#ME WEEP FOR TWO NIGHTS STRAIGHT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theblacklewinsky · 4 months ago

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Note: back with our favorite boo, Terry. It's my birthday, but I guess I can gift y'all with something lol! ❤️

Helpful Neighbors. | Aaron Pierre.

Toxic!Neighbor Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on. toy play, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint.

Summary: You confront your noisy neighbor about his loud late night company, he allows you to retaliate.

you fucking nasty,

first you cum and then you wipe it on my ass cheeks.

There wasn't much that you knew about your neighbor Terry. You knew he was generally friendly, you bringing him a small housewarming gift of a bath and bodywork's candle when he'd first moved in months prior. You knew he was a vet based on the marines sticker on the bumper of his pick up. You knew he was active, you often seen him heading out for camping trips, often seeing him in the apartments shared gym area when you'd take time out of your busy schedule to get a short work out in. You knew he was gorgeous, anybody could attest to that.

And he was loud. Very fucking loud.

And if you didn't know anything else, you knew that for sure.

The noise varied. Most nights he was particularly quiet, you wouldn't even have noticed anybody lived there if you hadn't seen him before. But some nights, he was a little loud. Metal music from an 80's band bled through the apartment walls, straight into your bedroom, you actually didn't mind it—being an exhausted charge nurse, the metal music did something for you, calming you in a strange way. Him seemingly fixing something, sometimes in the latest hours, drilling, hammering.

But it wasn't any of that. There wasn't any metal music. But he was sure drilling or hammering somebody. And she was extensively louder than anything you'd heard from Terry's apartment. You had to quickly grab your remote, muting your comfort show on your television to make sure she wasn't screaming blood murder.

It wasn't bloody murder, but she was screaming alright. You sighed, it was your first off day in two weeks of working straight in the trauma unit of the local hospital. It'd been a viscous stomach bug going around, and with the big panic from the prior pandemic, the hospital wasn't risking another one slipping up—so work was rough, and long.

But maybe you were bitter? It'd been way too long since you'd properly got your rocks off—not anything involving your beloved rose. So maybe you were just a bit bitter that at least somebody was getting theirs. Good for him! Just not on tonight. Not this night. You'd planned to crawl in bed, eat the most unhealthiest snacks in your cabinet and watch your comfort show, and maybe weep the prior two weeks out onto your pillow, you deserved a good cry after all, girl.

You sighed heavily, placing the pillow over your head letting out a groan. You'd definitely have to catch him in the morning and talk about this, cause this was outrageous.

Maybe sleep was out of the equation, but you'd definitely moved on to weeping.

The morning sprung and you jumped into action. Due to working 7AM to 7PM, you left out for work around the same time as a Terry did his morning runs. 6AM.

You woke up at 5:30 on a mission, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare and putting on your biggest t-shirt, sweatpants to match, oh you meant business.

You caught him as soon as he'd left his door, jogging the opposite way of your apartment toward the elevators before you called out to him. He turned confused at first until he noticed you, giving a lazy morning smile as he did. Black compression shirt, with the pair of black basketball shorts to match. He had no business being so damn fine. But you weren't deterred by that, last night was fucking atrocious.

"Goodmornin', beautiful," he smoothly recited like he did every morning. He was just nice like that. He said it every morning without fail, he always found something to compliment you on. New color of scrubs, how you decided to get your hair, even sweeter when he sees you out of your deliciously fitting scrubs.

"Good morning Terry," you smiled weakly, "I don't mean to disturb your routine, but can we talk for a minute?" You uneasily shifted your weight. You weren't good with confrontation, it just wasn't in your nature, but you didn't play about your sleep.

He nodded and you walked inside still holding the door open for him to signal him to follow you. He did, his smile faltering a bit once he came inside, you could tell he was confused a little thrown off.

You closed the door behind y'all, moving into your large kitchen area to pour yourself a mug of coffee. "Want some?" You politely asked him to which he politely rejected holding up his thermal water bottle.

You added your usual fixings to your coffee, taking a cautious sip, cradling your mug in your hand before you continued. "I don't mean to be confrontational when I say this," you walked around him heading into the living area, plopping on your newly purchased gray plush sectional, " but you were very ...loud last night." You chose your words, nicely.

He featured you a puzzling look, his finger gesturing to the comfortable chair adjacent to you, "of course." You quickly obliged before he took a seat, uneasily continuing. "Your lady...company, I meant." Sex talk wasn't your thing. Sex was sacred to talk about for you—and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable at all.

"Oh shit," he softly cursed, his expression filled with slight concern, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were bein' so loud, I hope we ain't keep you up."

"Oh, it's not a big deal," you quickly intercepted not wanting him to feel any type of way, "it's just my first day off in a couple of weeks so I just wanted to wind down with some quiet time and you guys were very...vocal," you chuckled to diffuse the awkwardness of the conversation, to which he added a light chuckle of his own, "at least somebodies getting their rocks off around here." You said jokingly before taking a sip of coffee. You hoped that didn't sound suggestive.

A short moment of silence followed your statement before you recognized Terry's eyes locked on something behind you for responding, "I see I ain't the only one gettin' mine," you furrowed your brows slowly turning your attention to where he was previously locked on. Your rose, sitting cleaned and comfortably on your end table.

You really had to learn to start putting shit back.

Or maybe not.

Somehow you found yourself on your back, pinned to the couch, Terry folding you up in missionary, knees to your chest, rose to your clit as he gave you long, deep, torturing strokes. You couldn't even remember the quick and somehow satisfying foreplay you'd taken to get here—and you didn't even care anymore. You could feel the fat tip of his dick kissing your cervix, and as if you weren't loud enough, you got louder. How ironic? You could barely hear yourself think, or were you thinking at all?

"Mhm," he hummed, his face composed, nothing but his teeth lightly sunken into his bottom teeth as he drilled you in, finger tips of his thumb and pointer finger giving your right nipple light squeezes and tugs, he kept his eyes on you, even when they rolled back, quickly turning up the vibrator, "look at you, mama. Why you bein' so vocal? Why you bein' so fuckin' loud, baby?" He taunted.

"My god, Terry," you whined, breathless, he kept up, dick hitting that spot that made your toes curl. How was he so good at this shit? You understood her completely. It wasn't atrocious at all. Very understandable. Very justified.

"Yeah, baby?" He quirked his brow up, his own soft groans almost mocking yours. "You want her to hear you? She still next door, wake her ass up mama. She kept you up all night didn't she?" He asked tearing his fingers away from your nipples to slap firmly against your cheek prompting an answer from you.

"Yessss," you slurred out, throat raw from moaning and groaning. You'd say yes to anything he asked you in this moment. You'd adopt six German kids and live on a farm with him if he requested you to do so in this moment, the world was his oyster. He was digging you out so good, so deliciously good. He was getting more than your rocks off and you knew that when the pressure in the pit of your tummy came weighing down on your bladder. "Ooouuu fuck! Fuck I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he chuckled, evil all evident in his tone, all in his smile as he glanced down to the mess unfolding between y'all, "wet this dick up baby, I feel that shit." He groaned, eyes zoning in on the creamy ring you were leaving around him. "Wet me up, and you better wake her ass up when you do."

"Cumming!" You abruptly announced nearly cutting him off from his lewd rant, the sounds of your own arousal clashing with his dick sent you tumbling over the edge, clear juices spurting out of you with so much force it ejected him out as well. It only prompted a more lazy laugh out of him, shaking the suction of the rose on your clit even faster. Trembling underneath him, your breath hitched in your throat as he sent you into complete overdrive, your voice was hoarse once a moan came tumbling out of you loud and broken. Why did you cum so hard from knowing that she was next door, possibly hearing you get your nut off with him?

"I like that shit, mama," he mumbled to you, turning the rose off slapping his free hand down on your clit, watching your body jerk in response. He said nothing dipping his body down momentarily to give your soft, sensitive nub three sloppy, mind numbing sucks. He was so loud and lewd with it, smacks loud, tongue slurping loudly. You were too turned on, too sensitive, but too fucked out to even object given how sensitive you were. He stood up on his knee once again, other floor planted flat on the ground. "Sticking up so pretty f'me and shit," he hummed, "put that ass in the air, I'm finna give her some more."

You whined, you were too tired to move. If this was sex? What the fuck were you having before? And he seemed to insatiable, how was he asking you for more when you already so tattered from your last orgasm?

"Can't," you weakly managed to get out.

He took the initiative to help you, his hands firmly grasping your hips and flipping you over roughly, bringing your hips up into the air, spreading out so nicely for him. He moaned in response, looking at how both your holes seemed to open for him. He slapped his massive hand against your ass cheek, the loud sound seemingly filling your quiet apartment, a high wince following behind it, his dick twitching at the recoil. "You gon be a good girl for daddy and hold this shit on your clit while I take care of you back here?" He asked you the dominating reference only furthering the throbbing in your pussy, one hand softly kneading the sting out from his slap. You could hear the quiet buzzing from behind you, head nodding eagerly as your hand reached from under you, making grabby motions for the toy.

Once it was in your possession, you placed it where he asked you, body lightly trembling since your clit hadn't had a moment long enough without stimulation. Both his large hands had been planted on your ass cheeks, spreading you apart for him. He groaned in response, spitting down onto your second hole winking for him so sweetly, you moaned in response to his lewd action. "Fuck yeah," he muttered sending another lighter slap to your ass. No further words were spoken as he grabbed his girthy member in his hands, fat tip rubbing softly against your slit before he stretched you open once again around him.

A loud whine erupted from you as soon as you felt him sliding into you, stretching you, the light sting providing the perfect pain to compliment the pleasure of him literally stuffing you. It was mind numbing for him, feeling you stretch and clench around him so perfectly, gummy, wet walls feeling so warm and snug around him. "Pussy so fuckin' good," he muttered not sure to who, you or him.

His strokes had already started off staggering; hard and deep. Pelvis slamming into your ass with loud, rippling sounds through your apartment, the force literally nudging your couch across the floor. You couldn't care about the scratches you knew were now engrained in your hardwood flooring, everything was so good. Too good.

"Fuckkkk!" You slurred out, eyes fluttering closed, face pressed against the plush cushions beneath you. Brainless wasn't the word for you. You were hyper focused on the pleasure you were receiving, the vibrations from the toy, Terry's back breaking strokes, and the sounds of your arousal around him didn't help the diagnosis. Your free hand held onto the top of the couch for a sense of stability. "Why—why you fuckin' me like this?!" You stammered out through a moan, voice hoarse and broken.

"What you mean, mama?" He asked through a groan, sending another rough slap to your ass. "You such a good girl, you deserve this dick. Workin' all hard and shit, always lookin' so fuckin' good." He grunted, working himself inside of you. Thumb tracing your asshole teasingly. "You deserve some good dick, baby."

The praise only heightened your moans, encouraging you to slam your ass back on him until you felt your own orgasm once again lurking around the corner.

"Show the fuck out, then, baby," he said breathlessly, stilling his own movements as he watched as you fucked yourself on his dick, ass slamming back onto his pelvis with dizzying recoil.

"Shiiiit! I'm finna cummmm!" You moaned out, your movements only increasing in pace, using him for your own pleasure now. And he ate that shit up.

"That's right, get that nut mama. Get yo' shit, fuck me," he affirmed through a series of groans accentuating your own, "fuck, I feel all that shit. Nasty ass bitch, get that nut." His dirty words filling your ears as you released around him, halting your movements. Squirting for the second time, the orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks literally. This one cramped your muscles as it temporarily paralyzed you, huge steaks of pleasure coursing through you. Terry didn't give you a moment to recover, his own climax brewing in the background. He resumed his strokes as if he never stopped, powerful, fast and hard. The rose clobbered to the floor with a hard thud, still buzzing away as your body flattened into the couch, Terry using his upper body strength to drop dick in you.

"You runnin?" He asked breathlessly through a series of overstimulating strokes to your pussy. "Why you runnin? Daddy, let you get yours right? Let daddy get his." He hummed to you.

You couldn't tell him you were overstimulated. Could you talk at all? Were you even breathing? What the fuck even was this?

"Dick got you goin' stupid, look at you," he groaned, dick hitting that spot again, and again. You came again, with announcement. You hadn't even known you were that close again. "Fuck, you keep cummin' on my dick."

Your voice came back to you in little squeals, nodding in agreement to his last statement.

"Pussy so good—I'm finna nut baby," his voice rushed and panicked as he kept up his strokes, "fuck I'm finna nut—shit!" He hurriedly pulled out of you, groans and grunts spilling from him earnestly as warm, ropes of cum painted your ass.

That was so unreal.

You focused on steadying yourself as you heard Terrys whispered curses behind you. It wasn't long before you heard his lazy chuckle, soft lips kissing down your spine causing a small chill to sneak through you. "You good?"

"Yes? I dunno," you answered bleakly, voice rasped out. Terry laughed gently, hands rubbing some warmth into your thighs and midsection.

"You enjoyed yourself?" He asked softly, kissing up to your neck, and shoulder tenderly. You nodded eagerly to his question, earning another chuckle for him. He sounded so good. "I'm glad, where towels at pretty girl. Lemme clean you up."

"Bathroom closet," you jammed your finger in the direction of the closet. You were halfway into a slumber when Terry came back with a warm towel, cleaning you up gently.

You knew for a fact it was gonna be a lot of noise coming from the both of your apartments.

still don't have a tag list together but I hope y'all enjoyed another toxic Terry fic 🫡 my favorite Terry after all! Happy Friday! 💗

#aaron pierre #fine black men #fine as fuck #black writers #black!fem!reader #rebel ridge #terry richmond

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thestarlightexpress · 4 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 -

Day 1: Pussy Slapping - Rhys x Reader

TW: smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, praise, pain, etc.

word count = 1.18k

NSFW under the cut

You should have known that challenging the High Lord of the Night Court in front of the entire Court of Nightmares was generally a bad idea. You also should have known that teasing your mate after the week he’s had was essentially a death wish. Unfortunately for you, you’ve never been one to think before you act.

You suppose that’s how you’ve found yourself in this current predicament. The icy chill of the room drifts over your pert nipples. The searing heat of the ropes tying your legs apart fiercely nipping into your calves, setting your skin ablaze. The humid, broiling heat of Rhys’ breath skirts over your neck as his large hand clutches your stomach, tugging you back against his chest.

The sharp sting of his teeth biting down on your earlobe pulled you back into the present, leaving you gasping for air and writhing on top of him. “You still with me, darling?” he uttered above the point of your ear, making you throw your head back over his shoulder. His other hand slowly drifted down from its spot on your knee and back to your soaked center.

Panic and arousal filled your tense body at the thought of the intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure. Your head swiveled around to nose at Rhys’ neck, your whines drifting to his ears. He chuckled darkly into your neck, “You can whine all you want sweetheart, but it won’t get you out of this. You were a bad girl tonight, my love. How will you ever learn if not properly punished?”. His sultry tone had you melting into his chest.

The pads of his warm fingers brush over your puffy clit before swiping down through your tacky slick that spilled over the globes of your ass and onto the sheets. Two of his large fingers slip inside you, aided by the hours of teasing you had already endured. The digits curled inside you, coaxing more needy moans out of you. “Such a pretty, messy pussy.” he murmured against your ear.

Rhys pulled his fingers away and brought them up to your mouth, tapping your chin to let him in. The sultry taste of yourself on his fingers had the carnal fire in the pit of your belly raging fiercer than ever before. His fingers slipped out of your wet mouth and gripped around your throat, spreading your spit over your sweltering skin. His fangs grazed your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. “Ready to start again, love?”.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your head nodded against him, “Y-Yes.” The hand around your neck constricted, “Yes what?” he growled. Your vision dotted and your head went slightly fuzzy. “Yes, my Lord.” you barely heard yourself utter. The title made him purr, reverberating through your chest as his grip loosened, “Now there’s my good girl.”

The hand holding your hips down slid below to roughly squeeze your thighs. “Remember to let me know if it's too much. Can’t rough you up too much, now can I?”, the humorous tilt of his voice made you bristle with anticipation. His hand roamed over your thighs and down to your center. The sensuality of his touch lulled you into a false sense of security that was swiftly stolen away when he struck your clit. You squealed and writhed against him, the pain shooting straight to your weeping entrance.

His palm soothingly rubbed over your clit to ease the ache. The relief didn’t last long as he quickly moved to slap your swollen cunt twice more. You felt his hips buck up, his solid length pressing into your back, turned on by your hissing cries. Rhys kissed down your neck, leaving blushing magenta marks in his wake. He smirked against the hard column of your throat, “For someone who complains about the pain, you sure do seem to enjoy it.”

Your back arched as you whimpered, “Rhys… please, I’m sorry.”. You groaned as he roughly bit into your neck, drawing a few drops of blood before rising back up to your ear.

“Do you think I can’t feel you, love?”, his fingers rubbing your slick over your clit. “You say it hurts but you know that you fucking love it. I mean - shit - your messy pussy is gushing all over both of us. You can say what you want but your body betrays you, darling.”

He used his legs to spread your legs open farther and hold you down, his hand alternating between smacking your cunt and prodding your drippy pussy. “Mother above, you can cum like this can’t you? Such a filthy little slut for your High Lord.” You shuddered in his hold as he continued his ministrations. He gripped your throat again before snarling, “Answer me, can you cum like this?”.

The possessive hand around your throat broke something within you as you found yourself crying out for him. “Yes! Please keep going, please make me cum.”

He hummed against your cheek. “Too bad only good girls get to cum.”.

You gasped within his hold. He was pushing you toward the brink of insanity. Rhys slid the hand by your center up to caress your breasts. “Now, what have we learned, my love?”

Your hips bucked up at the loss of stimulation. “To n-not interrupt you during a meeting.” You felt Rhys smirk against your neck.

“Good job, baby. You think I can have my good girl back now?” You just whined and nodded in response.

“Please Rhys, I can be good. Just please let me cum.” Rhys’ hands wandered under your thighs and pulled you further up his chest, the head of his thick cock nudging against your entrance. He slowly pushed into your cunt and filled you up to the hilt.

“Now, just stay here and let me fuck you and then you get to cum. Alright, darling?”. You sweetly nuzzled your nose into the column of his throat in response, the heady feeling of Rhys inside you stealing the breath from your lungs. His legs hitched as he started to thrust up into you, the feeling of his cock pushing through your tight walls already bringing you close to the edge. One large hand laid against your stomach while the other ghosted around your clit.

Rhys whispered sweet praises in your ear as he brought you closer and closer to your breaking point. You could tell by the way his breath sawed in and out of his chest that he was getting close. “Come with me, darling.” It was only by the grace of the Mother that you hadn’t finished already with how quickly your cunt was quaking around him. At the same time that he moaned and started to release inside you, he rubbed and pinched your clit and sent you barreling over the edge. As he slowly pulled out of you, all you could see were stars, and could vaguely hear your wet pussy gushing all over both of you.

He lightly chuckled in your ear, voice dripping with pure male satisfaction. “How about we go get you cleaned up?”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #acotar kinktober #kinktober acotar #rhys #rhysand #rhys smut #rhys x reader #rhys x reader smut #acotar x reader

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deqdwinter · 1 year ago

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#VENOM!

pairing: dick grayson x chubby afab!reader

word count: 800+

summary: dick comes home from a very long night, after encountering poison ivy, he can’t seem to think straight when all he can smell is you…

warnings: HEAVY SMUT!! sex pollen, dick has a big.. erm well.. dick, BREEDINGGGG, slight degradation, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), dom!dick, sub!reader, dick calls reader a fleshlight (lovingly ;p), dick's lwk a lil' mean in this but it's ok he loves you ;3

authors note: lawddd hold me back this man is bouta make me combust like all over his face SOMEONE HELP ME

“Fuckin’ hell-” Dick groaned lowly as he gripped your hips tighter, pulling your plush body back into his harsh thrusts.

Nights like this would normally have this outcome. Dick would come home, late at night after a patrol, looking and being frustrated as anyone would be, leaving you to be his relief.

But tonight.. Wasn’t one of those nights. This wasn’t calm, or half assed thrusts into your sopping cunt as you both lay half awake in bed, no. Dick wasn’t frustrated.. He was hungry.

“Dee! S-slow down baby-!” you squealed as your manicured hand reached back, your nails lightly brushing over his toned abdomen.

He’d been so overcome with lust that he hadn’t even fully discarded his suit, only zipping it down the middle and off his shoulders to leave it pooling at his waist, with his mask still tied around his eyes. The white, chalky glow around his eyes hiding his irises from your view.

He roughly grabbed your hand into his and intertwined them, a sweet gesture compared to his brutal pace he was keeping up with at the moment.

“Mine, mine, mine..” you heard him mumble as he leaned down, cooing into your ear as he pounded you from behind, the smacking of your ass against his upper thighs echoing throughout the room.

He moaned softly at the squelch of your cunt swallowing him, a creamy white ring surrounding the base of his cock every moment he pulled out.

“D-Dick, p-please baby-”

“Gotta breed you baby.. Show all these fuckers that you’re mine and get you pregnant. You’d like that huh? All full with my baby, my cum deep inside this needy lil’ pussy, hm? You want that princess?” You felt him smirk against your skin as he never faltered, his cock reaching so deep inside you–fuck this man would be the end of you.

He may have seemed like a sweet guy, and he definitely was.. Him in bed on the other hand, he was dirty, disgusting, nasty with the way he talked.

“You’re my lil’ fleshlight aren’t you? Just a wet little hole to stick my dick into, huh? S’all you’re good for?”

Tears pooled at the bottom of your eyes, your pussy throbbed at his words, no matter how offended you really were from them.

“S-S’mean Dee..” you cooed before he lifted you up to rest your back on his chest, groping your tits in one hand as the other trailed down your plump stomach and towards your pussy.

“Mean? I would never, baby. How could you accuse me of such a thing? All I do is treat you so fuckin’ well, don’t I?” Dick mumbled as his fingers started to toy with your clit, his middle finger rubbing the sensitive nub in circles as he continued his brutal pace on your weeping cunt. “F-fuck..” he whined as he pulled away for a moment to look down at where the two of you were connected, his cum from earlier rounds already starting to pool onto the bedsheets and trailing down your thighs. “S’good to me, ya know that? Such a good girl..” Fuck it was starting to become too much for him, but it felt so fucking good..

“G-Gonna come, Dee–fuck!” you whimpered as you fell back into the sheets with your face squished against the pillows, gripping the blanket into your hands tightly.

“F-fuckin’ come baby, come all over this cock..” He coos through clenched teeth, his nails lightly digging into your plush skin as his thrusts sped up.

Whiney breaths leave your throat as your climax starts building, before the coil in your tummy finally snaps, your juices gushing around him as he let out a whine and threw his head back.

“C-Come inside me, Dick–please!” you squeal with your face squished into the pillow to muffle your needy whines as his cock twitched inside you.

“I know baby, I know–fuckk!” he groaned as you felt him release inside you, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls a creamy white, giving a few shallow thrusts before stilling inside you, pants and heavy breathing leaving both of your lips as you sat in silence.

Despite your best efforts and hours of him being inside you, he was still.. Unnecessarily hard..

You whine as you try to crawl away from his needy hands before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back to flip you onto your back, a few pieces of his hair stuck to his forehead as he looks down at you with a grin painting his plush lips. Gosh it’s like he was trying to kill you.

“P-please my love, let’s rest.. M’sensitive..” you whimpered as he chuckled lightly before grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing your legs towards your chest.

“Said ya’ wanted to help me..” he cooed as he leant down with his lips ghosting over yours.

“So, help me..”

#synful talkin’ ⛧#dick grayson smut #dick grayson #richard grayson smut #dc comics #titans dc #dc titans #richard grayson #dick x chubby reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #pacific islander reader #brenton thwaites #dick grayson x chubby reader #x chubby reader #x plus size reader #chubby!reader smut

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beardedjoel · 1 year ago

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pretty little wife | crazy 4 u

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨

summary: valentine's day special! joel has historically made sure that valentine's day is special for his pretty little wife, but this year he's gone above and beyond. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, soft dom! joel, free use kink, orgasm denial if you squint hard, unprotected piv, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, choking/breath play, pet names for reader, praise kink, romantic as fuck husband joel this chapter, some domestic fluff, alcohol consumption, maybe maybe maybe there is a breeding kink moment, reader has hair that can be pulled a/n: they're so in love it makes me SICK!!! thank you so much for reading and loving this couple along with me, and happy galentine's and valentine's day my loves! 💋💗💌

reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

You quietly squeal to yourself as you start to tear open the newly delivered package on your way back inside from the mailbox. You look down at the assortment of pale pastel candies, all strung up on thin strands, waiting to be devoured. Your own curiosity and lack of self control nearly has you reaching in the box to break one off for yourself, but you hold back, reminding yourself just who you bought this for and why.

Valentine’s Day is in two days, but you’d wanted to get a jump, giving Joel a more playful vibe today considering you know he’ll have gotten you something sexy and downright depraved to wear on the actual holiday. Your skin tingles at the thought, recalling all of the things he’d had you wear in the past. Your most memorable being crotchless panties under a skin tight dress at dinner one Valentine’s Day, so he could finger fuck you under the table at one of Austin’s finest restaurants. Keeping your face straight during that had been painstaking, but you’d loved every minute of the debauched public display. When you’d asked Joel why he hadn’t just had you go sans underwear that night, he’d smiled devilishly. ‘Adds to the forbidden factor, don’t y’think?,’ Joel had replied, ‘So premeditated I had to get my baby somethin’ to weep onto while I knew I’d be shoving my fingers so deep in her pretty pussy.’ Those naughty words from Joel still send a shudder up your spine to this day as they ring in your mind. He hadn’t even waited until you two were home that evening to use that same hole in the panties to fuck you dizzy, until you’d screamed in the back seat of his car for him. Even then, he hadn’t relented until you came too many times to even remember the count now, leaving his seats a soaking mess.

You sigh, bringing yourself back to the present, brushing the memories away for now to get yourself ready to make some new ones with your husband. Once you’ve changed, you take a quick moment to admire the scant pieces of lingerie, almost laughing at the absurdity, but wondering how in all these years you’d never thought to buy candy underwear for Joel to devour off of you. You preen yourself for a few more quick moments before heading downstairs, wanting to set yourself up to act casual for Joel when he arrives home. Sometimes you do this on purpose, knowing he gets off on interrupting what you’re doing just so he can take you, fuck you however he pleases. And even when you really are in the middle of something, you get off on it too - being of service to your husband, helping him feel good while knowing you’ll be well taken care of, too.

On the dot at 5:00, you hear Joel’s car pulling up and smile smugly to yourself, continuing to wipe the counters down. A prompt pop of your hips to push your ass out follows when you hear the front door open and close.

“Doll? Where are ya?” Joel calls out, voice slightly muffled as he bends down to put his shoes away.

“In here!” you call out, voice high and sugary sweet, imitating the lingerie plastered to your body right now.

“How’s my pr-” Joel starts, freezing the moment he enters the kitchen. He takes in the sight - you slightly bent over, only a tiny string between your bare ass cheeks, pink high heels, and straps of candy running over your shoulders and across your back. You whip your head over your shoulder, rotating your body just enough to give Joel a peek at the lines of candy also covering your tits. He laughs, head thrown back in playful amusement before stepping towards you, predatory and slow, his laugh fading into a contemplative smirk.

“What do we got here?” Joel says quietly, hands immediately pressed tightly to your hips, his body pushing you forward into the counter. You whimper when the edge of the counter starts to dig into your stomach, Joel’s massive form locking you into your spot. “A little snack f’me to enjoy after workin’ so hard all day?” Joel can barely contain himself, blood running hot as he contemplates how grateful he feels right now.

“Mmhmm…” you whine out, already feeling any semblance of tension leaving your body at Joel’s gentle but calloused touch, this feeling of home. You giggle when Joel leans down to where the straps come around over your shoulders and takes a bite out of the candies, a little groan leaving him as his lips also catch on your skin, mixing the taste of you with the sweetness of the candy.

“Delicious, baby,” he hums in your ear, then goes on to kiss your earlobe. You melt, head falling back slightly with a docile smile plastered on your lips. “How’d a man get so lucky?” He takes another bite, kissing along your shoulder as he does so.

“Thought we’d get a jump on Valentine’s Day, darling,” you coo back, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Joel freezes, his eyes going wide and body rigid. “Fu-” he murmurs to himself, lips still practically attached to your shoulder.

“What?”

He tears himself off of you with the most disgruntled groan you may have heard from him yet. “Baby, we gotta get movin’. You… fuckin’ little candy underwear, god damn it…” he starts muttering, grabbing you tightly and spinning you around. He grasps your hand in his and starts leading you upstairs. “You gotta change, honey, we’re…” he trails off, looking guilty and a bit flustered.

“Joel, what the hell is going on?” you ask, stopping and pulling back on his hand.

Joel sighs, calming himself for a moment before finally meeting your eyeline again. His gaze softens and he smiles. “Had a whole thing planned, darlin’. A surprise. C’mon and see for yourself.”

You trail after him, suddenly feeling ridiculous in your candy underwear given the change in mood. He takes you into the bedroom, opening his closet and yanking out your suitcase. Your brows furrow as you watch him pull it to the center of the bedroom, then going back for another suitcase of his own. Your mouth drops open slightly before curling into a smile, realizing that Joel had planned a trip for the two of you. He’d mentioned to keep your schedule free around Valentine’s Day, but you’d figured it was just typical plans - dinner, a picnic, or a fancy hotel room, nothing this big.

“Joel… baby…” you breathe out, clutching a hand to your chest. You feel suddenly filled with warmth, like sunshine has started filling you from the belly outwards, making your entire being feel light and tingly. Effervescence. That’s what being with Joel is like.

He gives you a lopsided smile. “We’re leavin’ tonight. Planned it all, flight is at eight so we can wake up there ‘n get a jump on everythin’. An’ then you had to wear that,” he huffs, gesturing to your entire body with a wild movement of his hand. “An’ scramble my brain right up.” His eyes linger along your entire midsection, sincerely considering throwing these plans away just to sate his hard cock, but he shakes his head and looks you in the eyes again.

“A jump on…. what’s everything?” you ask, placing an impatient hand on your hip.

Joel reaches into the built-in shelves in his closet, pulling out a soft, cashmere lounge set and walking it over to you. “Jus’ get dressed an’ I’ll explain as we go. God damn it, this was s’posed to be so much more romantic.” He sighs, a hand repeatedly running through his hair during your entire conversation, looking flustered.

“Aw, honey, it is, promise,” you assure him with a kind laugh, starting to peel off the candy underwear, bringing it over to your dresser to deposit it for another time.

“Mm-mm,” Joel chants with a smirk, squatting down to unzip your suitcase and holding out his palm to you. “Those are comin’ with us.”

You’re over 31,000 feet in the air now, the sky dark outside the plane windows as you peer out. Joel had planned an entire long weekend to head to Aspen, where he’d booked you both skiing lessons and a cozy, romantic room at a lodge there. Your heart swelled as he explained it all on the ride to the airport, remembering how it was on your bucket list to learn to ski, but being from Texas there hadn’t been too many chances to learn locally.

You stretch your legs out, admiring the leg room in the first class tickets Joel had gotten you two, bringing the complimentary glass of champagne to your lips.

“Baby, this is too much,” you say with a slight frown, despite feeling overjoyed at everything about your current situation.

“Never. I’ve been plannin’ and savin’ for this for a while. Wanted to surprise you big time,” Joel says with a toothy, proud grin.

“Well, you did. Makes my candy underwear feel kind of… well, wimpy in comparison.”

Joel’s pointer finger flies to your lips, pressing down before your glass can reach your mouth again. “Not a chance, little doll. That’s all I need from you - skimpy little outfit to keep your husband happy.”

Your lips curl into a sly smirk and you part your lips, nipping the end of Joel’s fingers. He shoots a brow up, challenging you, but you back down. You and Joel don’t always have the most public decency, but you decide it’s not worth getting kicked off the plane just for an orgasm you could wait a few more hours for. You nearly roll your eyes at the thought though, your cunt aching from the unresolved moment you two had shared in the kitchen earlier. You can tell by his wide pupils and rosy cheeks that Joel must be feeling a lot of the same way and having the same conflictions.

“If we wait a few hours… it’ll be even better…” you lean over and whisper to him, voice betraying you as it escapes in a breathy, sultry tone.

“Plane never stopped us before…” Joel says, brows raised again.

You tut, but then smile at the memory of your one sexual adventure on a plane with Joel, when you two were on your way to your honeymoon. A discreet handjob and fingering in first class under blankets hadn’t been the most romantic start to your married life together, but it suited the both of you. “Aaand…” you trail off, placing your palm on his chest. “We almost got caught like five times, big guy. Promised ourselves we wouldn’t do that again.”

Joel grumbles quickly, and you know he understands, but you feel an anxious twinge in your stomach, like you’re breaking the rules. Your face falls a little and you turn towards him, more serious this time. “I know we have… an arrangement, and you know I love our arrangement.” Joel gets what he wants, whenever he wants - the words agreed upon by the both of you within your marriage, and you were all for it. “But just this time I think we shouldn’t break the law for it.” You raise your brows, stomach turning again as you wait for his reaction - Joel is always understanding and patient with you but as usual, you find yourself desperate to please him.

Joel bites the inside of his cheek, then he leans over to plant a peck on your cheek while he reaches down to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “No, baby, you’re right. Probably should be an exception ‘bout planes in there, huh?” He tilts his head playfully and you feel your tension dissipate immediately. “Always the rational one, ain’t you, honey.”

“Barely,” you tease, chuckling in relief. “I just don’t want to ruin the trip before it’s even started. Let’s just watch a movie or something?”

Several hours of keeping yourselves occupied and dozing off had you finally arriving in Aspen, where Joel gently nudged you awake as the plane landed. You rubbed your bleary eyes and made your way through the plane and airport half-awake, just letting Joel guide you with one of your hands gently grasping at his sleeve the entire time. You two get outside the airport with your suitcases, now bundled up in an adorable puffer jacket Joel had packed for you, along with a new pair of fuzzy earmuffs. You were starting to have a sneaking suspicion that there was a lot of new clothing in your suitcase.

Standing next to an impeccably shiny black car is a well dressed driver holding a tiny sign that makes you do a double take.

Mr. & Mrs. Joel Miller.

You tug on Joel’s sleeve with eager excitement as he starts towards the man and your mouth hangs open.

“Joel, you did not hire a fancy driver,” you scoff quietly in disbelief. Joel stops in his tracks, screeching the two of you to a halt before turning to face you.

“If you’re already questioning me at the airplane seats ‘n the driver, it’s gonna be a long few days, honey,” he says sweetly, his voice crackling and gruff with tiredness from the long day. Your open mouth turns to a smile while you tut and shake your head.

“You’re too much, Joel Miller…” you muse, following him to the car. The driver, Randy, takes your bags and stuffs them in the car, offering you an open car door to climb inside. Your stomach flips with butterflies, not having realized just how romantic of a weekend Joel had planned for you. You fight off a quick mist of tears as it pops up, trying not to get emotional at just how overwhelmingly thoughtful your husband could be sometimes.

When Joel sits next to you, you clasp onto his hand tightly, giving him a watery smile that he returns with a sympathetic one of his own, reading that you’re feeling overwhelmed. Sure, since Joel had become more and more successful in his business you’d been treated beyond your wildest dreams, but sometimes it all hit you hard in one big moment like right now, filling you with gut clenching gratitude for your life. Life with Joel oftentimes feels like a dream, something you’ve stumbled into somehow that you aren’t sure you deserve. Joel would never let those thoughts slide, always reminding you how lucky he feels to have met you in that bar, that fate intervened so spectacularly in his life.

You lean your head on his shoulder for the duration of the ride to your accommodation, feeling sick with nostalgia and gratitude as you get lost in your thoughts. When the lodge comes into view, you pick your head up, mind suddenly empty as your jaw drops while you take it in.

It’s dark out, the sky black against the warm, glowing lights peeking through window panes throughout the lodge. A mountainous backdrop is still visible despite the dark night, and you can’t help but ogle at everything, imagining how stunning it will look in the daylight. The lodge is huge, ornate despite the fact that it’s meant to look simplistic and cozy with its wood siding. Joel marvels quickly at the construction out of habit, being in the business he’s in gives him a certain preclusion to commenting his two cents on every place you stay. You’re stunned silent as the back door is opened by Randy and you step out underneath a large overhang, greeted by yet another person who offers to take your bags. It’s all fuzzy, your brain tired and overwhelmed by what you’re taking in right now, the fact that just hours ago you’d been at home, content to just stay in with your husband tonight. You blink back to reality, about to speak when Joel gets to it first.

“Please. Thank you kindly,” Joel drawls, quickly slipping them a bill from his wallet and then turning back to you, offering you his arm. You take it, practically ready to squeal loudly with excitement as you two enter the building. You admire the expansive lobby while Joel steps away to check in - high ceilings and wood beams, roaring fireplaces surrounded by cozy seating and tall, full but neatly arranged bookshelves. A winter dream if there ever was one.

You’re gazing around, tired, slow blinking eyes, too lost in it all to notice Joel come up next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans close, lips and rough beard brushing your ear with a soft kiss.

“Room’s ready,” he practically growls, and your gut clenches at his tone, your thighs pressing together. Suddenly, your body feels alight, nerves buzzing and goosebumps peppering your flesh. Sleep is a far away notion now, recalling the way you’d begun this evening, only to have it go unfinished for the both of you. You smile, soft and docile like your husband likes, your voice a dulcet song so close to his ears.

“Lead the way.”

Your ass stings red hot from another harsh slap laid against it. Joel’s hungry mouth devouring you, your hat and coat discarded on the floor right next to the door to your room. Hair tangled from the way Joel is hanging on to it for dear life as he pounds into you. Your only view is the cream colored walls, your face pressed up against the cool, smooth surface as Joel’s body pins you there. The door had no sooner shut than Joel had thrown you here, as much clothing ripped off as he could stand before his cock was inside of you. You’d cried out, whimpered at the sudden heavenly intrusion despite your pussy needing a moment to adjust. Joel had pushed through it, anyways, delivering the first spank of the night on your ass, pants and underwear hastily pulled down, halfway down your legs - enough room for Joel to slip his cock in was good enough for now, he’d thought hastily. The pain had melded into pleasure, your cunt squeezing his cock and starting to weep, easing Joel’s firm thrusts into you.

“F-fuck…” you whine against the wall, lips hanging open as his cock hits deep, your g-spot crying out already from all the stimulation he’s giving it. He’s not going easy on you, and you’d already known he wouldn’t the second he got you alone. All those hours, the silent teasing going on in both of your heads as you’d waited for this moment.

“Takin’ my cock like such a good girl… my obedient little wife,” Joel grunts out next to your ear, his teeth scraping your earlobes, sliding to your pulse point. You shudder, your hips spasming down onto him as pleasure starts to rock your body. You’re close… so fucking close to that perfect paradise only Joel knows how to get you to. “I’d’ve fucked you right in that lobby, right in that car or that god damned plane. Want everyone to see what I do to my pretty wife, what I’ve got right here… fuckin’ mess only for me,” Joel murmurs, rambling on as he grunts over and over, giving you everything he’s got. His hands tilt your hips, holding tightly while he anchors you there. And he’s right, you are a mess. Dripping slick, coating your thighs, disheveled hair and makeup now from the pleasured tears rolling down your cheeks, wet, squelching sounds filling the hotel room that you haven’t even had a chance to see yet as your face is turned towards the corner near the doorway. It must be a sight, indeed.

“Y-yeah? Wanna s-show me off…?” you breathe out, voice trembling as much as your body is starting to. Your knees are jelly, shaking and barely able to hold you up when Joel delves deep, hitting that spongy part inside of you again, making your eyes roll back. Of course he does, you know he does - nothing brings Joel more joy than letting the world know exactly what he has.

“Fuckin’ know I do… all lookin’ at this tight little cunt takin’ my fat cock, my pretty pussy, all mine.” Joel’s body presses closer, and you’re trapped even more, the both of you damp with sweat and almost incoherent as you near your highs.

“B-baby… I’m -” you whine out, “Please…”

Joel has waited as long as he could, knowing what you need. He’d wanted you desperate for it, so close, your climax just within reach, before he took you over the edge. His hand on your hip curves forward, finding your clit, and you moan loudly at the contact on the sensitive nerves. Your body moves of its own accord, bouncing back into his thrusts wildly, barely noticing that Joel’s other hand has left your hip until it connects with your neck, hand wrapping around your throat. You gasp, the noise cut off into a small choke while Joel’s hand tightens and you croak out a moan.

“Oh my g-god… please…” you whimper again in a strained voice, hoping, no, begging for permission from him. He plays with you a little longer, feeling his cock harden beyond what he’d think possible, aching even inside of you for more, as he toys with you, making you wait. His hand squeezes your neck once more, a little harder, keeping the pressure on. You’re feral, your body screaming at you but you concentrate, holding back, your mind doing gymnastics to try to deny what your body wants so badly.

“Come.” Joel speaks the one word with finality, and you let go, your body shaking violently. His hand releases and you breathe in a full, round breath as you come, your pussy creaming so hard on his cock that you start to feel dizzy from it all.

“God damn, good girl… comin’ so pretty right now,” he whispers to your ear, the noise tickling your mind in the best way. Joel holds you up as you moan and whimper, his name falling off your lips in the way it always does in moments like these - worshiping him. You flutter and squeeze his cock like heaven incarnate, and Joel finds he can’t hold himself back any longer, spilling into you on the tail end of your own climax with a loud grunt, pretty praises for you off his lips.

You both collapse against the wall, Joel leaning against you, and you both catch your breath, the need gone for the moment after hours of waiting. You sigh, smiling in satisfaction when Joel pulls off of you, gathering you quickly into his arms, kissing you all over your head.

“That’s better, ain’t it?” he says teasingly, and you chuckle, nodding in his grasp. You both readjust yourselves, Joel helping you situate the clothing he’d haphazardly pulled aside in his frenzy earlier.

“Much,” you say with another sigh, leaning into him. “What time is our lesson tomorrow?”

“Not ‘till noon. Had a feeling we’d be… up late,” Joel replies wryly, and you laugh again.

“Such a planner,” you poke at him, raising your brows before tilting your head to kiss his cheek. You slip out of his hold and start to meander further into the room, jaw dropping for what feels like the hundredth time tonight while you take in the vaulted ceilings with those same warm wooden beams and white painted walls, a stone fireplace roaring in the center of the room across from the massive bed, adorned with rose petals. More roses sit atop the small breakfast table in a vase near the windows, and when you venture over there, the view you’re taking in is beyond stunning - the mountains in full view, moonlight shining over the entirety of the landscape and your eyes start to tear up. Champagne in an ice bucket, boxes of chocolate, fresh fruit, the entire works are all laid out - such a lavish, gorgeous display for the traditional romantic in you. You turn around finally, meeting Joel’s gaze, where he stands, a smitten look on his face as he watches you take it all in.

“Joel… What can I even say?” you gasp out, throwing your hands up before letting them hang back at your sides, defeated in the best way. “Thank you…” you say meekly, turning to peer out the window once more before walking towards him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Thanked me plenty back there. An’ every day when you just be my good little wife, that’s thanks enough, doll,” Joel replies soothingly, stroking the back of your head. You lean your head against his chest, content to just listen to his heart beat for a few seconds, take in the memories of this moment. You lean back, tilting your head to give him a warm, grateful smile.

“Take me to bed?”

The next morning is far from the slow, romantic morning Joel had desired for you, realizing the both of you had forgotten to set any alarms and slept in well past 10:00 after your late night. It was barely giving the two of you time to get ready - a rushed shower and breakfast before hurrying to your skiing lesson. He’d dreamed about this hotel that he’d booked for months, the thought of waking you up with his mouth pressed deep into your cunt on that California King as he’d planned would have to be a distant fantasy as you two got on with your day.

Joel couldn’t help but stare at you the entire lesson, the way your face is lit up with pure joy in your ski gear as you fumbled to get the hang of things along with him. He’d gotten you ski pants, a jacket, gloves, and goggles - all the works that he knew was ridiculous for your first time on the mountain for that price tag. But he also knew you’d look just like this - adorable in your matching winter set, colorful goggles perched on top of your beanie and perfect lips curled into a never ending grin - and it made it all worth it.

Joel finds his own smile recounting the day as he keeps a steady hand on your back, the open back, low cut slinky dress he’d packed for you to wear to dinner tonight leaving plenty of skin for his hands to roam over as you two walk back to your room, full and contented. A candlelit dinner in the lodge’s shockingly expensive restaurant and a few drinks had you both feeling good as new again after your long day of skiing and mostly falling.

You two had laughed for hours as you’d fallen on your asses more times than anyone could count. Once you got the hang of it enough to get on the smaller slopes, you’d been unable to stop giggling the entire time, you and Joel catching up at the bottom just to ride the lift up again and again. You two flirted shamelessly the entire day like two teenagers, your heart swelling with so much love for your husband like it was your first date all over again. It was nice to have this uninterrupted time to just talk, get each other caught up on the other’s recent thoughts, feelings, and days that got lost amid the hustle of daily life.

Joel’s lips connect with the back of your neck as soon as the door to your room at the lodge is shut. “Like t’see those candy underwear again,” he mumbles to your skin, and you giggle a little too loudly, stumbling forward a bit.

Your brows wiggle as you try to crane your neck to look back at him. “That so, Mr. Miller?”

“Christ, y’only call me that when you’ve been drinkin’,” Joel teases, snaking his arms around to your front, holding you against him, the bulge in his dress pants becoming more obvious by the second as it hardens, pressing into you. “Can’t decide if it’s cute or jus’ makes me feel old.”

“No I don’t, Mr. Miller. And it is cute,” you demand, trying to hide the tiniest bit of a slur in your voice. Joel wasn’t wrong, you had been known to use that particular nickname for him after a few drinks, but you tended to be a bit of a bratty, indignant drunk.

“Thas right, ‘cause everythin’ you do is cute, m’little wife.” Joel says with a smile in his voice. His lips connect with your neck once again, trailing a few kisses down your spine. “An’ sexy…” he adds in a lower tone, one hand sliding to your hip, then your ass, squeezing hard before giving it a playful smack.

“Keep talkin’ if you want those candy panties to see the light of day again,” you reply, leaning back into him, your weight immediately welcomed by his warm, solid body.

“Oh, sweet girl, always gettin’ so bold with that wine, aren’t ya?” Joel’s hold tightens, one hand splayed across your torso and the other gripping your ass hard enough to bruise. “You forgotten who’s in charge here? Hm, baby?”

“A-actually, it was champagne…” you strain out, starting to pant as Joel’s hold goes even tighter, his domination quickly getting your thighs sticky, and you lament the fact you don’t have any underwear on right now. All at Joel’s request, of course, that you forgo any underwear at dinner tonight. You just whimper out a quiet moan, knowing you’ve gotten Joel riled up enough to keep going on his own volition.

“Think I don’t call the shots suddenly, huh? My sweet, sweet wife, we both know,” he pauses, mouth moving right next to your ear. A small nibble, his breath warm and tickling you in the best way right on sensitive skin sends a shudder through you. “That if I say put those fuckin’ candy panties on right this god damn minute, you’re gonna do it, yeah?”

Joel’s teeth suddenly sink into your neck a little, a tiny bite followed by a suck, and you nod desperately, silently cursing yourself for giving in so quickly, not giving yourself a little more time to play with him, let that tiny bratty part of you out of her cage for one of her rare appearances.

“Ain’t that right?” Joel repeats, giving your hair a little tug.

“Y-yes, Joel, yes baby…” you breathe out, and he releases your hair, his hold loosening on your body before he gives a loving pat to your ass.

“Good girl,” he coos, satisfied, sending another wave of heat to the apex of your thighs to hear his praise. A tiny moan slips out at the two words, still so effective after all these years. Joel chuckles, a tiny little huff off his lips as he spins you to face him. His hand cups your pussy through your dress, pushing the silky material between your legs before he tuts.

“Soakin’ yourself jus’ from gettin’ called a good girl…” he murmurs, lips getting dangerously close to yours. “Good. Girl.” he says with a smirk against your lips before kissing you. It’s long and deep, reminding you that behind the play and facade is an infinite amount of care for you - his wife, his forever.

He tears himself away, leaning his forehead against yours. “Now, go on and change f’me.”

You nod against him, then step back when he releases you from his hold. Breathless, on shaky legs, you rummage through your suitcase to pull out the candy set, smiling when you hold up the pastel treats, strung up on what might be the world’s flimsiest string. One minute in Joel’s rough, domineering hands and these would be toast, you think, almost laughing to yourself.

You see Joel go towards the fireplace, sinking himself down in one of the plush chairs there and crossing his ankle over his knee, settling back as he unbuttons the top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, watching you expectantly. You scurry off under his hot gaze, using the bathroom to change out of his eyesight before reemerging in his requested lingerie. You fight a giggle, wine still coursing through you while being reminded of the pure ridiculousness of this little stunt of yours.

Joel eats with his eyes first and foremost, sweeping them up your body as he finishes getting comfortable, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. You stand in front of him, thankful for the warmth of the fireplace right next to the two of you in your skimpy ensemble, and take him in right back. Broad, muscled, just starting to show his age with more grays every time you blink, and you love it. Love every inch of Joel.

“On the ground,” Joel says coolly, and you smirk, trying to hide it into a submissive, coy smile. Your knees go first, the plush rug under them a welcome relief, pure fluffy luxury in a weekend full of it. You start to lay prone, chest heaving with anticipation, mind spinning and reeling, wondering what torturous loving Joel has in store, how much he’ll milk it all out just for your tiny bit of bratiness earlier.

“Jus’ like that, thas’ right.” He leans forward and smiles, a little devilish and boyish in one, and you think you fall in love again as you watch him moving, looming over you now. He quickly palms the outside of his slacks, just the quickest relief before sliding his hand away, starting to circle you.

“Where to start…” Joel trills, and your body heats up even more while his eyes dig into you. When he’s standing at your feet, he starts to come down, leaning his entire body over you. “Can you be a good little doll and lay still while I have my treat?”

Breathless, you nod. Your eyes roll back a little when you blink hard, trying to catch your breath. Joel’s lifted brow and stare prompt you without him even having to say it - use your words, darlin’.

“Yes,” you say more confidently, and Joel smiles sweetly down at you.

“Good.”

He starts slow, lips moving languidly across your belly, up to where the candy rests on your tits, lapping at the sweetness there for a few licks.

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles. He’s back on you the next second, sucking the candies right on top of your nipples. The friction of the hard candies combined with the tiny licks of his tongue coming through to the hardened buds has your back arching, hips searching for him. You squirm, panting now when he bites through the candy, grazing your nipple with his teeth. Joel’s hands come down, ever so gently guiding your hips back down to the plush rug underneath you.

“What’d I say about bein’ still?” Joel teases, holding you there now before going back to bite again, crunching the candies before using his sugary tongue to tease your nipple with a few flicks as it pokes through the hole he’s just made. You start to moan, already a lost cause for your husband, the thought of trying to keep your body still already torturous.

“I c-can’t help it… I’m sorry, sir,” you pant out when your hips lift again, his mouth working harder and harder on your nipples. He grunts disapprovingly and continues on until both of your nipples are free, surrounded by the rest of the candy bra. Joel seems like a man possessed, lost in it all while he devours the candies, sucking and licking each new patch of skin, a sticky, sweet mess all over your skin.

You’re aching, body tense and in hot, hot need of him now as he teases you over and over. Your thighs clamp tight, trying to avoid bucking them up into where his hard, clothed cock hovers teasingly right above you. His hand grips tightly to your hip, the string of candy taut between his fingers. He’s eaten enough of the bra that it’s starting to droop, fall off of you completely, and Joel tears it aside, scattering the rest of the candies along the floor with a tinkling sound that pulls you out of the moment for a beat as you turn your head to watch the treats roll away.

“Good girl, bein’ so good f’me… such a sweet little thing…” Joel says, lifting his head off of your chest, giving you ferocious, unhinged eyes and candy tinted lips, puffy and overused.

“J-joel… please…” you whine out, the way he’s looking at you pulsing right to your already soaking cunt. His hand slips underneath the panties while he keeps his eyes on yours, watching them roll back completely as he fingers your clit. Your hips buck, finally, unable to stop it and you feel your lip quiver as a shaky moan releases from them. Joel leans forward, his lips finding yours and kissing you zealously, a glace mix of him and the sweets has your head spinning as you lap the taste off of his lips and tongue eagerly.

“So sweet…” you mumble into his mouth, going back for more and more, until you’re feeling just as sticky and sweaty as he is, the slow burn starting to gnaw at you, your core dripping while Joel rubs the softest circles over your bundle of nerves.

“You’re perfect, y’know,” Joel breathes out, lifting his lips off of yours just the tiniest bit. “My perfect girl…” You moan when his finger suddenly sinks inside of you, too caught up in the moment to even notice when he’d delicately slipped it from your clit to your clenching hole. You suck him in greedily, desperate for anything he’ll give you and whimper.

Joel contorts himself, sliding down your body, keeping his finger moving at a languid, steady pace as his mouth now meets the candy panties, nibbling along the top of it. You’re losing control, unable to take the teasing anymore, the slowness of everything, your rough and ready husband nowhere to be found right now.

Your moans become breathier, urgent and panting out of you more quickly than you can handle, your mind going a little fuzzy and light as the feeling of Joel completely takes over you.

“There we go… jus’ float on away baby, let me take you there…” Joel coos from your hip where his lips graze against your skin as another few pieces of candy come off. You give him an affirmative noise, barely registered even by your own mind as your eyes slip closed, your body warm and tingling, so desperately close to the edge. Joel’s finger hooks upwards inside of you and you gasp loudly, your body wracked with spasms as you start to come onto his thick finger. Joel lets you freely writhe and shake now, not bothering to have you lay still while he fucks his finger against your g-spot relentlessly while you ride out the waves of pleasure. You’re whimpering, a complete mess, chest, face, cunt, all feeling sticky and completely used by the man you love.

Your head lolls along the rug a bit before you blindly reach your hand for Joel, grasping his shoulder with your eyes still lazing shut. “F-fuck me, please… please,” you whimper, lightly clawing at his dress shirt.

You hear one more crunch of the candies before Joel’s fingers hook on the sides of the delicate string and pull your panties off. You can feel him, his presence hovering above you as he sits back on his knees and you hear him unbuckling his belt, imagining in your mind the sight of his hard cock coming free, readying itself at your entrance. You can barely think about opening your leaden eyes right now, still on the heels of your climax as your chest heaves up and down. You can feel the warmth radiating off of Joel as he climbs on top of you, hands gripping your calves to lift your legs up enough for him to fit snugly between them.

You grit your teeth a little, grunting out a gratified moan when you feel Joel start to push himself in, your cunt fluttering as it accepts as much of him as he’ll give. You’re greedy tonight, you can feel it, just needing everything Joel can give you, how far away from reality he could take you tonight.

He pumps in and out, almost uncharacteristic in his tentativeness, more of his thick length going in each time, and you finally peek your eyes open slowly, hands reaching to his shoulders and pushing underneath the collar of his dress shirt, finding his warm skin. He’s moving slower than he normally would, and you find his face looking down at you with adoration, just content to watch your face twitch and contort with each unhurried drag of his cock along your silky walls.

“Lookin’ like an angel,” Joel comments, seeing your face sheening and glowing from your climax, hair splayed around your head like a halo - pure angelic beauty, a work of art that Joel could never tire of gazing upon. You smile softly, one of your hands stroking his cheek lovingly, soft moans streaming out of you while he keeps up the same pace.

“Baby…” you moan, “I s-said to fuck me, please…”

“I am, little doll…” Joel teases back with a slow push of his dick into you, and you shake your head.

“You know what I meeeeaan,” you whine desperately, fingers itching to reach down and grasp his hips, pull him into you harder. Joel’s hips twitch a little faster, starting to roll into you with more force and you sigh, head thrown back a bit more.

“What, like this?”

Uh-huh. You start to go a little breathless, legs wrapping around Joel’s waist, securing your calves tightly against him.

“You want me to use you up again, hm? That it? My poor baby, she jus’ wants this tight little hole to be so fucked out she can’t walk, doesn’t she?” Joel says, patronizingly sweet with the drawl of each word.

You nod desperately. “Please, sir, t-that’s…” you stop to moan loudly when he bucks into you harder and harder. “That’s all I want…” you finally choke out, Joel’s cock hitting you so deep you nearly feel your breath stolen right from your lungs.

“What my pretty wife wants, she gets,” Joel practically sings to you, bringing his lips down to yours for a kiss, letting his mouth sloppily work its way to your neck, starting to bite and suck while he crashes into you harder with each thrust. You can only make tiny noises, clutching him as your hands snake around his neck, holding him close to you. Joel grunts loudly between sloppy licks and sucks on your throat, his hips moving more clumsily as your walls squeeze him to the point he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

“God damn it baby, this little pussy wants me in there so bad, she’s so greedy,” Joel punches out right next to your ear. You shudder, hips spasming and only tightening you around him further. Joel groans loudly.

“Please…” is all you can whisper, out of breath as he hits deep inside of you with each new movement.

“Fuck, c-can’t… need to fill you up, darlin’, need you fuckin’ full of me…”

“Pleaaaase…” More urgently this time, lips dry from the way you’re sucking in oxygen in quick gasps, starting to feel your orgasm clawing at your belly, tingly and hot.

“Fuckin’ full of me… gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. Give you my f-fuckin’ baby right now… m-make you swell up,” Joel pants, his face buried in your shoulder, biting down. You gasp, completely lost to the moment, fingers digging into his skin as you pull him in tighter, legs and feet crushed against his back. There are no two bodies here, only togetherness and sweat and breath - two people so lost in the moment and pure pleasure that they’re outside of themselves, becoming one frenzied movement to climb higher and higher to that sweet peak of relief.

“F-fuck… yes, yes, baby, yes…” you moan out. “Fill me up… d-do it…” you whine. With a stunted grunt Joel’s hips stutter forward, burying himself deep. The power, the emotion of it all as he starts to paint your walls tips you over the edge, fluttering tightly around him as you milk every bit of his seed into you, spasming and moaning as you reach another high.

“Oh my god…” you breathe out as you come hard, Joel’s ragged breath right in your ear softly moaning for you. The both of you fully collapse, Joel rolling to the side, clutching an arm around your chest. The crackling sound of the fireplace start to come back into your consciousness, the stillness and warmth of the room hitting you all over again while you lay back, feeling the stickiness of the two of you steadily leaking out of you. You’re speechless now, barely able to catch your breath, let alone process what Joel had hummed into your ear in the heat of the moment.

A baby. Did he really want that with you?

You two hadn’t discussed having children very often just yet, wanting to wait and enjoy being married, being just you two for a few years. But you felt your heart flutter a little, the thought of a little life inside of you, yours and Joel’s, a beautiful loved baby that you’d grow and nurture together. You can scarcely breathe at the thought, the love your heart swells with for this faraway notion, this unconceived child, already imprinting themselves onto your heart.

“Joel…” you murmur. His head turns towards you, and you watch light flickering around him from the shadows the fire is casting along his golden skin.

“I-” Joel stutters, seeing the look in your eyes. For once, he’s not sure he can quite read it. He knows he said something so much more tangible this time, beyond all the dirty talk the both of you love to get lost in. It was too much, surely, he’d scared you with it. “I’m sorry, honey, that was… jus’ caught in the moment, maybe…”

Your face falls a little, eyes dropping to peer past him with a sad look. “Were you?” you ask timidly, hands coming together on your belly and wringing nervously.

Joel’s eyes bore into yours, soft now, none of that feral fire that was there only minutes ago. He shakes his head slowly.

“N-no, no I wasn’t, doll,” he replies quietly. Your lips twitch a little, a small smile that you’re not able to hold back now.

“I, uh, I wasn’t either,” you tell him, and Joel’s eyes flash, lighting up a bit.

He turns completely on his side, and you do too, facing each other and scooting even closer. Joel drapes a hand over you, starting to rub lazy patterns onto your back. “So should we… uh, talk about this, then?” he asks, giving you a half, lopsided smile.

You give him a nod and a toothy grin, resting your forehead against his. “Get me those chocolates on the table over there and then we’re in business.” Joel moves without hesitation, winking at you as he pulls himself off the floor.

“Anythin’ f’you, darlin’."

You have no idea what hour it is, how long you’ve even been asleep when you feel Joel’s warm body pressing into yours, his chest now up against your back. The room is still nearly pitch black, making you take a moment to recall exactly where you are. You sigh, smiling softly at the memory of your trip thus far and you see a tiny sliver of light coming in around the blackout curtains in the room, clearly doing their job well by keeping you two asleep for god knows how long.

“Baby…” Joel whispers in your ear. You roll over slightly, your ass now rubbing into his crotch. Your eyes flutter slightly when you feel his cock, already half hard for you. Your insatiable husband, fucking you within an inch of your life for two nights in a row, and still coming back for more - a rare man of his age so voraciously consuming you over and over, never seeming to be satisfied.

“Hmm?” you murmur in reply. Joel wraps an arm across you, snuggling you closer, all warm heat against his broad, naked chest.

“Mornin’...” he mumbles back, lips pressed to your neck. “Sweet girl.”

“Morning, handsome,” you say, reaching an arm behind you to cup Joel’s cheek, running your fingers through his beard. He hums in pleasure, dipping his lips down to kiss your neck again. You shudder, digging yourself deeper under the plush comforter as you feel goosebumps covering your entire body. Joel’s hands start to roam, sliding over the skimpy, half see through pink slip you’d discovered in your suitcase last night.

Joel is suddenly shifting in the bed, and you feel the sheets rustling next to you before he’s bumping your legs as he climbs over them, settling himself underneath the comforter right in between your thighs. His touch just grazes over your plush thighs, soft and gentle, how Joel tends to be first thing in the mornings before he descends into the rough, possessive man that you’re more used to.

“So soft, little doll…” Joel murmurs from between your legs, his breath hot on your inner thighs while he leans down to kiss the outside of your panties. You just mumble incoherent noises of affirmation, still half asleep. Joel makes quick work of your panties, a pair to match the slip, of course, and pulls them down your legs, discarding them in the mess of sheets.

Your hips buck, a louder moan escaping you when his mouth finds your warm center, already wet and wanting for him.

“She’s ready f’me, ain’t she… waitin’ on her mornin’ wakeup,” Joel teases before running his tongue up your slit another time, flicking it on your clit a few times. A gentle suck there has your whining ramping up, hips begging him for more more more already. You’re barely even lucid yet and Joel is on the precipice of pulling yet another earth shattering orgasm out of you.

“J-jesus… please…” you beg, already feeling the familiar warmth pooling tighter in your core, your knees wobbling as they curl up, giving you some leverage to lazily push your hips against Joel’s tongue as it moves along your pussy.

“C’mon baby, fall apart f’me, s’okay it’s so fast…” Joel pulls back to murmur to you, kissing along your inner thighs as he speaks.

Your hand snakes below the sheets, burying your fingers into his lush, gorgeous curls, letting them massage his scalp as he dives back into your cunt, licking in just the right way he knows makes you go crazy with need, that makes you come within minutes, sometimes even much less.

You moan loudly, hips spasming as your climax surprises you suddenly, the waves of pleasure hitting you while Joel lets you ride it out onto his face. Your eyes roll back and you whimper quietly as you come down, flopping onto the bed with a content little sigh, body going limp. Joel kisses his way up your stomach, chest, and finally your lips, where you taste that primal honey of yourself on his lips. You quickly fall back into a dozing, lazy state before Joel wakes you again with his lips on your neck.

“Gonna order us room service,” he whispers near your ear, and you nod, finally opening your eyes to see your husband’s rugged, handsome face hovering above yours. Sharp smirk, stress lines, wild bedhead and all - he’s perfect, and you can’t help but smile sleepily in return.

“There she is,” he teases, giving your forehead a smooch. “One mention of breakfast and she’s all bright eyed ‘n bushy tailed, huh?” You stick your tongue out teasingly, waggling your head at him.

“How about we eat, then we can go explore the town, do a little shoppin’ f’you, see the sights ‘n all that, hm?” Joel asks, and you nod tiredly but excitedly.

“Mmm, sounds good,” you agree, blinking slowly as you try to wake up, finally coming to enough to recall the conversation the two of you had last night. The dreams you’d shared, hopes you had for having a child, all the ways your lives would change but also stay quite the same. The way your love would stay the same, deepen even, with seeing the other become a parent. Weighing it all carefully but with hopeful hushed voices, wondering if this was the right time for that next step for the two of you. When you’d both tearfully agreed that you’d start really trying in a few months after some more planning and thought, your heart soared higher than the clouds, than anywhere you could even conceive in your mind, chest tight with anticipation for all of it.

This morning that same feeling persists as you look upon Joel - so steady, so assured - everything you’ve ever dreamed of right here in this one man.

“How about we get some practice in while we wait for the food…” you suggest with your raspy, sleep laden voice, raising your brows at him as you feel his cock brush against you again, clearly hard and wanting.

“Baby makin’ practice?” Joel teases, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all along the side of your face. “That kinda practice, hm? Not just an excuse to get me naked again?”

You laugh, turning your head to kiss him back, relishing in the familiar plumpness of his lips, the taste of your husband, all of it like a map you’ve traced your fingers over hundreds of times now, knowing every route, twist, and turn, filled with such a deep appreciation for the landscape laid out in front of you. You smile again as you two look at each other, feeling your cheeks starting to hurt from the way you’ve been grinning practically non-stop for the last two days because of your gruff but secretly so soft husband. Your hand moves upwards to cup his cheek, sincerity written all over you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel.”

Joel smiles back, the same unspoken thoughts and deeply rooted loving care for you penned all over his features, entrenched in every weathered line, nook, and cranny of him.

“Happy Valentine’s, little doll.”

dividers by the amazing @/saradika-graphics <3

#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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raitonsfw · 1 year ago

Text

tags: true form sukuna, two dicks, dubcon, masturbation, breeding kink, dacryphilia, rough blowjob/intercourse, curse fucking, mention of itadori’s body, and some manipulation. (tags bc it's true form sukuna and contains more than my usual thirsts)

thinking about sukuna ryōmen...

and the sheer annoyance of itadori’s body plaguing him as he fails to get himself off yet again. god, he missed his true form– two cocks lying heavily against his tummy, nearly touching his licked mouth open there and he begged to be able to someday be inside his own skin again.

he craved the desperation he used to instill in people when he’d whip them out, two of his hands folded against his hips whilst the other two held out his prized possessions. it was a real power trip for him, seeing the way their mouths bob open in an attempt to try to take both at once; only for them to ultimately fit one in their mouth.

as he pumped himself languidly, lying dreadfully still in itadori’s dorm bed, he thought of you and what you would do if you were ever graced with his true form. would you cower in fear or would you drop to your knees before him, begs and pleads spilling pathetically from your wretched mouth?

he imagined the latter– you’d submit to him, in more ways than one. your tiny hands wouldn’t even be able to wrap around one of his cocks, forget about the other one; could you even fit it in your mouth? he’d have to shove it in, make you take it with no remorse. one of his four palms would cup the crown of your head, keeping you pliant for him as he greedily fed you his huge cock.

and of course you’d gag around him whilst your hand would grab at his other cock that rested against your stuffed cheek, dripping precum all over your shoulder. he imagined you’d think it was lonely, needing some relief too as the one in your mouth started to slide against your tongue. he wouldn't be nice about it either, the back of your throat would definitely be bruised by the end of the night.

if there was ever an end, because the next thing you knew– his cocks would be stretching out your tight little cunt. all of his hands would be holding you flush against him, two around your neck and the other two gripping your waist as he pounded mercilessly into you from behind, not a single ounce of regret flooding his mind.

his hands on your waist would curve up to your breasts, fondling them as the mouths he bore on his palms opened up. they’d suckle your nipples between their teeth, reddening them as they pulled harshly and you would nearly collapse from the pleasured pain you felt– from his hands, his cocks, his entire presence that shielded you down into the pit of the mattress.

you’d whine out tiny complaints that mixed with moans, begging him to slow down as his two cocks would ram straight against your cervix, desperate to nearly break through and flood your womb and all he’d say to you was, ‘what? you humans can’t take two dicks at once? nah, you can fucking take it… c’mon, that’s it–! fucking cry for me.’

his release pressed him soon after as he watched you weep into the pillows– he needed to cum inside you and breed you, could a curse like him even impregnate you? who knew, but he’d be determined to find out as you clenched around both of his cocks with a wanton cry. as the king of curses, how wonderful it would be if he were to have an offspring to rule beside him– especially a child of your being, something so disastrously human yet so wonderfully cursed.

as sukuna imagined how you’d take his seed so fucking willingly, itadori’s uniform would be completely soiled– and itadori wouldn’t even know why as he came to.

a/n: decided this needed warning tags cuz it's true form sukuna. i had a damn dream about him last night and he hasn't left my mind the entire day so this came about.

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gilverrwrites · 2 months ago

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Pervy Dick touching Tim’s friend for the first time and just slowly striping another layer of your clothes each time you finish. Dick absolutely loving how fucking shy you are about how dirty you’re being, cheeks growing warmer each time he opens your legs a little wider…

The real question is: does Tim ever begin to suspect anything?

━ [Part 1] ━ [Part 3] ━ [Part 4] Warnings: Manipulation, Virgin!Reader.

OOOOhhhhhhhh, him just loving the sound of your meek little voice, shaken by pleasure and punctuated by little whines and moans as he fucks his fingers in and out of your needy pussy in slow, calculated movements. He can’t resist whispering teasing questions in your ear between nipping at your neck, and sucking on your collar, just to coax more out of you.

“You like that, don’t you?” His teeth sink in a little harder when all you do is nod, and his cock throbs at the little squeak that escapes your lips. “C’mon, baby girl. Use your words for me.”

“Yes!” You cry, scrunching your eyes shut as if to hide your shame, but your walls tighten around him. You’re fucking loving it, and he knows it. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” He rewards you by brushing your already swollen clit, his breath hot on your face as he leans up to get a better look at you. “What do you like about it?”

“C’mon baby, Tim likes dirty talk, you gotta practice.” He keeps encouraging when you fail to answer. It’s a big fat lie, probably. Dick has little to no idea what Tim is into in bed. “Tell me what you like so I can keep doing it.”

“I don’t know.” You winge. He’s awful. Getting off on how naïve you are. He’s pumping your pussy so good that you can’t get your thoughts straight, can’t put your wants into words. “Just feels good, so good. I feel so full, Dick!”

The use of his name almost makes him snap, makes him want to rip your panties off and bury his cock so deep inside that tight little hole. Then you'll feel full, so fucking full on this thick cock, overflowing with his his load as he ruts it deep into you. But he doesn’t want to push you too far too fast.

At his prolonged silence, you peek through your heavy lids, so perfect, so eager for his approval and he can’t help swooping down to capture your mouth with his own.

“You say my name so pretty, baby.” He coos against your lips. “Say it again.”

And dear god, one piece of clothing per orgasm is insane. Just imagine, by the time he gets you down to your panties they’re well and truly ruined. A bit like you.

The elastics all stretched out by his hand, the crotch too from where he’d held them to the side while he’d eaten you out like he was on death row, and you were his last meal. Not to mention they’re absolutely drenched, having soaked up every last drop from your weeping cunt. All your slick and cum, all of Dick’s excess spit.

He wonders how easy it would be to sneak them out of your place in his pocket later.

As for Tim, of course he’d catch on eventually. He’s supposedly the world’s second greatest detective after all, but he’s so into you that he’s a little blind to it at first. Sure, he thinks it’s strange that you’re spending so much time with his brother, even when he’s not around. That Dick is so frequently visiting from Blüdhaven, and seemingly only to see you, but he just pegs it down to the two of you having such a great, platonic connection. He’s happy that you get on with his family, and that Dick has found a friend outside of vigilantism.

But then he notices how frequently the two of you text, from first thing in the morning, right into the late hours of the night. Previously you’d been pretty relaxed about letting him pick it up for you when your hands are full, or just generally letting him look, but recently you’re becoming more and more cagey about it, always tilting your screen away or getting panicky when he offers to check your messages for you. He convinces himself it’s nothing though. Sure, when he asks, you almost always tell him you’re texting Dick, but that doesn’t mean you’re not also texting other people. The two of you aren’t exclusive, you’re not even technically dating, so you could be chatting to other guys, and he hates the idea of it but it’s your prerogative. He doesn’t make the link that the suspected other guy and Dick might be the same person, because unconsciously he doesn’t want to.

But the red flag really starts waving when you arrive at his place one morning for breakfast. You're kind of a mess. Your hair is unkempt, there are dark circles under your eye, and you’re wearing a very familiar, dark blue hoodie.

“You good? You look…” He racks his brain for the right word. You’re still cute but he doesn’t want to come on too strong, nor too harsh. “Rough.”

“Me? Yeah, just couldn’t sleep last night, and then when I did, I overslept and basically had to run over here.” You’re lying, he knows your tells but he doesn’t call you out on it. You’ll talk to him when and if you’re ready.

“Is that Dick’s hoodie?”

“Um, yeah. We hung out last night, it was cold, so he let me borrow it.” It’s the truth, but it rolls off your tongue nervously, and it doesn’t sit right with him.

20 minutes later you’re sitting in a diner, ordering your usual, chatting with the waitress. Your head is turned to face her at just the right angle for Tim to spot the reddish-purple mark peeking out from the collar of Dick’s hoodie. A love bite that certainly had not been there when you’d sent him a Snapchat selfie yesterday afternoon. He’d know, he’d studied every inch of that photo; the way the light hit your eye, the smile on your soft lips, how the vest top you’d been wearing exposed your unmarred shoulders and neck.

“Did you say you only hung out with Dick last night?” He asks when it’s just the two of you again.

“Uh, yeah.” You look at him quizzically.

“Just Dick? Nobody else at all?”

“Nope, just Dick, me, and Cary Elwes’ Robin Hood.” The truth again. “Why?”

Things rapidly start making sense. There was a time when Dick had to lodge himself between the two of you just to join in your conversations, but recently it’s like you’ve been glued to him. Anytime Tim makes a dirty joke, or pays you a compliment, instead of looking away all sheepishly like you used to, your eyes now flitter over to his brother. You always smell like his aftershave, and just last week he’d picked up the undeniable stench of sex on you after Dick had dropped you off for a coffee date. He was pretty sure he spotted one of Dick’s shirts peeking out from under your bed the other day, but now he’s certain.

“No reason.” He mutters. Hurt that you’d been sneaking around with his brother and lying to his face about it. Furious at Dick for sleeping with you when he knew damn well that you were his, or at least that you would be one day. He’s annoyed at himself for not figuring it out sooner.

And just under that storm of anger and disbelief, there’s a tiny little spark. A competitive, possessive notion tapping incessantly at the back of his brain that wants to win you back and rub in Dick’s face.

#anon #perv!dick #dick grayson #dick grayson/reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing #nightwing/reader #tim drake/reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #red robin/reader #red robin x reader #red robin #gilverranswers #reader insert #f reader #nsft

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mistiell · 1 year ago

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Ok so, maybe you knew this already or maybe not, but... In the game, if you hover over Astarion's original outfit it says that it looks rather old and mended over several times. The running theory is that he's been reparing his own clothes (explains the cheeky embroidery in his underwear) , since we damn well know that Cazador would not give two hoots about it, and that poor baby has been running around in a 200 year old shirt and probably doesn't have much clothes with him. I just want something fluffy... maybe the reader always let's him have first dibs on whatever they find or even gets him new clothes. I just imagine him finding a brand new shirt on his tent that is soft and comfortable and I just want to weep in a corner 🥺

Can you help a sister out?

Here you are <33 (also, I'm so sorry this took so long lol) WC: 1.3k Also CW for potential spoilers

---

Astarion is slow to wake this morning, fully intending to lay with you in his tent as long as you’ll allow. Rolling over with his eyes still closed, he reaches to hook his arm around your waist only to grasp at nothing but air.

He’s certainly awake now.

It’s unusual to find you missing given he’s usually the first to wake between the two of you; two hundred years of living in The Underdark and only ever surfacing at night having apparently made him a little sensitive to light.

Sitting up and shifting onto his knees, he reaches to pull the tent flap back and peer out at the campfire. A small gust of the cool morning air sweeps over his bare torso, raising goosebumps over the skin of his arms despite the fact that he’s not really bothered by the cold. That little spike of anxiety dulls when he finds you haven’t strayed far; standing maybe fifteen feet away in conversation with Karlach.

As if you can sense him, you glance over and light up when you spot him peeking out of the tent, excusing yourself from the tiefling. He expects you to come straight over, but instead, you turn to grab a basket he hadn’t seen first.

He shuffles back to let you come inside, flushing a bit when you brush a few rogue curls from his face and bend to peck his hairline, “Good morning, handsome.”

“I- Good morning.” Is all he manages, still tired and a little stunned. Shifting off of his knees to sit cross-legged, he peers into the basket as you set it down in front of him and cocks a brow, “What’s this?”

“Clothes.”

“Well yes, I can see that, darling.” He sasses and you chortle, “But why have you brought me a basket of clothes?”

“I found it the last time we left camp.” He remembers that. You’d gone out with Karlach, Gale and Lae’zel and came back bloodied and bruised. He’d been so focused on getting you patched up that he hadn’t even thought of asking about what you might have found.

You clear your throat and glance away, smiling sheepishly, “I picked out some things I thought you’d like, but then I thought you might prefer to have a look through yourself, so,” You shrug and jerk your nose at the basket, “I brought you all of it.”

His heart would be stuttering in his chest if it could. Reaching into the pile, he thumbs over a few of the garments, feeling the different fabrics and looking over all the different colours. It’s been centuries since he’s had a choice in what to wear. Sure, he’s picked up some things throughout your travels but never so much all at once. It’s a little overwhelming, having all this to pick through after so long.

Taking hold of the basket, he pushes it closer to you, “Show me what you picked out first.”

“Oh,” Your heart rate spikes, and he smiles as you stutter out, “Are- Are you sure? I’m not sure you’d actually like what I picked out. That’s one of the reasons I brought you the whole basket.”

He scoffs and waves off the thought, “Nonsense. You could hand me the most distasteful outfit in all of Faerûn and I’d at least try it on for you.”

“Really?” “Of course I would.” He realises the implications of what he’s just said and tries to play off the sentiment with a puckish grin, gesturing towards himself, “It’s hard to not look good in something when you’re this beautiful.”

You laugh, eyes squinting shut with the force of your smile. “Yes, you truly are dashing, my love.”

“Stating the obvious, but I can’t complain,” You roll your eyes at him as he taps the sides of the basket, “Now, are you going to show me what you picked out? Or are you just going to sit here sing my praises? Personally, I’d be fine either way.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it,” Reaching into the clothes, your laughter tapers off as you glance back up at him timidly one last time, “But if you don’t like something, tell me, okay?”

He lays his palm flat against his sternum, all dramatics as he grins, “Cross my heart and hope to,” He pauses, before chuckling, “Well, die again, I suppose.”

He laughs when you shoot him a glare with no real malice behind it and tut disapprovingly.

He watches in quiet curiosity as you pull out a few items, explaining why you thought he’d like them as you go. Your reasons range from colours and patterns to embroidery and necklines, all of which are shockingly on par with his tastes. It appears you know him better than he thought you did.

“That’s about it, I think.” Your brows furrow in a way that is entirely too cute – especially for someone he’s watched eviscerate hoards of goblins – before you perk up with an excited gasp, “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Turning to look this way and that, you make a little sound of satisfaction when your gaze lands on your pack. Your shirt rides up a bit when you twist onto your knees to reach for it, and he stifles the urge to run his hand over the sliver skin it exposes. You rummage through a few pockets before finding what you’re looking for, returning to kneel in front of him with something hidden in your hand.

“Close your eyes.” You urge, and he does as you’ve asked.

“Ooh, saved the best for last, have you?” He grins, holding out his hands before you even ask.

You chuckle, sounding a little nervous, “Hopefully.”

He hears the tinkling of metal and nearly jumps when your hand makes contact with his, one cradling the backs of his while the other presses something small and rough into his palm.

“Open.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you say it.

On your command, he opens his eyes to find you’ve given him a necklace. The pendent is a little piece of a raw, orange crystal encircled by dainty gold rods that are bent to resemble branches.

“This is... beautiful.” He breathes, turning it over in his hand to admire the jagged edges, “What kind of crystal is it?”

“Sunstone.” He looks up at you then, finding a shy smile hung on your lips, “I know it’s a little on the nose but...,” You worry your bottom lip for a moment, clearly a little hesitant to continue, “I know you’re worried about... what’ll happen once the tadpoles are removed. So, I wanted to get you something just in case. It’s not the same thing, obviously, but I thought this way you can still figuratively have a little piece of the sun if,” Cutting yourself off, you glance away for a moment, “Well, if things don’t go the way we hope.”

He stares at you for a long moment, entirely unsure of what to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything he could say to convey just how much the gesture means to him.

Setting the necklace on his pillow, he draws you into his arms and weaves them tight around your waist. He pulls you to him so suddenly that your knees bump his shins, but you don’t seem to mind as you hook your arms around the back of his neck. His eyes burn as he murmurs against the side of your neck, “I love you.”

You card your fingers through his hair and he shudders, leaning further into you as you dot a few sweet kisses along the length of his shoulder.

“I love you too.” Your words are muddled as they’re mumbled into his skin, “More than you know.”

Maybe he didn’t before, but he thinks he has an idea now. You love him enough that you gave him his own little chunk of the sun. Even if things don’t pan out they way he hopes they will, he doesn’t think he’ll need the necklace – however pretty it may be.

He’s already got his bit of the sun wrapped up tight in his arms.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #bg3

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dewdropdinosaur · 3 months ago

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Kinktober Day 17: Period Sex

Summary: He could never get enough of you during this time of the month. It was a problem honestly, a filthy little addiction that he had once considered himself over his baser vampiric instintcs. But here he was, ravishing your weeping cunt, his chin soaked in cum and blood. Warnings: Oral sex, period sex, blood, cum, reader has a vagina, breeding kink, possesiveness, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption Kinktober Mention of the Day: @mahitariadi This fic was based on their artwork, which I loved! Link to the art piece. :)

He could never get enough of you during this time of the month. It was a problem honestly, a filthy little addiction that he had once considered himself over his baser vampiric instintcs. But here he was, ravishing your weeping cunt, his chin soaked in cum and blood. The night you had agreed to let him feed from you sealed you to fate, that the sarcastic rogue was in actually a primal fiend that fed off your blood and arousal like it was heavenly ambrosia and he the God that indulged in it straight from the source.

You had agreed to let him share your tent for the night, the party taking a small respite outside of the Tiefling camp. It had been nice, the drinking and revelry, soft touches and careful glances across the bonfire. But you had noticed that look in his eyes from a mile away. How he followed your every movement, eyes dark and lustful with every sway of your hips and every bit back laughter at one of Gale’s jokes. He could smell you, how delicatable you were. Ripe and ready for the taking, for him. So when you settled to sleep for the night, blood full of liquor and heart full of cheer, you had expected some form of intimacy to occur but not so heavy as this.

Taking a small break from the ruthless onset of his tongue, his eyes glance upwards toward your own. Screwed shut in ectasy, gripping the blanket below you as a life line.

“You look so pretty, love. I suppose you will take back your words from earlier?”

Oh yes, how could you forget? You had mentioned to Astarion earlier in the week that your time of month had unfortunately started and that absolutely nothing could cure the pain that rocked your core for the span of the week. A mistake on your part, truly. Nodding rapidly, voice strained from the constant voicing of your pleasure already that night, you were immediately forgiven as your boyfriend resumed. Continuing to electrify your clit with his ministrations by adding two fingers into your overstimulated and puffy pussy.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips into his face, hands tightening on the the fabric below. His tongue only devling deeper, making your cunt more soaked that it already was. You wished he would just take you already, drive his perfect and heavy cock into you. You would take him so well, you always did. How the ridges of his hot and angry tip would kiss up near your cervix, making you see stars as he would always set a pace that would drive you mad. You had ventured into love making with him and he had found it freeing from the life he had lived before. But those animalistic times that overtook him left you always desiring to feel him again, to be filled and kept there like a breeding bitch for his pleasure and his pleasure alone.

He could feel how tight you were, sensing your thoughts. How desperately you squeezed him; so needy for his touch and affection that he could swear that your cunt was made solely for his enjoyment. Pumping in and out delibaretly, soft squelching filled the tent with a lewd rythm. He hummed into you, the vibrations sending fireworks straight up into your body, causing the coil in your stomach to burst as you felt a blinding hot flash of liquid pour out of you. Soaking Astarion’s hand and face in the filthy mix of your release and blood as he relished in the taste.

“Taste so delicious for me darling. Utterly divine in every way.”

#astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate smut #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav #dungeons and dragons #astarion ancunin #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #period sex #hornyasf #hornyposting #so hot 🔥🔥🔥

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imastrangeone98 · 1 month ago

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Even after all this time, I am still so fucking unhinged about ✨boothill✨

I wrote a similar idea with Cyno from Genshin, but I just love the idea of a man going feral when their lover (aka YOU 😉) gets injured in any way... or even kidnapped

Boothill would be no different- the moment he sees even the slightest scratch on your cheek, his vision goes black. He's sniffing out the bastard who dared to lay a finger on you, brutal and unwavering in his hunt that lasts from sunup to sundown. He refuses to bend until it ends with a bullet in the asshole's head- what they dared to do to you, he'll do back to them, tenfold.

And heaven forbid you end up kidnapped- a bullet in the brain wouldn't even be enough to atone for the sin of taking you away from him. The blood and gore he would spill will fill oceans; no price is unthinkable for Boothill if it means that you will return to his arms, safe and sound.

And if it's Homecoming y/n, where the two of you only just reunited after believing the other died in the tragedy of your home planet.... They might as well count their days, because they are numbered.

As in, count each second they get to keep breathing- the next one will likely be their last.

He just got you back, after spending all these years believing you to be with his family in the eternal moon lily fields, and just the thought of having you ripped away from his arms once more is enough to break him permanently.

So when he returns to the now-shared ship and you do not rush to welcome him back like you normally do, that immediately sets him on edge. And when he tears the ship apart and finds a ransom note on your bunk instead of your warm body, his cybernetic brain instantly shuts down with the sheer overload of rage and insanity that swarms his neurochip.

A petal on his beloved moon lily has been torn.

A detestable, unforgivable sin.

His body works on overdrive- it helps that he's made of metal, because he works night and day without rest until he tracks down the hideout of those bastards who thought it'd be a smart idea to take you away.

Well, he can't say they're dumb- after all, they just figured out the fastest way to an early grave.

And that's a fact you too know all too well, judging by the bloodcurdling screams echoing through the hallways leading to your cell. In fact, you're almost grateful for the blindfold over your eyes, as there's no doubt blood soaking the metal floors.

The screams slowly begin to die out, one by one, leaving only the dull thud, thud, thud of heeled metal soles headed straight for you. There's a screech of metal, then a metallic warmth surrounding you. The familiar scent of gunpowder and cedar cologne clings to your nose, and you nearly buckle into Boothill's arms, shivering and weeping, clinging onto his shoulders.

"It's alright, now," he coos, making sure to wipe the blood on his hands before scooping you into his arms. "I'm here, moon lily. I ain't goin' nowhere."

(And it wouldn't be me without just the slightest touch of suggestiveness so...)

Clean from the blood and gore, Boothill gently tucks himself under your chin, nuzzling his nose into your neck, trying to remind himself that you're still here, you're still alive, you didn't slip from his fingers yet again.

If you did, only the aeons know what would happen to him.

"You saved me yet again," you coo, rubbing at the crease in his brows. "My hero."

"Sure as fudge don't feel like one," he mumbles, arms wrapping even more tightly around you. "I almost lost you. Again. I swore it wouldn't happen again, but-"

"But nothing. You found me. I'm safe and sound 'cause of you." You kiss the top of his head, moving down to his face to pepper his cheeks and forehead with more light kisses. "My brave cowboy. I'm alive all because of you. I must be the luckiest girl in the world."

Boothill finally melts under your affectionate administrations, tilting his head to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.

But you're wrong. Boothill knows that if anything, he's the one who's the luckiest in the world. You don't hate him for letting you be taken away, nor do you cower from his bloodstained hands. Instead, you embrace him with your soft arms wide open, with your even softer lips pressing hard against his own, and warm hands that tangle though his hair to keep him closer when he tries to pull away and give you some air. He feels the luckiest when you allow him to press against you even tighter, giving him access to the deepest parts of you, letting him see your bashful face, hear your sweet gasps and moans as he comforts you in the best way he knows how.

Boothill will never ask for anything more. All he needs is for you to be right here in his arms, forever his beautiful, strong, resilient moon lily. Forever his.

#honkai star rail #boothill #boothill x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #im terrible at endings but thats ok lol #I finally have time to write after my terrible semester and finals #boothill my love ❤️

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allthemeniveloved · 26 days ago

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Devil

Summary: After she fails to rob him, John Marston finally meets his match.

wc: 5.3k

ao3 link

Warnings: 18+, mdni, low honor John Marston x mean female stubborn pickpocket oc, cocky bastard JM, horrendous pickup lines, dubious consent, oral (m receiving), slight exhibitionism, no abigail or jack

a/n: Trying out third person POV! I had a lot of fun writing this one! <3

The saloon in Rhodes was bustling, its warm lamplight casting long, dancing shadows across the scuffed wooden floors. A haze of cigar smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the steady hum of conversation, bursts of laughter, and the occasional crash of a glass. In the back corner of the room, the scrape of chairs and the slap of playing cards punctuated the scene.

John Marston leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he lazily swirled a tumbler of whiskey in one hand. His other hand rested on his knee, tapping in time with the saloon’s off-key piano. Across from him, Arthur studied his cards with a nonchalant frown, a half-empty beer beside him. To Arthur’s right, Charles calmly lit a cigar, the smoke curling lazily around his head. Sean MacGuire, perched at the far end of the table, was currently ignoring his own hand in favor of loudly heckling a drunk who had collapsed in the corner.

“Come on, ya sack o’ shite!” Sean hollered, slapping the table. “Get up an’ show us yer dancin’ moves again! I’m tellin’ ya, boys, the man’s got the grace of a drunk mule.”

Arthur snorted. “Least he’s got some moves, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Oi, I’ve got moves,” Sean protested, slapping his chest. “Just ask the ladies.”

“The ladies?” John drawled, eyebrows arching in mock surprise. “You sure you didn’t mean the goats?”

The table burst into laughter, Sean glaring daggers at John. “Oh, you can shut yer trap, Marston. I’ll have you know, the ladies love me.”

“Yeah, when you keep your mouth shut,” Arthur added, smirking as he threw a couple of coins into the pot. “Raise.”

Sean leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “Oh, you’re just jealous I’ve got more charm in me pinkie finger than you’ve got in that whole sorry body o’ yours.”

“Sean,” Charles said evenly, his tone deadpan, “you’ve got the charm of a rattlesnake on a bad day.”

“’Tis slander, I tell ya!” Sean thumped the table, earning a warning glance from the bartender. “Pure jealousy, all of ya. But enough of yer yammerin’. I’m in too.” He tossed in his coins with a flourish. “Let’s see what ya got, Morgan.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but played along, laying his cards on the table. “Three of a kind.”

Sean groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Of course! What about you, Charles?”

Charles calmly placed his cards down—two pair. Sean perked up. “Ha! Finally, some justice. What about you, Marston?”

John grinned like the cat that got the cream. “Read ‘em and weep, boys.” He flipped over his hand—straight flush.

“Damn it!” Arthur muttered, tossing his cards down in disgust. “You’ve been smug all night. You’re cheatin’, aren’t ya?”

“Cheatin’?” John said with an exaggerated gasp, his grin only widening. “Arthur, I’m hurt. You think I’d cheat my closest friends out of their hard-earned cash?”

“Yes,” Arthur, Sean, and Charles said in unison.

John chuckled, leaning back in his chair and stretching. “Well, you can think what you want, but I’m just lucky tonight, is all.”

“Lucky, my arse,” Sean muttered. “I swear, you’ve got horseshoes shoved up where the sun don’t shine.”

“Maybe,” John replied with a wink, pocketing the pot.

“What’re you so happy about, Marston?” Arthur drawled, shaking his head as he reached for his beer.

John shrugged, swirling his whiskey lazily. “Just enjoyin’ myself. Ain’t a crime, is it?”

“Not yet,” Arthur muttered, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

As the group’s banter continued, no one noticed the elegant figure slinking through the crowd. She moved like a shadow, her dark hair pulled back beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Her gown, though simple, was impeccably tailored, hugging her figure in all the right places. But it wasn’t her appearance that drew attention—oh no. It was her sharp eyes, like polished obsidian, scanning the room for an opportunity.

And she found it.

The loud-mouthed cowboy in the corner, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, was an easy mark. The flash of his belt buckle and the bulge in his coat pocket told her he had more than enough to spare. He was clearly drunk—arrogance practically radiated off him in waves.

Perfect.

She made her way across the room, her steps light and deliberate. As she passed behind his chair, her fingers worked deftly, slipping into his coat pocket with practiced ease. She almost had it—a roll of cash tucked neatly inside. But just as she began to pull away, a rough hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

“Well, well,” drawled a voice, tinged with amusement. “What have we got here?”

She froze, but only for a moment. When she turned to face him, her expression was calm, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. His hazel eyes met hers, glinting with mischief.

“Let go of me,” she said, her voice smooth as honey but sharp as a blade.

John didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned closer, the scent of whiskey and leather rolling off him in waves. “You’re quick, I’ll give you that. But not quick enough.”

Arthur glanced up from his beer, raising an eyebrow. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Lady here was tryin’ to relieve me of my hard-earned money,” John said, holding her wrist aloft for emphasis. He didn’t sound angry—if anything, he sounded impressed.

She rolled her eyes. “Hard-earned? From the looks of you, I doubt you’ve done an honest day’s work in your life.”

That earned a laugh from Sean, who slammed his hand on the table. “Oh, I like her!”

John smirked, releasing her wrist but not taking his eyes off her. “Feisty, huh? I like that. But if you wanted some cash, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

She scoffed, brushing off his remark. “Spare me the charm, cowboy. I’ve heard better lines from drunks passed out in the gutter.”

That only seemed to amuse him more. He leaned back in his chair again, watching her with an almost predatory grin. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

She straightened her hat, giving him a withering look. “And you’ve got more money than sense. Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood tonight.”

“Oh, you’re doin’ me a favor, are you?” John’s grin widened. “Well, ain’t that kind of you.”

She ignored him, turning on her heel to leave, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Wait a second, darlin’. Least let me buy you a drink. Call it a peace offering.”

She turned back, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in free whiskey?” John feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. “Now that’s just cruel.”

She crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “I’m not interested in you, cowboy. Keep your drink—and your money.”

The table erupted in laughter, with Sean nearly falling out of his chair. Even Arthur chuckled, shaking his head.

But John wasn’t deterred. If anything, her sharp tongue only seemed to spur him on. “You’re a tough one, ain’t ya? I like a challenge.”

“Good luck, then,” she said coolly, before disappearing into the crowd.

But John Marston wasn’t one to give up so easily.

John watched her as she disappeared into the throng of saloon-goers, her hat tilted just enough to conceal the sharp glint in her eyes. She walked with a confidence that caught his attention, her hips swaying in a rhythm that seemed deliberate, a silent declaration of triumph despite the failed pickpocketing attempt.

Arthur’s voice broke his focus. “Let it go, John. She’s not interested.”

“Since when do I take advice from you about women?” John shot back, smirking as he tossed back the rest of his drink. “She’s just playin’ hard to get.”

“Hard to get?” Sean barked a laugh, wiping tears from his eyes from the lingering hilarity. “She damn near gutted you with that tongue of hers, and you’re callin’ it playin’?”

“She’s a challenge,” John said, his grin widening. “And I like challenges.”

“Challenges like tryin’ to stay upright after your fifth whiskey?” Arthur muttered, tipping his bottle in John’s direction.

Charles chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret this, John.”

“Regret?” John leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. “I don’t regret nothin’. I’ve got charm. She’ll come around.”

“You’ve got something, all right,” Arthur muttered. “A death wish, maybe.”

John ignored him, standing up and dusting off his coat. He grabbed his hat and planted it firmly on his head, the cocky gleam in his hazel eyes unwavering. “Y’all enjoy your game. I’ve got some business to attend to.”

“Yeah, sure. Go on,” Sean said, waving him off. “But don’t come cryin’ to us when she slaps that smug grin off your face.”

“She won’t slap me,” John said confidently. “She might kiss me, though.”

“Get outta here,” Arthur grunted, waving him off as John sauntered toward the bar.

The crowd parted slightly as John moved through, his eyes scanning the room for her. It didn’t take long. She was leaning casually against the bar, her elbow resting on the wooden surface as she nursed a glass of something dark. Her expression was cool, disinterested, but her sharp gaze flickered across the room, cataloging every detail like a predator stalking prey. She had clearly noticed him before he even reached her, though she didn’t turn to acknowledge him.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” John said, sliding up beside her with a grin that could rival the devil’s own.

She didn’t even glance his way. “The saloon isn’t exactly exclusive, cowboy.”

He chuckled, tipping his hat back slightly as he leaned an elbow on the bar. “Well, I figured you’d be long gone after your little… failed venture.”

Her lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “You’re awfully smug for someone who almost got robbed.”

“Almost,” he repeated, emphasizing the word. “Key word there, sweetheart. You didn’t get away with it.”

She finally turned her head, her dark eyes meeting his with a cool defiance. “You sound proud, but let me guess—you’d have handed over that money if I batted my lashes at you.”

“Depends on how convincing you were,” John admitted, his grin never faltering. “But I’m more interested in you now than I was before.”

“Oh, lucky me.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. She took a slow sip from her glass, her gaze flickering over him before returning to her drink.

John leaned closer, undeterred. “What’s your name?”

“Not interested,” she said simply, her focus still on the bar.

“Funny name,” He quipped, earning himself the faintest flicker of a smile, though it disappeared as quickly as it came.

John leaned against the bar, his grin unwavering. “Name’s John, in case you were curious.”

“Are you always this annoying, John?” she asked, finally turning to face him fully.

Her retort earned a bark of laughter from John. “You’ve got a real gift, you know that? Not everyone can insult a man so pretty.”

She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why don’t you find someone else to waste your time on?”

John’s laughter lingered as he leaned a little closer, his elbows resting casually on the bar. “Tell me somethin’, sweetheart,” he drawled, his tone teasing but not unkind. “You always this tough, or am I just lucky tonight?”

She didn’t look at him, but the corner of her mouth twitched—so quickly it might’ve been imagined.

“You mistake stubbornness for luck, cowboy.”

“Oh, it’s luck all right,” he said, tapping the bar with his knuckles again. “No way I’m this lucky twice in one week.”

Her lips pressed into a line, the faintest suggestion of amusement flickering in her dark eyes before she schooled her expression. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he conceded with a lazy shrug. “But you’re smilin’. Almost.”

Her head turned sharply, her gaze cutting to his. “I am not.”

That earned a crooked grin from John, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ain’t no shame in it, darlin’. I’m a funny guy. People tend to like me eventually.”

Her composure faltered just slightly, the faintest huff escaping her lips before she caught herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously persistent,” he shot back, the grin widening. “But hey, you’re still talkin’ to me, so I must be doin’ somethin’ right.”

She rolled her eyes, finally lifting her drink and taking a slow sip, if only to avoid answering. But John caught it—a split-second softening, a crack in the armor that had him feeling a little too proud of himself.

“See that?” he said, leaning closer again. “You can’t get rid of me. You don’t hate me as much as you want to, do ya?”

Her glass clinked softly against the bar as she set it down with deliberate care. When she turned to him, her eyes had narrowed, her smirk sharp and cutting. “If you’re waiting for me to admit anything, don’t hold your breath. In fact…” She leaned closer now, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. “You might wanna think real hard about how far you push this before I embarrass you in front of the whole saloon.”

John raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin never left his face. “Careful now, angel. You’re startin’ to sound like you care about my feelings.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped, though her tone lacked the venom it carried earlier.

“Oh, I don’t need to,” he replied smoothly. “You’re doin’ it for me.”

Her jaw tightened, her nails tapping a sharp rhythm against the wood of the bar. “I’m about five seconds away from throwing this drink in your face.”

John tilted his head, his grin somehow growing even more infuriating. “Go on then. Might cool me off, ‘cause darlin’, you’re hotter than the Lemoyne sun.”

That did it. She huffed sharply, the sound almost a laugh before she quickly bit it back. Her lips pressed together, but the slight color in her cheeks betrayed her.

John’s eyes widened slightly in mock surprise, and he pointed at her triumphantly. “There it is! You’re blushin’! I knew it!”

“I am not!” she snapped, turning her head sharply away.

“You are too,” he teased, laughing now, unbothered by the heat of her glare when she whipped her head back to him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s cute.”

Her lips parted to retort, but she found herself momentarily speechless. She wasn’t sure if it was his persistence, his nerve, his utterly stupid pick up lines, or the fact that her cheeks really were starting to feel warm. Whatever it was, he’d found a crack, and she hated that he knew it.

Her gaze lingered on him for a beat too long, and she hated herself for the way her pulse quickened. The worst part was, he could probably see it. But she wasn’t going to let him have the last word. Not yet. With a sharp tilt of her chin, she picked up her drink and downed the rest in one go, slamming the glass down before fixing him with an icy stare. “Keep pushing, cowboy. I promise you’ll regret it.”

John only laughed, tipping his hat to her as she stormed off toward the other end of the saloon. But she didn’t miss the way his eyes stayed on her as she walked away.

And damn it all, she hated that she didn’t hate it.

John lingered by the bar for a moment, watching her retreat with a slow shake of his head. She moved with purpose, shoulders stiff and head held high, but the faintest hesitation in her stride told him she knew he was watching. He chuckled under his breath, downed the last of his drink, and turned toward the exit.

“Don’t do it, John,” Arthur called from the poker table, barely glancing up from his hand.

“Let her go, Marston!” Sean chimed in, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated laugh. “She’s gonna skin you alive.”

“You’ll be lucky to keep your dignity intact,” Charles added evenly, though there was the faintest trace of a smile on his face.

John waved them off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Y’all just keep losin’ your money over there. I’ll be fine.”

He pushed through the saloon doors, the humid night air hitting him like a blanket after the haze of whiskey and cigar smoke inside. The faint clinking of harnesses and the soft murmur of crickets filled the quiet. He didn’t have to look far—she was out back, untying her horse with quick, efficient movements, her head slightly tilted as though she were listening for footsteps.

“Leavin’ so soon?” he drawled, the sound of his boots on the dirt cutting through the stillness.

She froze for half a heartbeat before continuing to untie the reins. “You’re a persistent bastard. I’ll give you that.”

“Gotta be, sweetheart,” he said, walking closer but keeping a casual distance. “Someone like you doesn’t make it easy.”

“Good,” she shot back, her voice steady but lacking the same bite as earlier. “I’d hate to be accused of goin’ soft.”

He grinned, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. ‘Soft’ ain’t the word anyone’d use for you.”

She finished untying her horse and turned to face him, her dark eyes sharp but unreadable in the low light. “You’ve had your fun. Go back to your poker game.”

He took a step closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Maybe I’m havin’ more fun out here.”

She opened her mouth to fire back, but no words came. For the first time that night, she seemed caught off guard. Her eyes flicked to his face, narrowing slightly as if searching for some crack in his playful facade. But there wasn’t one. He was just… watching her, his hazel eyes steady and open, his grin more genuine than teasing now.

“Well,” she finally managed, her voice quieter than before. “Good for you.”

He was closer now, and his expression was different—less cocky, more… sincere. The shift threw her off balance, and for once she had no witty retort.

John noticed. Oh, he noticed. The faint hesitation in her eyes, the way her lips parted like she was searching for something to say. His grin returned, slow and lazy, and he leaned just a little closer, lowering his voice. “You all outta insults, sweetheart?”

She stiffened, her jaw working as if she were trying to summon some kind of biting reply, but nothing came. Her silence only seemed to embolden him.

“Thought so,” he murmured, his tone rich with amusement. “I gotta say, I kinda like you like this. Quiet suits you.”

That did it. She snapped her head toward him, her glare sharp enough to cut. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Too late,” he said with a wink. “I’m already pushin’ it.”

John’s grin softened, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, closing the space between them inch by inch. She stiffened immediately, her fingers tightening around the reins of her horse.

“You’re awfully close, cowboy,” she said, her voice steady but edged with warning.

He stopped just short of touching her, his hazel eyes locked onto hers. “Close enough to make you nervous?” he asked, his tone teasing, though there was a new, hushed quality to his voice that made the air between them feel heavier.

Her lips parted, ready to bite back with some sharp retort, but his scent reached her before she could. Tobacco, whiskey, and leather—all laced with the faint, earthy musk of sweat from the long day. She hated how intoxicating it was, how it seemed to settle low in her chest and linger there. She straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his gaze with a defiance she didn’t fully feel.

Before she could respond, he leaned in closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Her heart stuttered against her will, a traitorous little skip that she prayed he couldn’t hear. The tip of his nose nearly grazed her temple as his lips hovered by her ear.

“Oh Angel,” he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp, “I see the way you’re starin’ at me.”

The words rolled over her, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine that she couldn’t suppress. Goosebumps rose along her arms, a betrayal she hoped the dim light concealed, but she knew he noticed. He didn’t pull back, didn’t gloat—just stayed close enough that the space between them felt unbearably small.

She inhaled sharply, a protest forming on her tongue, but it never made it out. Her body betrayed her again, leaning the faintest bit toward him, caught between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer. Her silence only seemed to spur him on, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered, the words brushing against her skin like a touch.

“John,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with warning and something dangerously close to surrender.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice soft but steady, like he was willing to wait forever for whatever she wanted to say.

“Shut up,” she said, but the words were breathless, lacking the bite she wanted them to have.

He grinned, a quiet, self-assured thing that stole the last bit of air from her lungs. And then he closed the distance.

His lips met hers in a kiss that was nothing like the teasing banter they’d exchanged all night. It was raw, desperate, and consuming, his hand coming up to cradle the side of her face as if anchoring himself to her. She froze for half a heartbeat, every nerve in her body alight with shock and something she couldn’t name. And then she kissed him back.

The reins slipped from her fingers as her hands found the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. He pulled her closer, his other hand settling on her waist as the kiss deepened, a slow, heady tangle of lips and breath that made the world tilt. She hated how much she needed it, hated the way her body melted into his, as if she’d been waiting for this all along.

When they finally broke apart, her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her forehead resting against his. His eyes were half-lidded, his grin softer now but still insufferable.

“Well,” he said, his voice rough and quiet, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Her glare returned, though it lacked its usual fire. “You’re such a bastard.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, brushing his thumb lightly along her jaw, “but you’re still kissin’ me.”

She shoved him back, though not with as much force as she could’ve. “Don’t get used to it.”

Her lips still tingled from the kiss, the burn of him leaving her aching for something she refused to name. She hated the way her body betrayed her, leaning in before her brain could stop her. And she hated even more that he noticed.

“Oh, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower as his hands found her waist, drawing her back in. “You ain’t foolin’ either of us.”

Her resolve crumbled when his lips brushed hers again, softer this time, coaxing rather than demanding. It was slower, deeper, and she leaned into it with a desperation she could no longer fight. Her hands slid upward, curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, as though she needed him more than air. Her mind raced, grasping for excuses, and the warm haze of the whiskey she’d downed earlier felt like the easiest culprit. It’s just the alcohol, she told herself, trying to ignore the way her hands still clung to him like she didn’t want to let go.

His grip on her waist tightened, his thumbs pressing into the curve of her hips like he was anchoring himself to her. The kiss grew more urgent, a clash of heat and want that left her dizzy, her knees threatening to buckle under the weight of it.

The rough wood of the saloon's exterior pressed against her back as John pushed her against the wall, the impact forcing a soft gasp from her lips. John swallowed the sound, his mouth hot and insistent against hers as he pressed closer, one hand braced against the wall beside her head. The other slid down her side, fingers splaying wide across her hip, his touch searing even through the fabric of her dress. His lips never left hers, the kiss deepening as one of his hands tangled in her hair, knocking her hat askew.

She knew she should push him away, should maintain some semblance of the cool detachment she'd clung to all night. But her body had other ideas. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

John broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged pants as he rested his forehead against hers. "God damn, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "You're somethin' else."

"This doesn't mean anything," she breathed, even as her body arched into his touch.

John's lips curved into that infuriating smirk. "Sure it don't," he drawled, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "You always kiss strangers like that when it don't mean nothin'?"

She couldn't speak, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to regain her composure. But John wasn't done. His lips trailed along her jaw, then down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She tilted her head back, giving him better access, her fingers threading through his hair.

"John," she breathed, barely recognizing her own voice, husky and thick with need.

He hummed against her skin, the vibration sending shivers down her spine. "Say it again," he murmured, his teeth grazing her pulse.

"John," she repeated, louder this time, almost desperate.

He continued his assault on her collarbone as he breathily moaned out, "Tell me to stop," he said, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away right now."

She met his gaze, her dark eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and desire. "Don't you dare stop," she growled, her voice low and husky.

John's grin widened as he expertly unbuckled his gun belt, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss. His belt buckle followed suit, the metal clinking as it came undone. She watched, transfixed, as he let both fall to the ground with a dull thud.

Before he could say another word, she dropped to her knees in front of him, her fingers already working at the buttons of his trousers. John inhaled sharply, his hand coming to rest on the back of her head.

"Well now," he drawled, his voice rough with desire, "ain't this just a sight?”

She silenced John's remark by swiftly freeing his aching and swollen cock from his jeans and taking his length into her mouth. John gasped, his fingers tightening in her hair as she worked him with practiced skill. His cocky demeanor melted away, replaced by soft groans of pleasure. She glanced up, meeting his heated gaze, and felt a thrill of satisfaction at reducing this arrogant cowboy to a quivering mess. John's legs trembled as she took him deeper, his bravado completely forgotten as he surrendered to her ministrations. Though she'd never admit it, she reveled in the power she held over him in this moment, turning the tables on his relentless pursuit.

John couldn’t help but to throw his head back at the feeling of her warm wet mouth hugging his cock. It was a rare kind of victory, sweeter than any pot won at a poker table or any bank robbery gone right. She was sharp and untouchable, fire and steel, and yet here she was—on her knees in front of him with her mouth stuffed full of his cock, gagging on it every time it reached the back of her throat.

And the best part? They both thought that they'd won.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, darlin’, when you’re not running your goddamn mouth.” He spat out as he began thrusting his hips furiously, but she couldn’t deny his harsh words sent an ache straight to her pussy as she squeezed her thighs together in a horrid attempt to subdue the pressure. She wasn’t the kind of woman who was often put in her place, and only now was she realizing how desperately she craved it.

She doubled her efforts upon hearing his fucked up praise, moving to cup his balls with her hand as she flattened her tongue against his shaft, feeling his member twitch under her tongue. Between her lewd gags and John’s desperate moans and pleas, anyone within 10 feet of the saloon no-doubtedly heard exactly what was going on, and it only drove him that much more insane.

With one last harsh thrust, John’s orgasm ripped through him as he held her head tightly in place, painting her throat with copious amounts of his warm, salty seed. She held intense eye contact with John through his entire climax, her expert tongue swirling around his tip, swallowing every last drop and forcing him to the point of overstimulation.

John let out a string of curses before yanking her off of him by her hair, a string of saliva trailing from her mouth to his cock as John hauled her to her feet. He held her head in his hands, his calloused thumb brushing the drool from the side of her mouth, never breaking their intense gaze.

“Didn’t think I’d crack you, did ya?” he teased, his voice low and edged with playful arrogance, his grin practically daring her to prove him wrong.

She huffed, her hands loosening their grip on his shirt only to shove lightly at his chest again, though there was no force behind it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he shot back as he tucked himself back in his trousers before sliding his hand to her hip, his thumb grazing the fabric there in a way that sent a shiver up her spine.

The sound of the saloon doors swinging open cut through the tension, followed by the heavy tread of boots and a familiar burst of laughter.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sean’s voice rang out, loud and incredulous. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me, Marston!”

Arthur followed close behind, shaking his head with a wry smirk as his gaze landed on John, still standing far too close to her, their flushed faces and tousled appearances telling the whole story.

“You actually pulled it off? Thought for sure she’d have knocked you on your ass by now.”

Charles trailed a few steps behind, crossing his arms with nothing but an amused chuckle.

Her face burned as the men’s laughter echoed through the night, every word making her want to sink into the ground. She glared at them briefly, her lips parting to fire back some cutting remark, but nothing came. The smug grin on John’s face didn’t help matters—if anything, it made it worse.

With an exasperated groan, she gave up the fight entirely and buried her face against his chest, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt to muffle her mortification. “I hate you,” she muttered, her voice muffled but dripping with frustration. John’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, his arms wrapping around her with infuriating ease. She just muttered a half-hearted curse into his shirt, which only made his grin widen as he held her closer.

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