips crashing into you with a force that promised to leave marks. "What happens when you play with fire."
You wanted to respond, wanted to tease her even more, but all words were lost in the whirlwind of sensations. The heat of her body against your back, the scent of her sweat mixed with expensive perfume, the sound of the muffled moans she tried to contain—everything blended together until you no longer knew where you ended and she began.
When your orgasm hit, it was like being caught in a riptide, dragging Emily along with you in a free fall that seemed endless.
She pulled out of you slowly, watching her cum mixed with yours drip from your entrance, before inserting a finger and pushing it back in. Her finger began to move back and forth, making you moan, and as if on cue, she added another. She moved them deliberately slowly, enjoying watching you writhe in search of more friction.
The light in the room flickered as Emily watched you with dark eyes, her fingers moving inside you with cruel slowness. Every movement was calculated to elicit small moans from you, every contraction of your muscles studied with the attention of an FBI agent analyzing a suspect.
"Looks like someone hasn't had enough," she murmured, her voice husky with pent-up pleasure.
You tried to arch your back, seeking more pressure, but she held your hip with her free hand, holding you still.
"Emily…"
"Shut up." Her fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot that made your body shiver involuntarily. "You wanted to play? Then now we'll play my way."
Her movements slowed even more, almost imperceptibly, as her other hand moved down your body until it found your clit, rubbing it with the pad of her thumb in firm circles.
"You like this, don't you?" She leaned over you, her lips brushing your ear. "Being controlled. Being used. Knowing that no matter how hard you try, in the end, you'll always give in to me."
You tried to respond, but the words were lost in a hoarse moan as she increased the pressure, her fingers now moving at a faster, deeper pace. The heat in your belly grew, spreading like wildfire, until you could no longer think, could no longer breathe.
And then, as if knowing exactly when you were about to fall, Emily stopped.
"No." She pulled her fingers out, leaving you empty, trembling, on the brink. "Not yet."
You groaned in frustration, your fingers digging into the sheets. "You're such a slut."
Emily laughed softly before leaning against the headboard and pulling you onto her lap. Your eyes met hers, and you saw the desire still burning there, mixed with something more dangerous, something that made your heart race.
"You still haven't given me what I want," she said, her hand wrapping around your neck, not pressing, just a warning.
"And what do you want?" you challenged, even though you knew the answer.
Emily smiled, and it was the most dangerous thing you'd ever seen.
"Everything."
And then her mouth was covering yours in a kiss that was more of a battle than an act of affection, her hips fitting perfectly between your legs. When she entered you this time, it was slow, making you feel it inch by inch.
Your eyes closed as Emily held you pinned to her lap, every inch of her body enveloping you like living armor. You felt every muscle tense against you, every quickening of her heartbeat, and most intensely of all, the deliberate way she moved inside you, so slowly it was excruciating.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" She growled in your ear, her teeth nibbling at your earlobe. "Then take it."
You tried to respond, but all that came out was a husky moan as she finally sank fully into you, her hips crashing into yours with an impact that made your body tremble.
Emily took her time. Every movement was calculated, every deep thrust followed by an agonizingly slow withdrawal. One hand gripped your waist tightly, guiding you to ride her, the other roamed your body as if memorizing every curve, every scar, every place that made you shiver.
"You know I should arrest you," she murmured, her lips trailing your collarbone. "I should take you in handcuffs."
You arched your back as her fingers found your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to leave marks. "Then why don't you?"
The answer came in the form of a particularly brutal thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. "Because I want you like this," Emily confessed, her voice cracking. "Hot. Wet. Mine."
She took a nipple in her mouth, sucking hard as her cock stretched you wide and perfect.
Her rhythm became more erratic then, less controlled, as if she'd finally lost the battle against her own desire. You felt the moment she broke, her fingers digging into your hips, her teeth digging into your shoulder, her body trembling against yours as she climaxed.
Emily thrust into you, hard and deep, and you felt it—hot jets of cum flooding your pussy, her cock pulsing with each wave. So much that it leaked all over her body, dripping down your balls, messy, wet, and perfect.
And you? You followed her without hesitation, your body writhing against hers as the wave of pleasure dragged you into the abyss.
You stayed in that position for a while longer until you rolled off her, her cum instantly dripping, hot, thick, and sticky, down your thighs. Emily stood up immediately, pulling away as if she'd been burned.
You turned in time to see her getting ready with precise movements, replacing each piece of clothing as if it were armor. But you could tell by the way her hands trembled slightly, by the blush that still colored her neck, that something between you had changed forever.
"His name is Marco Torres," you said, your voice huskier than usual. "He controls the girl trafficking in the southern district."
Emily finished dressing and walked to the door, not bothering to look at you. "It was nice doing business with you."

#emily prentiss#criminal minds#wlw smut#wlw#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x female reader#emily prentiss x y/n#smut#mndi
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I've Never Wanted Anything More - GB5 🔥

Masterlist
Summary: After hours of silent longing across a hotel bar, Gavi shows up at your door, nervous and shirtless. You comfort him, confess mutual feelings, and guide him through an intimate, emotionally charged night where he finally gets what he’s been aching for — you.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, first-time energy, oral sex (m. receiving), protected penetrative sex, praise kink, soft dom/sub dynamic, virgin/very inexperienced partner dynamic, emotional vulnerability, gentle aftercare.
It started with him knocking on your door like he hadn't spent the last three hours staring at you from across the hotel bar. You opened it already knowing. His hair was a mess. Curls damp from the shower. No shirt. Just sweatpants and nerves and this impossibly soft look in his eyes like he didn't know how to do this, but needed to.
"I-" he started, then stopped.
You tilted your head. "You okay?"
"I couldn't sleep."
You stepped aside without asking. He walked in like he belonged there. Like maybe he was hoping you'd never kick him out. His bare feet padded across the carpet, his fingers twitching like he didn't know where to put them. You watched him from the doorway. "Gabi," you said, quiet. "You know you don't have to pretend."
He turned to you. His jaw clenched. "I'm not pretending," he said. "I just- I wanted to see you. Be near you. Even if you don't want anything. Just... to be here."
Your heart cracked open. He was so fucking honest. You crossed the room and took his face in your hands. "I do want something."
His breath hitched. "Yeah?"
You kissed him before he could get shy again.
It was soft at first, tentative, sweet, but Gabi caught up fast. His hands found your waist, your back, your jaw. His mouth opened against yours and the kiss deepened, turned hungry, turned real. You pressed against him, hips brushing, and he gasped, like he hadn't expected you to want him like that.
His cock was already hard in his sweats. You smiled against his lips. "You're shaking."
He laughed, breathless. "Because I've wanted this for so long, I don't even know what to do."
"Let me help you."
You kissed down his neck, over his chest. He moaned, high and startled, like he couldn't believe this was happening, and his hands gripped your arms like he was afraid you'd disappear. You tugged at the drawstring of his sweats and he froze.
"Is this okay?"
He nodded. "Please."
You slid them down, his cock springing free, hard, flushed, leaking already. He was perfect. Not too big. Not too cocky. Just real. Just Gabi. You took him in your hand and he groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.
"Oh my god-"
You stroked him gently, watching his breath hitch with every motion. He was so sensitive, hips twitching, hands grasping at nothing.
"I'm not gonna last," he whispered. "Fuck, I don't wanna-"
"Then don't."
You dropped to your knees and took him in your mouth. He screamed. Not loud, but choked. Shocked. Wrecked. You sucked him slow, hand wrapped around the base, tongue tracing the underside of his shaft. He swore in Portuguese, voice strangled, fists in your hair but not pushing, just holding, begging.
He came in minutes. Hard. Fast. Whole body convulsing. You swallowed it. Licked your lips. And then stood, smiling.
He looked at you like you were made of fucking gold. "I didn't mean to come so fast," he said, cheeks flushed, curls wild. "You're just- you're so-"
"You were perfect," you said, cupping his jaw. "Do you wanna stop?"
He blinked. "Stop?"
You stepped back and slipped your shirt off. Then your shorts. You were bare in front of him and he lost it, eyes wide, breath gone, lips parted in stunned awe.
"I- I don't-"
"You can touch me."
His hands moved like prayer. Over your waist. Your stomach. Your chest. He leaned down and kissed your neck, your shoulder, your breasts. He didn't know what he was doing, but fuck, he cared. Every touch was reverent. Every kiss was a confession. "Please let me be good for you," he whispered.
"You already are."
You laid back on the bed and pulled him with you. He climbed over you carefully, almost nervously, cock twitching again against your thigh. He kissed you like he meant it. Sloppy. Tender. His whole heart.
"Condom," he whispered. "Wait- I have one-"
You smiled as he scrambled for it, nearly dropping the foil in his haste. You kissed his cheek while he rolled it on, and he smiled back, all nerves and love and please let this be real. When he pushed inside you, he stopped. Just froze. "Oh fuck," he whispered. "That's insane."
You were soaked, open, waiting for him. And he was shaking, trying not to fall apart. He pulled out, pushed in again, groaning. "Is it too much?" you asked.
"It's everything," he breathed. "You feel like heaven."
He moved slow at first. Careful. But then he found a rhythm and it was all needy, sweet, messy. He moaned your name like a prayer. He whispered praise between every thrust.
"You're so beautiful- fuck- you feel so good- I never want to stop-"
He kissed you through every moan. His hands gripped your thighs, your waist, your heart. And when you came around him, trembling, crying out, he came again, this time harder, deeper, sobbing your name like it hurt him.
He collapsed against you, panting. You held him. Neither of you said anything for a long while.
Then he whispered, voice wrecked: "Can I sleep here?"
You kissed his forehead. "You're never sleeping anywhere else again."
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 smut#gabriel bortoleto#gb5#gb5 x reader#gabriel bortoleto smut#gabriel bortoleto x reader#gabriel bortoleto x you#gabriel bortoleto imagine
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average adobe experience
#I FUCKING HATE ADOBE ILLUSTRATOR#IF ADOBE WAS A REAL PERSON I WOULD TELL THEM TO KILL THEMSELVES#I HOPE ILLSTRATTOR FLINGS ITSELF OFF OF A BRIDGE#STUPIDEST PIECE OF FUCKIG SHIT I WISH IT WAS DEAD GOD FUCK I HATE IT#WHY IT IT THE SHITTIES FUCKING SOFTWARE#OOOOOOHHHHHHHH WERE ADOBE WERE SOOOOO UNQUE SO OUR PRODUCT IS GOUNG TO FUCKING SUCK#WHY WOULD WE MAKE THE UNDO BUTTON CTRL Y LIKE IT IS FOR EVERY OTHER PROGRA NO FUCK YOU ITS CTRLZSHIFT#OOHHHH DDI YOU WANT TO DO THE MOST BASIC THIN???#FUCK YOU!!!!!#YOU HAVE TO GO THROUGH THREE DIFFERENT MENUS TO TY AND FIND EHAT YOU WANT AND THEN IT WONT EEVEN WORK BC OF SOME BC REASON#“teehee” ILLL KILL YOU. OH MY GOD#COME HERE. COME HERE. LET ME FUCKING STRANGLE YOU#PIECE OF SHIT COMPUTER#WE CANT DO ANYTHIN NORMALLY NOOOOOOOOOO#WERE SO SPECIAL WE JUST DO FUCKINGR ANDOM SHIT THAT MAKES NO SENSE BECAUSE WHY SHOULD WE#MOST UNUSABLE PIECE OF SHIT SOFTARE HOLY FUC#THIS SHIT IS WHY IM DROPPING OUT OF ART SCHOOL. GENUINELY KYS#I HATE THAT ITS INDUSTRY STANDARD AND ITS FUCKING PRICE GOUGIING JESUS CHRIST#GOD. G0D. GOD. I HATE ADOBE#FUCK ADOBE#I HATE THIS FUCKING PROJECT AND THIS FUCKING CLASS AND THIS SOFTWARE GOD IM GOING TO GO INSANE#I LOVE SPENDING 30 FUCKIG MINUTES TRYING TO MAKE A HALF CIRCLE#GOBNA FUCKING PUNCH THE SCHOOLS MONIOR. FUCK YOU#THE ADOBE CEO PRAYS HE NEVER MEETS ME IN THE STREETS CAUSE I AM BEATING HIS ASS#GOD.#lilac post#vent#lmao i am feeling slightly less homicidal now <3
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of ten’s companions, if the doctor couldn’t handle losing them and crossed his own timeline to trick them into traveling with future!him instead of past!him so that he’d have a little more time with them:
rose would do it. first because bless her but she has the situational awareness of a rock, and legitimately would not realize this isn’t her doctor until his facade starts to break down and he starts bleeding grief-laced love for her at every turn. but once she does realize it, she’s both deeply sympathetic and a little scared that she could make him into this. it’s a lot to be confronted with having that much power over someone, to break them so thoroughly. rose would try to get back to her doctor, but while she’s with the future version, she tries to do what she can to ease his pain. (she also tries to figure out a way to subvert her fate. she fails.)
i think martha would be harder to trick. she can smell desperation on the doctor like a bloodhound. she is so tapped into the fact that this man wants to off himself so bad and that she’s 90% of his self-restraint, so present her with a doctor who is lacking that and she’s onto him immediately. however, assuming he gets her to come with him, explains why he’s doing this, there’s like. a minute where she’s kind of. not flattered exactly, but surprised, giddy with the realization that he’d come back for a little more time with her, especially if this is early season 3 martha. which would all come crashing down around the time that he reveals that he wasn’t pushed to this by losing her to some tragedy or her death or anything- but that she chose to leave. that is the point at which martha goes ‘oh i need to get the fuck off of this tardis right now’ and ghosts the past!doctor that she was also traveling with because holy shit, man.
donna, like rose, is easily bamboozled into following the wrong doctor home, provided that he shuffles her along into his tardis too fast for her to argue. but she catches on far quicker than rose does. like, three minutes tops of watching the doctor move through the tardis in a way that’s definitely not enthusiastic piloting and looks more like guilty panic. and then she yells at him for lying to her. and she yells at him for kidnapping her. and then she stops yelling because he’s gone sort of still and quiet and his eyes are just broken. and he doesn’t explain himself, he confesses. donna is going to try to stay with him after this btw. because how do you go back to looking your best friend in the eyes when you know he’d take everything you’ve become away from you, even to save your life? and this is still the doctor, he still did that to her, but he regrets it. regrets it so much that he can’t live with it, he’s breaking time and space just to hear her say his name again. and donna doesn’t want to lose him anymore than he wanted to lose her.
#i am so enthralled by this concept you have no idea#also like. i mentioned in rose’s section how this is a genuinely scary situation for her.#but to be clear. it is for all three of them the moment they realize that this Is Not Their Doctor#because theyre suddenly on a ship going through time ans space with. almost a stranger. and one who has proven that he’s break laws#fundamental to his worldview rather than let them go#doctor who#rose tyler#martha jones#martha girl get the fuck out of there oh my god#the doctor comes out looking the worst in her section rip to him for not handling her leaving him in a normal and healthy way very well#i think it would be very funny if the doctor said goodbye to her and then immediately went. ‘oh! right! martha is the only thing keeping me#from jumping off a cliff! brb i need to get martha back at whatever cost!’ sir go to therapy#donna noble#also also to be clear im not trying to insult rose in her section thats just how she is#remember that time her boyfriend turned into plastic in front of her and she. didnt notice. or that time the doctor was being strangled in#the other room and she. didnt notice.#rose tyler girl that you are. you never know what the fuck is going on around you and i love you for that. how are you still alive.#REMEMBER THAT TIME SHE GOT BACK FROM AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION AND DIDNT EVEN NOTICE THE DALEK ABOUT TO SHOOT THE DOCTOR IN THE FACE#ROSE TYLER. GIRL. LOOK LEFT AND RIGHT BEFORE CROSSING A STREET AT LEAST#donna’s here is the most fucked up i think because even if this situation is ‘resolved’ and she goes back to her doctor like. how does she#keep going with that fact in the back of her mind at all times. that he can and will do this to her. that he’ll take himself and everything#else away from her while she begs him not to.#angst <3
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I know it's because I'm single and bitter. But I swear to fucking god if my roommate and his boyfriend don't stop talking about the messages they get on Grindr I might fucking explode.
#genuinely I am becoming full of violence and vile hate. hate. let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since i began to live- /ref#seriously though SHUT THE FUCK UP!! PLEASE!!!! IM FUCKING BEGGING YOU#*shaking them violently while letting out a strangled scream*#if any of you suggest I just get on there/any dating apps as well you will be tossed into the pit of ire these fucking two are in btw.#i don't feel comfortable with or trust dating apps. and the messages they fucking talk about do not help with those feelings 😐#anyway I love having my boundaries and room rules completely ignored on the daily ✌️/s#it definitely does not make me want to kms!! /s#(im not going to do anything pls dont worry friends who follow me here I'm just being Dramatic. it does kinda make me feel like that though+#+genuinely. like i wish it didnt but most sources of inconvenience or discomfort make me feel like that these days.)#(psych appointment in august though!! [@ myself ->] Get Well Soon Bitch!)#txt
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Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: Joel won’t fit.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)
Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠
Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.
Word count: 2.3k
This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.
The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.
You, who were young enough to be his daughter.
You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.
You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.
But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.
“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”
It was simple.
“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”
And true.
The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.
“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.
Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.
Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.
It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.
“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.
“He’s so big.”
Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.
Again.
You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.
“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”
You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’
And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.
He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.
But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:
“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”
Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.
And his vision blurred more at that word, him.
“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”
Another quarter-inch.
“—so, so bad.”
“Daddy!”
Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.
You whimpered again.
“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”
Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.
“Honey, it’s—”
“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.
“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”
“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”
Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.
He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.
“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”
That made you go still.
You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.
“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”
You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.
“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”
You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.
“Be brave…and patient for me.”
From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.
Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.
Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.
It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.
“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.
With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.
“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”
His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.
“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.
“He’s so…” you trailed off.
You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.
“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.
“I know.”
This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.
“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”
“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”
“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”
Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.
Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”
Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.
“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”
Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.
“You think so, sweet pea?”
“I know so. I need it.”
“Need him?”
“Y-Yes.”
How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.
Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.
As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.
“Da-a-ddy. Please.”
You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.
Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:
“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”
It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.
So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.
Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.
“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.
His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.
“Daddy.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.
He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.
“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”
You shook your head. Cried a little more.
Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.
“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”
“Y-Yeah?”
His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.
Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.
“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”
It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.
“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.
“Say what?”
“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”
The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.
His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.
“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”
You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.
And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.
Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.
When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:
“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”
His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.
It was a small pulse, at first.
Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.
Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.
He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.
You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.
You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.
He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.
It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.
Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.
Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.
Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.
“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”
can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔
#I WROTE THIS IN A FUGUE STATE LISTENING TO KEITH WHITLEY#IF IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE IT’S PROBABLY JUST BC I’M SLEEP-DEPRIVED AND STUPID#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller tlou#the last of us fic
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Street kid Luo Binghe makes the mistake of letting some weirdo get a hold of him and finds himself locked up in a windowless room somewhere.
The only bright spot in this shit situation is that there's another boy in there with him. Shen Yuan is clearly in considerably worse shape than Luo Binghe and he says he's been here for a very long time. But he's so kind to Binghe and deliberately draws their captor's attention to himself (and away from Binghe) whenever he can.
He also, after Binghe's been there about a month, steals their captor's keys, unlocks the restraints they're both in, and then shoves Binghe out the boarded up window he's been prying open when he had time.
Shen Yuan is too big to fit through the window, he says. They both know that's not true but they can also both hear that their captor is coming-he must have noticed the keys were missing- and Shen Yuan intends to stall him while Binghe gets away.
Binghe promises to come back with help and SY just smiles and nods and shoos him away.
He runs as fast as he can, and once he's far enough away from the house he escaped from he starts asking for help- but no one is listening to him. And he knows if he goes to the local guard he'll probably be handed back over as a runaway slave... And then he sees two men who both seen almost to shine in the dirty city streets... they must be cultivators, they must. If anyone can help him now it will be them. So Luo Binghe throws himself at the taller of the two men and starts begging for help.
Shen Qingqiu is absolutely positive this kid is trying to lure them into an ambush, but Yue Qingyuan- who invited himself along on SQQ's mission without asking him- doesn't think so.
YQY goes with LBH, and SQQ follows, complaining that this is a trick the whole way- up until they discover that yes actually the local nobleman does have a secret room he's been imprisoning children in and there is indeed an almost beaten to death SY in there.
YQY sends SQQ off with SY- gotta get that kid medical attention ASAP- while he and LBH stay behind to Politely Ask Some Questions.
When YQY and LBH arrive back at the sect SY is still in the medical ward but isn't dying and is even awake! LBH is relieved and refuses to leave him again.
YQY fills SQQ in that not only were both boys not slaves, SY was actually the son of the nobleman's first wife she had as the result of an affair. He disappeared from the household around the time the first wife died and all the servants assumed their Lord had sold the boy or killed him outright.
But now that the nobleman has died a sudden and painful and extremely mysterious death it looks like SY has inherited the estate. YQY will have someone from An Ding go sort out the details since SY can't.
SQQ watches YQY smile at the little urchins they've rescued and talk in a way that obviously means he intends them to stay and says, internally 'Fuck no Qi-ge you don't get to replace me with a Shen you actually did manage to save. Absolutely not!'
Out loud the conversation goes:
SQQ: I want the older boy.
YQY: What?
SQQ: You intend for them to stay right? I want the older boy for Qing Jing Peak, you can keep the little one if you want.
YQY, pleased and assuming SQQ and SY must have bonded while he and LBH were away: Of course.
SQQ and SY have not bonded, and once they get back to QJ Peak things are tense. SQQ is low-key kinda jealous of SY and also reminded much too much of himself by the boy. Except he was never as naive and stupid as this kid is! Why is he so nice? How?? And the little shit isn't even afraid of him!
SY, deeply sarcastic: Oh nooo. I'm going to be beaten? Such a thing has never happened to me before! *Coughs because his throat is permanently messed up from being nearly strangled to death*
SQQ, aware that if he hits the kid now he loses: You're not allowed in the library for a week.
SY: What!
SQQ: The next words out of your mouth better be "yes Shizun, sorry Shizun" or it'll be two weeks.
SY: ...yes Shizun, sorry Shizun.
Meanwhile LBH and YQY are having a magical adventure in becoming a found family and are bonding over their obsessions with their respective Shens. They absolutely come visit QJ Peak at least twice a week much to SQQ's displeasure and SY's delight.
#shen yuan#svsss#luo binghe#shen jiu#yue qingyuan#child abuse warning#this is definitely a qijiu fix it#kids gotta get their adoptive dads together#also of course eventually bingyuan#because you can't save LBH from a situation without him getting attached#I'm not even going to write this why is it so loooooong#i think SY is staying in the bamboo house because he's got lingering medical issues that need monitoring#not that SQQ is really doing that at first#SY grows on him though#like a fungus
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sex pollen ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: zayne, xavier, sylus, caleb, rafayel x fem-afab!reader
— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: spring is here, and the "thorny" flower is in season. beware, unsuspecting farm visitor, lest you inhale the evil flower's pollen and fall victim to its whims... 「this urge... i can't resist it anymore—!」
— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, literal sex pollen; "spontaneous and urgent need to have sex", piv, creampie, intense orgasms, dubcon, characters are not dating nor have they ever f*cked before (frenemies)
— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: pelican town (from stardew valley)
✧ a/n: was the stardew valley soundtrack too unhinged or... anywaysss sex pollen is one of my all-time favorite tropes ever so here's my take on it <3
Sure, he might not be your favorite person in the world, but just for today, you're content with being acquaintances. For what it’s worth, if there’s anything worse than spending a whole day with your begrudging frenemy, it’s losing.
The annual Spring Corn-Picking Festival has begun, and you’ve been paired up with him. Can you put your differences aside and put your skills to the test? Or is there something else—something sinister—lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike?
The “thorny” flower is in bloom, and no one is safe…
“Follow my lead if you want to win. I did my research, so I know where all the best spots are.” He parts the thick maize, making way for the both of you to trudge through the field. You roll your eyes at his predictable arrogance. “Please. I used to live on a farm. I know my way around—” You trip on a small rock and stumble into his back. He barely even glances at you. “Be quiet if you don’t want to sabotage our mission.” Rude. “Hey, there’s some up there.” You both dart towards the bunch of ripe corn a few feet away, no longer weary and complacent. Placing his basket on the ground, he begins to expertly pluck the corn from their stalks, intense concentration written all over his face.
All of a sudden, a strange smell hijacks your nostrils. “Do you smell that?” He grimaces and looks around, apparently sensing it too. It’s…strange. Foreign. Not entirely unpleasant. The flesh between your legs throbs. Why do I feel…? Your eyes lock with Zayne’s, then travel down to his groin. He’s hard. It takes him two seconds to close the distance between you. “Zayne, what’s going on—” He yanks your overalls down and grasps at your breasts, the expression on his reddened face absolutely feral. “I-I don’t know—” he stammers, still smearing his hands all over your plump chest. “But I can’t stop…” He pulls your panties down in one fell swoop to find you already dripping wet. His pupils dilate at the sight, and his hands automatically move to undo his belt. It doesn’t take long for him to free his erection, which is so large by now you almost feel bad for him. “Wait, we’re in a corn field—” Your words are abruptly cut off by him spinning you around and plunging his cock between your folds, and you have to cling to the sturdy stalks to prevent yourself from falling over. A hand goes over your mouth to conceal your surprised moans. He has you bent over in front of him, back arching against his dick as he thrusts into you and curses under his breath. I don’t like you! You don’t like me! Why does this feel so good?! “Fuck— I can’t stop—” His groans are strangled and pained, his hips moving so fast the field around you blurs into a mess of pale green and yellow. Expletives escape his lips as he slams into you so hard you both come undone, his hot, thick cum filling you up and dripping down your legs as you spasm and shake under his grip. You’re panting. He looks like he can’t even breathe. “What the fuck was that, Zayne?!” you scream at him, flustered and so utterly confused. “It’s that damn flower… Fuck. I’m sorry.” You pull your overalls back up and shake your head, unsure how to feel about all of this. “Let me make it up to you— Dinner. Tonight.” Tiny butterflies drift into the field.
“Would you quit micromanaging?” He glares at you before turning back to the corn, both hands wrapped around its plush kernels. “I’m just saying, twisting it out might be faster.” Always pouting, always bickering. It’s the only thing you two ever do. You’ve never denied that it bothers you, the way he acts as if you’re beneath him. “If you’re so confident, you do it.” You take the bait and push past him, sandwiching yourself between him and the stubborn stalk of corn. A smug grin plays at his lips when you fail to pull—no, twist—it out, his arms crossed over his chest.
Xavier sneezes. He brushes it off as a one-time thing at first, but then he sneezes again. Hay fever? he thinks to himself. Suddenly, the image of you working your hands around the cob of corn—squeezing and pulling at its base—is too much for him to bear. He’s imagining his dick in its place. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re getting wet. You feel the abrupt, inexplicable need to grind against something. Anything. All at once, you push Xavier to the ground and sit down on top of him. “Do you feel that?” you whisper between gasps, the pool of need between your legs growing by the second. He nods breathlessly, uncertain, but wanting all the same. Your hips involuntarily roll against his, and you both suppress a moan. The next thing you know, you’re grinding against his rock-hard cock and relishing the sounds of his tortured groans. “I’m—so horny—right now—” His voice is fried, needy. You lift the skirt of your dress and pull your panties to the side, clearly sopping wet. His jeans are unzipped. In what seems like an unimaginable moment, you’re bouncing on his dick and screaming out in pleasure. Why does he…feel so good… Your thoughts are a mess, part confusion and part unbridled lust. The way he rubs against your walls, jerks upwards to meet your thrusts, whimpers like a man starved—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You roll your hips at just the right angle, and he gets impossibly bigger before shooting warm spurts of cum into your cervix, his thighs clenching underneath yours as the most intense orgasms the both of you have ever had crash over your joint bodies. You roll over to lie down beside him, still in shock. “W-What was that?!” He turns to look at you and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—ironic, considering your entire head’s a complete mess. “I didn’t know you had that in you. You didn’t even kiss me.”
“Perhaps we’d get there more quickly if you stopped whining,” he jabs, already five feet ahead of you. His demeanor remains cool and composed, yet frustration simmers beneath the surface, visible only to those who know the enigma of a man well enough. Unfortunately, “those” includes you. “I just can’t believe I’m stuck here with you. Of all people.” Without looking back, he replies, “Are you sure this isn’t your desire for me speaking? Because judging by the way you were eyeing me just now…” You huff at his ridiculous statement. “Ha! You wish. Sleeping with you is the last thing I’d ever want, so keep dreaming, buckaroo.”
You don’t hear his reply. A sharp, almost sweet scent attacks your senses, conquering your mind almost instantly. You sway amongst the stalks of grass, trying to make sense of the sudden urge you’re feeling—the urge to bury Sylus’ dick between your legs. I hate him I hate him I hate him— Your hands reach out to grab him before you can stop them, and he spins around abruptly to gently push you away. “Having a change of mind?” He means the question as a joke, but the sound of his gravelly, seductive voice only intensifies the throbbing in your cunt. “Shut up and fuck me,” you spit, fully convinced you’ve gone insane. But he doesn’t object. The cocky grin vanishes from his face as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, apparently devoted to the task. His underwear is still on by the time he’s lying on top of you, pupils dilated and erection rock solid. Overcome, he dry-humps your clit for a whole minute, the pressure so rewarding that he can’t bring himself to remove his boxers. “Fuck, baby— What are you doing to me?” He hisses when you yank them down yourself, eager to bury his cock deep inside you. No time is wasted. In a single thrust of his hips, he’s plunging all the way into you, so big you cry out in delicious pain. Your hips move in tandem with his, mud covering your back and seeping into your hair—but you couldn’t care less. His length is pumping in and out of you so hard your eyes roll to the back of your head, and distantly you wonder how long you’ve secretly needed—wanted—this. He grunts with each jerk, wet squelches filling the air as the strawberry-picking competition is forgotten, sweet release the only thing on his mind. A stutter—a falter, and he erupts, his thick seed coating your walls and seeping out of your pussy. You both fall silent as the pleasure consumes your bodies, so good your eyes squeeze shut and your throat goes completely dry. “I’m…a mess…” you mutter between pants, pushing him off of you. “Who wants to sleep with who now?” He shoves his pants back on and—blushes?! “It must’ve been that flower. Though… It’s worth mentioning that I’m immune.”
“Alright, let’s hurry up and get this over with.” He doesn’t seem thrilled to be wading through a cornfield with the likes of you, one of his childhood tormentors. Well, he’d tormented you back, of course—middle school turf wars were no joke. You both grew up and learned to tame your reactions a little, but some things never change. The fact that you’re still stuck in the same small town with him, for instance. “After all these years, Caleb is still a jackass,” you quip, already making your way towards a ripe bunch of corn. “You’re just jealous I never dated you.”
The wind blows, and you scrunch your nose at the scent it carries. “Shh— Do you smell that?” His eyes go wide as realization hits, and he rushes to cover your nose and mouth with his hands. “It’s that devil flower that spews aphrodisiacal pollen. Don’t. Breathe.” His expression is grim as he clamps his mouth shut, but he’s already starting to squirm. A small pit of arousal emerges in your core, but he’s clearly having a harder time than you are, the outline of his hard cock visible through his trousers. “Caleb…?” you ask tentatively as his hands slide away from your face, flexing indecisively before reaching towards you. “Caleb, wait a second—” He’s on his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down. Oh my god, this can’t be happening— You gasp as his tongue glides against your clit, the simple movement leaving you wanting more. Your hips grind against his face as you moan his name, lost in the lovely vibrations of his own groans of pleasure. “Get on the ground.” His tone leaves little room for debate. You lie flat on the soil, back towards the sky, and turn to look at him over your shoulder. His dick is out, precum coating the tip as it beelines straight for your inviting cunt. Pure bliss overcomes your system when he first glides in, your walls instantly slickening in response. He pounds into you from behind, his whimpers mingling with yours as you’re swept away by the feeling of finally having Caleb inside you. It’s surreal—ten years ago you would’ve laughed at the thought. Now your mouth hangs open for different reasons. “Faster, Caleb—” you squeak, desperate to reach your climax. He drives into you, clenching hard before he drenches your pussy, a steady stream of cum dripping down onto the soil below. “Holy fuck… I’m sorry…” he whispers, getting up to put his pants back on. An unexpected wave of laughter hits as you recover from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body sated and…comfortable. “Don’t you dare blame this on the pollen.” He sighs wearily and smiles. “I’m not.”
“If we don’t win, I’m blaming it on you.” Great. This detour was all your fault. You can’t believe this guy. First, he makes no effort to help with navigation. Next, he decides that if anything goes wrong, you’re to blame? Sweet crackers, he’s the most insufferable fool you’ve ever met. Sure, he’s charming—the old ladies back at the farm couldn’t have made it clearer—but you don’t get to have a competitive streak when you’re not the one doing the streaking. Seriously, he’s slow as hell. “Stop talking and walk.”
“There’s something in the air,” he remarks, squinting. It’s the first time he’s paid attention to anything today, so you hear him out and begin sniffing your surroundings. You detect nothing and call him a big baby, resuming your search for corn. “I’m being serious! I swear it’s doing something to me…” He turns away then, so hastily your suspicions are raised. “J-Just gimme a sec!” he calls over his shoulder, “Lemme take care of something real quick—” You turn back around, tired of his antics, but a barely concealed groan stops you dead in your tracks. He’s jerking off in broad daylight, his head thrown back in relief. “Rafayel, what the f—” You feel it then, the throbbing ache in your pussy, and suddenly his presence no longer annoys you. You inch towards him, eyeing his hard cock as he pumps it with his fist. At the sight of you staring up at him with a strange, unabashed lust, his thighs clench and he moans your name, the sound of it on his lips sending waves of arousal down to your core. You push him down by the shoulders so he’s sitting upright on the ground, dick so hard it looks miserable. “Bounce on it,” he orders. In the span of two seconds, your panties are pushed to the side and your cunt is enveloping his cock. You’re so full, so dirty with him between your legs—Does it feel better to fuck someone you pretend to hate? His thumbs bruise your hips as you keep your pace, bouncing on his lap like your life depends on it, his tip crushing against your cervix the only thing on your mind. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he breathes before pumping his fresh cum into your pussy, your combined cries of pleasure so loud a neighboring flock of birds takes flight. Defeated, you lean against him in his lap, still shaking with desire. His hand goes up to rest on your head, his touch surprisingly tender. “I’ve been waiting all year for that.”
— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait
《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》
#“thorny” see what i did there#‧˚˖✩ bp works#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#sylus#zayne#rafayel#xavier#caleb#lads smut#sylus smut#sylus x reader#zayne x reader#rafayel x reader#xavier x reader#caleb x reader#lads sylus#lads zayne#lads rafayel#lads xavier#lads caleb#zayne smut#rafayel smut#xavier smut#caleb smut#lnds smut
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sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader
summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.
word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.
a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!
↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!
You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe.
He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.
“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented.
Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him.
You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs.
The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.
Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared. He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.
Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently.
He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….”
The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you.
You swallow hard. “I do.”
A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need.
Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.
Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch.
Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.
“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days.
He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen.
Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.
There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t.
The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.
The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air.
His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do.
The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop. Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.
#this is kind of mild for me in terms of smut but I really couldn't get as graphic as I usually do. it felt... inappropriate to the aestheti#nosferatu x reader#nosferatu x you#count orlok x reader#count orlok x you#nosferatu 2024#nosferatu#count orlok#vampire x reader#monster x reader#monster x human#vampires#myfics#vampirism#bill skarsgard#bill skarsgård#bill skarsgard fanfiction
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☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.
A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!
Masterlist
If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman.
You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either.
Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart.
Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie.
“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-”
“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!”
It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels.
“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-”
“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?”
“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-”
“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.”
“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls.
“Like what?”
“Like a bitch!”
The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him.
No such apology came.
“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.”
“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-”
“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.”
You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered.
The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell.
From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi.
Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing.
Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.
Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up.
“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-”
“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away.
Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book.
“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused.
“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment.
“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?”
“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door.
“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible despite now feeling incredibly plussed.
“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?”
You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche.
“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.
A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat.
“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip.
“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.”
“Right… right…”
The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch.
Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours.
“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth.
“So?” he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away.
“Why are you really here, YN?”
You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second.
“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.”
You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh… Y/N, I-”
A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name.
“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out.
“He's just going to try it again.”
“Let him.”
You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions.
“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.
“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.”
“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-”
“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick.
“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all.
Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before.
“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-”
Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you.
“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now.
“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close.
“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position.
“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal.
“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?”
You shrugged and looked away almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night.
“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.”
Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in.
“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.
“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.”
“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”
Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.”
“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?”
You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well.
But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips.
You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again.
“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret.
“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.”
“So you did yourself?”
The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off.
“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation.
“Excuse me?”
“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?”
It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head.
“He didn't want me to.”
You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead.
You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world.
Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken.
You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter.
“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down.
“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear.
You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that.
A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend.
“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch.
You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically.
He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.
“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly.
But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket.
“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access.
“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.”
You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass.
“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive.
“Probably not.”
“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”
“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.”
You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you.
Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra.
“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh.
It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh, still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants.
It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you.
Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for.
He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time.
“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”
“N-no, S-s-”
“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap.
“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure.
“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-”
With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.
Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss.
“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you.
Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk.
“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax.
Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face.
The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure.
Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure.
Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him.
He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high.
“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close.
You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue.
“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear.
“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.”
His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist.
“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss a sweet, soft one.
“Yes.” He kissed you again and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again.
“H-He-”
“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.”
You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot.
You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.
He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock.
You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could.
“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again.
When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release.
“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time.
“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last.
“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”
His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access.
You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated.
“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.”
“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time.
“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.”
“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum.
“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut.
“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.”
“One more time?” He asked.
“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.”
You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position.
You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more.
“Where should I cum Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again.
“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too.
“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?”
“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already.
“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away.
“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him.
“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further.
“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore.
“On your face?”
“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed.
“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”
“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.”
“Of course. Good job.”
He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you.
“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.”
“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.”
His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh.
You didn't say anything but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum.
“You're on birth control, right?”
“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.
Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well.
“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him.
“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently.
“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.”
He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again.
“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again.
“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away.
You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply and you lost your breath again.
“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.”
The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#reiderslibrary#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#dom spencer reid
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nsfw. slight somno.
✮⋆˙caleb always considered himself a true gentleman, taking pride in his manners and his ability to navigate life's complexities. yet, there were times when his polished exterior would slip. like now. the way he gently cradled your body, treating you like a fragile doll, showering soft kisses on your bare skin as you slept, was irresistible to him. you felt so warm and inviting. your soft snores, which might have bothered anyone else, only made him smile.
dark hair spread across the pillow, a few strands brushing against his face, bringing a grin to his lips. he cherished these little quirks about you—the way you curled up into a cozy ball, the way your nose twitched in your dreams. to him, every little detail was another reason to fall in love with you all over again. even after a long night that lasted until dawn peeked through the sheer curtains, he still yearned for more of you. it was only six twenty-five, yet the thought of being wrapped in your warm cunt stirred him awake.
with his calloused hands, he tenderly spread your thighs, his chest pressing warmly against your back as he nestled beside you. he vowed not to disturb your slumber, but a soft, unexpected moan slipped from his lips as he nudged his tip at your entrance. “my god, you’re so perfect.” your sleeping face contorts as he feeds you inch by inch, a familiar wetness allowing him to glide in effortlessly. he lets his eyes fall shut, relishing the feeling of you squeezing his shaft as he bottoms out. instinctively your back arches slightly as he begins to thrust, body naturally reacting to the slow, deep strokes. caleb shudders, pressing sloppy, wet kisses behind your ear as he molds you.
your breath is soft, a barely audible hum filling the quiet room. he sucks in a breath, the sound sending a tingle sensation from the top of his spine to his groin, where he can feel his cock swelling. the dark haired man hand wraps around your throat, holding your chin up as his lips explore the sensitive flesh of your neck. his strokes beginning to speed up, and the slight change in angle makes you stir awake. “ngnh! caleb!?” it’s hard to articulate as your husband pounds into you, his left hand digging into your hip, pulling you back onto his cock, splitting you.
“fuck, m’sorry ah—look so pretty when you sleep. shit, she’s suckin me in!” his voice is a deep, a rumbling whisper as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your cheek. the hand around your throat moves to the space between your breasts, keeping you pressed firmly against his body. the slick squelch of him pistoning into you filling the room like a melody, the bed shaking from his force.
he’s completely pussy drunk.
you can feel the way his muscles tense and flex with every thrust, his breathing labored. you love this side of him. it was a rare treat to see the normally composed, cool-headed man completely come undone. you feel his hand slide down from your breast, slender fingers splayed across your lower abdomen. “gah! feel me here?” his palm rests just below your navel, applying the smallest amount of pressure.
“y-yes, oh god!” it’s almost too much to take. caleb’s fat, pulsating cock stretching your walls, the mushroom tip nudging at your cervix. the lewd sounds of his dick gliding in and out of your cunt, his heavy balls slapping against your ass echoing through the room. his hand on your belly caresses the place he’s currently invading, making your head spin.
you’re a heap, moans coming out as strangled cries. his name spills from your lips, over and over like a broken record. your legs shaking as the knot in your stomach tightens, the telltale signs of your orgasm fast approach. caleb notices, of course, he notices everything.
his pace slows as his fingers find their way to your clit. you jolt, ‘s’okay. just relax.” he hums, rubbing small, firm circles against the swollen bud. “oh my gosh,” you whine, bucking back against him. it’s hard to keep your eyes from rolling back, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. he groans, biting his lip. teeth sinking into his flesh as his hips pick up the pace again, pounding into you relentlessly. the hand at your clit is unwavering, pinching, flicking, rolling the button drawing out loud moans.
the knot in your belly snaps.
warmth washes over you as your orgasm wrecks your body. white light dancing in the corner of your vision, the intensity of the pleasure sending you reeling. caleb doesn’t stop, both hands now at your hips, pulling you back against him.
he’s close, his thrusts becoming more erratic, needy.
his voice is raspy, barely above a whisper as he mutters your name, followed by a long, drawn-out whine. the warmth of his cum fills you, thrusts slowing to a gentle rocking motion. after a moment, he pulls out, watching with an unbridled hunger as his seed drips from your abused pussy. the sun begins to rise, a faint yellow light streaming through the windows. caleb reaches over to the nightstand, picking up his phone. seven am. setting the phone back down he wraps his arms around you, fingers lightly dancing across your stomach. you find yourself leaning into his embrace, humming as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.
“good morning love.”
#valᥫ᭡.#caleb x reader#caleb x reader smut#caleb smut#caleb x mc#caleb x you#caleb x y/n#caleb#lnds caleb#love and deepspace caleb#love and deepspace#lnds x reader#caleb love and deepspace#lnds smut#lads x reader#lads x you#lads x mc#lads x y/n
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Exactly Like You Said 🔥
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have always had that thing—the kind of sexual tension everyone sees coming from a mile away. Every sparring match somehow ends the same way: your thighs locked tight around his head, pretending it’s just part of the fight. But today, Bucky decides he’s tired of pretending. One snarky comment turns into a moment you can’t take back—and don’t want to. He pins you to the mat, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and shows you exactly how long he’s been thinking about this.
TW: Explicit Sexual Content (18+), Female Receiving, Minor Praise Kink, Bucky Barnes
AN 💌: I’m writing this on my phone, so please excuse any mistakes. I was watching funny marvel edits with Seb and Anthony and Seb had mentioned he was lucky because he kept ending up between Black Widows legs. That’s where this came from. Don’t mistake it, it’s all smut 🙈
The gym smelled like sweat and old leather, the mats stained from countless bruises and ruined egos. You’re on your back this time, but it hardly matters—because somehow, somehow, your thighs are already bracketing Bucky’s neck.
His hands are braced on the mat beside your ribs, his face maddeningly close to where you ache for him. You glare down your body at him, but he’s smirking like he’s been waiting for this exact position all day.
“Y’know what’s funny?” he drawls, voice rough. “Every spar. Every single one. We end up exactly here—your legs wrapped around my goddamn head.”
You shift, pretending you’re about to shove him off, but he doesn’t budge. His metal hand slides up the back of your thigh, pulling it higher over his shoulder. The angle makes your breath hitch.
“It’s called leverage,” you bite out.
His grin goes slow and wolfish. “Sure it is.” He curls his fingers around your other thigh, settling it over his other shoulder, and the position leaves you embarrassingly open, heat pulsing between your legs. “Leverage. That why you’re soaking through your shorts?”
“You’re an asshole,” you say, but your voice comes out thin.
“Yeah?” His gaze flicks up to meet yours, dark and hungry. “Then stop me.”
You don’t. You dig your heels into the top of his back instead, pulling him in. Something in his expression snaps—restraint unraveling in one sharp moment.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You really don’t want me to stop, do you?”
He hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts, dragging you flush to his mouth. Your back arches right off the mat.
“Bucky—”
“Shh.” His breath fans over you, hot and electric. “Keep ‘em right here.” His thumbs press into the crease behind your knees, pinning them in place over his broad shoulders. “I’m not moving until you come.”
He pulls your shorts to the side, leans in and drags his tongue over you—slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. Your whole body shudders, thighs instinctively squeezing around his head. He groans into you, the vibration sparking heat low in your belly.
“Oh—fuck—”
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice gone hoarse, mouth brushing slick against your clit. “Squeeze all you want, baby. Not letting you go.”
You feel it when he smiles, feel the scrape of his stubble, and then he sucks you into his mouth—hard enough your vision blurs. Your thighs clamp tighter around his head, heels digging into his back. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down.
“God—Bucky—please—”
He answers with another deep, slow lick, then seals his mouth around you and groans. The sound vibrates through your core. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging, but he doesn’t let you pull away. His hands flex under your thighs, anchoring you exactly where he wants you—legs locked over his shoulders, nowhere to go.
The pressure builds sharp and unstoppable, your body tightening around his mouth. You come with a strangled cry, thighs trembling against his ears, and he stays right there, working you through every pulse.
When he finally lifts his head, his lips are slick, eyes dark. He smirks up at you, hands still holding your legs draped over his shoulders like he owns them.
“Told you,” he rasps. “Every time. Legs around my head.”
He presses a kiss to your thigh—soft and almost unbearably tender.
“And next time,” he adds, voice low and dangerous, “I’m not stopping here.”
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#the winter soldier#winter soldier#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader
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LEAVE US ALONE ( Wally west! )

summary: three moments when your family ruined your time with your boyfriend.
pairing: Wally west x batsis! reader
part one - part two
open request - wally west masterlist
The rain tapped softly against the bedroom windows. The storm was wreaking havoc in Gotham, leaving the weather windy and cold, but inside, everything was warm.
The dim lamplight cast soft shadows on the walls, while Wally was halfway on top of yours. His hand brushed against your waist beneath the fabric of the old tshirt he'd stolen that afternoon, while his lips descended down your neck in a slow, almost devotional sequence.
"Mmm… come on Wally"
The kisses became more demanding. The caresses, more daring. Your legs tangled with his under the sheets, seeking closer contact if possible, while the storm outside seemed to give rhythm to both of your accelerated pulses. Wally slid his fingers under the elastic of his shorts, just as
CLANK
The sound of something metallic hitting the balcony frame brought them out of their trance. Wally froze, his body still on top of yours, both of them gasping and paralyzed.
"It can't be..." you muttered, turning your head just in time to see a wet figure forcing the window.
"What the fuck—!" Wally began, pulling the sheet up to cover your both.
Jason Todd, soaked by the rain, casually slipped onto the balcony as if he weren't intruding on a moment that clearly wasn't meant for visitors. "Why is the door locked?" he said casually, shaking the water off his shoulders. "I told you he could stay here only if you left the door open."
"Jason, are you completely crazy?" you complained, covering yourself with the sheet. "Knock on the door like a normal person!"
"I knocked on the door, you know?" he replied, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile. "But you were too busy with your soft porn session to listen."
Wally let out a strangled sound, burying his head under his pillow as if that would reverse the trauma.
—Jason. Out. Now. —you growled, gritting your teeth. —I'm not going to repeat this.
Jason ignored you completely and jerked his chin. "Is that your sleepwear? Because if that's sleepwear, I need to talk to Bruce about the new dress code in this house."
"Get out!" you shouted, red with embarrassment.
"Not until you swear to me that the idiot with super speed isn't going to try to get his hands on you" he paused for a second to think before continuing. " Nah, you know what? I'm staying until you both calm down." Jason slumped into the chair next to the desk as if it were his room.
"Are you kidding?" you muttered, your eyes narrowed.
"You're in bed with your boyfriend half naked and you're asking me if I'm joking? "
Wally sat up slowly, still wrapped in the sheet like a traumatized mummy. "Jason, brother, please don't make this any more awkward than it already is."
—Brother he calls me... Look how quickly he tries to gain approval, —Jason replied, giving him a sharp look.
Silence .
Wally took a deep breath. A very deep breath. "Do you think it's weird if I go live in another dimension for a couple of weeks?"
"No, take me with you please"
── .✦
The living room was silent, lit only by the blue glow of the television screen. The blankets wrapped around them, blanket-like warmth, and a tub of ice cream sat between them.
Wally had one arm around your shoulders, his other hand gently playing with your fingers. You were leaning against his chest, feeling the steady, steady beat of his heart as the movie slowed to a crawl.
"Did you know this scene was improvised?" Wally murmured, smiling mischievously, turning slightly to get a better look at you.
"Did you know I couldn't care less about the movie and I want you to kiss me?" you replied, raising an eyebrow with an equally daring smile.
He leaned toward you, his lips brushing yours with that slowness that makes the world disappear. The ignored movie. His fingers slipped under the blanket and caressed your waist gently, letting you feel the rough pads of his fingers, and just as his lips finally rested on yours
¡PLOP!
The sound of someone throwing themselves onto the couch with the entire weight of the universe suddenly separated them. The blanket shifted and the tub of ice cream almost fell to the floor. .
"Family movie night!" Dick announced with fake cheerfulness, a giant bucket of popcorn in his lap. "What are we watching?"
you both looked at him with a mixture of terror, shame and pure hatred.
"Dick... you're fucking kidding me, aren't you?" Wally muttered, his voice deep, visibly frustrated. "You're in my top three people I want to throw out a window right now!"
"How sensitive! Is this how you treat your best friend?" Dick replied, as if he didn't notice the mess he had just made.
"Clearly!" Wally sat up in the chair, still covered up to his waist by the blanket that now hung disastrously. "Do you know how hard it was to convince her to watch this movie with me?"
"A cheesy romantic comedy?" Dick said, looking at the screen with feigned interest. "Hmm, yeah, not your style. Weird. Almost... desperate i can tell."
"Because I am!" Wally exploded, pointing at you. "I want to spend time alone with my girlfriend!"
"Oh, how romantic," you said, rolling your eyes.
"I was trying!" Wally told you, pointing to the sky as if summoning the gods. "Until Dick the cock blocker came along."
Dick stood up from the chair with a firm slap on his thighs. "All right, I'll leave you two alone. But don't say I didn't warn you when Bruce checks the hallway cameras and sees Wally doing God knows what to his daughter."
"Don't come back," you growled, pointing the remote at him.
He walked away as if he hadn't caused a catastrophe.
Silence.
The glare from the screen was still there, the ice cream half-melted, the blanket badly placed, the atmosphere ruined.
Wally let out a long, defeated sigh and slumped back against the chair, his eyes closed and his heart split in two. "I can't take it anymore."
You turned to him, watched him for a second—his head thrown back, his arms crossed behind his neck, his legs spread—and in the calmest voice you could muster, you whispered, “That was so hot, Wallace.”
Wally opened one eye slowly, confused.
"what?"
── .✦
The Batcave hummed with life: console lights flickered, screens flashed with maps and data, and the distant echo of the elevator announced the imminent start of another night's patrol.
You had stayed in your usual spot, in front of the central monitor, adjusting the last lines of communication for the departure. You needed to have everyone's lines perfectly connected in case something happened.
Wally, on the other hand, already in his bright red suit, approached you in complete silence. As soon as he made sure you were out of sight, he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder.
"You're not going to miss me that much, are you?" he whispered, brushing his lips against your neck.
"Maybe," you replied, still staring at the screen, but still smiling. Wally was like a magnet. He always was.
"A goodbye kiss for your favorite hero?" he asked, pouting, trying to sound pitiful, as if you'd ever denied him a kiss.
You turned slightly in your chair to face him and, without thinking twice, gently took his face in your hands, letting your faces almost touch. What a beautiful man. "Only one."
It was a quick kiss at first, but as always with him, neither of you knew how to stop in time. Your fingers tangled in his red hair, his hands rested on the console behind you, and the hum of the device became a distant murmur. It wasn't anything too explicit, but it wasn't a chaste kiss either.
And right in the middle of that scene, something a bit more “affectionate” than recommended for a secret base of operations
"This is a workspace, not a motel.
you both suddenly separated as if someone had thrown a grenade.
Damian Wayne emerged from behind one of the side consoles, like a vengeful shadow, his arms crossed and the impassive expression of someone who had clearly been there for a while.
"How long have you been there?" you asked, putting a hand to your chest to keep your heart from leaping out of your mouth.
"Long enough to witness him try to merge with you, sister" she replied without flinching. "Frankly, I expected a little more discretion from you"
Wally protested, throwing up his hands, offended. “It was a kiss. A perfectly consensual and controlled one between two adults.”
"Aren't you a little old to have such raging hormones?" he said with a crooked smile. "I thought you were supposed to have control over those things by this age."
Wally looked at him, taking a deep breath as if mentally counting his patience. "Forgive me for having a functional love life."
"It's not functional if it interferes with work," Damian replied simply. "Even less so if you do it in the middle of the Batcave."
You settled into the chair, crossing your arms.
"And what were you doing back there, exactly?" you asked, crossing your arms and glaring at him.
Damian didn't hesitate. "A private investigation for our father, he wants to be aware of everything that happens here" he murmured in the same tone before turning around and going to sit in the Batmobile.
#dc masterlist#dc x reader#wally west x batsis#batboys x batsis#batsis!reader#imagine wally west#wally west masterlist#wally west x reader#wally west#jason todd x batsis#batfam x batsis#damian wayne x batsis#dick grayson x batsis#young justice x reader#young justice masterlist
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──── everybody knows that i'm a good boy, officer...
❤︎──── pairing: dick grayson x officer!reader.
❤︎──── summary: ❛❛as the newest cop on blüdhaven’s force, you hated masked freaks. nightwing, the masked freak himself, wants nothing more than your delicious, sweet approval. and maybe your naked body.❞
WARNINGS. dick wants your pussy so much he looks fucking stupid. 18+, jerking off. authority kink on his part. he loves a hot woman in uniform. hints of sub nightwing. female reader. officer reader. ©velvet-milk.
❤︎──── The first time he saw you, he had just taken down two armed robbers outside a liquor store — easy work, nothing fancy. A normal friday night for him. Dick was still catching his breath, escrima sticks holstered, the night wind tugging at his suit as he turned toward the flashing lights of the approaching squad car.
He muttered something to Oracle about the cops in the area and cut his comms. The flashing lights bathed the street in red and blue, casting just enough glow to catch the look you gave him — bored, patronizing, and vaguely amused. But the moment the window rolled down, he got hit with your full pretty face. And rude tone.
"Sweetheart, I know times are hard and stuff, but soliciting’s still a crime in this part of town."
Nice.
Your partner let out a strangled noise beside you. She leaned toward you like she could physically stop the words from coming out of your mouth, but it was far, far too late. You didn’t flinch. Just blew a bubble with your gum and popped it. Dick glanced down at himself — the skintight suit, the very iconic symbol across his chest — then looked back up at you.
"I literally just stopped a robbery."
You shrugged, unimpressed. "Cool. And I just filed a report. We all have hobbies."
To his credit, Dick didn’t get mad. Just gave you this slow, stunned little laugh, like he wasn’t sure if he was offended or intrigued.
"Wow. And here I thought I had a decent relationship with the BHPD after all these years."
You smiled sweetly, razor-sharp. "Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against sex workers."
Your partner in the passenger seat looked like she wanted to crawl into the glove compartment. She pressed a hand to her face and whispered, horrified, "Oh my God… that’s Nightwing."
You didn’t even flinch.
"Night-who?" you said, glancing at her like she’d just made up a word. "Why would I know his stage name?"
She turned to you, pale. "He’s, like… famous. National superhero famous."
Yeah, he fucking was. Thank you very much.
He took one last look at you — still lounging behind the wheel, smirking like you hadn’t just verbally curb-stomped a national hero. The other cop couldn’t even meet his eyes. Poor woman looked like she wanted to dissolve into her seat from secondhand embarrassment.
"Have a good night, officer," he said, voice clipped but smooth.
Then he turned on his heel, tapped his comms. "Oracle, remind me to review Blüdhaven precinct relations tomorrow," he muttered, raising his escrima stick and firing the grapple line. "Preferably before I set myself on fire again."
The line snapped taut, and he vanished into the night sky.
❤︎──── Of course he kept tabs on you after that night. You called him a hooker, straight to his face, and somehow looked obscenely hot while doing it. What was he supposed to do after that? Move on?
He was a simple man. A simple man with a morally flexible sense of privacy and way too much access to high-end surveillance tech. At the moment, he had four tabs open on the BHPD’s internal database. When Babs and Tim asked, he muttered something about "tracking a person of interest in the department."
Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. You were very interesting. You had a sharp mouth, a mean stare, perfect lips, and the kind of tits that made even the Nightwing suit feel a little tight.
"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, eyes fixed on your ID photo. "That’s the suspect. Definitely her."
He kept digging. It wasn’t enough to memorize your patrol schedule and ID badge, no, he had to go deeper. He found your Police Academy files. Graduated top of your class. Commendations in firearms, tactical response, and, of course, disciplinary reports for "insubordination" and "excessive sarcasm."
Then came your field test footage. Blurry body cam recordings. One of you talking down a suspect at gunpoint with zero backup. Another of you pinning a guy twice your size to the hood of a cruiser.
Very sexy of you, officer.
So he kept in close contact with the BHPD — closer than he needed to, if anyone was being honest about it. It had been years since Dick hung up the badge. But as Nightwing, he still had full access to department files, incident reports, internal memos, almost everything. All the tools of his former life, right at his fingertips.
And he’d been using them for one very specific reason. You. Every report you wrote, every arrest logged under your badge number, every disciplinary note with your name at the top, he read them all. More than once. It wasn’t intel gathering anymore. It was something else.
Something worse.
And you looked at him like he was a freak, every single time he showed up at a crime scene near your precinct. Last time, there was a body on the floor, half a dozen uniforms already securing the perimeter, and you crouched low, gloves on, examining blood spatter like it was just another tuesday. He tried to offer something helpful, something sharp, something detective-y.
You didn’t even look up.
"Sure thing, doll," you said, tone dry as bone. "Let me know if you wanna borrow a flashlight."
Then you stood, brushed past him, and kept working. He was still standing there ten seconds after you walked away, jaw tight, pride stinging, wondering what the hell was wrong with him that that turned him on. The dismissal. The uniform. The way your hips moved when you walked.
Jesus, he hadn’t been that hard in months.
Later that night he found himself alone in his apartment, right after patrol, hand wrapped tight around his cock, jerking off with embarrassing urgency to the mental image of your thighs straining against those uniform pants. He moaned softly, his thumb touching his leaking tip.
Dick could almost see it when he closed his eyes with a tiny whimper.
You, officer, climbing into his lap in the backseat of your cruiser, straddling him like you owned him. Belt undone, holster still strapped to your thigh. His hands cuffed behind him, helpless to do anything but take it.
You’d ride him so fucking hard, your pretty little pussy gripping him tight, warm and soaked around his cock. One hand tangled in his black hair, yanking when he got too mouthy, the other braced against the fogged-up glass of the car window as your hips slammed down, again and again, using him like a fucking toy.
He’d choke on a groan, eyes rolling back, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, because you wouldn’t let him finish until you were done. Until you were shaking on top of him, breathless and spent, nails dragging down his chest.
He came faster than he wanted to. Pathetic, really. He groaned your name like a fucking prayer, teeth sunk into his own wrist to keep quiet, while hot, messy cum spilled over his fist, his stomach, his shirt — hips jerking up off the mattress, desperate for more.
Desperate for you.
He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh, hands still sticky with his own cum like some desperate, horny teenager who’d never even touched a woman.
What the hell had you done to him, officer?
#❤︎────velvet's talk#dc x reader#dick grayson x reader#nightwing#dick grayson#dc imagine#dick grayson x you#nightwing x reader#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson imagine#nightwing imagine#nightwing dc#nightwing x you#nightwing x y/n#nightwing x fem!reader#dc comics#dcu#dc universe#fanfic#dick grayson smut#smut#nightwing smut
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