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mydemimonde · 1 year ago

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'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: this will have two parts, most likely! english is not my first language and i have no idea how oxford university works lol i just googled some things, also i suck at maths so any explanation here is just me googling shit. no beta reader. hope you enjoy!

Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache, the worst hangover you ever had. You don't even remember how you managed to get to your dorm, until you see a small note on your bedside table, signed by... Michael Gavey.

Words: 4490

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, fingering, loss of virginity, masturbation (and more to come in the second part)

You wake up on a Saturday morning with a pounding headache, your mascara all smudged under your eyes. The sunlight coming from the blinds makes you squint your eyes. You bring a hand to your forehead, sighing. This was the worst hangover you had in a while.

The sound of the door opening and a sudden gasp make you groan and close your eyes shut.

“Oh, here you are!” a particularly high-pitched voice says, making your headache even worse.

“Fuck, Leigh” your voice comes out as croaky and hoarse. “Lower your voice” you ask as she mutters a ‘sorry’ and closes the door carefully. You manage to sit, your back resting against the headboard as Leigh approaches you.

“Next time, be sure to drink water as well. Too many tequilas and shots do this to you” it’s like she’s scolding you, which is fair because she’s two years older than you, she’s like your sister sometimes.

You rub your eyes, smearing more mascara and making you look like a raccoon. On the corner of your eye you notice a glass full of water and some aspirins. You frown.

“How did you get that so fast?” It’s Leigh’s turn to look at you completely puzzled. You point to the glass next to you.

“Uhm, it wasn’t me” she chuckles as you take some aspirins in your hand and drown them with water. Your brows lift in surprise and confusion, your eyes glancing towards a small note next to your lamp. You grab it and read the message in a rushed handwriting.

“What the fuck was Michael Gavey doing in my dorm?” you nearly scream with wide eyes as Leigh takes the note from your hands to read it. She throws her head back and cackles.

“Michael Gavey brought you here last night. You don’t remember?” she looks at your dumbfounded expression trying not to laugh again. “Jeez, you were so drunk you don’t even remember what happened…” she mutters and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Last night at the pub, we were chatting with Felix and his group and you wanted to go to the loo, so you left but on your way you bumped into Bradley and Sam” she wiggles her brows and you scoff.

You dated Bradley during half the second term, then you dated his friend Sam for a brief period of two weeks. You found them too boring, so you rejected any other advance on their part ever since.

“Anyways, I couldn’t see much but I think something nasty happened, because on the other side of the pub was Michael fucking Gavey looking at you. Babe, he was fuming” her lips curve into a devilish smile. “He strode towards you and grabbed your arm, telling them to fuck off. Which they surprisingly did, which is odd because, well… you know… he’s a scrawny awkward nerd and Bradley and Sam are pretty much tall like beasts” she shakes her head while you’re still confused, trying so hard to remember what happened.

“Why the hell would he even approach me? He hates me” your brows lift and she places a manicured hand on your knee.

“Hmm, maybe they were annoying you. It seems Michael’s your knight in shining armour. I think it was hot, wet my panties a little bit not gonna lie” she sighs and fans her face with her hand, pretending to melt.

Now it is your turn to cackle. “You’ve always said you pictured him like one of those guys who compulsively jerks off to hentai every night in the dark of his room.” You look at her with a knowing look, pouting your lips.

Leigh shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like nerds like Michael Gavey now. He looked really good with that shirt” she narrows her eyes and twirls her hair, making you laugh again. She grins and looks at you. “You should talk to him. Ask him what happened, and then you might want to thank him…” she wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes, she slaps your shoulder in response. “You know you want to! I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, and a guy like him will never resist a bomb like you. Who knows, maybe he’s jerking off to the thought of you…”

“Leigh!” you slap her leg and she jumps. You shake your head. “Babe, she hates me. I know it. I’m pretty sure he’s part of that group of guys that slut-shames me in the hallways” Leigh presses her lips, knowing you might be right. Might.

Still, you want to know what really happened last night, so you sigh and get out of bed, Leigh following your movements in the dimly lit dorm. “I’ll take a shower and think about how to talk to him, ask him what happened” your friend gets on her stomach on your bed, her feet up and her chin resting on her palm as you grab your towel, feeling the headache go away, but your empty stomach grumbled.

“Mind if I take a nap here? Kev fucked my brains out last night and I don’t feel like going to my dorm” she sounded quite tired, and you hum in response. She groans as she gets into the covers and you enter the small bathroom, closing the door slowly and undressing to get into the warm shower, letting the water fall all over your body. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling, and you start wondering how to talk to Michael.

You never saw him anywhere else rather than in the great hall of college, as he spent most of the time in the library. Besides, you know deep in your gut he hates you. Every time you walk into the library, he leaves, avoiding looking at you.

One time, you tried to talk to him. It was the beginning of the academic year, you were dating a history student named David, and you saw Michael all alone during lunch, too focused on his books and his crunchies. Feeling bad for him, you grabbed your purse and walked towards him, a smile across your face.

“Hi there” you introduce yourself, extending your hand. He looks up from his book, looking at you with a frown, sneering. He looks at your hand and then back at you. Awkwardly, you move that hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips. “What’s your name?”

“Michael Gavey” he says sharply, clearly annoyed. You stand there, feeling heat creeping on your cheeks as he turns his attention to his book. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you leave, returning to your friends.

That was the first and last time you tried to talk to him, but he refused. You didn’t know why, but you assumed it was because of your reputation there. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your sexuality, and it’s definitely not your fault that most of the guys are horny douchebags who aren’t capable of being in a serious relationship. Plus, they’re too shallow for you, and you get bored easily. You don’t want them to get too attached.

But Michael’s different. He avoids interacting with people when he can, he doesn’t do parties -maybe you saw him once or twice at Felix’s-, he’s very vocal about what he thinks about popular people: he hates them. Vapid cunts, you heard him mutter once. And that’s why you feel attracted to him.

He’s nothing like Bradley, Sam or David. Or Luke. Or Peter. Or even Felix.

You finish showering and drying off your hair, Leigh sleeping soundly on your bed. You are careful not to make any loud noise as you try to dress. You put on a lace tank top and a pair of jeans, your favourite flats and the note he left on your bedside table and head out to the library, hoping to find him.

Bingo. You see Michael sitting on the other side of the library, fully immersed in his studies. Your flats make the slightest of noises against the floor, you feel your heartbeat get faster as you approach him. You pull the chair in front of him and take a seat, leaning over as you smile and say hi. Michael looks up and nearly chokes at the sight of your tits nearly spilling from your top.

“H-hi” he simply responds in a low voice. He clears his throat and frowns. “Why are you here?”

Ouch. Rude. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Silly old me?

“Yes, dummy. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and I found this on my bedside table.” You hand him the small note he left. Drink these with water. Hope you feel better. Michael Gavey. He presses his lips and nods, acknowledging the note he wrote.

“You were pretty hammered” he chuckles and you smile, showing your perfect teeth.

“I was. I can’t remember a thing, Michael. Would you help me to fill in the blanks?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at him, making him squirm. Michael Gavey squirms.

“Sure, uhm…” he puts the book aside, scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat once again. “You were heading towards the toilet at the pub and I heard you laugh when you bumped into those assholes” he sneers, remembering the events from last night. “The blonde one landed a hand on your ass and you tried to pull him away. You were clearly uncomfortable so just told them to fuck off” he shrugs.

Your heart flutters, he sounds so honest and worried about you. You extend your hand to place it on top of his, and he meets your eyes. “Thank you.”

He nods, looking at your hands. He slithers them away, making you frown. “No worries. Next time though, try not to throw up on my sneakers” your eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, did I do that?” He nods trying to hide a smirk. You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!” You move your hands away from your flushed face when you hear him chuckle.

“You had too many drinks, you could barely stand on your feet” he reassures you, his sudden kindness taking you by surprise. “I left you in your dorm and just when I was about to leave, you said you felt like throwing up, but you didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up on my sneakers. I washed the stain off the floor and helped you get off your shoes to lie down. I see you took the aspirins I left there.”

“I did, thank you again.” You don’t know how to thank him properly, so you start thinking. You take a moment to study his features. The glasses he wears frame his face and hide his blue eyes. His aquiline nose —oh God, his aquiline nose—, the pronounced cupid bow of his lips, his sharp jaw. You feel the need to run your fingers through his tousled blonde hair. You press your legs together. “How can I thank you?”

“No, it’s ok. No worries” he makes a gesture with his hands and sighs. “Uhm, I really need to study, so…” he trails off, subtly telling you to leave. You blink and nod, standing up.

“Sure, ok, I’ll leave you to it…” you accommodate the chair back and wave at him. “See you around?” He just nods and opens his book again. As you leave, a great idea crosses your mind, but before you open your mouth a pack of students enter the library. You curse internally and leave.

9:15 AM.

You fix your hair in the mirror, brushing it before going to the calculus lecture. You’re not studying anything related to maths actually, you’re a psychology student and according to the university program you can take a course to complement your studies, so you chose that one.

As you walk down the corridors, you see Michael carrying his notebook and entering the classroom. Your lips curve into a smile and speed up the pace to catch up.

“Michael!” You call him as you finally reach him. You swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, and you follow him as more students fill the room. He smiles at you with pressed lips, greeting you back.

“I didn’t know you were taking calculus” he sounds genuinely surprised. You decide to take a seat next to him, placing your bag on the floor as he opens his notebook and clicks his pen, everything ready to take notes.

“Yeah, I have to take an optional course to complement my studies” you lean down, giving him a clear view of your cleavage as you reach for your notebook and pencil case. You hear him gulp.

“How… dedicated” he replies, to which you smile, taking the end of your pencil in between your teeth.

Michael looks away, his eyes focusing on the board as the professor greets everyone and starts writing.

Half an hour later the lecture comes to an end. You sigh in relief, your brain has melted from all the numbers and formulas the professor explained. Honestly, you paid more attention to Michael’s large hands and long fingers gripping his pen as he took notes, thinking about how they would feel on your body.

You watch as he stands up quickly, nodding at you as a way to say goodbye. “See ya”

“Michael, wait!” You quickly put your notebook into your bag and rush after him. “Shall we study together? We can do the assignment due by next week together” you offer him your signature smile, tilting your head and thinking he wouldn’t say no. Most guys melted when you smiled at them like that.

However, your confidence vanishes when he grimaces and scratches his neck. “Actually, I… I don’t study in groups. Doesn’t work for me”.

Why are you surprised, it is obvious. You always see him alone in the libraries. You curse yourself internally. “Oh, well…”

“I’m sure you will do great though, you seem like a clever girl” the praise coming from his lips make you silently gasp.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Just as he’s about to leave, an idea pops in your head. “Actually, Michael… I’m struggling with this subject.”

Lies. You aren’t a genius like he is, but you can manage. You don’t like maths but you don’t suck at it either, you do good. Enough to pass the subject.

“I was wondering if you could help me” you do your best to sound helpless, knitting your brows and all. “Everyone says you’re a fucking genius, please, Mike?” He swallows hard at the way you practically beg him for help, placing a hand on his elbow.

He doubts only for a few seconds before agreeing. “Ok. I will help you” he yelps as you wrap your arms around him, your tits flash against his chest making him dizzy.

“Oh, thank you Michael!” you pull back, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you smile. “Can we start today? I would tell you to come to my dorm, but my friend Leigh is currently staying there because they found a rat clogging her toilet.” Another big lie.

Michael just nods, he doesn’t really have too many options. “Fine. Uhm, my dorm is on the second floor, 219. I’ll be there at 4pm, bring your notes and a calculator.”

You playfully salute him, like a good soldier. “Yes, Sir” he chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning on his heels to leave.

You can barely contain your joy as you walk towards your dorm, almost singing.

3:40 PM.

You try on different outfits, grunting when you look at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time. You don’t like any fit, and you continue rummaging through the pile of clothes on your bed. You lift your brow as a red fabric catches your attention. It’s the mini skirt Leigh gave you a few weeks ago. You quickly put it on and look at yourself in the mirror once again, happy with the result. Your white baby tee with ‘cherry bomb’ in red letters written on it makes the perfect match.

You grab your notebook and head towards his dorm.

“Coming” you hear Michael’s voice behind the door. He will surely be coming today. He opens the door, breath hitching at the sight of you in that top, your nipples peeking through the fabric. Suddenly he feels his pants are too tight. “Please, come in” he gives you enough space to enter his dorm, which you do. As you walk past him the smell of your perfume fills his nostrils. Fuck.

You smile at him and as he closes the door behind you, you look around the room. It was just what you expected. Everything was perfectly neat, books organised in two bookshelves, more textbooks and notes scattered over the white desk.

“Take a seat over there” he points at the bed, and you gladly do it. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have some crunchies.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” You flash him a sweet smile as you open your bag, looking for your notes and your pen.

Michael sits next to you, keeping a safe distance of course, but close enough you can hear his hard breathing. “Ok, we can start with the basics, and then I’ll help you with the exercises, sounds good?” When you nod, he continues. “Cool. So, think of limits as a way to understand what happens to a function as it gets closer and closer to a certain point without actually reaching it.”

“That sounds paradoxical” you cut him off, and he suppresses a smile.

“It does seem counterintuitive, but it's about observing the behaviour of a function as it gets infinitely close to a specific value.” He continues explaining, and you pay attention to every word that comes out from those beautiful lips.

Michael’s brows lift in surprise as you finish another task quickly, and he’s even more surprised when he checks it and there are no mistakes. He didn’t find any mistakes in the previous 5 exercises he provided for you either. You just look up at him, waiting for his correction.

He looks back at you. “You did perfectly well. Again.” You squeak and he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it. Most students get the first ten exercises horribly wrong, but you solved all of them perfectly. H-how?”

You lean back on your arms, legs crossed. You tilt your head. “Maybe I’m just a quick study, learning from the best” you start moving your feet up his leg, slowly and carefully. He shakes his head as he puts on his glasses again, sighing.

“No. You’re just wasting my time.”

“What?” It’s actually the truth. You are wasting his time, you weren’t having any issues with the subject, you just wanted an excuse. “Ok, yes, I admit it” you lift your hands in defeat, and he curses.

“Why the fuck would you ask for my help if you don’t need it? Fuck, I have many important things to do and you’re here bothering me, leave please.”

You get on your feet quickly as he’s about to turn the doorknob, and you stop him. “No, Michael, please hear me out.” He glares at you, nostrils flaring as you take his wrist and guide him towards his bed, making him sit on the edge. He looks confused, you sit next to him, your knees touching.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For being my knight in shining armour.” He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by placing your index finger there. “No, listen. I know it’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me. Michael, I want you.”

Michael’s eyes widen at your confession. “W-what?”

There’s no way you wanted him. You, out of all the people on the campus. Slowly, you lean in, wetting your lips with your tongue to press them against his mouth. You give him a soft peck before truly kissing him, your hands finding their way towards his tense shoulders. He doesn’t respond yet, but when you bite gently on his lower lip he whimpers, he fucking whimpers, and moves his lips against yours, trying to follow your rhythm. Your lips taste like cherries, and he loves it.

Kissing him feels good. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling how he squirmed under your touch and kisses. You wonder how he would react when you have his cock in your mouth.

You slither your tongue inside his mouth, exploring it as he gets more excited, his hands finally touching you, placed on either side of your waist.

You pull back to catch your breath and he chases your lips. You giggle. “Easy there, lover boy. We have plenty of time.”

“Fuck, I- I… I’ve never done this” you frown, and he sighs. “I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever. That felt really good” he chuckles, and you smile.

“You liked it?” He just nods, and you start placing open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck until you reach his ear and whisper. “Wait until I put my mouth on your cock.”

Michael gulps. “W-what?”

“You think I came here just because I wanted to kiss you? No, Michael” his eyes follow your movements, how you rise from his bed to kneel in front of him, hands undoing his jeans, looking for any sign of discomfort. When you find none, you continue, pulling down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. “I came here because I really, really want this” you purr and lower your gaze to his weeping length, your cunt clenching around nothing already.

Michael’s big. At least, bigger than the ones you had. Curved upward with a protruding vein on the side. You bite your lip as you start stroking him, Michael closes his eyes shut and whimpers. You never heard someone whimper so beautifully. You study every reaction, every microexpression as you continue stroking him at a tantalising pace, as if you are torturing him.

“P-please…” he begs through bated breath, moving his hips as he tries to get some friction, anything.

“You look so beautiful begging, Michael. You’re making me so wet, baby” he cries out your name again, and you smirk. “Michael, open your eyes” you demand, and he does so, breath catching in his throat as he finds you there on your knees, looking at him like you were his predator. It was so fucking sexy.

“I want you to watch as I suck your cock. And you better last more than five minutes. I want you to enjoy it” he nods and swallows hard as you lick your lips before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck” he curses, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles are white. You lick the vein, going from the base upwards, and you hear him sigh. You lick him like you lick a lollipop, and then you take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as your right hand works its way around the base. He’s so big he doesn’t fit completely into your mouth.

You hum around his cock, your eyes closing as you bob your head up and down his shaft, making Michael squirm. He doesn’t know what to do, he just keeps looking at you, unable to tear his gaze from you.

The soft moans that escape his lips, the way he whimpers your name and bucks his hips ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you but eager to get more are enough to make you wet. Hell, you are sure your panties are soaked by now, leaking through the fabric.

His eyes widen as he catches the movement of your left hand that was on his inner thigh going in between your legs, under the skirt. Were you touching yourself?

You bob your head faster and moan around his cock as you tease your wet folds with your fingers. You push two fingers inside your pussy, the room filling with the most obscene sounds you ever heard.

“Are you… are you touching y-yourself?” asks Michael in a strangled moan, watching you intently. You release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, your saliva coating it.

“Of course I am, Michael. I’m fucking wet. Here” you take off your fingers from your pussy to grab his hand, and guide it towards your entrance.

Michael almost passes out. You are, in fact, dripping wet on his fingers. You let him touch you for a moment, grinding your hips against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit so deliciously. “S-shit, Michael” you bite your lip and he grins, happy to earn that reaction from you. You feel him twitch in your hand, the tell tale sign that he was very close to cumming. You remove your hands from your cunt and he frowns.

“Did-did I hurt you?”

“No, baby. But tonight’s about you, ok? I can teach you how to eat my pussy later, yeah? Right now, I want you to cum in my mouth. Whenever you’re ready” you wink at him and he chokes on a sob as you take him into your mouth again, slowly until you feel him in the back of your throat. Some tears well up in your eyes, you moan around his cock and that pushes him.

He bucks his hips and shoots his load deep down your throat, you look at him through your lashes and see how hard he grips the sheets, his chest heaving as he moans your name. He stays still for a while, panting as you swallow his salty cum, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Holy fuck” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath. You get on your feet and plant a kiss on his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Now… shall I… well, uhm” he’s unsure about what to ask.

“Eat my pussy?” you finish for him and he nods eagerly, you giggle. “Another day, baby.”

“But you… you were touching yourself and didn’t get to cum, right? I have to return the favour—”

“No, Michael. Don’t worry” you reassure him with a kind smile, stroking his cheek. You lean in to kiss him again, and then, you whisper in his ear: “I’ll just finger myself until I cum in my bedroom to the thought of you.”

You smirk as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You blow him a kiss, open the door and leave.

let me know what you think! and if you'd like to be tagged as well 🫶🏻

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn movie #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

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dorabellingham · 1 month ago

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Play fair

warning: a little more sexual than normal

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you are far from each other and he decides to make a surprise, but things end up going another way

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was dawn when you woke up from a confused dream and, when you opened your eyes, you found only silence. The bed seemed bigger, more empty, and you felt the cold air in the space that was usually filled by Jude's heat. He was away, travelling with the team, and his absence made each night seem longer.

You tried to turn around and sleep again, but it was impossible. The longing corroded, and the sheets had the smell of him, which only made everything worse. Every memory emerged strongly: his touch on your skin, the hoarse timbre of his voice whispering things that only you could hear, and the way he always pulled her close before going to sleep.

You sighed deeply, feeling your heart tighten. You ran your fingers through the empty pillow next to you, closing your eyes for a few seconds. There are only two days left, you remembered, trying to find consolation, but in fact, two days seemed like an eternity.

Unable to relax, you got up and walked around the house. The lights were off, and everything seemed too calm. You decided to get a glass of water in the kitchen, but even while drinking, the silence still screamed. You went back to bed, but sleep just didn't come.

It was almost three in the morning when you heard the sound of the key turning at the door. You froze, your heart beating fast. It was impossible for it to be him, but at the same time, who else would have the key?

You got up slowly, his bare feet against the cold floor, and went to the corridor. When the door finally opened, you saw the tall and familiar figure entering. Judae

-Jude?

Your voice came out weaker than you expected, full of disbelief.

He put the suitcase on the floor and opened a tired but satisfied smile.

-Surprise, babe!

He said, his eyes shining when he saw you standing there, with his T-shirt covering your body.

Before you could answer, he was already crossing the space between you, pulling her into a tight hug. His smell, the heat, the presence... everything was real again, and you felt your eyes fill with tears.

-What are you doing here? Shouldn't you come back in just two days?

You asked, the voice muffled against his chest.

-I knew you missed me, and so did I. -He replied, holding your face with his big hands and looking directly into your eyes. -I needed to get back to you.

You couldn't answer, because before he could think of anything, Jude tilted his head and kissed you with intensity. It was as if he was waiting for it all the time, as if every second away from you had been unbearable.

You responded to the kiss with the same urgency, holding his shirt and pulling him closer. His hands slid down your waist, squeezing as if he wanted to memorise each curve, while he felt the heat rise through his body.

-You're crazy, Bellingham.

You murmured against his lips, panting.

-Crazy about you.

He replied, with that corner smile that made you lose control.

He took you on his lap with ease, as if you didn't weigh anything, and began to walk towards the room.

-Darling....

You started protesting, but he interrupted you.

-Shh. You have no idea how I waited for that.

He said, his voice hoarse and low, sending chills all over your spine.

When you arrived in the room, he gently put you on the bed, but there was nothing soft in the look he threw at you. It was intense, loaded with desire, and you felt your cheeks getting hot.

He took off his shirt with a quick movement, revealing the muscular body you knew so well, and you bit your lower lip, trying not to show how much you were being affected.

-You don't play fair, Jude.

You said, the voice is low and almost trembling.

-I never promised I would play, sweetie.

He replied, leaning over you while his smile increased.

His hands found the bar of your shirt - or rather, his shirt - and slowly slid it up, revealing more of your skin. You didn't try to stop him, you just closed your eyes and let him drive.

The kisses began on the neck, slowly descending as his hands explored every centimetre they had missed. You held the sheets tightly, trying to contain the small sounds that tried to escape from your lips, but Jude seemed to know exactly how to provoke you.

-I missed it so much, Y/n.

He murmured against you skin, his voice deep and hoarse.

You couldn't answer; all you could do was pull him closer, as if you needed him to breathe.

The room was filled with low sighs and moans, each more desperate than the other. There was nothing soft or delicate that night; it was pure accumulated desire, longing overflowing with every touch and movement.

When you finally walked away, both were panting, your bodies hot and intertwined. Jude looked at you with a satisfied smile, and you rolled your eyes, although you couldn't contain your own smile.

-Did you miss me for that?

You provoked.

-And was it enough, babe?

He replied, with that presumptuous tone that you hated to love.

You shook your head, laughing low, and snuggled up to his chest.

-Next time, try not to keep me waiting so long.

He wrapped you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

-I promise. Next time, I won't be able to stay even half of this time away from you.

And that night, for the first time in days, you finally slept peacefully.

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sarahisslytherin · 12 days ago

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whatever you need.

matt murdock x reader

summary: matt murdock has enough problems. but when his upstairs neighbor is upset over her breakup, he can't help getting involved.

contains: talk of an emotionally abusive relationship. mentions of fem!reader. other than that it's all fluff.

a/n: am i trying to process my feelings through fanfiction? absolutely. am i ashamed? no. also so happy to be writing for my boy matt again! gif by @djo

word count: 0.8k

It’s been a long day for Matt Murdock. Work was shit, in spite of Foggy’s attempts to crack jokes and cheer him up. His body aches in too many places to count from the endless hits he took last night. So when he finally stumbles in through his apartment door, the last thing Matt needs is another problem. But as he cracks open a beer and takes a seat on his sofa, he can’t help but notice how the silence surrounding him is pierced by a ragged cry.

His head cocks to the side, listening intently to figure out where the sound is coming from. It’s the apartment directly above him, the one with the young woman he often would hear singing or laughing. That was until the boyfriend moved in. There was still laughter, but exponentially less of it. He recalls a lot more crying and fighting and slamming doors. It was like that for a while. He can’t deny that some nights the arguments had him itching to waltz upstairs and break that fucker’s nose for putting you through hell. But then he figured, it wasn’t his problem, and he had enough of those.

But it’s been quiet lately, and after putting two and two together, he’s realized it’s just you up there now. Just you, crying your heart out into the pillow before bed every night, scribbling in your journal in the morning, inviting friends over to distract yourself from the pain. The pain he wishes he could take away. He admits it, he’s grown fond of you. When you sing, he stops what he’s doing and drinks in the sound of it as if it were an angel’s song. He can’t help but overhear your conversations at times, can’t help but chuckle when you make a particularly funny quip. He doesn’t know what you look like, but he’s sure you’re as beautiful as you sound to him. How that ass couldn’t treat you right, he’ll never know.

He ignores your cry this time, the way he has for the last couple of weeks. But when he lays his head down on his pillow after another restless night on the streets and hears your whimpers, he simply can’t take it anymore. He throws on the first shirt he gets his hands on and a pair of grey sweats before racing up the flight of stairs keeping him from you. It’s only when he knocks on your door that it dawns on him he doesn’t have a plan.

His heart stops when he hears you shuffle inside, sucking in your breath and no doubt trying to conceal any visible evidence that you’d been crying. He hears the doorknob turn and the creak of the wood as he comes face to face with you.

“Hello.” you manage to say, your voice still a bit hoarse. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Matt. I live right below you.” he starts. He’s praying to every god that you can’t hear his heart panging in his chest. “I know this may seem odd to you, but I get the sense that you’re not okay. I mean, I used to hear some pretty crazy fights from up here with who I can only assume is your boyfriend-”

“Ex.” you interrupt him, arms crossed and eyes trained on the welcome mat beneath your bare feet. “Ex-boyfriend.”

Matt nods, taking a breath before continuing. “Right. The thing is, I’ve got a really good sense about these things. I don’t know, call it intuition. But let’s just say I’m not hearing any screaming matches anymore and, though that is a good thing, I can’t help but wonder if you need someone to talk to or just a hug or whatever you need.”

There’s a silence hanging in the air after he speaks. You watch him wring his hands together as he waits for your response. You also notice the way his sweet, brown eyes seem to look straight through you before you realize he can’t see you.

“You want to give me a hug?” you ask, and Matt in your voice the way your mouth quirks into a tiny smile. “Because I’m crying over my asshole ex-boyfriend?”

“A hug, some takeout, a walk around town. Whatever you need.” he’s grinning too now. He picks up on the way you casually lean on your doorframe, arms still crossed.

“What are you, some kind of hero or something?” you joke, adding a faux air of suspicion to your tone. “Who sent you?”

Matt laughs openly at that, throwing his head back as he does. “No one sent me, I just don’t like to know there’s a pretty girl crying over some jackass in my immediate vicinity.”

“Not to be rude, but what makes you think I’m pretty?”

Matt just shrugs. “Call it intuition.”

He definitely doesn’t need sight to feel the way your hand clutches his shirt and playfully tugs him through the door. It’s right then and there that Matt resolves on making your problems his problems as well.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @deadfables @misshale21 @dragonsfictavern @sweetercalypso @sheraayasher

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock oneshot #marvel

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hoe4hotchner · 1 month ago

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Friday night lights | [A.H]

Pairing: Country boy!Hotch x City girl!reader | WC: 1.7k | CW: Fluff, song fic, small town x big city, American football

A/N: Just an FYI I know nothing about american football at all and all terms used in this is a result of my google telling me technical terms and what they mean, so if they're used wrong I ask you to look the other way heheh

It wasn’t hard to spot you in the stands, even with the crowd packed shoulder-to-shoulder along the weathered bleachers of the local high school. Dressed in a sleek black coat and boots better suited for the city streets, you stood out like a sore thumb amongst the denim jeans, battered baseball caps, and Carhartt jackets. Yet, you didn’t seem to mind.

Hotch leaned against the chain-link fence near the field, arms folded across his chest, his work-worn boots crunching on the gravel beneath him. His lips twitched into a smile as his eyes caught yours, scanning the sea of faces until they landed on him. You gave him a little wave, your gloved fingers barely visible in the bright glare of the floodlights, and he nodded back, the warmth spreading from his chest outwards.

Aaron Hotchner had lived in this small town his entire life, and in a way, this field was a part of him. Every Friday night growing up, he’d sat in these stands, cheering until his voice was hoarse, dreaming of someday being the one to make the crowd roar. He had tried out for the team in high school but found that playing the sport was not as fun as watching a game. Hotch had instead become one of the best track and field runners of his time at the school.

Football wasn’t just a sport here — it was the community's pulse. It brought people together, week after week, under the lights and the rhythmic tones of the marching band.

This night was no different. The bleachers were full, blankets draped over laps, hot drinks in gloved hands. The air carried the unmistakable crispness of fall that you didn't get to experience much in the city. Every now and then, the cold bit through his jacket, but it was nothing compared to the energy of the crowd.

“C’mon, kid,” someone near him muttered, their eyes fixed on the second-string quarterback standing in the huddle.

Hotch followed their gaze. The young quarterback — barely more than a boy — looked tense as he wiped his hands nervously on his jersey. The starting QB had gone down in the second quarter, and now this kid, who rarely saw more than the sidelines, was being asked to carry the weight of the entire game.

With less than thirty seconds on the clock and the team down by four, the coach had called a Hail Mary. It was risky and desperate, but it was the only play they had.

Hotch could feel the tension ripple through the crowd, every eye locked on the field. The quarterback jogged to the line of scrimmage, calling out a snap count with a voice that barely carried over the noise of the stands. The ball snapped back to him, and he dropped into the pocket, his eyes scanning the field.

The roar of the crowd seemed to fade as time slowed. Hotch watched the boy wind up and let the ball fly, a perfect spiral cutting through the air. It sailed high, arching over the heads of defenders and receivers alike.

Everyone held their breath.

The ball came down in the end zone, right into the hands of a sprinting receiver.

For a moment, there was silence as you moved through the crowd, wanting to be by your boyfriend's side. Then, the stadium erupted. Cheers and screams filled the air as the team stormed the field. The receiver, clutching the ball tightly, was mobbed by his teammates. The young quarterback stood frozen, staring at the scoreboard before breaking into a grin so wide it was visible even from the stands.

Beside him, you let out a laugh of pure delight, clapping your hands as you turned to Hotch.

“That was incredible!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushed from the cold.

The young quarterback was hoisted onto the shoulders of his teammates, his grin even wider now as he waved to the cheering crowd. Hotch glanced at you, the sparkle in your eyes making his chest tighten.

This wasn’t your world. It wasn’t the bustling city streets you knew so well, with their late-night diners and endless streams of people. Truly a city that never slept. It wasn’t the place where you felt most at home. But here you were, bundled up in the bleachers of a football game, sharing in the joy of a kid you didn’t know throwing the pass of his life.

You were trying to understand this world — for him.

As the crowd began to disperse, Hotch pushed off the fence and turned to you.

“Well?” you asked, slipping your hands into the pockets of your coat. “How’d the kid do?”

“He just made himself a legend,” Hotch replied, his voice full of pride.

“Guess I picked a good night to come, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at you. “You did.”

You looped your arm through his, leaning into him for warmth as you walked toward the parking lot. The lights of the field still shone brightly behind you, illuminating the faint clouds of breath in the air.

“I think I get it now,” you said quietly after a moment.

“Get what?”

“This,” you replied, gesturing vaguely toward the field. “Why it matters so much to you. It’s not just a game, is it?”

Hotch shook his head, his lips quirking into a small smile. “It’s more than that. It’s… home.”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked to his truck in comfortable silence.

The barn door creaked as Hotch pushed it open, the late morning sun streaking in behind him. Dust particles danced in the golden light, settling on bales of hay stacked neatly along one side. He paused for a moment, surveying the scene, then walked in, his boots echoing softly against the wooden floor.

From your spot leaning against the fence outside, you watched him with admiration. His broad shoulders were framed perfectly by the sunlight streaming in through the open door. He moved with purpose, rolling up his sleeves as he reached for a tool hanging on the wall.

“This place belonged to my granddad,” he’d told you one evening not long after you visited the town for the first time. “He left it to me when he passed. Everyone thought I’d sell it, maybe head somewhere bigger… but I couldn’t let it go.”

At the time, you hadn’t fully understood why. The farm was a sprawling stretch of land with fences that always seemed to need mending and animals that required constant care. The house itself was small and worn, the kind of place you’d never dreamed of calling home back in the city. In fact, you would've turned your nose up at the mere offer to live in a place like this if you hadn't met him.

But as the months went by, you started to see it through his eyes. The cracked paint on the barn doors wasn’t just a sign of wear — it was a piece of history, a reminder of the generations that had worked the land before him. The wide fields, stretching endlessly under an open sky, were more than a view — they were a canvas for his hard work and dreams.

Hotch poured himself into the farm with a determination that left you breathless. From sunup to sundown, he worked tirelessly, baling hay, tending to the animals, fixing machinery, and planting crops. When the debts his granddad had left behind threatened to swallow him whole, he didn’t back down. Instead, he fought harder, learning as he went, year by year until he finally paid them off.

Now, the farm thrived under his care. The barn was bustling with life, the fields were fertile and green, and the small-town skeptics who once whispered doubts now spoke his name with respect.

The barn door creaked again as he stepped back out, wiping his hands on a rag. His dark hair was mussed, and there was a streak of dirt across his cheek, evidence of another morning spent knee-deep in hard work. When his eyes found yours, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re staring,” he teased, leaning against the fence beside you.

“Can you blame me?” you shot back with a grin. “It’s not every day I see a man single-handedly outworking half the county.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound was low and warm, settling in your chest. “It’s not every day I’ve got someone like you cheering me on.”

You reached for his hand, slipping your fingers between his and giving it a gentle squeeze. His palm was calloused.

At first, moving here had been an adjustment. The slow pace of life, the way neighbors showed up unannounced with casseroles and unsolicited advice — it had been overwhelming. And yet, with Hotch by your side, it didn’t feel so foreign anymore.

“Are you sure you’re not getting tired of all this?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning your face.

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think I’m starting to love it.”

The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of freshly cut hay and wildflowers. Around you, the quiet of the countryside filled the air — the soft clucking of hens in the coop, the distant whinny of a horse in the pasture, and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

“This place is a part of you,” you said after a moment. “And if I’m being honest, it’s becoming a part of me, too.”

Hotch turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with something that felt a lot like home. Because that’s what this was becoming — not just his history, but yours, too. Together, you were building something that went deeper than roots in the soil. It was in the way he smiled when he caught you watching him, in the evenings spent side by side on the porch, and in the shared dreams of a life that felt simple but full.

As the two of you stood there by the fence, hand in hand, the future stretched out before you — wide and open. Now you just had to convince him to let you adopt 100 dogs that you could run around and play with while he worked.

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throneofsapphics · 9 months ago

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Imagine being rhysands partner for centuries and having to wait for him in court while he’s under the mountain? Just to find out that the very day he is set free, he also mated with Feyre, the human girl that saved everyone? Perhaps he doesn’t tell her right away but over hears it after some time? Or Confronts him of how he treats her so differently from her? Asking why and confront how he acts now and he just blows up and says it? You choose!

like the stories

Rhys x Reader

Summary: Reuniting with Rhys isn't what you'd hoped for.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, angst

A/N: Thank you for the request!!

part two

Every day you waited. Not with the perfect, flawless, selfless i’ll-wait-a-thousand-years energy. Yes, you would wait a thousand years or longer, but certainly not patiently and there was a fair amount of cursing, screaming, and occasional binge drinking involved to cope.

Regardless, all you could do was wait, all you could do was your best to ignore the piece of you missing, the pain of that absence never abated, if anything it grew stronger over time. Until you had to rely on portraits to remember the exact detail of his face, until you couldn’t remember if he was citrus and sea or citrus and storms.

The stories, at least the ones you’ve read, only talk about the happy reunions. They never touch on the pain and misery of the separation.

Night after night you dreamed of a reunion. A few times you’d woken with tears in your eyes, the reunion dreams feeling more like a nightmare.

“I don’t want you anymore,” his voice was flat and so unlike him your chest ached.

“What did she do to you?” you whispered. That had to be the reason, she must’ve gotten into his head. The male you knew and fell in love with wouldn’t …

“She,” he spat, voice rising, “didn’t do anything.”

‘You, you, you.’ Rhys wasn’t in your mind, but the word echoed in his voice.

Mor, your closest friend and confidant, had to threaten to physically restrain you, to keep you from making your way right to the mountain, right to him.

“He’ll be back soon,” she said, voice hoarse. Half a promise, half a plea to the mother.

“He … he told you?” Your voice was low, quiet, disbelieving.

“He didn’t tell you?”

The world tightened around you, the air feeling dense, suffocating, too much. You saw Mor’s lips moving but couldn’t hear anything.

Like a bad omen, you felt his presence again, for the first time in nearly fifty years.

Mor’s eyes glazed, she glanced at you, lips moving in some kind of promise you didn’t hear before she winnowed away.

48 hours and he hadn’t graced you with his presence. Some kind of protagonist you were, you glanced at the bookshelf full of romance books, not very gracious and kind and understanding. The books had it wrong, you’d decided.

You knew his experience had been traumatic, and yours had been minimal in comparison, but you’d still suffered, hadn’t you? Still waited anxiously every night, not entirely sure he would return. Stuck in Velaris.

It took 72 hours.

Rhys stood across the room, watching you with something like longing and grief.

Barely fighting the urge to sprint and close the gap, you stopped a few feet away from him. His shoulders were tight, entire body taut, looking as if his muscles might snap at any second.

You held your arms open, letting him come to you. It seemed like the right thing to do.

One. Two. Three … Fifteen seconds before he closed the gap.

A three second hug.

You swallowed your disappointment. There’s no saying what he’d been through, and you’d only heard rumors. Perhaps it was wrong of you to assume he’d want any kind of physical touch.

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” the reply was too quick and missing the usual ‘love,’ or ‘darling’ on the end.

You could tell when you weren’t wanted somewhere, and took the hint. “I’m sure you have plenty to do,” you murmured.

He nodded.

Gods this was miserable.

You managed to excuse yourself with minimal extra embarrassment, and saved the tears for when you’d left the vicinity completely.

“A mate,” you whispered. Screaming didn’t feel right, it didn’t encompass the pure betrayal running through you. “When were you going to tell me?” Instead you had to overhear Mor and Cassian speaking of it. You kept going when he didn’t reply to you. “I thought you had more respect for me than that, I thought I meant more than that to you.”

“How could you compare to a mate?”

The words were stagnated, awkward, didn’t quite fit as a response to your statements and you knew he was just voicing his thoughts.

You understood what the stories meant now, when they said your heart dropped to your stomach.

Mouth opening, you didn’t need to be a daemati to read the words about to leave his lips, the backtracking.

One hand held up, his mouth snapped shut. Another time, another situation, you might have laughed at how easily you exercised that small bit of control over him.

The corner of your mouth tilted in a not quite cruel but not quite kind expression.

“Thank you for telling me how you feel,” you said flatly, adding “Rhysand,” emphasizing the last letter.

Irritation and hurt flashed across his beautiful features. Wanting the last word, you chose to stride through the doors, but paused to make sure they shut gently. He’d always hated slammed doors, and you couldn’t bring yourself to go that far.

Like the novels, where the protagonist gets her temporary revenge. Temporary. The pain will come later, but for now … you glanced at the nearest clock. Just before ten, Rita’s would be open for hours yet and you were a single female now.

Unlike the novels, he never came after you.

#acotar drabble #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine

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sim0nril3y · 1 year ago

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His Shirt

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: When searching for some comfortable clothes you find an old shirt of Simon's and decide to throw it on and Simon has an unexpected reaction. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, praise, canon-typical swearing.

“Home, baby.” The sound of your voice called through your home. A night out with the girls had been more fun that you were expecting, a dinner and some drinks had been long overdue, plus there was so much going on in all your lives now it was just good to catchup with them. “Watching the football.” Simon called back from the living room.

Honestly, every cell in your body screamed to join, but there was a deep chill that was set into your bones from the cold weather outside. “Be right there.” Feet carrying you upstairs quickly you entered the bedroom, stripping out of your uncomfortable outfit down to your underwear and trying to find something more comfortable to throw on.

Nabbing a few clothing items, you threw them on the bed and went in search of a pair of socks, rummaging through your drawer to find the only ones there were an odd few that had devastating holes ripped through them. “Bollocks.” You muttered, rounding the bed and then searching through Simon’s drawer instead. Smiling as you nabbed a pair of socks that would engulf your feet, regardless you slipped them on.

About to shut the drawer you came to an abrupt stop when something red caught your eye, pulling it out a smile crawled across your lips. It was an old United shirt, probably decades old now and more than likely a gift because you just couldn’t imagine Simon buying this for himself. You held the material between your fingers and smiled to yourself, this could be interesting.

Venturing back downstairs, lingering behind him, sneaking into the kitchen as you quizzed casually. “What did you have for tea?” “Ordered a pizza.” Simon responded evenly; eyes still trained on the television laxly. “Some left in the fridge, if you want it.” Then adding, always looking out for your wellbeing. A moment of pause formed between you two as you lingered in the kitchen for a moment longer. “How was your night?” It was an off-handed comment, you knew that Simon didn’t really care for an answer because all he cared about was you made it home safely.

You built up enough nerve to enter the lounge, rounding the sofa to stand beside him with a thoughtful look on your face. “It was fine. It was nice seeing everyone…” Rattling off with gentle shrugs of your shoulders, forcefully ignoring the way that Simon gawked at you all dolled up in that shirt. “Fuck me…” It was low. It was almost like a prayer. For a moment you could have convinced yourself that those words hadn’t fallen from his lips, but they had and it made you pussy weep.

“What’re you wearing?” The sound of his voice as hoarse and low, boarding on a warning, it set your insides of fire and you attempted not to falter under his hard gaze. “Hmm? Oh this…” Your fingers tugged on the hem on the shirt. “I was just looking for some socks to borrow and I found this…” Then spinning on one foot and allowing him to observe the entire look. “Is it okay?”

The question hung between you before Simon muttered. “Fuckin’ hell…” Then scooting forward on the sofa and commanding. “Here…” Pointing between his legs. It was so difficult to fight the smile as you sauntered towards him, standing there between his spread legs. His dangerous eyes lingered across your body and moments later his hands were skimming up your bare legs, clasping at your outer thighs and letting out a low groan. “Fuckin’… gorgeous…”

Behind you the TV roared to life as Man United scored another goal, smiling down at his enamoured face you mentioned. “They just scored…” “Don’t care.” He grunted and in a sudden movement you were yanked down to be laying beneath his immense form on the plush cushions of the sofa. “Simon!” A squeak fell from your lips as your head spun wildly.

“Shh.” Simon grumbled. “Let me take care of you…” His lips skimmed against your own, but ultimately avoided your lips as you tried to capture him into a searing kiss. Instead, he began to meticulously kiss down your frame, the feel of his hot mouth over the soft fabric of the shirt. Those war-worn hands tugging down your knickers and chortling lowly at the wet stain that was pooled into the gusset. “Dirty fuckin’ girl.”

A moment later your legs were thrown over his shoulders, exposing your wet cunt to his wonting eyes. “Fuck…” He whispered, leaning forward to pepper small kisses against your mound, nibbling at your lips to cause you to arch and squirm in his tight hold, his lips were everywhere but where you needed them to be. “Stay still.” He muttered, again another warning and this wasn’t one that you were willing to test.

The way that Simon’s tongue worked was like magic, his eyes focused up on your face as your own rolled back in pleasure at the feel. His tongue languidly seeping up and down your slit, teasing your hole for a moment before raising up to flick slowly at your clit. “Oh, god.” You whispered, trying to follow his orders but unable to fight the express. Simon smirked at the way your thighs quivering around his head, wanting to trap him there forever.

When his mouth sealed around your clit a noise of pure pleasure spilled from your throat, arching up off the sofa and gripping your fingers into his short hair, tugging at the tresses as your toes curled in delight. “Ohmygod. Ohmygod.” You were panting now, taut nipples pressing against the fabric of the shirt. Simon couldn’t take his eyes from your writhing frame, sucking from intensely, grunting and groaning into your cunt, praising you in his head as his mouth was occupied.

A thigh was released from his grip as two of his thick fingers sunk into your wet heat, causing you to cry out again along with the crowd of the television. “Si-mon…” Hoarse and wonting, you couldn’t control the sounds that were tumbling from your throat now, completely feral with pleasure as his fingers hammered into her weeping walls, finding that special spot and overwhelming it with his fingers. “Ohfuck. So… so close… Ohgod… Oh… Simon~” A cry of pleasure tumbled from your lips.

As if some kind of cosmic joke the television roared to life again as another goal was scored whilst your entire frame spasmed and convulsed as his lips remained taut around your cunt, suckling hard on your clit to throw you into your orgasm. Popping away with a slick ‘pop’ moments later Simon smirked and pressed small kisses to your swollen cunt, slipping his fingers from where they were buried. “Good girl.” He whispered against your skin. “My good girl.” He mentioned, pressing a sweet kiss to your engorged clit and fighting back a grin as you jolted.

Simon spent time soothing you, pressing little quaint kisses to your thighs and rubbing your stomach soothingly and after a while you seemed to regain enough composure to speak. “T-think I’m… I’m going to need to wear your shirts more often…” A chuckle came from the man between your legs and he bite into your thigh playfully and responded. “I wouldn’t disagree with that, love.”

Masterlist | Ask | 14-11-2023

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fangdokja · 1 month ago

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Could you do a headcanon of the russian mafia boss husband series where y/n isn't a spy and wasn't seeing anyone and it was just a case of mistaken identity but y/n is so broken beyond repair that she doesn't speak, sleep, eat, bath or do anything but stare at the wall muttering 'stop or no more or it wasn't me' until she passes out. And when he tries to touch her in the slightest, she just trashes around screaming and having episodes until she passes out. Y/n has utterly and completely lost her mind. Destructive and emotional breakdowns, anxiety attacks and high suicidal tendencies and behaviour. It could be an alternate ending where y/n is innocent. Maybe a "What if series." God bless you 🙏

🔞"I don't need your love, I need your submission."

❤︎ Synopsis. A woman trapped in the web of a sadistic mafia boss’s obsession must fight to keep her mind intact, but with every twisted act of cruelty, she finds herself unraveling further—until escape becomes impossible and submission the only way out.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanon. The Bride of Blood - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 3,335

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mental illnesses and self-harm, panic attacks, suicide, angst + tragedy, mature language, death, necrophilia, descriptions of gore, desecration of corpses, erotic horror elements, isolation, BDSM, degradation, humiliation, blood play

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. Specifically, it was purposefully made ambiguous. This is NOT canon, it's a "what-if" or canon-divergent to the main story.

♡ His Story. 🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who watches the cracks in your fragile composure widen with each passing day, his heart sinking deeper into the abyss with every muffled murmur that escapes your broken lips.

Your silence is a desecration to him—a profound betrayal that stabs at his chest. His eyes, always sharp and calculating, now scan you as if searching for any trace of the woman you once were. But all he sees is a hollow shell, your vacant gaze fixed on nothing—just the cold, unforgiving wall.

"Lyubov moya…" he breathes, his voice trembling with a blend of grief and anger, the words sour on his tongue. He steps closer, but you don't acknowledge him. You never do anymore. He can feel the bitterness rising in his throat as he reaches for you, his hand trembling as it brushes your shoulder. You flinch—just barely. But it’s enough.

Your skin feels like ice under his fingertips. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he whispers hoarsely, more to himself than to you, though he knows you won’t respond. Your body is a brittle thing now, once strong, once so perfect. But now? Now, it is but a corpse wrapped in skin, breathing only to mock him.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who spends every waking hour by your side, watching you disintegrate, your body no longer responding to the world around you, not even to the warmth of his presence.

You don’t eat. You don’t drink. You don’t bathe. You don’t move. You stare. You stare at the same spot on the wall, eyes wide and unblinking, lips cracked and dry. A low, rhythmic muttering slips from your throat like a mantra—words too broken to form into coherent sentences, but words he knows too well now.

"Stop… No more… It wasn’t me…"

His heart lurches, a twinge of nausea curling in his gut as he listens to you—the girl he once saw as his perfect wife—now reduced to a shell of broken words and crumbling sanity. His chest tightens painfully, but even through his sorrow, there’s a sick, twisted thrill that curls in his gut. He can’t help it. This is what he’s wanted, isn’t it? He wanted to break you, to see you collapse into him, to lose yourself completely.

“Don’t leave me like this,” he whispers, his voice thick with desperation. His fingers slide through your hair, brushing it back from your pale face. “I will make it right, I swear. I’ll fix you. I’ll fix us.”

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who watches you convulse violently when his fingers brush too close, a scream tearing from your throat as you fight against him like a trapped animal.

It’s almost a relief, the violence of your reaction—it lets him know you're still there, beneath the layers of disassociation. You twist and thrash, your body frantic with the need to escape him. Your hands claw at his, nails tearing at his skin as you scream into the suffocating silence.

“Stop!” you gasp, your voice jagged and broken. “I’m not like that. Please… I’m not like that…”

You don’t remember what you’re begging for. You don’t remember anything anymore. He, on the other hand, feels every inch of your struggle, the rush of adrenaline shooting through him as he pins you down, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and longing.

He feels your pulse flutter beneath his fingertips like a bird trapped in a cage. It’s not enough. Not yet. He can't go further just yet.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who, in the dead of night, watches you from the doorway, his eyes tracing the rise and fall of your chest, the broken rhythm of your breathing.

His heart is a thunderous roar in his ears as he watches you twitch in your sleep, jerking as though you’re trapped in a nightmare. But he knows—he knows this isn’t sleep. You’re not dreaming. You’re unraveling.

With slow, deliberate steps, he moves toward the cot, the sound of his boots striking the floor a distant echo in the silence. You’re trembling now, the sweat slicking your skin as your body shudders in the absence of warmth, in the absence of love.

“Why won’t you just rest, malyshka?” he murmurs, his voice heavy with sorrow. He bends down, hovering over you, but you don’t stir. It’s almost as if you’re already dead.

His fingers brush against your cheek, and for a moment, he’s caught off guard by how cold you’ve become, how still. His heart stutters in his chest. “Don’t leave me. Please… not like this,” he says, the words choking him, the rawness of his voice foreign and weak in the dim light of the room.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who finds you clutching something sharp, the glint of metal in your hand reflecting a cruel, twisted sort of hope in his eyes.

Your eyes lock with his—there’s no fear in them, only a hollow emptiness. Your hands tremble, the jagged edge of the shard pressing too dangerously close to your skin. He watches in silence, his breath caught in his throat, until the moment drags on for what feels like eternity. And then, without warning, you collapse—exhausted, drained, lifeless, like a doll discarded and forgotten.

His heart hammers in his chest as he rushes forward, grabbing your wrist with brutal force, pulling the shard away from your grip. He lifts you from the ground, holding you close against him as he whispers words you don’t hear, words that make his voice tremble. “You can’t leave me. Not like this. Not now…”

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who holds you long into the night, feeling the weight of your hollow body in his arms, knowing you’ve drifted too far.

Your head lolls against his chest, but your eyes remain open, unblinking. A slight tremor passes through you, the only indication that you’re still here at all. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his heart hammering in his chest.

But as he watches you, an awful realization settles in—the silence between you both is now louder than anything he’s ever known.

He is losing you.

He doesn’t know how to fix it. And he’s not sure he ever could.

But even then, he clings to you.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who, in the quiet of the early hours, hears the faintest sound—a soft, strangled gasp from your lips, the first sound you’ve made in days.

His heart stops, a cold dread washing over him as he moves toward you with a sense of urgency he can’t explain. He finds you standing there, trembling, your gaze unfocused, your face pale and drawn. The dim light casts shadows over your features, making you look even more like a ghost.

His breath hitches as he stands before you, eyes wide, panic rising in his chest. “What are you doing?” he asks hoarsely, the words raw, desperate. But you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, your gaze flickers to the sharp edge of something in your hand—something cold, reflecting the light of the room like a cruel promise.

He moves to stop you, but there’s a hesitation in his step. Something about the way you hold it, the way your body is almost fragile in its stillness, makes him falter. You don’t meet his eyes. You don’t even seem to notice him there at all.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who, as you stand there with that cold, metallic gleam in your hand, hears the trembling of your breath, the fractured sobs that break through your silent composure.

His stomach churns as the silence stretches on, his own heartbeat ringing painfully in his ears. You look so small, so broken—your body a mere reflection of your shattered mind. There’s nothing left of the woman he once knew, only the faintest whisper of who you used to be.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “Please don’t do this. I can fix this. I can make it better. I swear to you…”

But your fingers don’t twitch. Your expression doesn’t change. You stand there, distant, unreachable, a thousand miles away from him. And with each passing second, it feels like the world is slipping from his grasp.

———

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who finally reveals his true nature: the laughter spills from his mouth in a manic, almost feral sound, cruel and unrestrained.

His arms shoot out, grabbing you in an instant, pulling your cold, frail body against his with a force that knocks the breath out of you. His grip is like iron, tightening until you feel the sharp sting of pain, but you can’t even summon the energy to scream.

“You thought I was weak, huh?” His voice is a low growl, a venomous whisper in your ear. “You thought I cared about you. That I was some sentimental fool who would bend over backwards for you, huh?” His lips curl in a sickening smile as he squeezes your body tighter, feeling your fragile form quake beneath him.

He laughs again, a sound that rattles through the room, like a nightmare that refuses to end. It’s so genuine, so completely deranged. His hands run down your back, gripping, squeezing as if he’s savoring every second of your discomfort.

"Damn, you're so fucking stupid," he sneers, his voice oozing contempt. "Did you really think you were smart enough to outmaneuver me? Did you think for one second that you could escape? You were never gonna win."

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who revels in the terror he’s now fully unleashed on you, a sadistic delight lighting his eyes.

“You know what the worst part is?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, his tone thick with satisfaction. “You thought I was trying to save you. You thought I was here to comfort you when you broke. But no. No, my sweet, that was never the plan. You’ve been my puppet this entire time."

He pulls your face toward his, forcing you to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, panicked. The pathetic vulnerability you’re showing now is his fuel. His heart races, the cruel satisfaction of seeing you broken filling his every pore. This is where you’re beautiful. This is where you belong—on your knees, broken, and begging him not to destroy you, though you no longer have the energy to do even that.

“You think I’m going to cry for you? Think I’m going to beg you to stay?” He laughs darkly again, his fingers tightening around your throat, making it harder to breathe. “No, darling. I’m not the fool here. You’re the fucking idiot who fell for all of this. Damn imbecile.”

You gasp, but it’s weak, fragile, almost meaningless. Every time you try to speak, your throat constricts as he applies more pressure. The world around you feels like it’s slipping away.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who takes perverse pleasure in watching you fall further into the abyss.

His hand comes down sharply, gripping your face in a brutal vice. “Look at you,” he mocks, his voice low and cruel. “I always knew you were weak. I already knew you were never a spy. You’re nothing but a little broken thing, begging for release, begging to be loved, but you’ll never have it. Not from me. Not from anyone.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The weight of it all has crushed the last bit of your spirit. You don’t fight anymore. You don’t scream. You don’t cry. You just… exist. Barely.

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Did you really think you were going to be my salvation?” His voice is dangerously quiet, thick with venom. “I’m not here to save you, lyubov moya. I’m here to destroy you. Slowly. Piece by piece. Until there’s nothing left but what I want. And now, you’re so fucking close.”

He pauses, waiting for you to react, but you remain still. His eyes darken with satisfaction. He lowers his lips to your neck, tracing the outline of your skin with the tip of his tongue, feeling your heartbeat accelerate, though it’s weak, frail.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who grins, a predator finally taking his prey, the last shred of your will completely annihilated.

And then, just as you finally surrender to the overwhelming urge to let go, to end it all, he’s watching. He’s watching with eyes that gleam with satisfaction. His fingers caress the sharp edge of the knife he’s placed beside you—he knew you’d reach for it.

“You never were smart enough,” he murmurs, his voice a twisted lullaby. “You let your emotions control you. That’s where you lost. That’s where you’ve always lost.”

He laughs softly, the sound like gravel scraping against bone. His lips brush against your ear once more, a soft whisper of finality that seals your fate.

"You think this is it, don’t you? You think you’ve made your final choice? No, darling. You lost the moment you gave in to me. And now, even in death… you’ll still belong to me."

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who watches, the gleam in his eyes reflecting a dark satisfaction as he finally fulfills the twisted, broken end to the game he’s orchestrated.

And as you take that final step into the abyss, he watches with a dark smile, his body trembling with the thrill of victory. His laughter echoes in your ears as you fade, and he whispers his final, chilling words.

"You’re so fucking stupid. But at least now, I can call you mine forever."

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who isn't finished, not even a bit. He kisses you, a bruising pressure that feels more like a punishment than a caress, his tongue forcing its way into your unresponsive mouth. "You always did look good enough to eat," he says with a snicker, his breath reeking of whiskey and malice.

He crawls onto the bed, straddling your hips, his cock erect and demanding. "Look how much you're turning me on, even like this," he says, his voice a mix of amazement and disgust.

"You were always so eager to please, weren't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer—there isn't one to give. He aligns himself with your cold, unyielding opening, and with one brutal thrust, he's inside you, the sensation of your lifeless body being violated a twisted form of pleasure for him.

The bed groans under the weight of his movements, the sound a mournful echo in the silent room. His hips piston into you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he takes what he believes to be his right. "You're so fucking tight, even in death," he growls, his voice a guttural sound that fills the room.

He leans down, his teeth grazing your ear. "Do you feel that, my love? Do you feel how much I own you?" You don't, of course. You can't. But he's lost in his own madness; his mind so triumphant at finally conquering you, as he fucks you, the corpse of the woman, he once claimed to adore.

With a final, savage thrust, he spills his seed inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release. His orgasm is a declaration of victory, a claiming of what he believes is rightfully his, even in your most vulnerable, unresponsive state. He pulls out, his cock glistening with the proof of his dominance, and for a moment, he simply stares at the mess he's made, the dark liquid pooling around your lifeless body.

A twisted sense of pride fills him, his chest puffing out as he takes in the sight. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches the last traces of your humanity seep away with his cum.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who desecrates your body like it's art. With a sick, twisted smile, he positions you again, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic hunger that not even death can quench.

He slices through your flesh with the knife you once held, the cold steel parting your skin with ease. You're a macabre doll to him now, a silent plaything for his darkest desires. He watches, fascinated, as the crimson rivers of your life's essence mingle with his semen, painting the bed in a grotesque tapestry of depravity. The pain, the violation, it's all a part of his twisted love, his ultimate claim over your being.

"Look at you," he whispers, his voice a chilling purr. "So obedient, even in death. You always knew your place, didn't you?" He delves into your open wounds with his fingers, the sensation of your cold, lifeless flesh against his own sending a thrill through him. He licks the blood from his fingers, savoring the taste of his power. "You were always mine to do with as I please."

His eyes are wild with the thrill of his depravity as he plunges into you again, his movements now frenzied, like a beast in the throes of a bloodlust. Each thrust feels like a declaration of ownership, a reminder that you were never more than a possession to him. He leans down, whispering sweet nothings that are now nothing but the echoes of his madness. "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice a sick parody of affection.

"Such a perfect little toy." His teeth sink into your neck, tearing through the already marred flesh, his eyes rolling back with the intensity of his twisted pleasure.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss whose eyes are wild with a sickening blend of rage and lust as he continues to desecrate your corpse. He grabs fistfuls of your hair, pulling your head back as he drives into you with a ferocity that would be terrifying if you could feel it.

Your lifeless eyes stare up at the ceiling, unseeing, as he whispers his twisted love into your ear. Each punch lands with a sickening thud, the sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh filling the air. He's lost in his own madness, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he takes out his frustrations on the shell of the person he once claimed to love.

"You were always so emotionless, so stubborn, so defiant," he snarls, his fists raining down on your body, each impact leaving a bruise that will never fade.

"But now, now you're just… perfect." He says the word with a disgusting sense of satisfaction, as if your death has somehow made you more desirable to him.

He slices through your flesh, peeling back layers of your body like a grotesque fruit, his knife moving with the precision of a skilled butcher. The smell of blood and sex is thick in the air, a macabre scent that clings to every surface.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss withdraws from the destroyed mess of your body, his eyes glittering with a sick triumph. He stands over you, his chest heaving with exertion, his cock still erect and smeared with the blood and gore of his violent ravishment.

With a grunt of satisfaction, he lets his seed spurt out, painting the floor with a grim pattern that mirrors the chaos of your shattered life. He watches the thick ropes of cum land on the cold, hard floor, a dark stain that mingles with the pools of your lifeblood.

His gaze lingers on your corpse, his expression one of possessive hunger. He's not done with you, not yet.

"Look what you've become," he sneers, his voice a low rumble of disgust and arousal. "A mere pile of meat for me to fuck and discard."

He grabs your lifeless hand, raising it to his mouth, and kisses your cold knuckles with a twisted affection. "But even like this, you're still mine. Always and forever."

He releases your hand, letting it drop with a thud, the sound echoing through the silent room like a declaration of war on your soul.

♡ A/N #1. Also, this would explain the results of Reader being weak (and innocent) in general. A lot of people said they want Reader to just tell the Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss everything. Even though, she's canonically loyal to her duties and job as a spy. It isn't pride, it's loyalty and will. So, basically, what if she didn't have a strong will?

♡ A/N #2. God bless too. Now, normally, I do not work on canon-divergent works. Genuinely the spy reader is canonically highly trained, extremely loyal to the job and duties, and does not love nor surrender to the Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss. BUT. I allowed this canon-divergent request (a “what-if headcanon”) because the trauma writing style and overall themes fit my writing style. But. Usually, I will NOT be writing canon-divergent content. Because I HATE matters that aren’t true. This honestly feels like I’m writing actual fanfiction for my work. So weird. Hahahah. But, anyways. I write genuinely canon stories or accurate representations, as close as possible. I don’t like deluding myself in matters like this. In general, I only allowed this because the prompt fits my writing style. But, I would normally not be writing non-canon works.

♡ A/N #3. Also, let me in on you readers on a warning or notice about me. Content that skirts by when it normally wouldn’t? Hahahaha. There’s a pattern in what I do with content like this. It’s the kind that I would classify as “more ruthless”. As an author (not reader nor fellow stranger), if it doesn’t follow the traditional rules? Well. It can only end in two ways. No in-between. It may not be as gory even compared to my other works. But. One very important thing is always sacrificed in exchange for skirting the rules OR having consensual encounters of any kind. This isn’t to be mean or anything. I’ve written like this before, as it’s my rules to myself (I write a lot of grimdark and dystopian stories where no one is safe); but have not yet released anything like this in my blog. So, take this as an introduction on why my yandere type isn’t appealing to most. Or maybe just treat this as a quirky story about why the rules are really rigid in requests, haha. Actually, I can write anything (except stupid reader inserts). The only reason I put rules about not writing certain things is because readers may have expectations on certain themes. And I don’t want to give false hope or anything. Either way, hope you guys enjoy :))

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

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fanbasetwo · 4 months ago

Text

✦ SWEET NECTAR ┊ ANTON

001. PAIRING , bf ! anton × afab reader

002. SYNOPSIS , just a pussy drunk anton

003. WARNING(S) , NSFW, MDNI, pussy eating, uses of pet names, a little fingering, cumming on tongue, a little kissing towards the end, dirty talk.

004. WORD COUNT , 0.9k

Anton’s strong hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide as he knelt between them. His piercing gaze locked onto your pussy, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of your glistening folds. You could feel the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin, making your core throb with anticipation.

He wasted no time, leaning in and burying his face between your thighs. His tongue, hot and eager, began to explore your folds, tracing every inch of your delicate flesh. He lapped up your juices, moaning at the taste of your arousal, his tongue delving deeper to reach your entrance.

“Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined,” he mumbled against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. “I can't get enough of this perfect pussy.”

“God, you look absolutely mouthwatering,” he growled, his voice husky with lust. “I've been craving this sweet pussy all day, and now I'm going to devour it like a starving man.”

You gasped as his tongue found your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves throbbing under his touch. He circled it teasingly, his tongue flicking rapid-fire over the swollen nub, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hands fisted in the sheets, your hips bucking involuntarily as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

He chuckled, the sound muffled by your folds. “I'm not stopping, baby. I'm going to eat this pussy until you're begging me to fuck you senseless.”

True to his word, he increased his efforts, his tongue alternating between flicking your clit and plunging into your entrance. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear, your body trembling on the edge of ecstasy.

“Fuck, I'm so close,” you panted, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don't stop, please!”

Anton’s tongue never ceased its relentless assault on your quivering flesh, lapping and suckling at your dripping folds like a man possessed. His eyes were glazed over with lust, his entire being focused solely on pleasuring you with his mouth.

He was utterly consumed by the taste and scent of your arousal, driven to new heights of hunger by the intoxicating nectar flowing from your core.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice breathy and needy. “That feels incredible. Please, don't stop.”

His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open and exposed as he feasted on you. His tongue delved deep, plunging into your tight channel and curling to stroke your inner walls. Then he would drag the flat of his tongue up your slit, flicking rapidly over your engorged clit before diving back in for more.

Each thrust of his tongue sent sparks of electricity zinging through your nerve endings, building the coil of tension in your belly to an almost unbearable level. Your hips undulated shamelessly against his face, seeking more of that delicious friction. You were lost to everything but the feel of his mouth on you, drowning in a sea of sensation.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of you,” he groaned, the words muffled against your slick petals. “you taste too fucking good, like the sweetest ambrosia. I want to drink from this perfect pussy forever.”

Anton seemed to sense you were on the brink, doubling down on his efforts. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue vibrating against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, two fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your fluttering sheath, curling to hit that magic spot inside you.

The dual stimulation was your undoing. Your back arched off the bed as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner muscles clamping down on his invading fingers. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your vision whiting out from the intensity of your release.

As your orgasm subsided into aftershocks, Anton gentled his touch, licking and kissing your quivering flesh with an almost reverent tenderness. He placed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, soothing the slight sting left behind by his teeth. When he finally pulled away, his chin was glistening with your juices, his lips swollen and slick.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you chanted mindlessly, your voice high and thready with impending release. “Don't stop, please don't stop! I'm gonna...I'm gonna...”

He crawled up your body, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. When he reached your lips, he captured them in a searing kiss, sharing the taste of your arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and draw him closer.

But as much as you reveled in the afterglow, you could feel a renewed ache building in your core. Anton’s rigid length pressed insistently against your thigh, hot and heavy, and you knew he was just as far from sated as you were.

“You came so hard for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “I could feel your pussy squeezing my tongue, trying to pull me deeper.”

“Please, Anton,” you whimpered against his lips, your hips rolling restlessly against his. “I need you inside me. I need to feel you stretching me, filling me up.”

He groaned at your words, his control snapping. In one swift motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Fuck, you have no idea how badly I want to sink into this tight little cunt,” he gritted out, his hips flexing impatiently. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, make this pussy mine.”

NOTE : don't mind me. just taking this drabble outta my enha blog to add in here.

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youcancallmeelle · 1 year ago

Text

She’s got a boyfriend anyway…

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 7K

Warnings: Semi public sex, Missionary, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Sneaking around, Secret relationship, Brief David mention, Ellie being a menance, Tommy trying to play matchmaker.

Summary: Tommy has been trying to set Joel up for AGES, he’s got other interests.

You and Joel have secretly been seeing each other.

A03

Read below…

Life in Jackson is promising, nearly a year and half here and Joel feels comfortable, no longer itching for a way out of civilisation because he’s just not used to that no more. Ellie is settled too - finally. She’s attending school three days a week, enjoying the new responsibilities that come with being sixteen and the tad bit of freedom it brings. She helps out at the stables, in the kitchen too but she’s not a fan. She likes being in the library most, checking in and out books, tidying shelves, using her art to create eye catching displays aimed at the younger generation of Jackson.

Joel is proud, his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest all the time. Ellie is still full of wit and charisma that comes out in curses and daft puns that make Joel roll his eyes and get her in a headlock until she’s laughing so hard she’s pink in the face.

There’s times when she skips school completely if a male teacher has subbed in, she flinches away if someone comes too close and sometimes if it’s stew night at dinner, she’ll stare blankly into her bowl at the chunks of meat and see a severed ear, she’ll try to swallow but gag instead. These are nights Joel gives her his bread and Tommy will too, then he’ll make her a fruit salad when they get home with a little double cream poured over it.

The nightmares are persistent on these bad days where triggers occur, he finds Ellie in bed screaming and thrashing multiple times a week. She’ll sob and cry hoarsely as he holds her, hushing her gently and resting his cheek on her head. Most of the time she’ll fall back asleep with him beside her, curled into him like she did back at Silver Lake when death was close.

But mostly, everything’s okay.

Joel had been with Tommy every single day this week so far and it was Thursday evening, they’d been focusing on fixing up the bathroom in a house way further down from his, they were getting it ready for a family that had expanded to move in. The floor was rotten and the pipes wrecked, neither of them were particularly fond of plumbing but they sorted it between them. There was still the kitchen to do but that was a job for tomorrow and probably Saturday too but not Sunday, that was his day with Ellie.

Sunday’s were for late breakfasts of bacon and pancakes - before and after the world ended. The only thing that changed was the kid for Joel, he used to serve Sarah indulgent breakfasts on a Sunday and they’d do something together and the tradition was carried on with Ellie and Sarah remained tucked in his heart.

Tired and stiff from working hunched over all day, Joel was enjoying a quiet drink with Tommy. They were tucked away on a small table with two stools, Joel would have preferred something with a back but beggars can’t be choosers; he was grateful for the cold glass of bourbon nearly empty in front of him and the sound of Dire Straits playing over the old speakers.

As always, Tommy is picking and prying into his lack of a love life. Since he’s noticed his older brother being more settled within the community, he’d been trying his hardest to set him up with various women and Tommy Miller was nothing if not persistent.

At this point in the day, Tommy’s voice is almost just white noise.

“Cath is nice.” Tommy pointed out, Joel snorts.

“She’s also gay, Tommy.”

“Oh shit, really? I didn’t know.”

“Clearly. Can we please stop talking about this? It’s the same thing every fuckin’ time I come drinking with you.” Joel begs, Tommy sighs heavily but drops it for now.

Joel takes in the scenery as he sits there, grateful for the moments silence from Tommy. His eyes stray to the left of the table and he listens as you speak to Denton, an older gentleman in his late sixties with a love of horses. He’s quizzing you about the new mare in the stables, he hears you mention checking on her again after your shift because she’s been particularly temperamental since she was brought in from outside but you’ve developed a nice bond with her, she’s slowly becoming more trusting.

It occurs to Joel that everyone likes you - literally everyone, even Ellie and she was a tough nut to crack. You’re sweet, soft spoken yet confident. You’re always helping out where you can; on patrols, stable duty, in the communal garden, sometimes at the school and also here at the bar when Darius needs his shift covered.

You find good things on patrol and give them to Joel or Ellie before taking the rest for the community, so they get first pick of everything.

You’re just the sweetest thing.

Tommy sees you and beckons you with a friendly wave, you mutter a goodbye to Denton and pat his hand.

“Hey.” You hear your name called over the music and you turn as Tommy Miller grabs your attention as you scoop up two glasses and an empty bowl that once held nuts and dried berries from the table two away from his and Joel’s.

“Yes, Miller?” You patter over with your hands occupied, you sneak a look at his older sibling, sparing him a wink as a greeting, he smirks softly back.

“Has Darius got an other fuckin’ music or are we strictly limited to the sounds of 1985 tonight?” He questions and you laugh, shaking your head.

“You don’t like Dire Straits?”

“He doesn’t appreciate good music.” Joel interjects, shaking his head at Tommy.

“I do - but other music. Eminem or even fuckin’ Britney! Anything but this shit.” Tommy groans, tossing his head back.

“Keep talking smack about Dire Straits, Miller - and I’ll snitch to your wife about the fact you’ve switched patrols with Mark twice this week because you were too hungover to go.” You smile sweetly at Tommy, tilting your head.

“Snitches get stitches.” Tommy remarks playfully, not an ounce of malice in his dark brown eyes and your eyebrows rise, you beam back.

“That right? Well, troublesome men get barred for life.”

“Oooooh.” Joel chimes in, looking amusedly between you and his younger brother.

“Touché.” Tommy quips, folding his arms.

“Tell you what, next time I’m in, I’ll have a rummage out back and see if I can find you some Britney. Bless you.” You pinch his cheek as you walk past and he swats your hand, rubbing the spot while Joel laughs.

“You’re pushing your luck giving her lip, I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is the only operational bar in Wyoming.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbles back, Joel shakes his head once more as the door behind Tommy on the back wall opens.

“Joeeeeeel?!” He hears yelled from close by, he looks up and sees Ellie dragging her sneakers across the floor, scouring the bar for him with her honey coloured eyes eagerly. She spots him within seconds, beaming and practically skipping over to him and Tommy in the corner. “There you are, I looked fucking everywhere for you.” She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I wanna go out, I’m bored shitless at home. There’s nothing for me to do and yes - I’ve done my school work.” She quickly adds.

“You done those quadratic equation questions we were going over last night?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Yep. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, though I did ask my teacher because I’m pretty sure you were figuring them out wrong. You were, by the way.” Joel puffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. Ellie spins to Tommy, the soles of her shoes squeaking. “Can I try that?” She’s laser focused on the bourbon swimming between globes of ice in Tommy’s glass.

“What have I said the last twenty times you’ve asked, El?” Tommy’s dark brows are high on his forehead, his mouth is twisted with hidden laughter. Ellie rolls her eyes with annoyance, sloping over to Joel now.

“No.” She huffs, swinging her lanky arms around Joel. She hums and rubs her face into his shoulder bone, resting there for a second before her attentions shifts comically fast. There’s a warmth that spreads through Joel every single time she does this, she’s so casual about it and he’s drawn the conclusion that it’s a teenage thing because Sarah was the same. There’s a sadness that blossoms too, a darkness that twists and anchors in his chest as he thinks of her and who she’d be now. He can’t dwell for too long, not now - he did that for too long.

At one dark point in time, human connection was not key to survival, hence why he always kept Tess at arms length and then referred to Ellie as cargo until one snowy day it became apparent she was no longer cargo when she was frenzied and panting in his arms, splattered with the blood of a predator and gasping like she was taking her last breath. The sound haunted him for a long time, all memories of Sarah hitting him like a freight train. He had to protect Ellie, the minute he drew her in - oh baby girl - and held her tightly, wrapped in his coat and clinging to him just as hard.

Ellie’s his kid now. She’s his. He’s hers. They’re a family. Ellie Williams Miller - that’s how she’s known now. It’s scrawled on her school books. The love he feels for this human tornado in sneakers is unmatched, the one thing he’s ever been truly good at has been restored and it’s a role he knows well; being a father.

Sure, this teenager that he’s raising is the furthest from bubblegum pink and Avril Lavigne she could be, she’s particularly jagged around the edges and does have the temperament of an unsocialised cat that will bite if you get too close.

He looks down at her, rubbing into him like she’s trying to get his smell on her because it’s comforting and she feels safe and feels his heart ready to burst.

Of course the sweet moment of affection is shattered when Ellie yawns directly into his fucking ear because why wouldn’t she?

He grunts when she bears most of her weight on his aching shoulders, leaning easily into him and twisting her small fingers into his flannel.

“So? Can I go or not?” She presses.

“Go where?” He prompts, raising his eyebrow.

“Toni’s from school. Her cat had kittens a few weeks ago and they’re starting to play. Five of them, Joel! That’s a lotta kittens!” Ellie enunciates, brown eyes wide and Joel can’t help the smile that graces his otherwise tired face.

“You mean a litter?” He corrects and Ellie pauses, frowning.

“Huh?”

“A bunch of kittens is a litter, Ellie.” He informs her and she somehow manages to frown even more, she makes a noise like she’s computing the new information.

“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles, Tommy snorts in amusement. “So I can go see them?” She presses, shifting her weight again and Joel groans louder now, unhooking her arms from his shoulders with a quiet ‘don’t do that, baby’ that’s full of affection.

“Yes but you’re back at nine latest, okay? Nine. I’ll be waiting for you, the minute those street lamps turn on, you’re home.” Joel says, Ellie’s mouthing along to his instructions that he’s been laying out since Summer began and the evenings stretched longer. “Be good.” He speaks more softly now and she nods, he presses a kiss to the side of her head, her eyelashes flutter happily as the warmth blossoms in her too with the security that’s Joel Miller.

“Peesh. I’m always good. Bye Tommy!” She says excitedly, fist bumping him when it’s offered.

“See ya, squirt.” Tommy replies but before he’s even voiced his reply, Ellie’s hurrying away and knocking into a patron while waving to you on the way out of the door so hard it slams. Joel sighs, thinking she’s a literal hurricane.

The door hinge has barely stopped shaking before Tommy starts with the suggestions of suitors once more.

“What about Myleene?” Tommy proposes, Joel shakes his head quickly, downing the remainder of his drink.

“Too young.” He replies.

“She’s twenty five.”

“Too young.” He repeats firmer this time.

“Okay, fine. What about Michelle? She’s what forty? I was talking to her in the cobblers the other day, she’s definitely interested - mentioned something about making you a pie?”

“I’m good.” He grumbles looking down into his empty glass but quickly shifting his gaze to the bar, you’re leaning on your elbows, laughing heartily with a patron.

You look beautiful tonight - just like every other night. Your shoulders are sunkissed, your cheeks a little flushed and skin glowing from the summer humidity. He absorbs the way your hair tumbles down your shoulders and the way the thin straps of your tiered sundress slip down occasionally, only to be tugged back into place with dexterous fingers.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Tommy jibes, Joel looks over with a firm scowl.

“What?” He asks, Tommy shakes his head.

“You can dream, brother.” Joel rolls his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. “She’s got a boyfriend anyway.” Tommy adds, Joel eyes him with full attention.

“A boyfriend?” He asks, trying to be sure he heard right.

“Yeah, overheard her talking to one of the girls in the garden a few days ago. Didn’t mention no names but she definitely said she was seein’ someone.” Tommy shrugged, Joel hummed with interest. “Anyway, it don’t matter because she’s way out of your league.”

“Thanks.” Joel retorts, sneaking one last look before focusing on the door behind Tommy, the one Ellie had not long barrelled in and out of just moments ago.

He wonders about the kittens she mentioned and gulps as he imagines her taking to one with its big eyes and soft paws, his mind is pulled back to a time in April when he’d come downstairs one morning to a sink full of tad poles she’d ‘rescued’ from birds out of the neighbours pond.

Basically, his girl can’t resist animals she deems too vulnerable to leave.

“Scared Ellie’s gonna come home with one of them kittens?” Tommy wonders, reading Joel’s mind.

“Terrified.”

********************************************

The sun is setting in bursts of burnt orange and marigold by the time he leaves Tommy to his own devices at the bar, he hazards a look around as he makes his way in the complete opposite direction to his and Ellie’s house.

He slinks around the back of the school house, slithering through the gap and walking up the winding path that leads to the stables. He climbs the short fence and hops to the other side, his boots kick up the dust from the dirt path and the crickets chirp beneath the skyline.

With one more look around, he opens to rear door to the stables and slips inside, shutting it softly behind him.

Immediately he hears the horses further down huff and puff, he can make out the swish of their tails hitting the walls as they munch on hay, there’s a neigh that is absolutely Shimmer kicking up a fuss about something.

He slopes around the riding gear and sees you leaning against the wall, hands behing your back. You grin.

“Took your time, cowboy. Was beginning to think you couldn’t take the hint and stood me up.”

“Never, honey.” Joel prowls towards you, ready to grab you. “Missed you.”

“You just saw me.”

“Not the same.” He yanks you close like a man starved, you’d shared company less than 24 hours ago but you greet and leave each other like it’s the last time you’ll ever be together. It’s the apocalypse affect, you know that, he does too

This arrangement had been going on for almost two months now, all started by a late night patrol together where you’d shared more about yourselves in an eight hour shift than both of your time in Jackson combined. There was an instant attraction, it was so easy to talk to one another and that’s what you did every single time you were partnered together and it became the highlight of your day. It started innocently and friendship had bloomed, then before you knew it you were sharing a rum laced thermos of tea with him in the bed of a truck and kissing him with reddened cheeks shortly thereafter. You’d first slept together in the same truck, just as dawn began to break. It was clumsy and quick but you couldn’t get enough of one another. You hadn’t cum but Joel promised next time would be better which lead to the question of next time? You’d been seeing each other most nights since.

Any chance you got, you were together. Nobody knew about you both, hence why Tommy was incessantly trying to hook Joel up with other women around town and jealousy burned as you listened in on their one sided conversations in the bar whenever you were covering for Darius.

You’d left the bar shortly before Joel had, waving farewell to him and Tommy, coming straight up here to check on the mare just as you’d told Denton. This was a usual spot to meet Joel, it wasn’t your first rodeo in the stables with him. It was the one place you could be alone after a certain time.

“Were you hiding from me, honey? Hmm?” He growls playfully, pulling you to him even though you were barely a millimetre away in the first place. You hum in response, so utterly lost in him. You’re nuzzling his throat, fisting his shirt, desperate for his attention. “God, you look so good today.” He murmurs, mouth finding yours. You moan softly, standing on your tip toes and kissing him in a way that makes his lungs and loins burn alike. His grey tinged moustache prickles your upper lip beautifully, his beard feels familiar beneath your soft hands.

He’s crowding you and guiding you backwards, kissing you hotly in a sense that makes your cunt throb eagerly. You moan into his mouth when he nips your bottom lip, squeezing the left cheek of your ass.

You love when he’s like this - playful and easy. He feels lightyears younger around you, it’s like the heaviness dissipates the moment he’s in your company. He loses himself in the way you smell, the way your hair feels when his fingers are entwined between the sun kissed strands, the way in which your eyes sparkle with mischief.

It’s easy to pull him towards the back of the stable, where the bales of hay were stacked created a nice wall of privacy. You’d been in here a couple of times with him, having gone as far to stash a flannel blanket in one of the cupboards to lay down as to protect you both from the cold floor and the prickle of loose hay.

Once behind the hay and seated on a bale with you in his lap, strong hands are moving the thin straps of your sundress down your shoulders, you momentarily break away from his mouth to aid the removal of your dress to your waist where Joel roughly bunches it up so that your underwear is now on show and so are your tits.

His eyes light up at your bare chest, like he hasn’t seen your breasts countless times before. One thing among many that you first noticed was that Joel Miller is a tit man through and through. His rough and work toughened hands cup them both gently before his tongue swirls around your left nipple.

“Joel.” You murmur, arching into him, rolling your hips into his. He’s hard already, age not affecting him like that in the slightest. He’s a hot blooded male, every single inch a man and that warms you to your core. You grab his hand, bringing it to the top of your panties and he slides it in without hesitation.

“Christ.” He curses, exploring your lips with his fingertips, gliding through the dewy wetness gathered there and coming back up for a split second to drag it over your clit roughly. You whimper, bucking into his hand. “Mmm, babydoll.” Joel huffs against your cheek in a hot pant, repeating the action.

“Need you so badly, Joel. Almost got started without you.” You confess.

“Fuck. You can’t- don’t say shit like that, honey.” He growls lowly, unbelievably hard beneath you. His fingers explore again, you aid his explorations by canting your hips just so.

Joel is eager to get things moving, he’s hard and frustrated, he has a beautiful woman in his lap and the perfect setting. He pulls his hand from your underwear, looking down to see the shine of you on him. He loses his mind when you take his hand and lead it to your mouth, sucking the tips of his index and middle finger as he watches with eyes blown wide; they look black instead of the earthy brown that sometimes melts into caramel or runny honey.

The minute you hum like a content cat, he has you lifted off his lap and braced against him. You squeal at the sudden shift, the ceiling looking closer than the floor but then he gently lays you back on the blanket and settles between your legs.

“Hey, who was Tommy trying to set you up with?” You blurt, Joel pauses.

“Cath.”

“She’s gay.” You frown.

“Michelle too.” He adds before diving down into your chest, pressing your breasts together, mouthing at the swell.

“I’m not sure you’re Michelle’s type, she’s a cougar apparently.” You remark, Joel ignores you in favour of sucking your nipples until they feel raw. “Why Michelle? I don’t understand why Tommy thinks she’s a good match for you.” You don’t know why this is coming up now, your mouth seems to have a mind of its own, the jealousy settling like lead in your stomach.

“He said she wants to make me a pie.” Joel pipes up, the confession half muffled.

“What kind of pie?” You ask, pulling his face from your tits. Joel groans frustratedly, looking up at you with eyes dark and deadly.

“I don’t know. Why does that even matter?”

“A cream pie probably.” You snarl under your breath, the jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach like a rattled viper.

Joel laughs, shaking his head and coaxing your mouth back to his. “Gross.” He murmurs, kissing you softly and squeezing your hips as if to guide you back. “You know I only like your cream pies.” He jokes, this time you break into a smile.

“Now whose gross?” You snort, tugging his plain grey undershirt over his head and to the side. You run your palms over his chest and down to his softer stomach, digging your nails in as they drag a long his skin. Goosebumps erupt all over him.

Joel is softer in his older age but strong too, years of walking different terrain, heavy lifting and fighting have made him lean also.

You hum contentedly, tracing over those familiar scars that have been made in the 20 years since the world imploded.

“He said you were out of my league.” Joel suddenly admits, resting his hands on your spread knees. You frown up at him. “Tommy said you were out of my league.”

“Tell Tommy he doesn’t know shit.” You retort with an eye roll, grabbing Joel by his belt and yanking him forward. “I like you, Joel. Fuck what anyone else thinks, it’s not anyone’s business who we choose to be with.” You say softly now, kissing your way up his chin to his lips. “I like you.” You affirm again, Joel kisses you tenderly, weaving his hand into your hair as you moan quietly.

“Well, I like you too.” He says, kissing you with so much passion yet so much tenderness all at the same time as you fumble to unbuckle his belt. You yank it apart, tugging open the button and prying the worn denim apart with the hiss of his zipper.

He barely lets you wrap a hand around him over his boxers before he has both your wrists pinned above your head, you make a sad whine but all disappointment quickly dissipates when he shuffles down the length of your torso and yanks your underwear down so fast you feel the material leave a friction burn. He grabs your thighs and then manoeuvres your legs by the backs of your knees, you like where this seems to be going.

Your spine curves against the hard floor when his mouth makes that first contact, he starts slow with a lick up the length of you, then he lightly suckles your lips and gently licks over the hood of your clitoris.

“Joel.” You murmur, twisting the blanket beneath your fingertips, scrunching it and bitting down on your lower lip as he continues his gentle assault on your clit, the rubber toes of your hi tops dig into his ribs almost painfully.

His thumb comes up to gently push the hood of your clit back, the sensation of his tongue directly stimulating the nerve causes you to gasp and wind one hand down into his hair, you tug and he groans against you.

You’re transported back to one of the first times you’d been intimate together after sleeping together in the truck.

For some reason, it had shocked you that Joel Miller ate pussy like a champ. The first time he’d gone down on you - behind the bar just after you’d blown him - you’d prepared yourself for dissatisfaction and disappointment, only it never came. Joel had licked into you with such ferocity and precision that you’d almost keened over.

He’d made you cum so quickly that you’d barely had time to process the first swipe of his tongue on your clitoris and the climax that followed minutes later.

He’d looked up at you, moustache and beard slick with his eyes wide; ‘I forgot how much I enjoyed doing that’ he’d panted while you squeaked back in shock.

Now, as you live in the moment, you feel that tingle of pleasure building but you don’t want to cum without him inside of you. As much as it pains you, you tug on his hair, urging him back up.

“Wanna cum with you.” You pant when he looks up with dazed brown eyes, frowning a little. He seems to accept that and sits up, shucking his jeans and boxers down over his ass with the help of your clumsy hands. “Lay back.” You demand, he does so and you move to take his place.

You throw your legs over his and settle above his lap, he’s got one arm behind his head and watches as you take him in your first and tease yourself with the flushed tip of him. He breathes in sharply through his nose as you do it again before notching him at the site of your heat, you steady yourself and begin to sink down.

“Fuck me.” Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly because he’s so sure he’s in heaven. The sensation of your wet heat surrounding him never gets old, he’d forgotten how much he loved sex before meeting you.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, stroking his ego deliciously and he hates to be such a guy but the compliment goes straight to his dick.

“Fuck, honey. Take what you want, I’m yours - just fuck me.” He begs as you slowly begin to move, your nails scrape across his torso as you fall into an easy rhythm of rolling your hips into his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” He babbles, looking up and admiring the curve of your back and the way your tits bounce as you ride him.

“Mmm.” You whine, picking up the pace and throwing your head back which exposes your jugular and Joel just wants to sink his teeth into you because you truly look good enough to eat.

“Come here, babydoll.” He urges, pulling you down so you’re chest to chest. Your peer at him with pretty doe eyes, your lashes flutter as they shut to kiss him deeply, your tongue swipes his and you taste the tang of yourself on him. You moan louder when he manages to plant his boots on the floor and thrust up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him.

It’s so hot in the stables, you’re both sticky and warm. But with your pretty moans and keens filling the air, Joel manages to easily forget the irritation from the heat.

You push against his chest to sit up and Joel grabs your hips, guiding you easily and you feel yourself getting close but you can’t achieve orgasm through penetration alone.

You brace one hand on his thigh behind you, tipping your head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. Your hips roll in an easy rhythm, his cock head hitting your G spot perfectly and you whine when the hand on your left hip moves ever so slightly until Joel was able to thumb your clit. He knows you so well.

“Oh f - fuck. You feel so good, you’re so good - fuck.” You babble, your hips moving faster.

“Jesus christ.” Joel huffs, throwing his head back against the hard floor, biting his bottom lip hard to stave off his orgasm. You feel so good wrapped around him; wet and snug, like crushed velvet.

He knows he can’t stay like this, he’s too close to finishing and he can sense you’re not quite there yet despite being edged so he makes the conscious decision to hold you and flip you both over with a nimbleness he didn’t know he possessed in his older age.

You stutter out a choked moan, arching into his strong hands. You drag your nails down his toned back, leaving a little spatter of blood in the red tracks.

Joel hisses when your nails puncture the skin on the globes of his ass, somehow trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time.

“Where?” He asks, nodding downwards as he fights off his climax.

“Inside.” You reply without hesitation. You’d counted your cycle days, marking in a blank notebook the day number and your symptoms, pretty accurately guessing your fertile window and probable ovulation day by cervical mucus alone. You were four days from your period being due, it was safe.

“You sure?” He hesitates, brow furrowed hard with concentration, he’s a stroke away from finishing. He knows better than most people to not trust the pull out method and he knows the importance of contraception but he still ended up a Dad before he hit his mid twenties. Pushing sixty he’s still playing a dangerous game but so far, neither of you had gotten burnt.

“Yeah.” You gasp, fingers on your clit rubbing faster. You groan suddenly and twist into him, making pretty little whimpers and purring. He groans too, thrusting in hard once, twice and then three times. You feel his cock stiffen and twitch, then the pulse of subtle warmth of his cum spreading inside and aiming for your cervix. He works himself through it, you push in return as the aftershocks slow to a flat line.

Joel heaves a breath, resting on his forearms as you lazily kiss his neck in satisfaction and rapture. You sit there for a minute, basking in the afterglow until Joel grows too stiff and has to withdraw from you slowly, kneeling up between your legs to pull his boxers and jeans back up but he leaves them unbuttoned and his belt loose.

You don’t miss the primal look in his eyes when they drift to between your legs, he can see his cum leaking and the pearlescent finish it leaves on your lips. His cock twitches, perhaps if he was younger he could go for another round but alas, he settles next to you on the blanket, pulling you to his chest and cushioning your head with a strong bicep.

“I think that might have been the best time yet.” You pant breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling and seeing the evening sky through the cracks of wood.

“Maybe one day we can do it in an actual bed, I’m not sure how much more of these places my back can take.” Joel jokes, you giggle and turn into him, listening to the rapid pace of his heartbeat as it settles, a perfect mirror of your own.

“Not bad for an old timer.” You tease, giggling when he growls and squeezes your hip.

“Was patrol okay today?” Joel questions you, you nod lazily against him. “You come across anything?” Now you speak, leaning up to peer down at him.

“A couple of runners. We shot them in that abandoned gas station near the entrance to the offices off the trail. I think they were probably people passing through, one was infected on the journey and turned, then bit the other.” Joel hums, rubbing your lower back and hip. “I have some things for Ellie I found, by the way. I’ll drop them over tomorrow. Nothing crazy, just some things I thought she needed.” You say between kisses down Joel’s chest and sternum, your delicate fingers tracing out old battle scars.

“What like?” He asks, catching your hand as it reaches his happy trail, bringing it to his lips instead where he presses tender kisses to your fingertips.

“Pyjamas, underwear and some toiletries. Oh! And get this, a new casette tape for her walkman.”

“What tape?”

“Teardrops.” You grin.

“Womack and Womack? She’s gonna love that.” Joel says, laying back and smiling at the ceiling of the stables, humming the song in his head. “Fuck, I haven’t heard that song in - jesus - years.” He’s frowning, contemplating lost time, the whole concept of time evades him, it never used to at the start but now? It’s one big jumble, his time is defined by events and not a calendar.

“She still playing that one you got her on repeat?” You wonder.

“Yeah.”

“What was it again?”

“Bowie. Heroes.” Joel replies.

“Nice.” You nod.

As you lie there together in an easy silence, content to be together in the quiet solace of the stables, Joel’s mind wanders back to his earlier conversation with his younger brother:

“Hey, er - Tommy actually said something else earlier.” Joel winces at how awkward he sounds and you huff loudly, ready to hear what other dumbass thing he’s said. “He said he heard you say you have a boyfriend or that you were seein’ someone.”

You sit up, frowning down at Joel.

“Okay…” You reply hesitantly, uneasy now. “Am I not seeing you?” You frown.

“No - no! It’s… that came out wrong. I just meant - “ Joel grumbles, covering his face momentarily while you try to will your stomach from not sinking. “I don’t know, I just wanted to know if you meant me.”

“Seriously, Joel? This conversation is going so well.” You say dryly, utterly unimpressed.

“No! Oh my god! I can’t do this.” He groans, realising his mistake. “I’m sorry, that came out so wrong.” Joel apologises, you snort.

“Look Joel, I was talking to Mrs Patterson in the garden and she was telling me about her late husband, saying how lovely he was and how men just aren’t like that anymore. She asked if I’d found anyone and I let it slip that I was seeing someone, I didn’t mention any names and I can totally understand why you’re freaked when we haven’t even had that conversation ourselves. I shouldn’t have assumed this was anything more than sex, I’m sorry.” You annunciate, warm in the cheeks.

“You want to just have sex?” Joel is sat up now, matching your frazzled expression.

“If that’s what you want.” You shrug, taking an interest in your cuticles. A large hand lays over yours, squeezing. You shift your focus to his knuckles instead, tracing out the scars.

“Honey, look at me.” He urges softly, you hesitantly meet his eyes. “I think somewhere we’ve miscommunicated.”

“How so?” You press.

“Look… it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, I’m a little rusty. I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear about what we are or what I want us to be, I kinda just assumed you knew and yeah, that’s real shitty of me.” He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanna be exclusive with you, honey. I mean, I have Ellie to think about so we’ll need to go slow just so I can ease her into the change. Is that okay?” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“That’s more than okay, Joel. I completely understand, I don’t want to spook Ellie either.” You confirm, Joel let’s out a relieved sigh.

“Good - good, okay. We’ll figure it out, baby.” He assures you, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you softly.

It’s easy to lose yourself in Joel Miller, you’re swept up in the gruff voice and strong arms, the softness beneath his outer shell reserved for those closest to him.

You’re kissing him back in earnest, he’s reclining to lay back down with you on top of him and you’re sure this could lead to round two or at least head from either one of you, maybe even both.

However, the moment is spoiled when you hear voices creeping closer to the stables. You both stiffen and wait, looking at each other with eyes opened wide.

The voices are getting closer and you decipher it’s two sets, it’s not made clear who it is until they’re walking behind the stables and you can see their shadows slink between the thin gaps in the planks.

It’s Ellie and Tommy.

You and Joel scramble, you yank your dress back over your breasts and pull the hem of it over your ass. Your panties are on the floor and you narrowly dodge Joel’s elbow as he hastily buckles his jeans back up just in time for the door around the corner to open with a shriek of the hinges.

“What if he’s gone out on patrol without telling me? Or maybe he’s swapped with someone and gone hunting? I know I’m back way earlier than he said but he said he’d be home! Do you think he’s left the gate? What if he’s hurt? What if - “ Ellie begins to ramble and Tommy sighs.

“Kiddo, stop worrying. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, let’s look at the whiteboard and see if his name’s on there. I highly doubt he’s swapped shifts and he wouldn’t leave without telling you, he’s gotta be around here some…” Tommy’s reassurance comes to a stop when he round the corner of the hay bale wall and abruptly stops, staring at you and Joel with as much shock as you return.

Ellie slams into his back and he wobbles but his gaze never falters.

“What the fuck, man!” Ellie exclaims, shoving Tommy and stepping around his statue like form but also freezing too.

You look between them both, trying to formulate an excuse but Joel shoving his t-shirt on, the fact your clothes are crumpled and there’s absolutely hay in your tousled hair says it all.

Your panties are shoved behind your back out of view.

“Well I’ll be damned, you’re the guy she’s seein’!.” Tommy snorts, looking between you both. Joel growls, yanking on his flannel while Ellie manually retrieves her jaw from the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” She asks, looking between you and Joel. “You have a girlfriend? What the fuck, dude? You didn’t say anything!” She fumes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, it’s complicated and new.” He says, which placates her slightly. She stares at you again and you see the betrayal hidden behind a scowl, she looks at Joel again.

“Fine. I guess this isn’t that bad, it could be worse - we could of caught you with Esther.”

“That’s true.” Tommy nods, pointing at Ellie, she nods back.

“Esther?” You question, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Tommy’s neighbour, she totally fancies Joel.” Ellie tells you. “You should fight her.”

“No, she doesn’t and stop shit stirring.” Joel warns Ellie, she hides a smirk which tells you she’s winding Joel up.

“I could take Esther.” You say, playing along, Ellie’s eyes brighten with mischief.

“Nobody’s fighting no one.” Joel settles, you’re all silent for a millisecond and then Tommy throws in his two cence.

“You could take Esther.” He agrees.

“Enough about Esther, please!” Joel begs, beside himself.

“This is fucking embarrassing, Joel. What the fuck do you expect us to do? It’s awkward!” Ellie complains, Tommy nods in agreement, you do too.

“Yeah? Try being where we’re stood, kid.” He retorts.

Ellie kinda has to resist the urge to throw up in her mouth because Joel has sex which is so horrifying that she almost can’t bare to look at him but she’s equally happy for him and utterly disgusted, she swallows back a retch.

“Fine, whatever. I’m very happy for you and my da - Joel.” Ellie bursts and corrects herself at the last minute, you don’t miss the hitch in Joel’s breathing but this is not the time for that discussion. “I’m willing to negotiate a price for the emotional damage you’ve both caused me by lying to me, sneaking around and also having sex in front of my horse.” She lists.

“My horse too!” Tommy adds.

“And Tommy’s horse too, Crash and Shimmer didn’t want to see your bare ass.” Ellie continues and for some reason Joel knows exactly where this is going, so he braces himself.

“Name your price.” He bites, Ellie looks at him with a levelling glare, it’s getting hard not to laugh when you see Tommy observing like he’s watching a mafia deal go down.

“A kitten.” Ellie reveals.

He fucking knew it.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction

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aeralux · 3 months ago

Text

"After Midnight" - Jacaerys Velaryon

Boyfriend!Jacaerys x Girlfriend!Reader (modern!au) Because the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 Calvin Klein ad still has me salivating Could be read as pt.2 to "Pretty When You Cry" or separately

Summary: You and Jace just relaxing before going to bed... in your underwear. He simply can't help but get turned on when admiring the view

Warnings: SMUT (18+); grinding; teasing (from both ends); oral (f!receiving); fingering; praising each other; the reader gets called slut twice (endearingly); both are switches (kinda?); fluffy; dry humping

Words: 4k

Notes: No description of the reader, except for having female parts and hair. I need this man biblically, I fear. If you do not like this content, do not read it.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

It was a quiet evening, just like any other, really. You were straddling Jace's lap on the bed, scrolling Pinterest on your phone. It was late, and you were ready to go to bed, clad in your undies, a loose tee, and Jace in his boxers.

Suddenly you feel his cock twitching under you, getting harder just by you innocently sitting on his lap. What's the harm in teasing him a little?

You smirked, rolling your hips an experimental roll on top of his. When you heard a low groan coming from him, your phone was long forgotten. His sweet moans like music to your ears, and his beautiful face all twisted in pleasure. Any woman would go feral.

Beginning to grind against him, seeking friction against your now aching core. You could feel the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit through the thin barrier of your underwear, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. Great. Now you'll need to change your underwear...

"Mmm, Jacaerys," you moaned softly, your brows furrowing in bliss as you continued to grind yourself against him. Doing all of this just to spur him on even more. You captured his lips in a heated kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth hungrily.

Jacaerys groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements as you ground yourself against him. He could feel your wetness through the thin fabric of your underwear, could feel the heat of your core as it pressed against his cock.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Fuck, baby," he breathed, his voice hoarse with want. "You feel so fucking good."

He reached down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, tugging it to the side.

He rubbed his thumb over your clit, the pad of his finger circling the sensitive bundle of nerves, slick pooling out of you. He could feel you tremble above him, could hear your breath hitch as he touched you.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he promised, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you're hoarse."

Oh, but he's got it all wrong. You are in charge right now (at least for a while).

You leaned back, a wicked smirk playing on my lips as you savoured the look of pure desire across Jacaerys' handsome features. Your hips continuing to grind against him, teasingly slow.

"Nuh-uh," you purred, your voice low and seductive. "You're gonna cum like this, pretty boy," you emphasised each word with a sensual roll of your hips. "You're gonna cum in your clean boxers from feeling my wet cunt rub against you like a good boy, yeah?"

You gazed down at him through hooded eyes, drinking in the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, the way his muscles tensed beneath you. The power you held over him at this moment sent pleasure straight to your core.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, nails lightly scraping against his skin as you kept up your torturous pace. You could feel his cock throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, the damp patch growing with each pass of your hips.

Jacaerys let out a low groan, his head falling back against the pillows as you teased him mercilessly. The feel of your wet heat against his cock was almost too much to bear, the friction driving him wild with need.

He could feel his release building, his balls tightening, his cock pulsing with the need to spill itself inside you.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust and adoration. "You're so fucking sexy," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained.

Without a word, you raised your hips just as he was about to let go. Denying his sweet release.

Jacaerys let out a frustrated groan as you did that, his hips bucking up desperately, seeking the friction he so desperately craved. "Fuck," he growled, his voice strained with need. "Don't tease me like this."

He could feel his cock throbbing, aching for relief, the damp patch in his boxers growing bigger with each passing second. He was so close, so fucking close, and the denial was almost too much to bear.

You simply looked down at Jacaerys with a cruel smile, your hips gently bouncing on his in a slow, tantalising rhythm. The friction was minimal, barely enough to tease, and you knew it was driving him wild.

"You want more, don't you, pretty boy?" You purred, your voice low and seductive. "You want to feel me, all of me, wrapped around your hot, throbbing cock."

You ran your nails lightly down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

Jacaerys let out a low, pained moan, his hips bucking up into your teasing touches. He could feel every nerve ending in his body screaming for more, begging for release, but you kept him on the edge, denying him the pleasure he so desperately craved.

"Yes," he growled, his voice rough with need. "Fuck, I want you. I need you. Please, baby, let me feel you."

He reached up, his hands gripping your hips, trying to pull you down onto him, but you resisted, keeping your movements slow and torturous.

"Tease," he accused, his voice strained. His weak accusations making you grin.

But even as he complained, he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips, the way his eyes darkened with desire. He loved the way you were taking control, the way you drove him wild with need.

"If you want me to beg," he challenged, his voice low and seductive, "then I will beg. Please, please let me feel your tight, wet pussy wrapped around my cock. Please let me fuck you until you're screaming my name."

A shiver runs down your spine as you hear his desperate pleas, almost giving in. His needy whimpers sending heat straight to your core. "Mmm, you sound so pretty when you beg for me," you purr, your voice thick with lust. "Such a good boy." Jace's eyes close in pleasure from the praise, letting out a low moan.

You grind your soaked folds along the length of his throbbing cock. The friction is delicious, the heat of him searing you even through the thin fabric of your underwear.

"Fuck, Jacaerys," you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the sensation.

You grind your hips harder, faster, the friction borders on uncomfortable, but it feels so fucking good.

Jacaerys moans loudly as you grind against him. He can feel his cock throbbing, leaking pre-cum, the damp patch in his boxers growing with each pass of your hips.

"Yes," he hisses, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements. "Fuck, just like that. Grind on my cock like a good girl."

He reaches up, his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing them roughly, thumbing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He leans up, capturing one in his mouth, sucking hard, grazing it with his teeth.

"I'm so fucking close," he pants against your skin, his hips bucking up into yours. "Gonna cum in my fucking boxers if you keep this up."

He releases your nipple, leaving a wet patch on your shirt. He looks up at you with hooded eyes, his face flushed with pleasure.

You lean back, giving him a wicked smirk as your hips grind against his with increasing desperation. "Mmm, my pretty boy," you say breathily.

You can feel his cock twitching beneath you, so hard and ready. You want to feel him soil himself, cum just from your touch, all pathetic and whiny, just for you. Making his mind blank from pleasure.

"That's it," you encourage, your voice low and breathy. "Cum in your fucking boxers like a good boy."

You can feel your own release building, your core clenching, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. But it’s not enough, though his release will be just as sweet nonetheless.

Jacaerys lets out a whiny, tortured moan as you tease and praise him. He can feel his release building, his cock throbbing, aching for relief, but he tries to hold back, wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice strained. "You're gonna make me cum like a fucking virgin..."

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and wild, his chest heaving with each laboured breath.

His hips buck up into yours, the friction beginning to get slightly uncomfortable, but still so incredibly pleasurable. He can feel his balls tightening, his cock pulsing, the pressure building to a breaking point.

"Please," he begs, his voice breaking on the word. "Please let me cum, please let me fill my fucking boxers with my seed."

He knows he's being pathetic, knows he sounds like a desperate, needy mess, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is his release.

You grind your wet, dripping pussy harder against Jacaerys' throbbing cock, feeling every inch of him through our barely-there layers. Your panties are thoroughly soaked, and there is a wet patch on the front of his boxers, right where his hard shaft is.

"Mmh, fuck," you breathe, losing yourself in the delicious friction. You guide his face to your chest, and he eagerly latches onto your nipple again through your top, his warm mouth sending sparks of pleasure through you.

Jacaerys whimpers against your nipple, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He can feel his cock throbbing, aching for release, the pressure building to an unbearable level.

"Cum for me, Jace," you coo, your nails raking down his back and neck now. "Be pathetic, fill your boxers like a good boy..."

He sucks harder on your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he grinds up into you, seeking more friction, more heat.

You press your hips down harder, desperate for more. You want to feel him lose control, soak himself just from your touch. You're so fucking close, but you’ll deal with that later. Right now, all that matters is getting him to cum in his 'pants'.

He releases your nipple, panting heavily as he looks up at you, his eyes wild and desperate. "Fuck," he groans, his voice strained. "I'm so fucking close. Gonna cum like a pathetic little boy, just for you."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his voice high and desperate. "Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum."

His cock pulses once, twice, three times, and then he's coming, spilling himself in his boxers, ruining his clean boxers. He moans loudly, his face buried in your chest, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out his release.

He collapses back onto the bed, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat. He looks up at you, his eyes glassy and unfocused, a satisfied and tired smile on his face.

"Holy shit," he pants, his voice hoarse.

"Look at the mess you made," you purr, teasing him as you glance down at the damp patch on Jacaerys' boxers. Your panties were sticky as well, with your juices and his hot seed.

With a smile, you hook your fingers under the bottom of your soaked panties, slowly pulling them to the side. The cool air hits your slick folds, making you shudder. You're aching for release, your pussy wet and messy with his sticky seed and your arousal.

"Clean me up, pretty boy," you coo, spreading your legs wider on top of him, leaning back and giving him a perfect view of your glistening sex.

Jacaerys swallows hard, his eyes locked onto your glistening folds. He can see his own release mixed with your juices, the sight making his cock twitch in his soiled boxers.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "So fucking messy."

Jace pushes you gently onto your back, quickly settling in between your thighs. With an urgency you've never seen before, he quickly tugs down your cute panties, groaning at the sight.

He wastes no time, leaning in and burying his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your folds, tasting the mix of your arousal and his own release. He moans at the taste, the sounds vibrating against your sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Oh fuck!" you moan, your brows furrowing in pleasure. Your hands instinctively go to his hair, tugging him closer to your dripping cunny. You try to grind against his tongue, seeking more, but his iron grip on your ass holds you in place.

"All it took was someone to touch this messy little pussy, and you're back to being all docile," Jace smirks, his teasing words sending a shiver down your spine. He's right, and you both know it. The moment he touches you, and takes control, you turn submissive. It feels too good to have him take control and let him do whatever he wants to you.

You arch your back, pushing your hips forward, desperate for more. "Yes," you pant, your voice breathy and needy. "I just want to be a good girl for you, Jace."

Jacaerys' ego swells at your words, a smug grin spreading across his face. He loves how responsive you are to his touch, how easily he can reduce you to a needy, desperate mess with just a flick of his tongue.

He continues his oral assault on your pussy, his tongue delving deep, fucking you hard and fast, before circling your clit, teasing you mercilessly. He alternates between long, slow licks and quick flicks, paying attention to your reactions.

"Mmm, such a good girl," he purrs, the words muffled against your wet flesh. "Such an obedient little slut for me." Your eyes widen at his dirty words, a whimper escaping your lips. Only he could call you a 'slut' and make it feel like praise.

He slides two fingers into your tight heat, pumping them in and out, curling them just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. At the same time, he seals his lips around your clit, sucking hard, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue.

"Fuuuck," you shriek, your hips stuttering as he repeatedly hits the soft spot inside your velvety walls, making you see white spots. But it doesn't last long. Jacaerys soon pulls up and flashes you a teasing smirk.

He blows cool air over your heated flesh, watching your tight hole contract, as you writhe beneath him. "You want to be a good girl for me?" he asks, his voice rough with lust. "What does a good girl do?"

You look at him with wide glossy eyes, clit pulsing with need. "I-I don't... what?" You ask him, mind blank from his assault on your sopping pussy.

Jacaerys chuckles darkly, amused by your dazed expression. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, how he's reducing you to a needy, desperate mess with just his mouth and fingers.

"A good girl begs for what she wants," he explains, his voice low and commanding. "A good girl tells her master exactly what she needs."

He leans in, his breath hot against your inner thigh. "So tell me, baby. Tell me what you want. Beg for it. Show me how much you need it."

He punctuates each word with a teasing flick of his tongue against your clit, the brief contact sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Before the words even register, you find yourself pleading with him, your best puppy-dog eyes trained on his face. "Please, Jace," you whimper, your voice cracking with desperation. "I missed you so much. Fuck."

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxes, his voice gentle despite the filthy words. "I know you can do better than that. Beg for my tongue, beg for my fingers. Beg for me to make you cum like the desperate little slut you are."

You bite your lip, your cheeks flushing with heat as you admit, "Every time I touched myself at night, I thought of you. Your tongue, your fingers... your fat cock," you say, drawing out the last words in a sultry whine.

You squirm beneath him, your pussy contracting with need. "Please, I want to gush all over your tongue. I want to be a good girl for you, Jace."

You look at him through your lashes, your eyes wide and pleading. "Please. I need you. I need your mouth on me. I need to cum."

acaerys groans at your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing in his boxers. He loves seeing you like this, so needy and wanton, begging for his touch. It strokes his ego in the best ways.

"Fuck, you're so sexy when you beg," he praises, his voice low and rough. "So desperate for my cock, for my mouth. Such a good little slut for me."

He buries his face between your thighs once more, his tongue delving deep into your heat, fucking you hard and fast. He licks up your slit, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

He sucks hard, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, his lips creating a delicious suction. At the same time, he pumped his fingers into your tight channel. His tongue works your clit while his fingers fuck you hard and fast, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy filling the room. Your coquettish high-pitched moans reaching the neighbours, surely.

"Fuck, I missed you so much. Thought about you and your sweet cunt all day and night," his dirt yet sweet words make your pussy clench around his digits, drawing a smirk from him.

"You...you did?" You breathe, your voice trembling. You tug at his hair, needing to feel him closer to ensure this is real.

You pull him to your pussy, needing his mouth on you, needing him close. "Show me," you urge him, your voice desperate. "Show me how much you missed me."

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groans, the words muffled against your flesh. "Missed this sweet little cunt. Missed the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you scream for me."

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark and intense. "Gonna make you cum so hard, baby. Gonna make you shake and scream and gush all over my face. Gonna make you forget everything except my name."

With that promise, he dives back in, his tongue and fingers working you over, pushing you closer and closer to that brink of pleasure.

"Ahh!" you shriek in ecstasy, your back arching off the bed as Jace's skilled tongue works you over. Each flick against your clit sends electrifying waves of pleasure through your body, your muscles tightening as you climb higher and higher towards your peak. You squeeze your eyes shut, lost in the intense sensations consuming you.

It feels so damn good, his mouth on you, devouring your most intimate places. The way he sucks and licks, the filthy noises he makes, it's all driving you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, your core clenching, the pressure growing.

"Oh god, Jace, yes!" You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him against you. You grind your hips against his face, desperate for more, chasing that delicious high.

You're so close, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Just a little more, a little harder. You can feel it, your body tensing, your toes curling, your whole world narrowing to the incredible pleasure radiating from your core.

"Please, please, please," you chant, your voice high and desperate.

Jacaerys feels you tensing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. He can sense your impending orgasm, can feel it in the way your muscles quiver beneath him, can taste it in the flood of your arousal on his tongue.

He works his fingers at an almost punishing pace, your juices making it easy for him to slip them in and out of you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, the words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Cum for me. Cum all over my face. Let go, let go."

He seals his lips around your clit once more, sucking hard, flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.

And with a final flick of his tongue, a final pump of his fingers, he sends you flying, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as your orgasm washes over you. A single, loud moan slips out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Oh fuck!" You cry out, your head spinning, your vision blurring at the edges.

Your hands tremble as they pet Jace's hair, urging him on as he fingers you through the aftershocks, drawing out your pleasure.

Jacaerys moans as you cum on his tongue, your sweet nectar flooding his mouth, your body shaking and jerking beneath him. He continues to lap at your clit, to pump his fingers into your fluttering channel, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible.

He slows his touches as you start to come down, his tongue licking soft and slow over your sensitive flesh, soothing you as your body twitches and flutters. He presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, to your mound, his slight stubble tickling your skin.

Finally, he pulls back, looking up at you with a satisfied smirk. He licks your essence from his lips, his eyes dark and hungry. "Fuck, you taste even better than I remembered," he says in a dark voice.

He crawls up your body, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, until he reaches your mouth. He kisses you deeply, sharing your taste with you, letting you feel the heat of your own arousal on his tongue.

"You're incredible," he murmurs against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly. "The hottest, sexiest woman I've ever met. And you're all mine."

"Wow," you giggle as you hear his words, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. "And I have the most handsome, the prettiest man," you whisper into his ear. "You know I'm bad with compliments, so enjoy this," you tease him with a soft smirk playing on your lips.

Jacaerys chuckles, nuzzling into your neck, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. "Well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases back, his hand trailing down your side, over the curve of your hip, coming to rest on your ass.

He gives it a squeeze, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Pretty boy, huh? Guess I can't argue with that. Especially when you're staring at me with those pretty eyes of yours, all fuck-drunk and satisfied."

You whine softly as Jace's fingers dig into the soft flesh of your rear. But as his words reach your ears, a smile overtakes your features, pupils wide.

"And it's all because of you," you murmur, your voice low and breathy. "I'm all yours, any way you want me."

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with tenderness, brushing your thumb gently over his lower lip.

Jacaerys captures your thumb between his teeth, giving it a playful nip before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digit. He looks down at you through his lashes, his eyes dark and hooded, still filled with lingering lust.

He releases your thumb with a wet pop, his lips curving into a wicked grin. "Mmm, mine," he says, his voice low and possessive. "All mine to touch, to taste, to fuck."

"And I intend to do all of those things, over and over again. Until you're sore and satisfied, mind blank and body limp."

He punctuates his words with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, pulling you closer.

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thef1diary · 2 months ago

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save me mafia daniel save me 😵‍💫 why does he strike me as the type to stage a meet cute with you…. like you meet him for the first time and you find him so hot and chivalrous and charming….. meanwhile this is definitely not the first time he’s seen you, having jerked off to videos of you more than once. it’s just to gather intel, obviously…. but what does it matter if he has a little fun while he’s at it?

— nonnie… I’m speechless, oh my 🥵 kindaaaa bordering on stalker behaviour but hey that’s part of his job…right? 18+ content below

The first time you met Daniel, it felt like fate—or so you thought. He “accidentally” bumped into you outside your favorite café, his large hands steadying you with an apologetic grin that could charm the devil—if he wasn’t the embodiment of the devil himself. He smelled rich, like leather and spice, his brown eyes warm as he apologized, offering to buy you a coffee to make it up to you.

What you didn’t know was that this wasn’t your first meeting.

Daniel had been watching you for weeks, tasked with knowing your every move. Your schedule was etched into his mind: where you were, when you’d be there, and what you usually did. He had every detail memorized—what time you left for yoga, the path you took to your favorite bookstore, even how you liked your coffee. That’s why he was here today, “accidentally” bumping into you at the perfect moment, his timing precise, rehearsed.

It wasn’t hard for a man like him. As the right-hand man to one of the most powerful mafia bosses, Daniel was used to tracking targets, extracting information, and executing plans with ruthless precision. But with you, it wasn’t just business. It had become personal in a way.

Photos of you filled his personal phone: candid shots of you walking down the street, laughing with friends, or lounging on your family’s estate. He’d even managed to hack into the cameras around your house, capturing intimate moments that you thought were private. Those videos—especially the ones of you sprawled across your bed, wearing nothing but a tank top and panties—had kept him up at night, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he imagined what it’d be like to have you for himself.

And now, sitting in front of you at a corner table inside the café, hearing you thank him with that soft, sweet laugh, he could barely keep his composure. You had no idea what kind of man he was, no clue that the hand brushing innocently against yours had been the same one gripping his cock while he replayed obscene videos of you in the dark.

“So, do you come here often?” he asked, his voice smooth and casual, masking the filth in his thoughts.

You smiled, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, entirely unaware of the predator in front of you. “Every Friday,” you said, and Daniel filed it away even though he already knew. He’d been watching you come here for weeks, the pattern of your visits as predictable as clockwork.

His cock throbbed as he watched you sip your drink, the faintest trace of foam lingering on your upper lip. He wanted to lean in, to lick it off himself, but he settled for imagining the taste of you instead. His thoughts grew darker, filthier—how you’d look with his cum dripping out of your pussy, your lips swollen from his kisses, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.

Daniel didn’t just want to fuck you; he wanted to own you. He wanted to see the perfect, polished princess of the rival mafia family beg for him, to have you come apart on his tongue, his cock, his fingers. And the best part? You’d never know it was all orchestrated. That every touch, every charming smile, every calculated word was part of a plan—one that had less to do with gathering information and everything to do with his obsession.

Later that night, back in the privacy of his penthouse, Daniel replayed the scene in his head as he unbuckled his belt, his cock already hard and leaking. His phone buzzed with notifications—reminders of your whereabouts for tomorrow, surveillance updates—but he ignored them, too busy imagining the way you’d taste, the way you’d look spread out for him.

He gripped his cock tightly, his strokes slow at first as he thought about your lips, your legs, the way your body would tremble if he pressed his tongue to your clit. He wondered if you were shy or and let him set the pace or if you had a filthy mouth, begging him to let you cum. He picked up speed, his breath growing ragged as he imagined you holding yourself spread for him, reduced to a shameless little thing with doe eyes and a pout on your full lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his hips jerked upward into his fist. His mind replayed every detail from earlier: the way your hand lingered on his arm, the sparkle in your eyes when you laughed. He came hard, spilling over his hand with a low growl, your name slipping past his lips.

Daniel leaned back, chest heaving, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. You had no idea what you’d done to him, no idea that your chance encounter was anything but.

And next Friday, he’d make sure you fell a little further under his spell.

want more mafia!daniel? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

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acehazbin1 · 3 months ago

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I need, I crave to see a moment from your imagination where Geta has someone who supports him, cause Caracalla has Geta but who has Geta, right? He carried the empire and his brother's illness alone

‘Hush love, hush.’

Paring: Emperor Geta x Concubine!Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/n, mentions of sex, Geta being stressed, unhealthy ways of coping.

Notes: Thank you for the ask! Honestly, I think it is a really interesting thing to think about, who is there for Geta? (Thank you for all the support on the Caracalla fic!?)

His tunic was stained with him but that's how the fights normally went between Geta and Caracalla. Drinks were thrown, vases were broken, and voices were hoarse. No maid or guard stopped them unless Caracalla got physical.

Geta would normally come to his brother's aid after a maid had alerted he calmed down; gently reassuring him that nothing would come between them and he was as much an Emperor as him. It used to happen every so often but it's nearly become weekly at this stage.

He would fuck the stress out of him by choosing a concubine. Ruining one after the other, not caring about their pleasure, he only needed to feel something, anything. His favourite one was never the one to turn him down while stressed, she often was ready for him.

This night in particular he walked passed her, not even a glance away. She spent a minute trying to figure out what was wrong. Did she wear Caracalla colours? Or was her makeup wrong? She noticed he didn't choose any Concubine instead he told a maid to set up a bath.

He asked her to join him in the bath a lot, maybe he wanted to make her beg for him. She was stuck on what to do, so she wrapped herself in a silk nightgown and slowly walked towards the imperial bathroom. Her hand reached the golden door knob as she hesitated, he wasn't the one to play games Caracalla was.

She turned the handle and stepped into the room. The titles matched perfectly with the paintings on the wall, all having little details and stories about Rome’s past and how many emperors and Caesars had become before him. She only saw the back of his head without the crown, his hand out of the bath reached for the golden chalice filled with the utmost richest wine.

“I told you not to disturb me.” Geta called out, his words bouncing off the walls. She was sure he thought she was a mere maid. “I never heard.” His favourite called out, there was a pause that lasted too long for her liking making her brain scream that it was a horrible decision.

His hand reached up to hold the side of the tub, she heard water leak out as he moved to turn to her. His eyes meant hers, he might have been far enough away but she could see his makeup was smudged, running down his face and there was a cut on his neck. He had been crying?

She had never seen him cry before, it was strange, to say the least. The way his back mascara ran down his face made her think of the many concubines he left like that, but to see him wear the face of sorrow was almost Ironic.

She has admitted to the other women that it was becoming more than a job to her, and they warned against that thread of thoughts yet she couldn't help but care for him. She didn't mind when he bruised her hips after a night of one-sided pleasure or the rope burns she would get when he tried them too tight. He would always notice it the next time and pepper kisses when he hurt never mentioning it.

She knew the other concubines were jealous of the treatment she had gotten but they never stayed in bed with him stroking his hair as he slept after their job was done. She would always take an extra step to ensure that he was pleasured.

So her knees nearly went weak when he whispered, “Stay…” it was a request, not a demand. The way he looked at her and clutched onto the tub made her have a desire just to hold him. Before she could even respond, her feet walked towards him. Her hands met with his face, her thumbs wiped away his tears which more flowed down.

He tried to breathe in to stop himself from crying but he was met with her whispers. “It's okay.” He let out a breath and more tears streamed down. She brought his face back looking forward and sat herself down on the side of the tub. He moved towards her leg rests his head down on the fabric as she let him cry into it. “Hush love, hush.” She whispered as she stroked his ginger hair.

“W-why must the gods hate me?” Geta choked into her thigh, his hand gripping onto it now desperately trying to keep it there. “All I do is try to honour them yet they send disease after disease to my brother.”

She listened nodding gently at his words; he ran a whole empire and kept his brother from madness, he often came to bed unable to sleep due to stress. His eyes are often baggy going through trying to drown the look with makeup and the feelings with wine. But nothing ever worked.

“They do not hate you, they give you struggles that you will overcome so the people will remember you.” She whispered, he looked up at her so she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “They will remember your strength, passion, determination and your love for the people to go through these struggles and remain the emperor of Rome.”

Maybe she was telling him what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear yet something in it had truth. She cared enough for him to remain by his side whispering sweet comforts. “Will you remember me?” He whispered as her hand went towards a cloth to wipe away his makeup.

“Of course, how could I forget?” she replied in a whisper which made him relax in her hand. The room was quiet with just water moving in the background to her washing the makeup off his face.

Over the next month, Geta learned to come to her when he was stressed. He would no longer fuck the stress out of himself unless she agreed it would help instead most days he would lay on her lap letting her stroke his hair. He felt safe with her, a feeling he didn't get often.

#emperor geta #geta x reader #geta x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla #fluff #comfort

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mercurycft · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 — 𝐋𝐁

## lucy bronze x reader !!

Enjoy this cheeky little something something while I perfect the next chapter of ‘OFF LIMITS’.. This is probably my favourite thing I've written in a while, as well as the longest too! Love always! - RG! x

can you tell im a sucker for a ‘forbidden love’ type fic? contains: softtop!lucy. age!gap but i promise its entirely legal. thigh riding, fingering, praise, finger sucking.

3.3k words.

CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT & LANGUAGE 18+

“I swear on my life Leah, It isn’t a big deal!”

“And I swear on my life, I will volley him over the bar!” She slurred, pointing a firm finger in the direction of the ‘handsy’ bartender. Before the situation could get any more embarrassing, you pushed her away and towards the table with a timid and apologetic smile back in his direction. Alcohol tended to brew confidence in Leah. Her usual calm and quiet demeanour slipping away with every sip of her drink throughout the night.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head and patting her shoulder. “Sit down, before you get yourself in trouble.” You mumbled, raising your eyebrows to the other girls who sat around the table as Leah slumped herself next to Alex and started ranting. The other girls were tucked neatly around the booth - all of their faces plastered with an amused look as they watched on, disregarding their own conversations to try and listen in.

Most of her words were drowned out by the music, bass bouncing off the walls. From what you could hear, a slightly tipsy Leah had read the situation wrong - assuming the bartender had started flirting and ‘pushing his luck’ as she put it, when you had leaned in to hear him better. You shook your head and tried to stifle a laugh when she started defending herself, encouraged by the rest of the group who were highly entertained by the whole thing.

Leah was a funny drunk, a table-top dancer, shot-encourager and very clearly protective. It was admirable, but so funny. It was funnier, however, listening to her explain to the rest of the group. Her voice cracking and jumping octaves as she tried to shout over the music - throat becoming hoarse.

You stood from the booth after a few minutes, leaning across the back of the booth to pat Alex’s shoulder, bringing your lips into a tight line and holding in your laughs as she you left her stranded with a fuming, blonde companion. Making your escape and b-lining for the dance floor, where the rest of your friends were.

Leah, by nature is protective. The captain of the team, and now headed towards being a european champion. But before all of this, she was a big sister. Your big sister. You were only a year and a half younger but she made it her life mission to protect you and this wasn’t a role she took lightly. She looked after you, steering you out of harms way and at times, getting herself in trouble instead. Just like tonight.

You had been around football, and most of the girls, for a majority of your life. It was Leah’s passion, and it filled you with pride as she got to live her childhood dream. As a result, you and the rest of her teammates had spent a lot of time together - and you got on like a house on fire.

You went to most training sessions, filming content. You went to almost all matches, and her friends quickly became your friends. So when the group had gone out for celebrations, following the match that shot them straight into the semi- finals, naturally you were invited along.

You were now in the midst of the crowd of bodies. Drink in hand and arm in the air as everyone sang, no massacred, a Kings of Leon banger. Stomping their feet and dancing along, screaming. You were stood laughing between Lucy and Jordon - who were surprisingly joining in the chorus, arms strung around each other.

Waiting until the song ended and the room filled with cheers to poke your head between them both, shouting “Can I steal Lucy for a sec, mate?” Jordon simply laughed, leaning back in to reply with an ‘of course’ and shuffling away towards another group of the girls.

Before you could speak, her mouth was pressed to your ear as she tried to reach a hearable volume. “Tenner on your sister two-footing someone tonight!” You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes and shoving against her.

“That’s because you lot encourage her!”

“I do not! I simply tell her to express her anger how she sees fit!”

“Oh so in other words, encouraging!” You laughed back, sarcasm lacing your words. Lucy was always easy to talk to, a familiar face. Leah and Jordan spent a lot of time together, which meant Leah, Jordan and Lucy spent a lot of time together. It wasn’t unusual to find the three scattered around the living room on a Sunday, practically dead to the world, often after a particularly messy night.

“Tenner that we’ll be the ones carrying her back to her room later as well!” You added, clinking your glasses together as another song reeled through the speakers - greeted by a crowd of screams and cheers.

—————————

You were right, though you always were when it came to Leah. Now you stood inside the lift, Leah with one arm draped over your shoulder and the other over Lucy’s. You both tried to hold her up as best you could, which was hard when she was pretty much falling asleep between you.

It felt like three hours had passed when the three of you, four if you included an also drunk Jordon who was trailing behind the group with her head tucked into her phone, had finally made it their shared room. Scanning Leah’s key-card and dragging her through the door and getting her on the bed.

Fifteen minutes later, her makeup was off and pjs on. Though that was mostly the work of you, physically having to peel her clothes off of her body and replace them without any help on her end as she dead-weighted against you. You did all this while Lucy put her phone on charge, and made sure she had a water bottle beside her bed for the night.

When you had finally put her to bed, Lucy spoke up from behind you. “Does this mean I owe you a tenner?” you scoffed at her remark, turning to face her.

“If that was the case, you owe me about a grand in bets since we met!”

“Oi, don’t even! I have definitely paid that back in all the takeaways I buy you and your bloody sister!”

“Touché, Bronze,” you grumbled back, turning to place a kiss on Leah’s forehead and say goodnight to Jordan, who was laid beside her and almost asleep before you had even left the room.

When you got outside and shut the door behind you, you looked towards Lucy to thank her for her help and apologise for ripping her away from the party, but were met with her hand already lifted to stop you. “Don’t even say it, you know I don’t mind.”

You smiled at her, taking a deep breath and checking the time on your phone. “Shit, I need to get an uber. I’ll text you in the morning?” You said, looking up periodically from your phone whilst typing in your address.

“Why don’t you just stay here? I don’t think I like the idea of you in a taxi alone this late,” She started, checking the time on her phone. “It’s past 2, absolutely not.” She confirmed, shaking her head and pulling out her own key-card. “Just stay with me. I’ll get you a taxi in the morning,”

“It’s fine! I’ll just hop in with the girls-”

“If Leah finds out I let you get in a taxi, she will actually punch me in the face.”

“You do have a point..”

The pair of you had started walking through the hall by this point, still arguing lowly at the idea of you in a taxi alone. Lucy didn’t take no for an answer, swiping her card and unlocking her room. “If you don’t go and get in that bed right now I will call your mother.” She pressed, teasing. Her accent seemed to get thicker with the presence of alcohol in her system.

“Oh really..” You shot back folding your arms together across your chest, challenging her. You watched as she fumbled with her phone, mumbling some sarcastic comment under breath while pulling up your mum’s contact and hovering her finger over the call button.

“Don’t make me wake Amanda up..”

“Fine!” You caved, scurrying into the room and holding your hands up in defence. She followed close behind, pleased with herself and shutting the door behind her.

Once in the room you sat on the bed, undoing your shoes and chucking them in some direction away from you - you didn’t care, as long as they were off. You got up to wash your face, wincing when the soles of your feet met flat on the floor. “Fucking heels,” You whispered, walking to the bathroom in a huff.

When you emerged back into the room, Lucy was already changed. Shorts and a sports bra now adorning her tanned body, you had to shake yourself out of the moment as you stared at her back. Admiring the toned muscles as she dug through her suitcase, turning briefly to throw something towards you.

“Put that on,” It was short, but sounded sweet and made you smile internally. Turning back towards the bathroom to strip and put the shirt she had given you on. It was a football top with ‘BRONZE’ plastered across the back of your shoulders, but it did the job and was comfier than your outfit previously.

You stood in the bathroom for a few moments, pulling your hair into a ponytail before shutting off the light and making your way back to the bed. “Left or right?” You questioned.

“What?” She looked at you, her glasses now perched on the bridge of her nose snd you swore you felt your insides shift.

“Uh- Side of the bed? Left or right?” You stammered, pointing towards the sheets.

“Whatever tickles your fancy, I don’t have a side,” She shrugged back, trying to contain her smirk when she caught you looking at her for a second too long.

You made a fake disgusted face back to her, scrunching your nose. “You’re such a freak, who doesn’t have a side of the bed?”

“Me, obviously.” She retorted, rolling her eyes sarcastically.

You had opted for the side closest to the window, walking around the bed with your back to Lucy. She had to stop herself from audibly groaning at the sight of her name printed across your shoulder blades, unable to tear her eyes away. Lucy would be lying if she said she didn’t find you attractive, because you were and she did.

When you had rounded the bed, you pulled at the linens. Yanking them up and over your body as you got comfortable in the bed, sinking into the mattress and sighing when your head hit the pillow - facing the other side of the bed which was yet to be occupied.

—————————

The bed dipped beside you after a few minutes,and Lucy shuffled under the covers next to you after faffing about the room. Flicking the light switch above her bedside table to turn off the lights, your phone now the main source of light.

You lowered your phone to shine in her face, smiling when you were greeted with a smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a Williamson in my bed,” She quipped, winking dramatically as you faked a gag.

“Gross! I’m going to tell then you told me that,” you replied, laughing and turning to place your phone on the table beside you. You faced the window, the curtains closed but still allowing some light from a lamp outside to peak through. With your back now to Lucy, she had a full view of her name once again. “Goodnight Lucia..” You whispered into the dark, sighing contently into the silence.

“Goodnight,” She replied, still scanning your back. Noticing how the shirt sat bunched above your hips, revealing a slither of your back and the lace of your underwear - sucking in a breath at the sight alone. You felt her hand skim gently across the letters on the top, smiling into your pillow.

She had gotten closer, her arm now slung across your waist and holding you against her. Time had passed but still you were awake, and you knew she was too. The loud thrumming in your chest prohibiting any chance of sleep, when you felt her presence beside your ear.

You could feel her breath on your neck as she leaned in towards you slowly, whispering a small “Is this okay?” as her lips lingered over the skin below your ear, awaiting your answer. You nodded and she moved closer, pressing her lips against your neck softly.

They were tender but calculated and you breathed heavily out into the room when she kissed along your shoulder, dragging her teeth over the material of her jersey. You waited a few more minutes before turning over to face her, flushed. Taking a deep breath and looking into her eyes, your faces were close. Closer than you realised. So close you could see every groove, every line and feature. Lips no more than centimetres apart.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

That was all she needed, bringing her lips to press against yours. Hand still gripping your waist and guiding your frame to lay flush against hers as your hands moved to cup the back of her neck and head, lips moving in sync.

The next few minutes were a blur of movement and small, breathy giggles and now you sat on her lap - straddling the top of her thighs with your mouths still connected. The kiss was now a mixture of desperation and yearning, hands grabbing at whatever skin they could find beneath the sheets.

Her head dipped, kissing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and along your throat. You couldn’t help but whimper when her teeth grazed a particularly sensitive patch of skin, right where your neck and collar bone met. You could feel her smirk against you, which only made the feeling in the pit of your stomach worse.

—————————

You had tried to remove your top, well her top, but were met with a protest telling you to keep it on. Her skin on fire at the thought of you wearing her name as you sat now desperate on top of her.

Your hair was now down, and one of her hands sat roughly in the roots. Tugging at the stands to guide you against her mouth, when she felt you start to rock your hips against her. Eliciting a guttural moan from the back of her throat.

She used the hand still on your waist to slow your movement to a stop, moving to lift you up and over until you straddled one of her thighs. The only barrier between you both was your underwear, and when you shifted your weight she felt your wetness graze against her. Smirking and pulling away to look at your face.

“You wanna ride my thigh, darling?” She whispered, eyes locked on yours as you enthusiastically nodded. Eyes glazed over, and eyebrows furrowed with need. She smiled at the action, moving her fingers to push your underwear aside and lift her thigh to meet your warmth. Groaning when she felt you coat her thigh.

You moaned at the contact, your clit already sensitive and throbbing. You didn’t know how she did it, how she had you wrapped around her finger and laying in the palm of her hand but you loved every second of it. Mouth falling agape when she began guiding you up and down the length of her thigh, rocking your hips against her.

“Does that feel good baby?” She asked from your neck, her lips stopping their sloppy kisses for a second. You whimpered in response, nodding slowly. Her hand met your jaw in a swift but gentle motion, pulling you to focus on her. “Use your words, love.”

“Yes it feels good, Luce..” You whispered, licking your lips. Head falling back as you worked her thigh, the sound of your wetness protruding through the quiet of the room and accompanied by the sound of laboured breathing from below you.

“Good girl..” She added, jaw clenched when she attached her lips to your neck again. You savoured the feeling, the delicious feeling as you dragged yourself against her skin moving to tuck your head into her neck.

“Need more, Luce..”

“Hm? What’s that?” She was egging you on, hands moving to squeeze at the flesh of your thighs. Helping you rut against her.

“Want your fingers..” You confessed, dragging your own teeth along her shoulder now - biting down against the skin when you felt your face flush.

She had you flipped in seconds, now towering over you as you laid flat against the bed helping her shimmy your underwear off. Once gone, she spread your legs - moaning at the sight of your juices dripping and now covering the inners of your thighs. You blushed at the sound, biting your lip to muffle any noises you were concerned about making in response.

You felt her fingers next, sweeping through your folds and drawing tight circles around your clit. Moaning when she pressed the pads of her fingers harder into the bundle of nerves, finding it humorous as your body responded to her touch.

“Please,” You begged, hips rising off the bed in a desperate act for more friction. She shut the down quickly, using her free hand to pin your hips back to the mattress.

“Please what, darling..” Lucy stalled, slowing down to an unbearable speed. “What do you want..?” She added lowly, coaxing you out of your shell.

“Want you to fuck me.. Please..” You squirmed, knees now bent and sat on either side of your hips - inviting her in. You felt as she slowly and carefully slipped in a single finger, watching your face contort before she added another.

Stretching you out perfectly and starting to move them methodically inside you. Pulling out the perfect amount before pushing them back inside, curling up against your tight walls to press against your g-spot.

Her pace and pressure increased with the volume of your sultry moans, back arched into her touch and face buried in your arms as her fingers pressed perfectly inside of you. Bringing her thumb to toy with your clit, salivating as she watched you take her.

She could feel you squeezing around her fingers, becoming breathless as you chased your orgasm - chest rising with every thrust of her fingers. “You gonna cum for me?” She asked, her free hand lifting to the side of your face to force you into eye contact.

“Y-Yes,” You stuttered, eyes rolling into the back of your head when her fingers curled. Mouth hung open and hips riding against her fingers.

“Show me how you cum, baby..”

That was all it took for you, orgasm crashing through your body and shaking through your limbs. Legs thrashing around her hand as you came, back arched and screaming out her name - which caused her to smirk, watching you intensely.

Lucy let you ride it out, only stilling her thrusts when your back finally laid against the bed again - catching your breath when you heard her chuckle deeply. Bringing her fingers up to your mouth and slipping them past your lips, admiring how you took them and started working against them. Pulling away with a pop when you felt they were clean, and looking up at her.

A deafening silence engulfed the room, as Lucy fell beside you on the bed. She turned on her side to face you and handed you a towel she had grabbed, which you accepted gracefully and did what you could.

“Jesus..” You whispered, testing the air.

“That’s not my name..” She threw back, earning a weak laugh. There was the normal Lucy you had grown to love, you thought whilst lifting your hand to swat at her chest.

“Let’s maybe not tell Leah about this..”

“Agreed.”

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