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backtothefanfiction · 1 year ago

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Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world.

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare.

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?”

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you.

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you.

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs.

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you.

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin.

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you.

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs.

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.”

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air.

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.”

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged.

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock.

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly.

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again.

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you.

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #professor!Peter Parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Andrew Peter imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #Peter Parker smut #professor!au #spiderman #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm!peter #andrew garfield peter parker #reader insert #smut #this is so self indulgent #Peter Parker x female reader

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notjustjavierpena · 5 months ago

Text

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter II

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I'm so sorry for the very long wait. I ended up separating the chapter into two parts because it ended up being 13k. Hope you can forgive me!

Chapter Summary: In which you get married to the General.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, religion in the form of Roman Gods, shitty parents, anxieties over wedding night

Word count: 5k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/151335016#workskin

Chapter II: A wonderful day for a wedding

Due to the warm night, it doesn’t surprise you when dawn brings the most beautiful sunrise all year. The landscape outside is bathed in gold and when you gently guide a lost bee out of your bedroom window, you feel the warmth of the sunshine prickle your skin.

You have a great deal to do before the carriage ride to the Acacius estate, so you hurry through breakfast - bread and cheese with herbs - to make sure there are enough hours in the morning for your bath, your grooming, and your dress preparations.

You gently wash off the sweat and sleep from last night by rubbing slow circles down your arms, legs, and chest with a piece of soaked cloth. The excitement pools in your belly as you focus on the dream wedding belonging to the little girl in your heart happening today. The fact that it is arranged by your parents doesn’t diminish the fact that your tunic is beautiful and the festivities will be worthy of the Gods. You have no tears and concerns for Cassius left, you say to yourself, or at least, you’re not allowing yourself to have any left.

“A perfect day for a wedding,” your mother says as she brings you more water for your bath instead of the maids, pouring the freshly hot water into the tub by your feet. Afterward, she moves to sit on a chair behind you to wash your hair.

“Mother,” you say while she tilts your head forward, pouring water over the back of your neck, “I want jasmine flowers in the wedding crown, can we please have a maid pick some from the garden? Marcus— I mean, General Acacius will be impressed if I remember our conversation from yesterday.”

The warm water feels soothing as it cascades down your shoulders, even more soothing is your mother’s fingers detangling your hair with practiced care. You spot her in the full-body mirror along the wall, her face sporting an affectionate smile, “Jasmine is his favorite? The General told you this? He must like you, my daughter.”

“Mother, we barely know each other,” you let out a little laugh and turn your head back to look up at her. She grins down at you, smoothing her palm over your wet hair to squeeze out some excess water.

“Yet you already care what he thinks,” she points out with a slight hint of teasing. You splash a few drops of water in her direction and she acts outraged in only the way a mother can. The both of you laugh, the bubbling feeling warm in your chest until you also feel melancholic. The feeling that you should have had last night comes creeping up on you now.

“I’m gonna miss you and father,” you say softly and she wraps her arms around you from behind, not caring about getting her clothes wet if it means squeezing you enough to make you feel how much she loves you.

“I’ve been through this two times already. You know we still see both of your sisters. I am not sending you off to another country,” she soothes, rocking you from side to side and pecking the top of your head. You reach up to hold her wrist.

“I know this but I’m the last bird leaving the nest,” you reply with eye contact in the mirror, corners of your mouth turning downward. You sigh quietly.

“And father and I will finally be able to have some peace around here,” she tries to make you laugh again. When it doesn’t happen, the tone of her voice changes into something more serious, “I know everything feels safe and familiar here but you will grow to love your new life. Change is good.”

“I still feel like a child,” you lean back into her and stare down at the water that is growing colder, “You should have seen me trying to have a conversation with him yesterday. He is much older and more experienced than I am. I made a fool of myself not just once.”

“Listen to me, dearest,” she releases you from the confines of her arms and lifts your head to find your gaze in the mirror again, “I know that this is not a matter of love. I understand, my dear. This union is a great responsibility, but it can also be an even greater source of joy and strength for you. Your father and I have always wanted what’s best for you, even in situations where it might seem like it is only to our own advantage. Yet think about the possibilities this match will bring you; you will be the wife of a general. You can do anything.”

You nod with an understanding that is still marked by sorrow for the life you will leave behind, the dream of true love delivered by Cupid himself that will not be fulfilled now, “Yes, Mother.”

“And I will say this with confidence,” she continues, now with a gleam of pride in her eyes, “You are not a child, in fact, you have grown into a remarkable young woman. One that you can be very proud of. I know I am.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and eventually, you cannot hold back the breath of air that you have been holding. Your eyes are watery, your mouth grinning with teeth from being reassured so affectionately by your mother. You suppose that you can get through this day with those words playing on your mind, “You had that rehearsed, did you not?”

“Not at all, came straight from the heart,” she giggles and gets up from her seat. She walks to stand at your side, offering you her hand, “Now, let’s get you out of the tub and make you more beautiful than even Goddess Venus herself. Today is a celebration of everything you’ve become and everything you will achieve with your husband. However, remember that General Acacius is even more fortunate to have you and your heart by his side.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you say as she helps you to your feet, holding you steady as you step over the edge of the bathtub.

She wraps a linen cloth around you, “I’ll send for the flowers right away. The tailor has already been with your tunic this morning, I’ve had the maids hang it in your room.”

“Perfect,” you smile. You leave the bathroom while another ancilla - a maid - empties the tub, hangs the linen towel to dry, and mops excess water from the floor.

As you make your way back to your bedroom, you notice your home is abuzz with servants doing all sorts of tasks to ensure a perfect day. They pass you with kind smiles and congratulations, carrying wine in jugs and baskets of fruit and vegetables, freshly baked bread, and flowers for decorating.

You think back to Marcus’ beautiful garden, wondering how it is taking shape to be the venue for your union. The red roses are sure to compliment your red veil, the marble the golden embroidery on your tunic too.

But then, as you enter your room, you think about Cassius’ words from last night. In less than a day, you will belong to one of the most powerful families in all of the empire and despite this, it sounded like it did not ensure you the safety that your father had foreseen with this match. Quite the contrary, it seems like you are getting into something that’ll wash the pink and fluffy clouds away.

However, the concerned thoughts last only a moment as your gaze falls on the beautiful tunic hanging on the wall, just out of the sun’s rays. You smile and sigh, brushing the woven fabric delicately with your hand. It is long and white, embroidered with squared patterns along the shoulder seams and down the short sleeves. You know that Marcus’ own attire will have the same stitching and color, signaling that the two of you are weaved together from now on.

The veil hangs beside it and is as red as the fires that you have seen built for sacrifices to the Gods. Your mother has taught you enough during wedding preparations for you to know exactly what it is supposed to symbolize; you will be given to General Acacius today and you will belong to him in the same manner as the many gifts that have been given to the many Roman deities, like the coin you tossed in the fountain for Fortuna.

After taking the tunic off the hook on the wall, you let the linen around your body fall to the floor and slip your wedding attire on. You sit down on the chair by your vanity and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, staring at the woman you have become in such a short time.

You adjust the neckline of the garment, smoothing out any crease that makes you seem less than perfect and then you grab your hairbrush to start detangling your hair. After having brushed your hair for a while and getting lost in the mindless task, a knock on your door distracts your thoughts.

You quickly get up to hurriedly step behind the room divider in the corner, not wanting to reveal your look before it has gotten its final touches or in case the person seeking entry is your father.

“Come in,” you say when you are hidden from view.

However, it is your mother again who carries the wedding crown, which has now gotten beautiful jasmine flowers weaved into it. From the sound of the different footsteps, you deduce that she is followed by two servant girls who have come to help you with the remaining details of your outfit.

“I brought Lupa and Nidia to help you,” she chirps, hands the wedding crown to Lupa with the utmost care, and then gently sits down on the chair by the vanity. She waits as the girls join you behind the screen, “Quickly now, we have to be ready to go in half an hour.”

Nidia has gotten the veil from its spot on the wall, now draping it over the top of your head while Lupa secures it with the flower crown. You can smell the jasmine, feel the soft fabric of the red veil brush your bare arms, and suddenly, the weight of today begins to bear down on your shoulders. You swallow thickly as you look at yourself in the full-body mirror. This summer has changed you since you got the news of your arranged union, and suddenly, as you look at yourself at this moment, you are surprised to see that a bride stares back at you.

“You look perfect,” Nidia says softly as if sensing your nervousness. She holds your gaze in the mirror and smiles a little when Lupa joins in with a happy, agreeing nod, the both of them adjusting the veil to cascade down your back gracefully.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully and relax a bit more. At least how you look is going to be talked about the most but then again, will this enhance your future husband’s desire? What will happen when he gets you alone in his chambers? You shake the thought, not used to the idea of being perceived in such a fashion even if you tasted the idea yesterday, “Okay, I think I am ready.”

As you step out from behind the divider, your mother radiates maternal pride and clasps her hands together, “Oh, by Venus, you are radiant! I don’t know what your father was doing with all his worry.”

You try not to overthink that statement and act casual, very much aware that you have not seen him today. Instead, you ask, “Where is father?”

“He has gone back and forth between our home and the General’s many times today. I suppose that he wants everything to be perfect for you and make you happy,” she keeps her voice high-pitched and cheerful but you can feel your gut telling you that she isn’t completely convinced either. She may have been making jest of you being the last of her daughters to marry but you know that your father sees you as more of a chess piece - the final move out of three - than his blood.

In your wedding attire, sparkling as Lupa gets the box of jewelry and Nadia adorns you in gold, you think again of the way your father had handled the negotiations of your marriage; how little concern he had shown for your thoughts on the matter, and, possibly without intending to, made it clear that this isn’t about love or even your happiness. It is about influence, power, and ascension to something right under the Gods.

“He’s always wanted things to be perfect for us,” you say with a forced smile, though your mother doesn’t seem to notice the strain on your face, “Ever since we were little, it was always about making sure we made the right connections, the right alliances.”

Your mother looks up at you, not quite as oblivious as she tries to convince you of. Her smile softens, “It’s just his way, my dear. He wants the best for you, for all of us, and you like the General! I can tell.”

The best for him, perhaps. You dare ask a question that can only exist between women who understand that you live in a world ruled by men. “Mother, do you think he would have arranged this if General Acacius had been… cruel?”

The silence that follows is thick, and in that moment, you realize that the answer may not be one you want to hear. You stare at her, brows furrowed as you wait for her to say something, but in the end, she avoids your gaze completely.

“It is time to leave,” she says instead and turns to Lupa and Nidia who have gone completely quiet, “My daughter needs escorting to the carriage. We cannot keep my husband waiting so close to the time of the ceremony.”

You swallow thickly but do not protest, a heavy feeling in your stomach as you are led out of your home, taking in the details of the surroundings that you grew up in for what feels like the last time.

—

Upon arrival at Marcus' estate, you are greeted by who you assume will be your new maid. Ismene is her name, a woman not much older than yourself but with rougher hands, the kind that have known hard labor. She wears a plain tunic and her hair tied back in a braid, curtsying as you step out of the carriage.

You hear your mother tell Lupa and Nidia to stay back in case it’ll insult Ismene that you have brought maids from your home but Ismene just smiles, her eyes flicking up at you as she bows to catch a glimpse of who she will be serving from now on.

“My lady,” she greets after stretching to her full height again, a twinkle in her gaze and a gut feeling telling you that she has no ill will towards you, “Everything is ready for you. The General has requested that you go to the gardens immediately where the ceremony will take place shortly.”

She leads you and your mother through the mansion that is as beautiful as you remember it from yesterday. Except this time, seemingly overnight, the home has been decorated to be fit for festivities later. Your mother walks beside you, her expression calm, but you know her enough by now to sense the tension beneath the surface. She glances around the estate with careful eyes, not having been here before since your father refused it, and is perhaps judging the wealth and power of the man you are about to marry. Maybe, she may even be worrying for you.

You must screen your face from the sun in the gardens, but you still cannot help but notice the red roses and the ivy snaking their way around the columns that surround the spot chosen for the ceremony. Their colors are striking and beautiful against the white marble, eliciting a gasp of awe from your mother. What you also cannot help but notice is the return of the flutter of excitement that stirs in your belly, one that feels out of place among your adult worries. Everything is even more gorgeous than you had imagined in your childhood daydreams.

“It’s beautiful, truly. The Gods have indeed favored us,” your mother praises in a whisper just as the three of you come to a halt. Ismene has stopped in her tracks just out of sight from the guests who are here to witness the marriage, and she is deliberately quiet to give you and your mother this last brief moment of privacy before everything changes.

Your mother reaches out to gently touch your arm. In response, you turn to her and are met with her warm and reassuring smile. She cups your face and kisses your forehead.

“Remember that father and I raised you to be strong,” she tells you with tears welling up in her eyes. You can feel your heart beating harshly against your chest as you recognize both fear and excitement on her face, and you suppose that there’s grief in her following this; her last child leaving home will be the end of her being needed.

“Te amo in aeternum, Mamma (I love you forever, Mom),” you only just manage to say as your throat feels tight and you can hear footsteps approaching.

You know it is your father by the commanding pace of the steps, the way the feet strike the earth with determination. He rounds the corner with a small smile on his lips as he sees you.

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you and immediately holds his arm out for you to take. There’s urgency in his voice even if it is tender at the sight of you, “It is time.”

“Are you ready?” Your mother interrupts, earning a glance from her husband. His presence somehow looms larger after that question, as if he wants to scoff at the thought that you could ever say no. He shakes his arm with an impatient smile when you still have not taken his arm. Clearly, this is not a moment for lingering but a moment for you to fulfill your duty.

You swallow hard and then you turn to your father. With a nod, you place your arm through his, “I’m ready.”

“Then let us not keep the General waiting,” he smiles.

The wedding ceremony is swift and takes place underneath the blazing sun of Rome. Marcus Acacius stands at the altar, his tall and broad figure exuding strength and importance. You feel drawn to the way he looks as he watches you walk down the pathway between the guests, stoic and calm in an attire that matches yours. You feel reassured by him because of this strength, that if everything fails, he will catch you.

When you stop in front of him and your father nods in a way that feels transactional, you swear that you can see his eyes soften. The officiant drones on but you don’t hear a word, the thoughts of last night when you were alone in your bed flooding your mind and causing your heartbeat to drown out noise around you. You can still feel the warmth of your own touch between your legs and it’s so consuming of your attention that you suddenly hear someone clearing their throat.

“We will now perform the joining of hands, dear,” the officiant repeats and you can see that Marcus is already holding out his palm for you to place your own in. Your face is hot, your cheeks prickling with embarrassment but you recover by not letting it faze you. Marcus smiles ever so gently when your hand takes his and a leather band is wrapped around them. You say your promise to him like you have practiced so many times in the mirror back in your room.

Where he is your Gaius, you will be Gaia. Mother nature. The first goddess. The one who made sense of chaos.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.”

–

In the early evening, the festivities begin with a banquet that makes the ones your father has hosted in the past pale in comparison. There’s people and food and people eating the food everywhere. Goblets get continuously filled by servants and bread with oil, butter, and cheese gets restocked as soon as it might look like serving platters are emptying out. However, it is not envy that you see on your parents’ faces as they take in the long table that abounds in the season’s most beautiful flowers laid out in rich displays of colors, or the most expensive foods that are replenished before anyone can take notice of their shortages, but rather pride in your mother’s eyes and some sort of distasteful greed in your father’s.

It makes you think of Cassius again, the idea of his stomach growling as he makes his way home from laboring in the fields surrounding your village. He would hate this, you think to yourself, the sight of the uppermost elite of society stuffing their faces but not for nourishment.

You look down at your hands when you start to feel bad for thinking of another man while sitting right next to your new husband. Yet Marcus doesn’t seem to notice the way your shoulders slump. He smiles warmly at each congratulations that he receives while you sit at the end of the same long table and you’re surprised to see that it comes off as genuine each time. He graciously lifts his goblet of wine as thanks, nodding to the faces of men his own age who approach with offerings and gifts. You’ve seen them steal glances at you when they think others haven’t noticed.

You wonder if Marcus has, if he feels triumphant or enraged by the lingering appreciative stares that you receive right before they go back to their wine.

It is to be expected with how beautiful your mother has made you for this day, you say to yourself in your new state as an object of desire, but still, you are without much appetite from being stared at. It makes you think of your wedding night and the duty that lies within it. As a comfort, you reach for your goblet of wine frequently throughout the evening and completely ignore the delicious smell of roasted meats and the sight of shiny green grapes and berries that you have on your plate. Right now, they make you feel sick.

Sensing your discomfort, Marcus holds his hand up to stop an approaching guest and turns his attention to you. His gaze follows the movement of your hand as you lift the goblet to your slightly-stained lips once more. Gently, he reaches out and covers your hand with his, taking the cup away from you.

“No more wine. I don’t want you to feel unwell on our night together,” he says simply and firmly but there’s affection in his command, a concern for your wellbeing. It’s the first time that you see a glimpse of the man you met yesterday. He makes you fold quickly, nod with embarrassment as you in return stare sheepishly at him while he sets down the goblet out of your reach.

“Of course, my legatus,” you hurry to say, remembering how your mother had urged you to show respect by referring to his rank. You offer him a hesitant smile, “You’re right.”

“I know this is not easy for a maiden as young as you, and I must admit that it is all very overwhelming even for me,” he gives you a smile in return, allowing himself to show brief vulnerability to ease your mind, “But there’s no need to dull your senses, Carrissima.”

“It was not my intention to make you feel like I was unappreciative—“

“I did not think you were,” he interrupts before you can tear yourself down in an effort to humble yourself. He places a hand on yours underneath the table, “Are you pleased with the celebration? I never notice if others are enjoying the festivities. I admit I seek solitude more often than company in these situations.”

“It is beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it,” you reply with a nod and realize that you find the conversation less terrifying now. You blame your ease on the amount of wine you have already consumed, “If you want reassurance, a woman can always tell if people are enjoying themselves.”

“And what is your verdict?” Marcus brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. You hide the shiver that goes up your spine, breathe deeply to steady your heart after it has skipped at least a few beats. He must know what his touch does to you after feeling it yesterday.

A burst of laughter from a table nearby catches both of your attention. A group of guests are engaged in lighthearted discussions, chatting cheerfully with each other and getting up when the musicians strike up a song made for dancing.

You observe them for a moment before turning back to Marcus again, but before you can answer, a man approaches your table with what you assume is more congratulations. You make a mental note to be more present in this, to show your husband and his guests that you are in favor of the union. However, the man leans in close to Marcus, whispering something in his ear.

You notice a subtle shift in Marcus’s demeanor; the previous warmth in his eyes momentarily replaces itself with a focused seriousness. He nods at the messenger, who quickly slips away into the crowd before you can even register what he looks like.

“Is everything all right?” You ask with curiosity and concern.

“Yes, nothing to worry about. Just a small matter that needed my attention. I apologize for the interruption,” he assures you but hardly satisfies your curiosity. The seriousness vanishes completely in favor of softness as soon as he looks at you again, “Forgive me for forgetting but I must compliment the jasmine flowers in your wedding crown. They suit my bride perfectly.”

The sudden change in his tone makes your heart flutter, and you realize how intentional his words are, as if to draw you back into the moment with him. You reach up to feel the soft petals of the flowers with your fingertips. You smile genuinely at him, shy from the compliment, “It was already weaved this morning but I remembered you mentioning that jasmine is your favorite.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You remembered our conversation.”

“I wanted to show that I was attentive,” you reply, feeling a connection that wasn’t there just a moment before.

“You’ve certainly succeeded,” he replies with a pleased grin at being surprised by you.

The sunset has crept up on you while you have been in conversation with Marcus for a while, the plate in front of you suddenly having been emptied by you without much thought. You only register the darkness of the night when guests have started to get up from their seats to say goodbye and go home, and panic starts to rise in your throat when the crowd thins out enough for Marcus to send the rest home.

You've known this night would come, and yet as you get up from your seat, standing right in the middle of all the many tables, it feels like it is brand new information that comes hurtling towards you and frightens you even further.

With a lump in your throat, you watch the last few faces take their leave, observing how Marcus says goodbye to what you assume are the most important guests.

When everything is quiet except for the servants’ footsteps, your parents approach you. Your mother is the first to talk, her eyes glistening with pride.

“My dear, it’s been a wonderful celebration,” she says, gently squeezing you in an embrace. “We’re so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’m so grateful you were here to share it with me,” you reply, accepting her embrace warmly and almost desperately due to your anxiety. You can feel her tense up when she realizes that you are hugging her to soothe yourself but she doesn’t say anything.

Your father stands by quietly. He only nods approvingly when Marcus joins the three of you, “A splendid event. We’re confident our daughter is in good hands.”

Marcus bows his head respectfully, “You have my word that she is.”

Your father turns to you, his expression of importance softening just a bit, “Remember what we’ve taught you, my daughter. Honor and family are paramount.”

“I understand, Father,” you assure him, avoiding his eyes. The surprisingly cool interaction between father and daughter catches Marcus’ attention, and the step he takes closer to you is almost unnoticeable. You feel his arm accidentally brushing yours but you swear that there’s a sort of protectiveness in the featherlight touch even if it is unintentional. It makes exchanging farewells easier.

“Perhaps we should retire as well,” he suggests when your parents are out of sight, “Goddess Nox has already spread her veil across the sky for a while.”

"Yes, I suppose it is time,” you glance up at the stars above, feeling the cool night air against your skin. You wish he would ground you like before.

The both of you make your way to your shared chambers. The short walk feels longer than it should, the weight of the moment pressing down on you with each step. You glance at your husband as he walks beside you, his calm and steady demeanor sharply in contrast with the growing nervousness inside you. The walls of the corridor are lined with flickering torches, and they seem to stretch on endlessly. Though nothing lasts forever and eventually you come to a halt, the door in front of you leading you to your wedding night.

This is it.

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pedrosman · 25 days ago

Note

Would love to see oberyn, dieter, Frankie and Marcus stories! Especially if they are tops against a bottom reader

AN- YES YES YES YES! here is a pretty long (sorry i got carried away) one shot fic

Do you want to have sex with me?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo (the bubble) x Male!Reader

Word count: 4000 ish

Summary: you work on set as an assistant cinematographer, you have been noticing Dieter looking at you weird all day.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MDNI!, Dieter Bravo, fic takes place during the bubble, you are working on set, Age Gap! P in A! Unprotected, Drug use! Top! Dieter Bravo, bot! Reader, small use of y/n

Feel free to give me feedback and tips, this is my first full fic. Also very open to submission, muh luh muh only lol

I am so fucking done with this film. The directors on Cliff Beasts Six, the newest instalment of the oh-so-amazing “Cliff Beasts” franchise, aren’t interested in anything but making a cheque, and it shows. Neither the actors nor anyone on set are engaged, and there is a palpable sense of boredom between everyone.

I, y/n, aged 19, applied for this position as an assistant cinematographer to get out of my shitty apartment and finally attempt to gain some experience in the film industry. How insightful it has been. Days of sitting by as the stuck-up actors on Cliff Beasts 6 (seriously 6??) argue over a script that has probably (definitely) been made through Chatgpt. It is amusing to watch though, watching how they bicker over the delivery of a single line, whilst everyone else just stands and watches idly. How invigorating. What I wouldn't give to just tell them all to shut the fuck-

“Hey! Runner! What the fuck are you doing standing on set? We're about to shoot!”

Oh shit, I’ve fucking done it. Now these fucking A-listers are staring at me like I’ve shot their half-dead Bichon Frise, but I still haven’t moved an inch.

“What the fuck is your problem? MOVE!” the voice calls out again.

“Uh, shit... My bad” I mumble as I stumble over the fake ground onto the warehouse floor. “That was great y/n, real smooth” I think as I curse under my breath towards the hostility of the director who has been doing nothing but sit on his ass and attempt to blow 0’s with his oversized vape. But seriously, I was barely on set, not even within proximity to the actors, or where the camera was supposed to run through. I slink towards the wall, enshadowed by the stacks upon stacks of props of dinosaur eggs, embarrassment manifesting onto my face in a burning shade of scarlet. With my head mow staring so intently at the scratch marks of the floor, avoiding the gaze of every single person on Earth, I run a shaky hand through my outgrown and bleach-damaged hair. I want to disappear right now.

I stay in the shadows silently, still not daring to look up at the scene the actors now play through. Instead, I listen to their half-assed attempts of acting fearful of the blue blob that will be the mother dinosaur to all the eggs I hide behind. Seriously, this film is genuinely a game of connect-the-dots on stereotypical children's interests. It’s humourable, how absurd they sound, screaming about some random nonsensical bullshit with a monotone seriousness. Looking up, I watch the flurry of movement on set, studying how the camera pans from the actors to the blue wall behind them. It’s better to focus on the elements I came here to study, rather than the shitshow that is the film. Whilst I stare, I catch a glimpse of a man in a red jacket looking my way, hidden behind the rocks and eggs. Turning my attention towards him, I notice his clenched jaw and deadpan focus on me.

“Shit, my fuckup on set must have really pissed him off” I mutter under my breath whilst my eyes stay locked onto him. We stay like that for a few seconds, mixed emotions manifesting on my face, whilst he just stares. Lifting my eyes slightly, we make eye contact, prompting a wave of realisation to wash over his face, and he promptly turns his direction back to discussions on the next scene. It makes sense, his change in demeanour. If I was a fucking celebrity, the last thing I would want is a scandal of workplace abuse blown out of proportion.

___________

They’ve wrapped up today’s shooting. Thank God. The rest of the shoot was relatively uneventful, I was only asked to help set up a few camera scenes whilst the actors took their lunch break. However, that actor in the red jacket kept on looking my way, but only for a fleeting few seconds each time. It was bizarre really, how many times I swear I caught him staring: between scenes, during script conversations (arguments really), whenever the actors left the set. It was comical how I would see his head turn away from my direction in parallel to whenever I looked in his. What the fuck is his problem? Anyways. Hiding my glee, I turn away from the remaining crew on set, embarking back to the hotel where the cast and crew were staying. I put earphones in as I walk, putting “Never Let Me Down Again” by Depache Mode on blast and loop (tlou reference), watching the sky warp and twist with clouds straight out of Junji Ito. As I walk, I picture how much I would change about the godforsaken cash grab of a film: the story, the camera angles, the compositions, the-

“Hey.” A breathless voice behind me whispers, barely audible over the drums blaring into my ears. Turning, I immediately freeze, in the realisation that this was the red jacket man, the one with the fucking lead paint stare. What the fuck does he want?

“Oh! Hey. Look man, if you’re pissed that I was standing on set, I genuinely didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to look like a dick. I’m really sor-”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks.

“What?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He repeats, louder.

“I heard you the first time,” I reply, stunned, eyes blinking at him widely.

“Oh, well do you?” He questions, voice full of intent.

“Uhh”, what the fuck do I say? Is he fucking high?

“Yes? That's amazing, now?” he follows, oblivious to my stunned face. He grips my hand tight, and begins to pull me towards the hotel. More for his welfare, I allow him to. If he is high, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to have to deal with an overdose, pushing back the shooting back date further.

“What’s your name? Mine’s Dieter Bravo, but you probably already know that. You know, Oscar Winner?” He asks excitedly, almost desperately.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” He repeats, obviously unfocused on me, but rather the journey ahead, which he slinks across, acting like a fucking ninja.

“Oh, y/n”. I reply flatly, still stunned by his blunt and forward character.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Please let me fuck you?” He grumbles, eyes now locked onto mine, searching, savouring me.

“Sorry, but are you high?” I question, anxiety creeping up from my stomach. I seriously don’t want this to come off badly. God knows what he can do to my career, with the amount of money and “power” that he holds.

“Oh! Just some coke, do you want some? I’ve got a fat stash back in my room, you’ll just have to ignore the paintings.

What do I say? First, he wants to fuck me, and now he’s offering me cocaine?

“Ummm, I’m okay actually,” I reply, eyes glued to his firm grip on my hand, leading me through the hotel like a stealth mission, stopping behind couches and desks, pulling me under them to hide from various staff and other residents. I swear we crept past Karen Gillan at one point. We continue this charade of playing ninjas until we stop at a door, undoubtedly his room’s.

“Wait, do you seriously want to fuck me?” I start, a chuckle bubbling underneath my voice. “I mean, you’re a fucking A-lister and you’re high off coke right now”. This entire situation is so absurd I cannot.

“You’re an angel y/n, and I’m so pent up right now, I feel like an animal.” He replies, voice full of truth. And he isn’t wrong at all. On our journey, I had noticed him grabbing his crotch a few more times than necessary, and adjusting it quite a lot too. Truthfully, it did make me question whether or not I would submit to his desperate plea for pleasure.

“Fuck.”

I genuinely think he wants to fuck me.

“Fine. Okay. I think we can do this.” There. I said it. Listening to my own voice consent to having sex with Dieter fucking Bravo generates a wave of excited shivers across my body, mirroring the relieved smile that sprawls across his face.

“Let’s have some fun.”

___________

Inside his room, it is clear to see that the restrictions in the bubble have taken a toll on him. Scattered across the walls there are various paintings depicting almost hellish figures, staring down at us. As I study them, Dieter dims the lights and begins to undress, changing into nothing but a dressing gown. Anticipation creeps across my body, giving my head a slight buzz. Turning to me, Dieter’s chest becomes visible: scattered lightly with hair, but enough to give them a fuzzy look and feel. His thighs also peek out nicely, thick and inviting. Jesus Christ, why did the costume department dress him so ugly? This scruffy, out-of-bed look is much more attractive, and the colour of his gown suits him much better than the neon of his Character’s jacket. As I force my eyes to peel away from his body, I notice him staring directly at me. In exactly the same way as earlier today. Was that his flirting? Or dropping hints? I thought he wanted to kill me, but I guess he just wanted me. Instead of hatred, his eyes are filled with lust and animalistic intent, he wants me like a fucking drug.

“So-” I begin, stopped by his hand suddenly covering my mouth. His proximity engulfs me with his scent: musky, woody, sweaty and also quite sweet, almost floral. His dick has definitely been leaking for a while. Stepping even closer, our chests almost touching, he stares down at me, eyes burning into my own. Slowly, he removes his hand off my mouth and grabs my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. We stay in silence like this for a few seconds, both reading each other's faces, enveloped in the erotic tension.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.”

And with that, the tension breaks, cascading us in a downpour of lust and need. Our bodies clash, pushing and pulling each other closer, our hips grinding as we kiss. His lips are chapped, but still soft, scratching over mine satisfyingly. His tongue reaches into my mouth while mine battles its way into his, both attempting to overcome the other. They connect and move over each other slickly, electrifying my body and increasing my newfound desire for Dieter. As we make out, our faces push closer and closer, his beard scruff dancing over my skin, their path leaving an electrifying buzz. I smile as we kiss, intoxicated by his desire, his desperation for sex. As we kiss, I can feel his growing boner press against my hip, shrouded by his gown that sports quite a large tent. He groans against me, a guttural sound that reverberates in my mouth. I push into that feeling further, watching him become completely engrossed in our French kiss. His hands roam freely, moving away from my face and down my arms, and stopping with our fingers interlocked. Suddenly, he pushes me down onto his bed, dipping his head down to not break our kiss. Seemingly unwillingly, our mouths depart and he stands above me.

His gown is barely holding in his package, The ribbon basically untied, but keeping his manhood hidden. It is very evident that he intends to give a show, which I think is quite comical. Of course, the fucking celebrity actor would want to take control of this scene and make me savour his big reveal.

Teasingly, he starts by grabbing my hand and trailing it down his chest. I take the liberty of pinching his nipples lightly, evoking an involuntary moan. Then, he pulls my hand down lower, whilst I run my fingers through his chest hair. In the dim lighting, the glow golden, with hints of silver, no doubt a reminder of our age gap. But he doesn’t care, and neither do I. He stops my hand at the knot of the ribbon and lets go.

“If he gets to enjoy this, then so do I” I think, taking my time to admire his treasure trail and the bottom of his stomach. I playfully teeter around the ribbon knot, teasing him as he did me.

“Please.” He speaks with a whisper, eyes full of longing and need. But I can feel him hold himself back, avoiding rushing our moment.

Complying, I swiftly undo the knot, and allow the robe to fall to the sides of his legs.

Fuck.

His cock fell forward towards me with undeniable intent. It definitely reached past seven inches, and under the soft glow, the glossiness of precum over its head was undeniable. A soft gasp emerged from the depths of my throat as I stared, entranced. Dieter’s cock was going to be the death of me.

“Suck it.”

Looking up at Dieter, I could see him shift away from his desperate self towards a more dominant one. He and I both knew that this was going to be intense. His eyes held a fury in them, driven by his need to fuck. It definitely had been a while since he had got any action. I guess that many others he must have asked didn't hear him out at all. The veins in his dick were so defined, throbbing with an urgency. With each throb, a glob of precum spilt out, coating his manhood in a thick, slick lube. Fuck.

Staring up into his eyes, I leant forward and licked his tip. As I did, I watched his entire body shake, an involuntary reaction to how touch-starved he was. A moan emerged from the back of his throat, guttural and low, making my skin form into goosebumps.

I began to lower myself further down his cock, slowly pressing my face into his hair. I could smell the sweat from the day’s work that coated his cock and balls, creating a sweet but heavy aroma that caused me to moan onto his dick. I inhaled sharply, catching every whiff that I could, intoxicated. Still staring into his deep, pleading eyes, I stopped sucking and moved to his balls, placing one into my mouth and sucking teasingly, inhaling his scent. His dick lay over my face with a distinct weight, thrusting into my hair, coating my skin with his precum. Still keeping eye contact, I watched his mouth open and close, gawking and stunned by the pleasure he was experiencing. I swapped between his balls and cock regularly, making sure to never break eye contact, watching Dieter fall further and further into a lust-driven state. Whilst I sucked, I could feel his thighs shaking with ecstasy. Keeping him in my mouth, I wrapped and slithered my tongue up the base and around his head. I revelled in the salty taste of his precum, savouring every drop. I slipped my tongue under his hood, running at the base of his head. This prompted another series of involuntary moans on his behalf, stimulating my own cock to start throbbing through my clothes, desperate for touch.

Without warning, I felt his hands on the back of my head, gripping tightly into my hair. Immediately, he started thrusting into me, fucking my mouth. His thrusts were in quick succession, fueled by excessive desire. He filled my mouth entirely, his taste coating every surface, saliva dripping from the sides of my face and down the base of his cock. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and musk and the sound of his balls slapping onto my jaw whilst he let out desperate pants and groans. His movements were frantic and obsessive, gripping into my hair with a desperate need. His hands were clammy, his fingers locking and slipping around my curls whilst he fucked my face. Tears streamed down my face whilst Dieter abused my mouth, ignoring my gags and moans. My cock was so fucking hard, pressing into my trousers with a desperate need to be touched. Jesus fucking Christ.

His thrusting became more rapid, and his moans increased in volume and speed. He was growling with such animalistic intent, in total heat whilst wrecking my face.

“Ah- fuck- I’m gonna cum baby-”

His seed filled my mouth with a final thrust, letting out a hoarse and guttural succession of moans. We stayed there for a few seconds, his breathing heavy, and his body shuddering above me. His cum was so sweet and thick, forcing me to gulp down loads of mess. Pulling out from my mouth, the rest of his seed leaving him. In a trance, I felt him pushing it over my cheeks and lips, coating me with his sperm. Looking up at him whilst it dripped down to my chin, his eyes full of relief and pleasure.

“Holy Shit.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Ready for more, angel?”

Dieter flopped onto the bed next to me, his breath heavy.

Immediately, he turned towards me, planting his chapped lips onto mine. We kissed passionately, fueled by a connection previously inconceivable. His hands explored my body, tugging up my T-shirt and kneading his hands into my skin. He was rough, dominant and needing. He gripped the bare skin of my back tightly, pulling me closer to him, our bodies pressing and interlocking tightly. Reaching down the back of my trousers, I felt his finger pressing on my hole. He circled his finger around my entrance, pressing slightly, causing a moan to emerge from my lips. Removing his hands from my ass and his mouth from mine, he placed his fingers into my mouth.

“Spit.”

Instinctively, I did. Immediately, He went back to my asshole, inserting his index slowly, causing my back to arch into him. He pressed in and out, loosening my hole slowly. I couldn’t stop moaning into him, pushing myself down further against him. As he finger fucked my hole, he started thrusting bare body against me, grinding his cock across my thigh, dripping precum onto my trousers. Slowly, almost timidly, he reached down my body to my bulge, applying pressure heavily. Holy Shit. I was in ecstasy, in pure bliss and overstimulation. He unbuttoned my trousers desperately, fueled by desire, exposing my boxers to the room. The front was wet with precum, clinging to my member.

Suddenly, he straddled on top of me, pulling down my trousers and boxers to my ankle. Immediately, my cock sprung up to my belly button, leaving a small pool of precum. Removing all my clothes fully, leaving my body exposed to the dim room, he lifted my legs, resting them on his shoulders.

He quickly lubed my hole, pushing his finger deep into me as he did so. It shocked me, engrossing me in a sudden wave of pleasure. Then, positioning his dick, I felt his member push into me slowly, meeting resistance from my hole, straining against his girth.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight”, he grunted, pressing slightly harder. With a satisfying pop, his tip entered, arching my neck back. I looked deep into his eyes, unable to generate sound from the pure ecstasy. Gently, he inserted his deep length inside me, making low cooing noises, soothing my discomfort. Eventually, he was fully inside me, my hole wrapped around his cock. We stayed unmoving, Dieter engrossed with how my ass clung to his dick desperately. Teasingly, I moved my ass slightly, pulling his cock deeper into me, now fully balls deep.

“Oh”, a soft moan escaped his mouth, wrapping around me in the silent room. Soon followed the clear sound of his dick pulling out and pushing back, his balls slapping my cheeks. Dieter's hands wrapped around mine, pushing me back completely against the bed, and leaned closer, going deeper and stretching my legs higher. Quickly, his thrusts increased, engulfing us in moans and soft-spoken curses towards each other. Wave after wave of pleasure buzzed my head and made my tip throb. His lips met mine and we started kissing, fueled by desire and need. He fucked me mercilessly, stretching my hole wide to fit his girth and length nicely. His breath was heavy into my mouth, followed by growls that made my cock twitch. His beard scratched my face nicely, sending small bursts of pain, heightening my sensitive state.

I could feel my orgasm rising, my cock head getting hot and my cock throbbing. I couldn’t even let out any noise to warn Dieter, assuddenly I was engulfed in a blinding wave of hot bliss from his onslaught on my prostate. Spurts of cum erupted from my cock, painting out stomachs, tying us together. Yet Dieter didn’t stop, fueled by my pleasure. Instead, his thrusts increased, overstimulating my entire body. I felt his hands move from mine to the back of my head, pushing me to look directly into his eyes. His thrusts were relentless, going deeper each time, stretching my insides into his personal fucktoy. My moans were neverending, creating a chorus with Dieter’s deep growls. Still looking into my eyes, he leant his body onto mine, and began to absolutely abuse my hole. He fucked me like a dog, his eyes seemingly glowing with pure energy and pleasure. Picking up even more speed, I felt his manhood throb, close to coming again.

“Where do you want it,” is all he could ask between heavy breaths, holding back his orgasm with undefined strength.

“In me.”

I felt Dieter erupt in me, his load filling every crevice. It leaked out my asshole, down the base of his member. Pulling out completely, he admired his work, then pushed himself back in, impregnanting me again. We moaned into each other, kissing messily, completely in the moment. He stayed inside me for a few minutes, getting soft as we just laid there, comprehending what we had just done. Pulling out, my hole was a gaping mess, leaking with his seed.

Lying next to me, cum dripping off his cock, his face became plastered with a smile. He scooped up a glob of his cum, mixed it with the pool of mine on my stomach, and brought it to my lips.

“Swallow.” I did.

“Good.”

The world was so silent. Neither of us spoke, our breaths slowing gradually. Turning to him, looking into his eyes, I could tell he was eternally grateful, and I was happy too with being his bitch, even though it was so wrong. But it was so right.

“Can we make this a weekly thing? I asked, desperate for him again.

“Weekly? Nah. Daily?” He replied. He was addicted. To me, to my body, to how our bodies moved in unison, driven by lust and depravation.

A small chuckle emerged from his chest. A hearty laugh, melting my belly into a hot mess. A comfortable laugh, like a warm hug after a shitty day.

I wouldn’t mind getting addicted to Dieter.

#pedro pascal x male reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #top dieter bravo #bottom male reader #18+ mdni #mdni #male reader #male reader smut #smut

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luminouslywriting · 7 months ago

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Hi, I'm here to make a request, first of all I AM OBSESSED WITH RONALD SPEIRS!!, so I was wondering if you could make some headcanons about what it would be like to marry him, basically what the wedding day would be like and everything it would include, (please Let it be a big wedding...I think I have a problem with exorbitant celebrations 😭😭)

You could also add about what role each Easy boy would take at the wedding and everything. Also that the reader there was part of the company

^^Gif not mine^^

A/N: Love, this is a wonderful request and I'm so sorry that it's taken so long for me to get to it. I'm sick so I'm taking my sick day to respond to a few of my requests haha!

Cut for length, paragraph form, more below the cut, some light spice included:

-Ronald Speirs and a wedding is a surprising match made in heaven and you can't convince me otherwise. He's happy to go to a courthouse and elope if that's what you want. But if you want the whole white wedding in full tradition? He's also happy to oblige such a request. I think that in general, he's the type to let you plan to your heart's content, but if you want him to be involved, he will in fact, have an opinion about the color of napkins and the amount of flowers haha.

-If you're stressed out in the days leading up to the wedding, rest assured that this man is a GREAT stress reliever. He knows exactly how to get your mind off of things—and if those wicked ways happen to include his fingers or his mouth, then he's all too happy about it anyway.

-Knowing the fact that you want the full traditional wedding means that he is going to need some groomsmen and there's no way that he wouldn't invite the men of Easy Company to the wedding

-That being said, the invitations were out well in advance and while everyone was pleasantly surprised to be invited to said wedding, they're also very jazzed about the entire thing

-Lipton is obviously his best man

-Everyone else had to be fought over in a wild game of rock paper scissors to decide who ends up on what side of the wedding party

-Other groomsmen for him include Dick Winters, Babe Heffron, Perconte, Martin, Donald Malarkey, David Webster, and Joe Toye.

-Your side of the wedding party got Lewis Nixon, Bull Randleman, Joe Liebgott, Buck Compton, Eugene Roe, Floyd Talbert, Shifty, and Bill Guarnere.

-Put Nixon in charge of the bar for the reception, I beg of you

-Winters had a lot of fun getting to plan so much and being involved in everything

-The others were a little chaotic, to say the least

-The rings were held onto by Lipton

-Anywho, the wedding goes off without a single hitch (mostly because poor Dick Winters and Carwood Lipton are working overtime behind the scenes to ensure that it's the best and most smooth operation to date)

-The vows definitely make a few people shed tears (and yes, Speirs is all too pleased by that)

-The reception would last for hours and hours, well into the night

-And when the two of you slip away while everyone is drinking so you can leave to the honeymoon and the only two people you get to say goodbye to are Winters and Lipton, neither one of you truly mind haha

-10/10 would have these men assemble a wedding

#band of brothers asks #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcanons #ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs #ron speirs

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chickenkurage · 2 months ago

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DAY 4: (not) ASKING FOR HELP

Creator Stickman Alan AU

Summary: After being saved from Halo and having his memories wiped (it didn’t work of course… of course, 06 would never let him rest). Alan finds himself… broken. He refuses to accept help.

Tag/s: Hurt no Comfort, Injury/Burns, Family Dynamics

Alan never liked asking for help, he’s always able to do what was needed. Whether it’s a chore or some other stuff. He would almost always never ask for help, that’s just– basically against his nature.

He is an able bodied person, he can handle being tired. He can handle being out of breath to do something his body is not quite used to.

He can handle–

“Alan?” Alan flinched, his head bumping the roof of the kitchen cabinet, causing Second, who called him to let out an ‘ooh’ as Alan rubbed the back of his head, turning towards the orange hollowhead who held on a wince.

“Sec” Alan mumbled, his other hand holding an orange juice he had been trying to sneak out from the fridge. “Alan… aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Second asked, an amused smile in his face as he tilted his head.

There they go again, treating me like a child. Alan thought, dismayed, his hand tightening on the bottle in his hands. It took him a lot of self control to not burn the whole bottle in his hand.

He’s been doing that– trying his best not to get angry. Everyone has been treating him like some kind of… glass. Walking around on eggshells around him.

"I am, I just need something to drink," Alan replied, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a sip, secretly wishing it were alcohol instead. Well, beggars can't be choosers, Alan thought dismally as he heard Second clear his throat.

"Do you... Do you want to talk?" Second asked, rubbing his hands together nervously, briefly rising on his tiptoes before settling back down as Alan wiped his mouth.

Talk? What is there to discuss with an amnesiac man? Alan pondered humorously, feeling a strong urge to laugh. Instead, he let out a snort. Second raised a brow, which then smoothed out as Alan shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

“There’s nothing to talk about, just… getting some drink” Alan gestured at the refrigerator as Second forced a smile, nodding. “Ah..well–that’s good” Second mumbled, disappointment bleeding out of his tone as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Alan only hummed, throwing the empty bottle on the bin before dusting his hands.

. . . .

Alan is by no means a patient person, he lacks every corner of patience. That also means, he is much more prone to being… angry. Not to other people, most to himself.

There are a lot of times he gets very very annoyed at how he was treated, and in the process he decides to break a whole damn mountain in the forest in his anger.

“Just because i’m acting like i’ve forgotten everything DOES NOT mean i get to be treated like i’m–i’m fucking STUPID!” Alan shouts, kicking a whole rock down the mountain, fuming.

Smoke comes out from his mouth as he lets out another shout, letting out a growl as he burns a tree, and another one. And another one as well. He’s sure if Second saw him doing this, he would be gracefully horrified.

Alan, the amnesiac, the poor guy, the one that was forced to fight–in that DAMNED ARENA. The one that lost his OWN dignity. His eye sight being stripped away, HIS hearing being taken away.

EVERYTHING was taken away.

“Calm down calm down” Alan mumbled to himself, steaming smoke coming from his mouth as he continued to pant, huff and growl (like a damn dog). His fist clenching and unclenching in a pattern to control his anger, to let it simmer. TO forget.

Treated like a delicate glass, how does it feel? Alan Becker

“Shut up, shut up” Alan growled, pressing a finger to the side of his head, ignoring the pounding headache the voice is giving him. Ignoring the anger that is slowly coming back, He ignores the way his hands are bursting with fire, the heat making him sweat.

He ignores how his hands–his fingers are digging to his scalp as he continues to pull and tug his hair.

“Shut up, Shut up–LEAVE ME ALONE!” Alan yells, blindly throwing a fireball, more whispers and laughs he hears. Yet when he opens his eyes he sees none (always no one, who is it, whose voice is it, he’s going craz.

He could feel the touch in his skin, how–how he held his chin, forced him to kneel–used a damn chair. His weight on his back.

Alan pants, his chest heaving, his eyes watering as smoke hits his face, his hands still burning. He could see how his fingertips are starting to blacken. The smell of burnt flesh, the pain–the mind numbing pain he can feel starting from the tips of his fingers up to his shoulders.

He knows he should stop his fire, extinguish it. Because he’s burning his skin, he’s burning everything, the grass underneath his fingers is slowly turning to ash.

Yet all he do was cry, tears falling down, his mouth letting out such an animalistic wail as he watch his hands burn, he could see droplets of tears falling down his arm, before sizzling when it meets the fire.

Alan squeezes his eyes shut, his head pounding as more laughter are heard. He could hear that fucking laugh, the giggle, the taunts. He could feel phantom hands touching his hair, petting him as if he’s some kind of damn dog.

Stop it, fucking stop it. Alan thought, more sobs coming out of his mouth. It’s embarrassing how it took him a long time to understand that those wails was coming from him.

He’s somehow thankful he was in the forest, no one to hear him but the trees around him, and maybe the birds that was chirping above his head.

Alan can only cry, both from pain and both from being cursed to remember everything.

. . . .

“Alan?” Victim whispered, seeing the white hollowhead raise his head, he was laying on his arms, his hands tucked under his chest. “Hey” Alan mumbled, forcing a smile as Victim entered the room, his hand on the door and a small smile in his face.

Alan could see how rumpled Victim’s suit was, how his hair is a little messy. Perhaps he came from the search, where him, Chosen and Dark were searching for Halo. Yet, none of them could find him.

Alan eyes the stain on Victim’s shirt before his eyes travel up to Victim’s face. “Would you like to talk?” Victim asked, taking a seat beside Alan who moved a bit to give space.

“About?” Alan asked, lowering his head again on his arms. He knows he should act lively, excited, happy. Like how he was before, how he was so so naive, so eager to please.

“What have you been doing? I know me, Chosen and Dark have been so busy with… our mission” Victim paused, his selection of words almost made Alan scoff.

Mission? Mission to find the person who had hurt me? What about you Victim? Will you also kill yourself, knowing that you had hurt–

Alan shuts his mind briefly, shut up shut up shut up…

Victim does not deserve that, it was valid. His anger was valid, the hurt he gave Alan was valid. It was all valid. Alan should just swallow the bitter pill, that the same person he is talking to is the same person who had also forced him to crawl like a dog, the one that had forced him to throw his dignity away.

He may be the same as Halo, but Alan—Alan loves him… he…loves him, his own creation, his own child, his own hand that had the pen, that made the stroke. It was never lovingly, but Alan made him. Then threw him away.

Alan’s pain and suffering are not the same level as Victim’s, he was overreacting. He must be, Victim deserves kindness, after experiencing so much from Alan’s hand.

And Alan? Alan deserves pain, hurt, suffering… death

“Alan?” Victim’s voice called, forcing Alan out from his mind. A soft–gentle hand on his shoulder as Alan raises his eyes up at Victim’s. “Hey” Alan replied, smiling, it was not forced anymore… maybe.

“You okay?” Victim asked, rubbing his hands over Alan’s shoulder, such a calming gesture made Alan relax, his once tense posture gone, he’s almost melting under Victim’s hand that he forgot he had to respond to Victim’s question.

“Me? Everyday” Alan whispers, a real smile appearing in his face as Victim mimicked the gesture, his hand leaving Alan’s shoulder.

Alan suppressed the urge to chase the touch, to tell Victim to pat him again, to rub his back, to hug him. He wanted all of those–HE wanted more. But Alan knows–dogs don’t get to pick which bone they want.

They only should take what was given to them.

#WhumpWhumpWeek #CSAlanBecker #ava #ava au #alan becker #animation vs animator #animator vs animation #fanfiction #Spongey'sFic

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 2 years ago

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#368

“Where are you off to?... The mall? Well, your friends will need to wait. We have something to talk about.

“I have looked after your step-dad, my brother, for his entire life, and I have gotten to know your ma just these past few years. I trust Doyle with my life. So when he and your ma ask a favor to have you live with me while they work out their problems, I can’t say no. I told them that I don’t expect any problems from you. And they assured me that you are a good boy and that you would follow my rules. Well, after a long twelve-hour day at the job site, I want to relax with a Scotch Whisky and a nice Macanudo cigar. Well, imagine my surprise that the bottle of Johnnie Walker, that I opened earlier this week, is well over half gone. I know how much I drink; that bottle would last me a month and a half at least. Care to explain?...

“Well Vinny, don’t ever insult my intelligence again. That is a battle you will never win. You drank my Scotch. Now you have to deal with the consequences.

“C’mere!... I said ‘Come here!’ Lay your sorry ass across my lap; you’re getting a good old fashioned ass whooping.

“…I don’t give a shit that you turned 18 only a few months ago. You ain’t too old to be put in your place…. Don’t you dare head to the door….

“…I told you not to underestimate me. Hold still. I was a state champion wrestler in High School. I was also a cop before my heart problems. I know how to take down a bitch like you. Quit squirming. Let’s get these sweatpants off you…. Going commando, hunh?

“…What? Don’t have something stupid to say? It’s time for you to pay for your fuck up. This is a nice ass. So smooth and pale pink. Too bad I have to welt it up.

“That’s one. One of twenty… on each cheek. Two… Three… Now this cheek. Fuck yeah. My hand is going to be sore for a while, but I don’t care. Six. Seven. You are starting to go red here. Boy you got a hot ass! Ha! Literally it’s very warm.

“Your crack needs some color…. What the fuck? You are wet in your crack. It doesn't stink. Fuck! This is lube! What the fuck?...

“Ha! You were going commando to the mall in sweatpants and your ass is lubed up? No, you have something lined up to get fucked. Ha! Ha!

“And I bet… Don’t try to fight me on this, you have enough lube here for me to easily glide in my finger… like this. Oooh, there’s your prostate.... I can tell you are cleaned out.

“So, let’s start this conversation over. Stand up…. I thought that’s what I felt. Your pecker is hard from you being spanked. Ha! I love it. Look I am totally fine with you being a sperm burper. Fuck, get laid whenever you want. So want to tell me where you were really going?

“Have a hook up? That’s nice. Is it from one of those apps?... Let me see his profile…. Give me your phone…. Which app was it?... Let me see. This him?... So you like 43-year-olds? That’s cool. I’m a little bit older than that.

“Oh, your chat with him is interesting. Very interesting…. So you like sucking on ‘Daddy’s toes?’ This is fucking great…. Quit protesting. I do love it… all of it. I love that you are rock hard.

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I am rock hard too. Yeah, I’ve played with boys before.

“Here let me take it out for you. Boy you got me leaking. Grab a hold of it. It’s a sizeable piece hunh?... I see you licking your lips.

“Shut up…. One moment…. There! I just sent him a message saying that you are going to be twenty to thirty minutes late because your uncle needs some help unloading some things.

“On the bed…. I don’t give a shit. You got me hard; you are going to take care of it. I want that red ass of yours. Atta boy.

“Spread your legs as far as you can. Just lay there. I prefer when my holes don’t move around. And if you can, don’t moan. Just be the hole you are destined to be.

“Fuck! It is like silk in here. I am going to enjoy using this hole daily…. I said don’t say anything. You live in my house with a hole I can fuck, you better believe I’m going to beat and breed this hole. You got that? Beat and breed. Beat and breed. I hope your mouth is as good as this pussy hole of yours. If not, I’ll train ya right.

“Oh man, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna flood your guts. Here it cums. Here it fucking cums. Get ready boy. Uhhh! Fuuuuuck! Hell yeah! Fuck! Goddamn! Fuck!

“Goddamn! I love your ass. Clamp down as I pull out. Fuck yeah. I can tell this isn’t your first fuck…. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your ma or my brother. They don’t need to know.

“Get up. Clean me off…. What? Look at my cock. It needs to be cleaned up. Get your mouth on my dick now. Don’t question me on this…. Atta boy. You are going to learn that living here requires you to follow my rules. Rule one, you are getting beat then seeded when I want. Rule two, you clean me up after yourself. My cock rules this house and those in it.

“Ok. Get dressed. No, you cannot use the bathroom. You are going to your hook up with a messed up ass, loaded up good. If he should ask, tell him your uncle unloaded a week’s worth of baby batter in your pussy.

“Now go. I want to hear details when you get back. Oh and Vinny, in the future, if you want some Scotch, just ask. Considering I’m going to beat your ass one way or the other, you kinda earned it. Now go.

“And take care of my babies.”

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a-ikuoliver · 10 months ago

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Mercury your event is SO cute I’m actually obsessed! I’m such a beer girlie, but if I had to pick a drink it’s gotta be a jägerbomb! And for the character you pick because I want you to be as free as possible I’m ready for anything👀

ehehehe i was a lil cheeky with this one, i leaned more into the leave you wanting more vibe with the jagerbomb also im sorry for the lack of beer i've never met a beer or cider i've liked LMAO i was going to make this endeavor but the more i wrote it the more it worked better with bakugou but i hope u like it!! teehee birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

anyone who wasn’t a couple jagerbombs deep could tell you how bad of an idea jagerbombs are at an work party, but when you work at one of the most popular bars in musutafu, it’s more a rite of passage.

not even here a year, your work-best friend was the very first to inform you of the notorious annual work party, how messy they get, how she’d gone home with the chef one year, and how many servers had crashed in the booths over the years. finally, the time had come for the party, your friend already abandoning you to flirt with the chef again, although, you couldn’t play the morally high act about it when all your attention was on your boss behind the counter.

walking behind the bar, you perused the liquor on offer, mostly mid-tier stuff, but god, did the imported stuff look good right about now, something smooth to take your mind off of him. fuck, why’d he have to roll his sleeves up like that? his forearm muscles enough to make you wonder what else lies beneath that damn shirt, an endless expanse of muscles underneath a wife-pleaser singlet, thick thighs caged in his expensive slacks.

“need some help?” lost in your daydream, bakugou is beside you before you realise how long you’ve been ogling him, your indecisive daze in front of the alcohol drawing his attention (any excuse to talk to you, really). you’re nowhere near drunk enough for him to be this close, to get this messy. yet.

“you don’t have my beer on tap.” his eyes nearly roll back at your sweet tone, your gentle teasing that’s been driving him up the wall for months. he stays steadfast, dark garnet eyes unwavering, despite the top you’d worn specifically for them to wander.

“let me make it up to you,” he takes another step closer, the expensive scent of his cologne filling your lungs when he reaches around you for the distinct green bottle, trapping you between his biceps for a fleeting moment, “we’ll do something i used to have in my party days.”

grabbing two pint glasses and two shot glasses, you watch him work with the kind of swiftness and expertise decades behind a bar could give a man, every twist of his wrist calculates, not a single drop of jagermeister or redbull spilling, even when the latter threatened to bubble over the top of the glass.

“you used to do jagerbombs?” you can’t help but sound incredulous, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline when you accept the drink from him. mesmerised as he pours his own, you try to imagine him younger, chugging back the bomb, swallowing shot after shot, stumbling home in the am. even in your daydream, his hair had speckles of salt through the blond of his hair, the silver fox look worked too well for him to see him any other way.

“why are you so shocked? i was twenty once.”

“it’s hard to imagine you… like that.”

“like what?”

“you know, a party animal, i can only see you drinking bourbon on the rocks.” he chuckles at the memories, of sleepless nights, of horrendous hangovers.

“i could still drink you under the table.” he challenges, already reaching to pour another, you try not to laugh in his face, the image of your all-powerful boss drunk and stumbling was something you’d pay to see. with a smile you could only describe as evil, hot, you clinked your drink with his before knocking it back, “sure you can, old man.”

after too many bombs, an assortment of other shots, some cocktail bakugou poured you and a sip (you weren’t game enough to have more of it, there’s a reason you weren’t a bartender) of the one you poured him, the pair of you stumbled into his office at the back of the bar. half the buttons are undone on his shirt, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his shirt even when he pulled away from you long enough to unlock the door, pulling you inside with him and nudge it closed once more before turning all his attention back to you; the way you stared up at him with glassy eyes, the way your lipstick smudged under your bottom lip, how your chest heaved (the way your tits looked when you did), how your dress rode up when you pulled yourself onto his desk, tugging him in by his belt loops.

he can’t even find it in him to care about the time-sheets crinkling under your ass when you bite your lip, can’t care you’re his employee and his mind goes blank of everything when you wrap your thighs around his hips. fuck, you’re irresistible like this; arching into him, kissing and biting his jaw, one hand tugging your dress further up your thighs, the other working off his belt to slide into his slacks, searching for more and more, more he wants to give you.

you’re just so, so, so hot… and he’s soft. he’s fucking soft. he finally has you under him and he can’t get it up.

let’s hope the alcohol buzzing through your blood is enough to clear your memory of this in the morning.

#mercurys birthday bash #「mercury answers」#「jo <3」#「kat <3」#「mercury writes」#tw: alcohol #bakugou drabble #bakugo drabble #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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beneathsilverstars · 8 months ago

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@horatiocomehome replied

ooo how about jewelry taste. dangly earrings vs studs, do they wear bracelets, rings, flashy vs elegant, etc

mirabelle has so many cute trinkets! we know she loves accessories that go ding ding, and she'll layer a ton of necklaces so they knock against each other. sometimes they all match nicely, sometimes it's eclectic chic! she adores metal charms and carved beads, especially charmingly unusual shapes like an itty bitty fork, ducky, book, etc. as well as classics like lockets and bells! she tends to fidget with rings and lose track of them, so she avoids those. post-canon she decides to stop wearing earrings, so she turns her novelty earrings into bracelet/necklace charms! and gives her more basic studs to isabeau so he'll actually own some basics.

isabeau is all about shapes and contrast, so he likes chunky beads in materials like turquoise or jasper that have different shades marbled together, metal geometric shapes, wire-wrapped stone, and unique arrangements of elements. he likes funny noises too, but will go for one complicated necklace instead of multiple single strands. he definitely tends towards statement necklaces and earrings — he used to run into trouble because he only had statement pieces, so they would clash terribly, but then he started buying more matching sets. he loves bonding earrings as a romantic, but is a little torn because there's no way any two earrings could match all of his fits...

odile is the kind of person to pick a nice look and stick to it, so there's not much variety in her accessories. she has her glasses gems, a pair of pearl studs, a pair of silver studs, and a couple sentimental rings that she keeps somewhere safe instead of wearing. we know bonding earrings are popular in ka bue but not as universal as in vaugarde; i think it would be cute if ka bue had a whole language of earrings and rings, with different gem types/cuts/colors denoting different sorts of relationships and emotions. so she's got, like, a [daughter, you are the most important thing in my life] ring from her dad, and a [lover, we change each other] ring from an ex.

siffrin is all about sentimental pieces!! it doesn't really occur to him to buy himself jewelry, but isa or mira will see him looking at something in the market and buy it for him and suddenly the aesthetic appeal that sif had mildly enjoyed doesn't matter at all compared to They Gave This To Me. siffrin tends to be drawn towards solid shades or starry dots, and smooth, swirling shapes. isa also gets them stimmy pieces like a bumpy bangle or spinny ring, and mira gets them cute things that remind her of them like star pins or kitty charms. he's just so fun to give trinkets to, even bonnie and odile have gotten him some, so he's working up quite a collection! he carefully rotates through everything, and keeps some pieces in his pockets when he can't fit everything he wants onto his body or doesn't want to wear any jewelry that day.

bonnie's bracelet is smooth wood, and they're going to be very upset the day it no longer fits over their hand. they prefer non-rock materials like wood, shells, bones, and sea glass, because that's just way more fun! they made shell necklaces with nille all the time, so many that it doesn't matter how often they lose them.

loop goes full magpie! since they don't have to buy necessities like food, they're less careful about spending money than siffrin, plus they're more desperate to capture any scrap of joy. they also have a bit of "everyone else is an npc" brain and "i am both above and beneath normal rules", so they're more comfortable with stealing than siffrin is. they like drapey chains, black and white beads, and unusual pieces. they like the pressure stim of very heavy necklaces and the clack of many bracelets. once when one of their favorites broke they procured the tools to fix it, and started modifying the stuff they own and stringing trinkets onto chains!

#me starting to type this answer: oh this one will be pretty quick just a line or two each #at least it's only one paragraph each!!#ask meme answers #isat #thoughts about the whole family #thoughts #thoughts about siffrin #thoughts about mirabelle #thoughts about isabeau #thoughts about odile #thoughts about bonnie #thoughts about loop

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gotham-ruaidh · 1 year ago

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14C: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N�� Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Where do we go now?

Where do we go?

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

AA met every Thursday in a church hall not far from the studio. She’d borrowed Bobby’s Trans Am to drive Jamie, holding his hand the whole way, hearing about his chat with Alec – who had graciously agreed during their January trip to New York to be Jamie’s sponsor.

She kissed him when he went inside. Needing some peace and quiet of her own, in the car, as she waited.

She had tried NA off and on, but it hadn’t really clicked. She was so very happy that AA really worked for Jamie – it was always much easier for him to open up to perfect strangers – and she was grateful that he could get the support he needed, at a moment’s notice, in any city.

Not to mention that the Friends of Bill took the “anonymous” in Alcoholics Anonymous quite seriously – meaning, in those meetings Jamie was just Jamie the alcoholic, not Jamie Fraser the frontman of Print, not the rock star. Just a man who fought daily battles with addiction, who was trying to be better, who just so happened to have the number six record in the country today.

It was hard. It was always going to be hard. But he was worth it. The life they had together was worth it.

She pulled out the folded envelope. Smoothed the creases against the steering wheel. Reading and reading and re-reading the return address.

Listening to Guns N’ Roses and Def Leppard and Poison and Cheap Trick on the radio.

She didn’t see Jamie cross the parking lot. Jumped when he slid into the passenger seat, smiling, with a kiss.

“Hey.”

She offered a tight smile. “Hey. How are you?”

“Much better.”

His gaze found the envelope.

He didn’t need to say anything.

She couldn’t say anything.

But now that he was here, she opened it.

Held out the single sheet of paper.

They read.

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

via Colum Laird, Broch Productions

Dear Dr. Beauchamp,

Thank you for your letter and providing a forwarding address. Three months ago, the BMC board unanimously voted to terminate your employment. For legal reasons we will not provide further details, and the board’s decision is final.

However, we have communicated to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts that your medical license should be restored, with the provision that you no longer practice medicine in any kind of high-stress environment. You may contact the medical board at the below address to request a copy of…

Jamie watched Claire read and re-read and re-read.

“Sweet Child O’ Mine” played softly on the radio.

A long, long moment.

The song shifted to the bridge.

Where do we go now, sweet child? Axl Rose murmured.

Jamie took a breath. “Where do we go now, Claire?” he whispered.

She folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. Laid it on the dash. Reached beneath her shirt to pull the long chain up over her neck. Settled her left hand on Jamie’s thigh, skin hot through his jeans.

Jamie unclasped the chain, letting his grandmother’s engagement ring slide free. He slipped the ring onto her finger. Brought her hand to his lips, kissing so softly.

“I’d like us to have an extra day in Boston when we’re there next week. So that we can pack up my apartment.”

She was looking through the windshield, face turned to him in profile.

“Yes. What else?”

“I’d like a little house in the mountains of North Carolina. Not too far from The Ridge. It’s so beautiful and peaceful there. I’m sure Dougal and Gillian can help us find something.”

Gently he bit her knuckles. “Something small. Kitchen and living room. Bedroom for us. A room I can use for music. And a room for your medicine.”

She nodded. “I’ll transfer my license – I’ve already looked into how to do that. I can file the paperwork when we get to Boston. I don’t know if I want to be in a private practice, or just volunteer in a clinic, or maybe something else. We’ll get settled, and then we’ll decide.”

“We will. I – are you happy, Claire?”

She smiled tightly. “More…relieved. And yes, I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to be free. Happy to be marrying you.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Listening to the final notes of Slash’s guitar. And then the first two minutes of INXS and “New Sensation”.

Memory flared – the last time she heard this song was the one time she’d seen Jamie nude, changing into his leather pants backstage in Orlando, when she’d entered his dressing room without knocking.

She swallowed. “I want the house to have at least one spare bedroom.”

He laced their fingers. “Of course – for guests.”

She flushed. Finally met his eyes.

“Yes. And for children.”

He released a suddenly shaky breath. “Oh, my love. Yes.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m never taking this ring off again.”

He leaned across the console and kissed her. Kissed her. Kissed her.

#outlander #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be #outlander fanfic

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onskepa · 1 year ago

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Hello! I saw ur post about requesting a part 2 for one shot so that's why I'm here. This is not a need, it's a MUST!! Can we get a part 2 for Tsyeytsyip?? The little girl who's smaller than Neteyam's hand. Maybe one day where he has to carry her in his pocket or something else, the choice is yours

Of course! I hope this is everyones liking! This might be a short one, idk. I type as I go. Enjoy!

Tsyeytsyip

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Tsyeytsyip: Little pouch

“In the pouch? Again?” Tey ask, groaning a bit in displeasure. Standing on the right shoulder of neteyam as he opens his pouch made just for her. It was big enough to move around, she can put her things inside and still have space.

“I am going hunting, you know you have to be in the pouch if you want to join me” Neteyam patiently replies. Tey groan a bit but gives in. Twirling a bit she jumps down to the pouch. Landing safely, she makes herself comfortable.

“See? Not so bad, I added fresh soft cloth. Even placed some of your favorite berries too” Neteyam adds. Tey gasp happily seeing her precious berries. Chomping on them happily, she gives neteyam a tiny thumbs up. Good, little bite is satisfied.

And feeling satisfied himself, he goes to begin his hunt for tonight.

The pouch is something neteyam had since he was a child. A small bag to hold his little things, to hold his small medicines in case he got hurt, seeds, beads, or a rock he thought was pretty. It was useful for a time.

It is made out of the skin of a thanator, strong and sturdy. Despite so many years passing by, the pouch is still in good condition. But now the only use he has for it is to carry his little friend around. Not always does tey get in. Usually she just sits on his hand, shoulders, or his hair. But like now, when he hunts. The pouch is very much needed.

To keep her safe, away from any harm should neteyam have to run or fight an animal. And of course, make sure she is with him at all times. Having her in one place and that she is secured brings calm to neteyam.

“What are you going to hunt today?” Tey asks as she peaks her little head out from the pouch, still eating her berry. Getting comfy on her spot, enjoy the view that neteyam sees.

“Anything I can find, but hopefully some sturmbeest or hexepede. Not just for the meat, but for many things they can provide for us” He answers easily. Of course he was whispering now, but his voice was loud enough for tey to hear. Humming at his answer, she ponders. Tey can save the conversation for later. She will let her big mighty warrior do his work.

Going back inside the pouch, she snuggles into the smooth cloth. Finishing her berry she lays and starts to mess around with the threats to make something. Not really having an idea in mind, rather letting her hands do the thinking and craft whatever it can make.

Perhaps the pouch has its benefits. Gives her space but at the same time being with neteyam. Waterproof so it can also work like a little boat sailing in the river.

But would tey admit to it? Absolutely not. The little pouch is merely a convenience for her. That is all.

Aaaaaaand that is it for this one! It was a short but sweet chapter! Hope you all liked it! Until next time! See ya!

#avatar #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi avatar #avatar 2 #na'vi x human #neteyam sully #omatikaya clan #neteyam fluff #neteyam x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x you #atwow neteyam #avatar way of water #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x oc

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colibrie · 9 months ago

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Reflections, part I

Art (and some writing!) courtesy of @trilobitepunch

Found sumthin…”

Donnie jumped, biting down on the urge to hiss as the sound of Raphie’s voice, soft as it tried to be, raked a knife sharply across his nerves. His insides writhed with the need to scream, or bite, or tuck himself into a dark corner and rock until the world disappeared. But he couldn’t do that. The master’s had always disapproved when he did. They had scolded him to “center himself”, to “release the feelings to the Force”. And he had tried too. So, so many times, he had tried to do as they said to control his body and mind. It had never worked. Only his family had… But the masters were gone, and so were most of his family. There was only one left. Only Raph. Raphael and Donatello against a cold world that did not care about them, and so Donnie had to find that stupid center and pull. Himself. Together.

He bit down hard on his lip, the pain helpfully grounding as he squashed those writhing, icky needs down and locked them away, smoothing his face into practiced neutrality before turning to look at his big brother. Raphael stood a few feet away, nervously shifting from foot to foot. His head was wrapped in makeshift bandages torn from the relatively cleaner portion of his inner robe, partially covering a patch of rust red crusted over the left side of his face. Small flakes broke away as his beak pulled back into a tentative smile, fluttering down to join the detritus of the alleyway as his hands triumphantly presenting their prize for Donatello’s inspection.

It was, in short, not much. Two slightly smushed ration bars in torn wrappers and a hunk of visibly stale bread. Not the most filling spread, or the most nourishing. But neither of them could afford to turn down the calories.

“Well done, Raphie,” Donnie nodded, something in his heart loosening when Rahael beamed at him. “You should take your portion first.”

“Nuh-uh! You go first Donnie!” Raph denied, puffing out his cheeks when Donnie shook his head.

“No Raphie, you require a greater level of caloric intake.”

“Raph doesn’t know about calor-a-whatitz, but you said I was your big brother, yeah? That means it’s my responsibility to take care’a you.”

“I am not that hungry,” Donnie protested, his tummy twisting uncomfortably as he stared at the food in Raph’s palms.

“That’s wha you said earlier, but I also know you haven’t eaten in a while. You gotta eat if yah wanna get big an strong Dee.”

“I…”

“Just try. Please?”

“…Sigh. Very well.”

The way Raph’s face lit up with pride and relief gave him the strength to reach out and take one of the ration bars. He broke off half, then grudgingly took a little bit more when the chasm between Raph’s eyes grew. The texture, like pavement gravel, dried sand, and fake fruit, made him want to puke, but he forced his reflexes back enough to swallow. Neither of them could afford to waste food.

“Come on, lets sit fer a few minutes, yeah?” Raph said, one hand landing on the back of Donatello’s shell to steer him closer to the ally wall.

“We shouldn’t stay in one place,” Donnie protested, even as his traitorous legs trembled beneath him, “the lower levels of Coruscant are dangerous.”

“An we’ll run faster if we take breaks when we can, right?”

“That is…unusually logical of you Raphala.”

“Really?”

Donatello’s heart sank at the hopeful look that Raph shot him as they curled up together behind a dumpster.

“Yes. You’ve always been a more, in your words, gut based turtle…I…take that to mean your memories have not returned?”

“Not beyond what you’ve told me,” Raph shrugged, looking down as he gnawed the bread. “I’m Raphael, your big brother. We’re Jedi, or we were? Somethin happened in the temple, an we had to run away. Then the tunnel collapsed when the bad guys caught up to us. Did I forget anything?”

“No, that is the gist of events,” Don confirmed, forcing himself to eat another tiny piece of the ration bar. “I will admit, I was hoping to see more come back independently.”

Hope was perhaps an incorrect term for the unidentifiable mess of emotions that churned inside him, but Donnie didn’t have the energy or inclination to try to pull those impossible threads apart. Not without…

“Well, maybe you could tell me more?”

More… a dangerous concept.

“What specifically would you like to know?”

“I dunno. What the temple was like? Did we have any other family there?”

“The temple?”

His face pinched slightly. He couldn't really fault his brother for wanting to know what he couldn't recall, knowing full well he'd want to extract every detail he could regain if he were in the same position. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t if it meant… It was a horrifying thought he quickly backed away from, ducking his head and drawing in a breath as he prepared his response, reluctantly letting his thoughts dip back into simpler, more pleasant times.

Vaulted halls supported by towering pillars and dappled with sunlight. The lush humidity within the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the blissful hush of the Archives. The soft, colorful walls of the creche, covered in drawings made by little hands. Food smudged on tiny fingers, colorful patterns swirling over a tiny shell…

“DeeDee! DeeDee I dwew this fo you!”

“It bwoke DeeDee, can you fix it?”

“I luve you DeeDee!”

"The temple.... was the only home we knew. It was huge, and somehow both busy and quiet. People were always coming and going, especially after the war started. Jedi come from all over the galaxy, so we lived in the creche with others, and we had lessons in all matter of subjects. As for family…”

“Dee! Pst, Dee! Bet I can block more than you!”

“It’s gonna okay DonDon, don’t listen to them. Do you want to squeeze my hand?”

“That’s never gonna happen to us, Donatello. It’s going to be you and me, always. I promise.”

"...the Order was more or less family, but the Jedi didn’t encourage bonds and connections between its members," he finished, pretending to nibble at his ration bar to hide as he swallowed hard around the knot in his throat.

It was hard to keep that mask on with the pain of everything lost still so fresh. When that messy cyclone of emotions twisted and knotted even tighter inside of him. As his thoughts circled continuously around those last moments in the sewer tunnel, and those lost beneath the cave in. Master Yoshi, Michelangelo, Leo...

He didn't even try to swallow another bite of his rations as something hot and sour and wrong flooded his throat, coating his tongue and teeth in bitterness. His stomach roiled, every little ache seemingly magnified as the emotions in his chest screamed their names over and over and over and-

“Well, at least we still got each other, right?”

Raphaels words pulled him from the maelstrom, gave him the strength to look up as one big arm wrapped around his shoulders. He stared as Raph smiled, the same smile overflowing with the warmth and reassurance only his eldest brother could provide. An eldest brother free from the enormity of all they had lost.

“…Yes,” He replied, bowing his head as he carefully tucked those names, and the memories they brought with them, away within his own memory.

“It’s for the best,” his mind whispered. “He doesn’t need to feel this. He doesn’t need to miss them. I can bear it for the both of us.”

“Come on then, lil bro,” Raph’s arm gently guided him back to his feet, taking the remains of his ration bar to tuck away for later. “Let’s try to look for a good place to sleep.”

……..

"What have we here?"

#rottmnt #rottmnt x sw #rottmnt Synthesis #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt krang #turtle tots #angst fairy writes #the babies aren't alright #send help

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sirenlioncourt · 3 months ago

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Part 3 of my lil fic for shadowheart x astarion

"Have you been watching Chilling Adventures of Sabrina for too long, darling?" Astarion clicked his tongue after listening to Shadowheart's Halloween ideas.

"More like Founder of diabolism" Shadowheart answered. "And anyway, no one said anything about couple costumes, but if you really want to, you can always dye your hair green and become Beetlejuice, and I'll become Lydia. Although, Lestat de Lioncourt would suit you best out of all the movie universes. You love vampires, don't you?"

"Well, of course!" Astarion playfully smoothed his hair. "Ma sheri".

"Your quasi-French sounds terrible" Shadowheart commented. "No, seriously… in his rock star era, you're just perfect for it. Vibe is similar. I'll help you put on makeup."

"So who will you be then?" Astarion inquired, starting to play with her hair. They were hanging out at Shadowheart's place again. He liked the atmosphere of her occult room too much. And Shadowheart's mom was very happy to see him as a guest at their home and always tried to feed him. The house felt like… a home, not a prison.

"I'll temporarily dye the white half of my hair pink and become Draculaura from the new Monster high".

"Ah, so we're both vampires, even if they're from different universes! How lovely!"

"Yeah, Draculaura is just a witch. It suits me. You know, I'm even glad that I have such a reputation among my classmates. They're all some kind of normie cringe, with whom I don't even have common topics for conversation."

"But now you have me" Astarion reminded her, at the same time exaggerating his importance in her life. "I'm not some kind of dull normie. See, I'm even ready to go do all sorts of rituals with you at the cemetery!"

Shadowheart couldn't help but laugh at him. Finally, someone understood her hobbies and didn't judge her for them. The girl simply hugged him in a friendly way, although she didn't deny that somewhere deep down she liked him a little.

"The hugs last longer than they should," Astarion mocked her, but he didn't push her away, only laying his curly head on her shoulder.

"And then what?" she hugged him a little tighter, as if hinting that there was nothing wrong with that. "I can't hug my best friend as much as I want?"

"Quite right," he didn't deny it. All he got from his stepfather was a slap on the head for bad grades, and not even a kind word or parental affection.

"Okay, that's enough… Now you're getting cheeky" Shadowheart snapped at him, wildly embarrassed.

"No, darling" he carefully adjusted the blanket on the bed and laid Shadowheart on it, and he settled down next to her, resting his head on her chest. "And now - yes!"

Her heart almost jumped out of her chest.

"It's… late… It's getting dark, all that…"

"My stepfather knows where I am. Do you really think he can't get me if he wants? I've run away from home so many times that I can't count them on my fingers. I've gotten beaten by him so many times for no reason… He beat me, locked me in the basement and didn't feed me for days. It's like a meme. Only memes are at least funny, and my life with him is not so much."

Shadowheart listened, holding her breath:

"Now I at least understand why you hang out at my place all the time. I wouldn't want to go back either."

"And he's read some magic nonsense and wants to implement it. So… I need your help. If you really know that much about it… help me. I don't know how true all this is, but if it is, then I might not survive his experiments."

"It sounds really creepy. But I'd like to at least know what exactly he read and all that. So that I have something to work with. Just don't turn into Edward Cullen. I understand that he sparkles in the sun and is also kind of handsome, but still…"

Shadowheart extended her little finger to him to cheer him up and get a playful, almost childish oath.

"So you'll come to me as my girlfriend and sit in our library. Its cool, by the way. And he won't get suspicious. If your parents keep telling him aboutus, he'll believe it even more."

"Okay…" Shadowheart was slightly confused. "What wouldn't you do for some unknown magical crap… In any case… thanks for your honesty. At least that explains a lot."

Astarion intertwined his little finger with hers, shaking it slightly like a handshake.

"Yeah. It made me feel a lot better too, darling… So who was your childhood crush? You know, if it wasn't Edward, then who should I be?"

"I'd be lying if I said Valtor from Winx Club," Shadowheart joked, having more or less gotten used to him lying on her and calmed down. "So let it be Faust from Shaman King."

"…

"What? He's really cool…"

"I don't blame you, I don't blame you at all. And my childhood crush Sailor Mars was…"

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart #astarion ancunin #astarion #shadowstarion #shadowstar

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metalnecklace · 2 years ago

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Outpace The Dawn

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (plus size)

Words: 6968

Warnings: Discussion of violence, Discussion of death, Slight knife play, Threats of violence, Reader is slightly kidnapped?, Joel has kinda kidnapped her (you’ll see), Very loose plot, Use of (Y/N), Unprotected sex (mdni) (wrap it up, folks), Oral (f receiving), Fingering, Reader is tied up, P in v sex, Slight choking, Hair pulling, Cock warming, Soft dom!Joel, Raider!reader

Notes: I don’t even know what happened. This was supposed to be short and dirty, and it turned into this. Takes place shortly after season 1. Plot is suuuper loose here, I got very carried away with an idea I had and this is what came of it. Also I am going to be just publishing whenever I’m done writing so I’m no longer working on a schedule but I do have some stuff lined up that I’m almost finished! Thanks to everyone who keeps reading, if you wanna be tagged let me know!

Summary: Raider!Reader is on the run, turns out she finds even more danger ahead.

Masterlist

The air was sharp as my lungs expanded over and over again. My feet were pounding against the ground, the staccato crunch of the fall leaves reaching my ears every few steps. I was afraid. Terrified. The roaring in my ears wouldn’t settle enough for me to listen for anyone following me, but I couldn’t chance slowing down.

Soon enough I came across a broken down cabin. It was small, unassuming, and nestled in amongst some trees. It would have to do.

I glanced around me, taking in my surroundings, and didn’t see anybody lurking in the shadows. The last thing I needed was to be followed and pinned down in such a tight spot. Luckily I couldn’t see anybody.

My legs felt like jelly after running for so long, but the thought of being able to rest pulled me toward the door of the cabin. I lifted my hand to push the door open but froze when another larger hand clapped over my mouth. My immediate scream was muffled and as I tried to break free an arm wrapped around my arms, pinning them to my middle. I was pushed through the door, my captor still holding tight, and I thrashed the entire way over to a wooden chair in the middle of the room.

“Hold still!” A voice grumbled behind me, the gruffness reminding me of smoothing my palms over the rough edges of rocks by the seaside. Just like his voice, his hands weren’t gentle as they pushed me down onto the chair and whipped a rope around me with incredible swiftness.

I pulled and tugged but my arms were trapped against the chair. The voice grunted as the ropes pulled once more, tying me completely to my seat.

“You put up quite a good fight.” Boots thudded heavily on the ground as my captor paced slowly behind me, making me wonder how he snuck up on me. They stopped. “Where you from?”

I chewed my bottom lip and closed my eyes, hoping I would be given a swift ending.

“Not wantin’ to talk?” I heard his footsteps pick up again, matching the pounding of my heart. He was walking beside me, then stopped again. Goosebumps erupted over my skin as I felt him lean closer, his breath fanning out across my neck. When his voice came again it was right beside my ear. “Don’t worry, I know how to help you get over this… shyness.” The last word was whispered and sent a shiver, ice cold, down my spine.

I opened my eyes when the scrape of a chair assaulted my eardrums. The man was towering over me as he pulled a second wooden seat across the floor. It came to a stop directly in front of me, and he swung his leg over and sat down with his arms folded along the back. My breath hitched in my throat when his dark eyes landed on me.

He was beautiful, in the strangest way. Before then I couldn’t imagine myself admiring not only a man who kidnapped me and tied me to a chair, but also a man like that. He was definitely older than me, the salt and pepper streaking through bits of his hair and beard. His frame was broad and took up my entire line of vision so all I could focus on was him. Scars littered his knuckles, and a few were etched on his face, but his lips looked so soft. It was like there was an underlying gentleness that cracked through his rough exterior in certain parts.

“Let’s try this again,” he spoke so calmly it was unnerving. “Where did you come from?”

“I c-can’t tell y-you,” I stuttered. My voice felt rougher after I had run for so long, the crisper air dragging over my vocal cords. “P-please, I really can’t.”

He sighed, shaking his head while looking me up and down. “Well you couldn’t have come from very far with the way you were runnin’.”

I furrowed my brow, offense taking over my fear. “What do you mean by that?”

He stood up, walking over to a bag on the floor before kneeling down. “You were runnin’ pretty fast out there, figured whatever you were runnin’ from was pretty scary, adrenaline would’ve probably run out by now if you were any further.”

“I can run pretty fast, for quite a while, too. I know I don’t look like much,” I said, following his form closely. I couldn’t see what he was getting.

He turned his head to look at me, confusion clear on his face.

“I just mean that not a lot of people expect speed or agility from someone built like me, is all.”

“I don’t care about that,” he grunted, turning back to his actions. “It’s none of my business what you are or aren’t capable of. I just meant that you didn’t look like you had been runnin’ for that long.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment clutched at my stomach, as a blush started to form on my cheeks. “Sorry, it’s just second nature to be defensive, especially around men.”

He stood and faced me with a look of disbelief before placing what looked like a tool belt filled with knives of different sizes down on the floor beside my chair. With a huff he resumed his position in front of me, and studied my face for a moment. The fear that had briefly hidden came rushing back, and I once again found myself trembling in front of him. I laid my eyes on his, trying to find that softness again, but found something else.

“You look f-familiar,” I said, my voice wavering no matter how much I tried to stay calm.

“Not sure where you’d’ve seen me before, sweetheart.” He leaned back a bit, then bent down to pick up one of his knives. It was a smaller one, dwarfed in his palms with his fingers wrapping around it easily. “I use these to carve wood. A new pastime of mine. They’re pretty good at making small cuts, delicate lines. I’m sure they’d be good for carvin’ up somethin’’ else.”

I gulped, causing a smirk to grow on his face. “Please.”

“If these don’t work, though, I do have other ways of gettin’ you to talk.” He looked up, fear racing down my spine at how calmly he spoke about torture. “I don’t even need these tools. Most of the damage I’ve done to a person has been with my bare hands. Though, I haven’t dealt with a woman in this position before.” He looked me up and down once more, eyes lingering on the low neckline of my shirt, revealed by my missing top button. “Not in this type of scenario, anyway.”

“I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” My breathing was getting shallow, rapid puffs of air escaping my lips.

He tilted his head, his lips still held in a playful smirk. “Why not?”

I shook my head, closing my eyes while trying to arrange my thoughts again. He was intimidating up close.

“Eyes on me,” he growled, a hand coming out to cradle my jaw. “Focus on me.”

I obeyed, my eyes snapping open. His thumb, pointer finger, and middle finger held my jaw firmly so I had no choice but to do as he said.

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want the children to get hurt,” I confessed in a whisper. It was true. Though I didn’t care about the men who chased me through the woods, I still cared about the friends I did have back at the camp, along with the children who had no choice in what they were born into.

“I see,” he said, letting go of his hold on me. I sighed with relief but my skin buzzed from the loss of warmth. “A savior, then. They’re quite lucky to have you, aren’t they? But they don’t have you anymore. You’re here with me.”

He had a point. I didn’t owe them a thing, in fact, I should have been wanting to sell them out after they refused to stick up for me. But I wasn’t that type of person.

“So why were you runnin’?” He crossed his arms over the chair once more, knife shining in the sun streaming through cracks in the boarded up windows. “You could at least tell me that.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t agree with their ways, anymore.” I hung my head, ashamed I was giving him any information at all.

He arched a brow when I looked back up at him. “What ways?”

“The killing, for no reason,” I kept going, like a runaway train. “I was already uncomfortable with the stealing, but we did it to survive, you know?”

He nodded, both in understanding but also for me to keep talking.

“Well, the men in charge decided we needed to do what it takes to steal, even if that means killing innocent people for their stuff.”

I let my words settle between us, trying to gauge his reaction, but not even a twitch graced his stoic expression.

“We’ve all done what we had to in order to survive,” he finally said. “You don’t think I’ve killed people too?”

I dragged my eyes down to his knuckles, seeing evidence of his violence embedded into his skin. “Have you killed children?”

His hands tightened into fists. Finally, a reaction. “No. Not unless they were infected.”

I nodded, looking back up to his face. “That’s where I put my foot down. But one of our leaders didn’t like that. He confronted me one night, one thing led to another…”

His eyebrows raised slightly. Not sure if it was in shock or intrigue.

“I killed him.” I lowered my eyes once more, unsure why I was running my mouth to a stranger. “Turns out that was where they drew the line. We can kill children as long as it’s our gain but the second a man harasses a woman in her own home until she resorts to violence…”

“And you won’t give them up?” He asked.

“I can’t do that to the ones who didn’t ask to be there in the first place.”

“I see.” He nodded and leant down with a sigh to place his knife back in the belt. “What if I told you I wouldn’t go after them? Just the ones who chased you.”

I thought for a moment. “How can I trust you?”

“You can’t.” Simple as that.

“Can I at least get your name?”

He sat back in his chair and paused. “Why would you need that?”

I shrugged as much as I could in my bindings. “Maybe then you’ll feel like you can’t go back on your word.”

“You’re too innocent for all this.” He chuckled. “Name’s Joel. Joel Miller.”

My blood froze, my heart rate spiked. He could’ve pulled a gun on me and I don’t think I would have felt such a strong sense of danger as I did when I heard his name.

A memory seared itself into my mind. We had just finished looting a safe house after killing the two men who were inside. I was loading up my horse when one of the other men shouted for us to run. Gunshots rang out as I leapt up into my saddle and rode off with three of our men, leaving two behind us to fend for themselves. I heard another gunshot and turned to look behind me, seeing an older man with no emotion on his face as he aimed his pistol at one of the men riding next to me. I turned back to the front as a cry rang out beside me before a body hit the ground.

We barely escaped that day, and when we returned back to our settlement there were whispers. The name Joel Miller was on everyone’s lips that night, and continued to be spoken as we said a prayer for our fallen friends.

I had heard stories about that man from nearly every person I came into contact with for an entire week after. He was a bad, bad man, who was too good at doing what it took to survive.

The same man that was in front of me.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” his voice rumbled through my veins, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“I know you.”

He smirked. “Is that so?”

“You killed some men that I was working with on a raid.” I was completely shocked. Mostly shocked to be alive while he sat so calmly in front of me. “Just over a month ago.”

He hummed, looking off to his knives on the floor. “Yeah, I think that rings a bell. You killed two of my men who were posted there.”

I slowly nodded, keeping my eyes trained on his every move.

“You’re lucky I didn’t get there sooner.” His voice was like ice shooting into my bloodstream. “Two good men died that day for no reason other than greed.”

“W-we needed supplies.” I hated the way my voice wavered.

“Their families needed fathers,” he countered. “Did you kill them? Or just those same men.”

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. I swear. I c-couldn’t.”

“How can I trust you?” He echoed my words earlier back to me as his eyes bore into mine.

“You can’t,” I whispered.

“If you tell me then I’ll spare you.” Joel reached down and picked up another knife, longer, sharper. He leaned forward and traced the tip of the blade down my cheek to the underside of my jaw. “Where were you settled?”

“They need those men to provide.” My breaths came out shallow, and sweat began to bead on my hairline. “If I tell you then good people will die.”

“And if you don’t tell me it seems like good people will die anyway.” He had a point. I was at a standstill. Joel stood up and turned his chair around before sitting back down, still facing me but properly. His thick thighs were lazily spread, his jeans tightening over muscle, while he examined his knife. “I have nowhere else to be today, sweetheart. Take your time.”

I was slightly ashamed at how my eyes trailed up his body, calculating how his clothes stretched tighter in certain places. I wondered what his arms looked like without the flannel covering them. His jeans were thin and testing the seams, clearly older.

There was no doubt that he was handsome. In fact, he was downright beautiful. I thought that the moment I saw him, and even after knowing who he was my opinion hadn’t changed. Something about him just didn’t scream ‘killer’ to me. There was something else beneath his skin, but I couldn’t quite see it.

“(Y/N),” I said. “My name is (Y/N).”

“Well, (Y/N),” he smirked, “what should I do with you?”

I bit my lip, feeling suddenly like my skin was on fire. It had been a long time since I had been with anyone, or even been touched at all. I lived alone back in my settlement, and although some men and women had approached I never felt the draw that I felt in front of Joel. He was magnetic, terrifying, and everything I didn’t know I needed in that moment.

“What were you saying about your bare hands?” I batted my eyes at him, hoping he’d get what I was hinting at. I wasn’t very skilled with flirting, but didn’t care enough to not try.

He chuckled, his smirk turning into a hint of a smile. “You’re headin’ into dangerous territory, sweetheart. Where’s this comin’ from?”

That nickname again. It was like he was stoking the flames starting to lick their way into my belly.

“That’s the plan,” I smirked, trying to pretend I was as cool as him. Calm, collected. “You need me to talk, right?”

He stood up, chuckling to himself as he leant down to put his knife back. “So, what? You tryin’ to seduce me? Distract me?”

“Maybe. You’ll just have to find out.”

Joel turned back to me. “No. That’s not how this is gonna work. You’re gonna tell me where to find them, then we’ll see.”

I narrowed my eyes, feeling braver. “I’m not telling you shit.”

He walked over, kicking the chair off to the side and leaning down until he was eye to eye with me. His hand came up to the back of my head, threading his fingers through my messy hair. I gasped as my head was pulled back so I was forced to look down my nose at him. He moved so he was hovering directly over my face, inches from me.

“Tell me.” His voice was so low, so deep that I could feel it rattle my bones.

I smiled. “Make me.”

A beat of silence. Then his lips were on mine, claiming me as his the moment they met.

I moaned into the kiss, unspoken permission for him to deepen it. Our lips were chapped, rough as they pushed together, but his tongue was soft, gentle, as it slid into my mouth. The hand that wasn’t still in my hair reached up to cradle my jaw, his thumb lightly pressing my bottom lip down to give him more room. Even though I was completely tied up I felt like I had finally reached heaven.

I had never been kissed the way that man kissed me. Demanding, soothing, aching. I felt fulfilled, but like I’d never have enough.

Joel pulled away and leant his forehead on mine, our lips parted while we panted in our shared breaths. I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed until I felt his forehead move away, my eyelids fluttering while I tried to right the world once more. It wasn’t long before they closed again as his lips smudged kisses across my jaw and down my neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against my pulse. “I saw you runnin’ through that forest and I knew I just had to get to you.” His teeth nipped a line down to my shoulder. “Even if you didn’t want me, I just needed to see you.”

His confession had me breathless, as if I was still running through that forest. I wasn’t just a target to him, I was his prey.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he paused, stepping back to look in my eyes. His hand was removed from my hair and I whined when his other was removed as well. “In fact, I won’t do a thing until you’re begging me.”

Fuck. He had me there. I could tell from the way his lips quirked up that he would be enjoying this kind of torture more than anything in the world. I was in trouble.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please touch me-”

“I don’t think you understand what I mean, sweetheart.” He cut me off, shaking his head and chuckling at my pathetic attempt. “I didn’t say ask for permission, or ask nicely. I said fuckin’ beg.”

“Joel, please,” I tried again, my voice not coming out as weak, but still not as strong as I’d like. I still felt nervous in his presence, but so drawn to him.

He leant down and picked up a knife, much longer than any he had shown me at that point. “Don’t make me use my usual methods.” I could feel my lower lip tremble as he stalked around me until he was standing directly out of sight. His hands landed on my shoulders, causing me to jump in my seat. My eyes caught on the knife clutched in his right hand, blade pointing away from me but still too close for comfort. His face pressed against the side of my head, his lips almost touching my ear. “Beg.”

“Please!” I heard myself cry as if my voice was somewhere else. I had no control over the way I was reacting to him. “Please touch me, I need it so bad. Need you.”

Joel chuckled, his hand holding the knife slipping down to my button up shirt. It slipped past the missing top button, and with slight resistance the blade of his knife ripped through the threads holding the second one on as well. Then the third. My chest hitched as I struggled to breathe through the tension he held within the air. I wasn’t ready for the way the knife clattered to the ground, making me jump yet again.

“Why so jumpy?” He breathed against my temple before laying a kiss there. “I’ll take care of ya, I promise.”

A whimper left my lips, completely without my permission.

“Patience,” he said, sliding both hands to the rest of the buttons on my shirt. He worked quickly, causing me to no longer wonder how weapons such as his fists could become gentle enough for wood carving. Once my shirt was open he pulled it down my shoulders as much as my bindings would allow. “I’m keepin’ you tied up for now. You don’t need your upper half for what I wanna do.”

“W-what do you mean?” I asked, out of breath from the way he was making me wait.

Joel had the calmest look on his face as he walked back in front of me, which seemed impossible with how badly he was already tearing me apart.

“You think I’m just gonna give you everythin’? Just because you said please?”

I nodded hesitantly.

He barked out a laugh. “Absolutely not, darlin’. I don’t think you deserve it.” He stepped forward, once again bringing his face down until it was inches from mine. “You see, you didn’t give me what I want, so I’ll be doin’ the same. You’re not gettin’ a thing from me until you’re beggin’ me to touch you, beggin’ me to taste you. Until you tell me where your settlement is. Then, and only then, will I even think about letting you cum all over my fingers. If you’re a really good girl then you might even be able to cum on my face.”

“B-but that wasn’t part of my-”

“I don’t give a shit about your plan. Sweetheart.” His voice lowered even more, sounding like gravel turning over itself. “We’re going to be doing things my way.”

His hands landed on my thighs, squeezing me in a vice like grip through my jeans. The heat from them seeped into my skin through the ever thinning fabric, and I felt my mouth water and a heat stir deep in my belly. They reached up until they bumped against the button of my jeans before undoing it. The zipper seemed to take forever as he slowly dragged it down. He looked into my eyes, looking for permission until I raised my hips as much as I could. Our eyes continued to hold together as he slid the fabric down my legs, then my panties.

It seemed like he wouldn’t allow himself to look at the skin that was revealed to him, not until I deserved it. Not even when he lowered himself with a grunt to his knees and pulled off my boots and then the rest of my lower garments. His hands slid back up to my thighs, his thumbs rubbing so carefully against the sensitive skin it sent goosebumps rippling over my body.

I continued to look into his eyes. The dark pools of them held so much more than just the brooding, dangerous stranger that first held me captive. There was an underlying sense of need, care, and love unlike any other. My heart ached suddenly, like he had reached into my chest and squeezed it himself. I felt an urge to know him, a need to see what secrets he held deep within, locked so tight only a select few would ever see him as he truly is.

“Promise me,” I started, “promise me you won’t hurt them. Just the ones in charge. I don’t want the children getting hurt, and most of the others there are innocent. Please, Joel.”

His face softened briefly, like a flash that I would’ve missed if I hadn’t been watching his every move. “I promise.”

I lowered my head, concentrating on the strong fingers wrapped around my thighs. “Five miles east, turn left at the small pond. The entrance is a cave that spits out into a small camp hidden away. That’s us. You may come across the men you’re looking for first, but if not then they’ll be held in the larger gray cabin.”

He waited until I looked back up into his eyes, the softness returned once again in a flash, then they went dark. “Good girl.”

A moan ripped from deep within my chest as he forcefully parted my legs, placing them up onto his shoulders and shoved his face between them. Joel devoured me, inch by inch, as his tongue swiped at the wetness gathering at my opening,his forehead bumping against my soft tummy as he pushed himself as close as he could to push his tongue inside me. He pulled away and groaned as he slipped a finger inside instead, making my legs twitch against the flannel stretched across his broad shoulders.

“So tight, sweetheart,” he panted before sealing his lips over my clit. I squirmed and whined as his tongue rolled over the sensitive bud again and again. He pulled off with a wet pop. “S’been a while, hasn’t it? No wonder you folded so easily for me.”

I whimpered at the sensitivity when he rubbed his thumb against my clit while sliding another finger inside. “P-please Joel.”

“P-p-please Joel,” he mocked, his smile downright cruel. “So desperate for me already, I’ve barely touched you.”

“Feels so g-good,” I moaned, writhing against my restraints.

“You gonna cum for me?” He sunk his teeth into my thigh, making me cry out. “I want you to cum on my face. Need it, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

I nodded. “Yes, Joel, please. I can do it.”

He attached his lips to my clit once more, sucking it onto his tongue. My orgasm hit me with no warning, and I practically screamed for him as he continued flicking his tongue over my clit and fucking his fingers into me. I tried to close my legs since my arms were useless, but he continued his actions until tears sprang to my eyes.

“S’too much, Joel, please.” I thrashed my head around, trying to move away from him to no avail.

“Gimme another,” he growled against the wet heat between my legs. “Come on, darlin’, one more.”

I came with a shout, another orgasm washing over me until black started to crowd my vision. My lungs constricted after the breath was knocked out of me, and when I finally relaxed boneless against the chair I sucked in as much air as I could. My eyes fluttered open and I was met with Joel’s.

He leant down and kissed me, the taste of myself smeared across his lips. When he pulled away I felt a flush of embarrassment creep its way up my chest. What was I supposed to do?

Joel answered that for me while he untied me. “I’m gonna go after those bastards. When I come back I’ll deal with you properly.”

I shivered, imagining what that would be like. He helped me pull up my jeans, but when I realized I didn’t have my panties he just held them up and stuffed them into his pocket.

“For safekeeping,” he said, smiling.

He bent down with a grunt to pick up his knives, and walked over to his bag. I watched him while he gathered up his things, checked his gun, then slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to the door.

“What if I leave?” I asked, focusing on rubbing the soreness out of where the ropes were digging into my arms. I looked up to see him watching me, his gaze enveloping me completely as he stood in the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” he finally said. “You won’t.”

The door shut forcefully and I sat completely still, listening to his footsteps becoming lighter and lighter until they were out of earshot.

It felt like I waited for hours, my eyes shutting like they were weighed down as I fell in and out of sleep. What finally woke me up for good was the gentle sound of rain starting to fall on the wooden roof. It was such a sweet sound that I suddenly had the urge to stay awake so I wouldn’t miss it.

The door burst open, causing my whole body to jolt in my seat. Joel stood in the open doorway once again, pinning me in place with a look of hunger, and a hint of surprise.

“You stayed.” It wasn’t a question, more of an observation on his part.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just like you told me I would.”

He ran his hand through his hair, slicking back the strands that were damp from the rain. His clothes were also wet and they looked heavy as they clung to his body. When he lowered his hand I noticed the streak of blood that smeared over his knuckles.

He noticed me looking. “You won’t have to worry about them anymore.”

I nodded, trying to swallow as my throat went dry at the thought of what fate those men met when Joel Miller stepped out of the shadows.

“Did you move at all?”

I shook my head. “Too tired.”

He walked to the counter where he placed his bag and retrieved something out of it once more. My heart rate spiked when I remembered what he pulled out of there last. When he turned back to me I nearly sighed in relief when I saw the sandwich he held in one of his hands.

“Want one? I’m sure you’re hungry.” He held it out to me but I didn’t move.

“I think my legs are asleep,” I confessed. “I was so tired when you left, I couldn’t really move.”

“That’s my fault,” he said, walking over and handing me his food. “I was gonna tell you there was a bed, but I expected you to explore a bit. Should’ve known you would crash like that.”

I moaned after taking a bite, the flavours bursting on my taste buds after eating the blandest food, if anything, for so long. “Where did you get this?” I asked, so amazed by such a simple thing.

He shrugged. “Made it. I live in a town not too far from here. They’ve got things a little more figured out. I’m heading back there in the morning.”

I nodded, practically inhaling the sandwich. If it were before the outbreak I would’ve probably been embarrassed or self conscious about the way I was eating in front of him, but I no longer cared about that as much. Especially as I tried to tamp down the disappointment of knowing he was leaving in the morning.

“I was wonderin’ if you’d wanna come with me.”

I nearly choked on the last bite, unsure if I heard him correctly. Once I finally swallowed I looked up to find him rubbing his neck and staring down at his boots.

“Yeah? Would that be alright?” I asked.

He looked at me, a smile breaking out onto his face. “Yes, of course it would. I was also gonna tell my brother about your little place, see if we might be able to make some room for anyone that would wanna join us.”

The smile that spread across my face must’ve looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I leapt up and wrapped my arms around him, stumbling slightly when my legs wobbled from misuse, causing his arms to wrap around my middle to steady me.

“Woah there! Let’s take a second here before you hurt yourself.” He chuckled while stepping back but not letting go completely. His hands slid to my waist and held me in place. “Let’s rest up first, then we’ll head out first thing.”

“Okay. Thank you, Joel.” I beamed at him, my arms still wrapped around his neck after my hug. I bit my lip and watched as his eyes caught the motion, then flickered down to where I couldn’t button up my top after he cut it with his knife. “I think you said something earlier though, about dealing with me properly?”

He smiled, then nodded toward a room down the hall. “Go lay down, I’ll be right there.”

I stepped away from him, the slide of his palms on my clothes nearly enough to drive me insane, and I reluctantly did as I was told. The door to the room opened with such a loud creak I nearly jumped with how on edge I was. There was a bed wedged into the corner of the room, and it looked as though it had been made not long before we got there. I walked up and smoothed my hands along the blankets, sighing with the memories of comfort that were so long ago.

“This is one of our safe houses,” Joel’s voice rumbled from behind me. “I brought fresh blankets from home. It’s nice to have that luxury again.”

I nodded, still losing myself in the softness of the fabric.

“I thought I told you to lay down,” he spoke again, his voice no longer holding the lightness from seconds ago.

My hand froze in place before I turned to face him. “I’m sorry, I just got distracted.”

“Ah, distracted.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. I noticed his hair was combed back slightly and his knuckles were no longer painted crimson. “Maybe you’re too distracted to continue then.”

“What? No, I’m not. I promise.” I walked over to him, placing my hands on his forearms. They moved easily as I pulled them away from his body so I could smooth my palms up his chest.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Is that so? ‘Cause you’re still not listening.”

My lips parted as my breath hitched in my throat.

He leaned in closer, until his lips ghosted against the shell of my ear. His voice was a whisper, “I said. Lay. Down.”

Joel’s hands gripped my hips as he marched me backwards toward the bed. I fell back with a thump and watched as he stood tall over me. He slipped his flannel off his shoulders and his shirt was next. My eyes shamelessly scanned his upper body as it was revealed to me, and my fingers itched to touch him. Though, something in his eyes told me I wasn’t allowed to yet.

Scars were littered across his torso, mapping their way across his hard chest and shoulders, and one that looked fresher than the rest looked as though it had been punched into his abdomen. His stomach was softer, with hair dusting along the lower part heading into his jeans, where his fingers worked at the button and zipper.

Everything about him made me want to pull him closer to me and hold him until morning, while making desire pool deep and hot in my belly. I wanted to bring him comfort, relaxation, and pleasure. I wanted to be everything for a man I knew nothing about.

He kicked off his boots and nodded toward me. “I’m not going to be the only one naked here.”

I sat up embarrassingly fast and nearly ripped off my shirt. I reached behind me to take off my bra but his hand circled my forearm. He leaned down and kissed me, making my body melt into him. I didn’t even realize he had taken my bra off until a shiver raced through my spine when the air hit my skin as he pulled the straps down my arms.

“Fuck, look at you,” he whispered against my lips before pulling away to take me in. He discarded the fabric and his hands reached up and cupped my breasts, making me whimper and lean into the warmth of his palms. “So fucking soft.”

Though the skin of his hands was rough, his touch was gentle. My heart ached at the way he looked at me, care evident in his gaze, as his thumbs brushed over my nipples before his hands made their way to my jeans once again. He pulled my jeans down and off a lot quicker than before, almost as if his patience was finally running out.

His hand circled one of my ankles and brought his lips to the sensitive inner skin. He closed his eyes, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, as he continued to place soft kisses all the way up to the inside of my knee. I moaned so quietly I was surprised he heard it as he hummed in response. My ankle fell to the side of him when he finally let go and smoothed his hand up to my thigh.

I found myself getting lost in his eyes, as cheesy as that sounded. It was like I was searching through them, confused as to how this man whose violence was like a legend in my settlement could touch me so gently. Could gaze into my eyes with a tenderness that poked and prodded at my heart until I felt myself letting him in after only knowing him less than a day.

“Joel,” I moaned, “I need you, please.”

He pulled back so he could pull his pants and underwear down, and my mouth watered immediately at the sight of him. He was thick, and so hard that his tip was red. A pearl of precum beaded at his slit and I wet my lips as I watched it start to drip down the head of his cock.

Joel kicked his clothes off to the side and finally climbed onto the bed. He cradled my head in one of his hands and pressed his lips to mine once more. The hunger from earlier returned and he practically devoured me. I reached my hands into his hair and tugged at the roots while he growled at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

His hand reached up to my throat, his fingers tightening enough that I felt lightheaded. I felt his other hand snake down my body to swipe through my heat.

“You’re still so wet for me, sweetheart” he groaned, pressing his forehead to mine. “All for me.”

“All for you, Joel.” I breathed him in and moaned when I felt the blunt tip of his cock nudge against my entrance. “I’m all yours.”

He pushed in slightly, his hips stuttering while he moaned. “You’re so warm, so soft, fuck.”

“I need more, Joel,” I groaned, throwing my head back onto the bed. “Please, please, please.”

My body felt like it was on fire, heat pooling in my belly, as he pushed himself further and further until he was seated fully inside me. We panted together, lips brushing, as our bodies grew accustomed to us fitting together. I slid my hands up his chest to his shoulders and dug my nails in. He pulled out until just the head of his cock was still inside, and then snapped his hips forward.

“Oh fuck!” I shouted, pleasure ripping through my veins.

He continued to pull almost all the way out before pushing his hips against me while I chanted his name. It was like his cock was made for me, hitting all the right spots, chasing after my high until I felt I was suspended over a cliff.

“Almost there,” I panted. “Need more, please, Joel, need you.”

“I got you, sweetheart, I got you.” He kissed my neck while wedging one of his hands between our bodies. His fingers slid over my clit, slick with how wet I was for him. “You’re doin’ so well, darlin’, you gonna give me another? After already given me two this mornin’. Fuck, come on, that’s a good girl.”

Lightning streaked through my bloodstream, and my toes curled so hard I was scared my feet would cramp up. His name was the only thing I could think of as I finally was hurled from the cliff.

“Oh, Joel, oh fuck, oh my god,” I moaned as my body writhed underneath his.

He sunk his teeth into the crook of my neck and groaned as his hips stuttered, pushing himself impossibly closer to me. I felt spurts of his hot cum shoot against my walls, and basked in the feeling of being the one to make him get lost in his pleasure. He held onto me tightly after we both settled down, and licked the spot on my neck that ached from his teeth.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling. He went to move but I brought my hands up to his back and his head, scratching at his scalp while I held him close to me. He hummed in appreciation, and settled even further on top of me. “Stay with me, this feels really comforting.”

He chuckled and then flinched at the sensitivity of his spent cock still inside me. “Alright, darlin’. Let’s get some rest, we’ll go home in the mornin’.”

His words got quieter as he slowly drifted off, still weighing me down like the most comfortable blanket in the world, soothing the ache that had settled in my chest. I felt so connected, both physically and emotionally, to a man I hadn’t known just a day before, but found myself drifting off with our bodies still entwined. My lips curved into a smile at the thought of what he said before starting to snore softly. He spoke a word I didn’t think I’d ever feel comfort hearing again.

Home.

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Taglist: @sullyosully

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader

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