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shellshocklove · 8 months ago

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brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

He didn’t like that.

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.”

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #pedro pascal

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mathclassboyfriend · 2 years ago

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color matching on point today

#vans #black #white #corduroyjacket #corduroy #burgandy #maroon #grey #chinos #work #ootd #color matching

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egglain · 3 months ago

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Letters to Santa

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Nanami x GN! reader Content: dickcember day 4 - sexting, at work, desire

if there’s a prompt + character you want to see next, requests are open! send an ask :)

Nanami Kento was a hard worker.

He always clocked in on time, took his lunch at the same time, left his desk right as the clock hit 5.

Which is why this could not happen.

Mouth full of rice– part of the pretty bento you had packed him that morning– he had opened his phone for the first time this shift. 3 unopened message badges lit up his screen. This was always his favourite time of day; the moment he gets to hear your thoughts, to wish you a good lunch.

On his screen, at full brightness, he opened his text app.

hi <3

[1 image attached]

hope u like :) see u soon!

Nanami Kento was a hard worker.

As in– his cock had never been harder at work.

Fuck.

Thick, strong fingers typed a speedy response as white teeth worried the inside of his cheek.

Darling.

Fuck.

***

Taking a bite of your sandwich, you couldn’t help but grin at Nanami’s curt response.

Your handsome husband was perfect in every way– attentive, thoughtful, competent. The only downside? He was uptight. As fuck.

So to swear?

And at work, nonetheless?

You wish you could see him now– even if it was just as a fly on the wall.

yes, kento? <3

You finished your sandwich, calm as ever. You could witness him squirm all day without batting an eyelash– he was so easy to tease.

Five minutes passed; you put away your lunch, settling back in your rolling chair as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone.

Your lock screen lit up with a notification from Hubby <3.

[1 image attached]

Nanami Kento– your gorgeous, composed, responsible husband– was a nasty little freak.

The photo was taken from above, angled downwards in an industrial grey bathroom stall. A spotted tie was trapped between pearly teeth, chiselled jaw working the fabric. A brown leather belt hung open, khaki pressed chinos unzipped and pushed down blonde-dusted thighs.

Look what you did.

Nanami’s veiny left hand wrapped around the shaft of a pretty cock. Blonde dusted his abdomen, trimmed neatly to frame his pale, girthy base.

Fix this.

Now.

Those eyes bore into yours through the screen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer; not when he was like this.

As much as you wanted relief yourself, you knew better than to scurry off to a bathroom stall. Nanami Kento was like a bloodhound; he always knew when you had satisfied yourself (in his words). He did not take kindly to the idea, much preferring to have you unravel on his fingers, tongue, or cock.

This was a test, of sorts– if you could stay strong, get through the day being good, your reward would be so much sweeter than any half-assed release you got from your left hand now.

so needy <3

As much as he played the role of a put-together, dominant husband, Nanami Kento flustered so beautifully under your subtle teasing.

[0:14]

A voice note popped up on your screen. Fumbling for your earbuds and triple checking they connected, you hit play.

Through heavy breaths, soft grunts punctuated the rustling of what you presumed to be his arm– if the soft plaps were anything to go by.

aww,,, touching yourself, bby?

at work?

u just wanna get found

Somewhere across the city, a very red Nanami Kento fucked his fist harder.

[0:32]

This time, it was a video.

The breaths were louder. It was taken low, clearly filmed using his thighs to steady the camera. The dull, blushed head of his dick was slicked beautifully; clear precum welled up at his tip as that big hand fisted his cock. Long fingers spanned his length, stroking his many inches from base to tip. As he reached the head, strong digits squeezed, wringing out his precum and running the pad of a thumb through the mess.

He looked utterly edible.

just like that, bby

keep goin for me

You grinned, taking a peek around your cubicle to ensure you were alone. Most of your coworkers were long gone for lunch, so there wasn’t much danger, though it was a very public space.

Still, you couldn’t help unbuttoning the top of your shirt, snapping a sneaky picture of your chest.

[sent: 1 image]

need u bby <3

waiting so good 4 u rn

You had no idea just how much you affected your composed husband.

Fuck

Dotn say that shit

A typo AND two swear words? Oh, he was fucked up.

Seconds later, it loaded.

[1 image attached]

A shaky photo, taken from above just like the first. His pretty cock stood angry against his abdomen, red from tip to base. Veins strained against his thin skin, dick so beautifully swollen. A sinful bead of his thick seed drooped heavy, mid-roll down his shaft. The ropes of his release sullied his hands, connecting those thick fingers with pearlescent strings.

You wanted to put your mouth on it.

need u so bad kento.

A beat.

Yeah? Wet at work, darling?

Naughty as fuck, sending me lewd pictures like that. What if Higuruma had seen?

I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you, slut?

No touching yourself.

You’ll cum enough tonight.

banners by @strangergraphics!

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benevolentbones · 9 months ago

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coffee | spencer reid x reader

warnings: ??mild flirting, spencer checking you out?? gender neutral

word count: 0.7ish

summary: you meet spencer for the first time while he gets his morning coffee.

!!this is my first time writing for this fandom,, and first time writing in over a year so i may be rusty!!

it was a known fact that spencer reid was practically fuelled by coffee, and this morning was no exception. spencer had been up all night reading case files and finishing off his paperwork from the last case, which usually didn’t take the man too long, but his mind had been elsewhere for the last few days.

it had come to his attention, when the team returned from their last case, that the bau had hired a new receptionist. and usually he wasn’t too fussed about newcomers that weren’t directly associated with his team, but something about you was different.

he first noticed you standing in the kitchenette of the bullpen, with penelope. the blonde woman had you engrossed in one of her rambles about one of the fantasy games she often played in her downtime.

you stood beside her, a blue mug that read ‘worlds best dad’ glued in your grasp as you listened intently. you nodded along to everything garcia was saying, wisps of your neat hair falling out of place, which you quickly tucked behind your ears.

spencer noticed you wore a dark button up, which you had rolled up to your elbows. along with a nice fitting pair of dress pants, his hazel eyes lingering on the curve of your hips a little longer than intended.

he blinked himself out of his trance, ambling over to the coffee maker which conveniently was right beside you.

“-and when you level up, you get the ability to enchant your armour, and y’know your girl had to get some-“ garcia continued to rant as spencer picked up a cup and turned the machine on.

“hey reid have you met our newest member?” penelope beamed, turning to face the brunette who began to pour the worlds worst filter coffee into his cup.

his hazel eyes darted up from what he was doing and met yours. you had turned now fully to face him, garcia standing to your left.

“hi” you smiled sweetly at him, brushing your thumbs over the ceramic of your cup.

spencer felt his face flush warm for a second, the man spluttered out a ‘nice to meet you’ before turning his attention back to his coffee.

penelope hummed, knowing that was probably the best introduction he was going to get.

“well i’ve got to get back- lots of hacking to do.” garcia shot you a smile and darted off in the direction of her office.

you couldn’t help but stare as you watched the man begin to pour a mountain of sugar into his cup, every time you thought he would stop he tilted the container more, to further dump the sweet substance into his beverage.

before you could even think, words had slipped past your lips. “do you want some coffee with your sugar, dr.reid?”

you immediately pursed your lips shut, afraid that maybe joking around was too forward after having only met the man a minute prior.

you noticed a small smile grace his features as he stopped pouring the sugar, reaching for a spoon to stir it together.

“actually it’s not uncommon for people to take their coffee this way, around 65% of the US add sugar and/or cream to their coffee.” he mumbled out, taking a sip and making eye contact with you.

“y’know what, i won’t argue with that.” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink.

spencer eyed your form, his cheeks growing warm.

“let me guess…you take yours black?” he mused, noting little details about how you crossed your legs when you stood or how you chewed on your lower lip after saying something.

you trailed your gaze along his suit clad form, his striped shirt was fully buttoned with a black tie to compliment it. he wore a dark grey pair of chinos, standing with one hand in the left pocket as he took another sip from his cup, his focus never leaving you, hazel eyes studying you through thick rimmed glasses.

“you guessed right dr.reid, i’m already sweet enough.” you gave him a small smile before walking back to your desk.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #penelope garcia #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jenifer jareau #i tried my best #coffee

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lay-z · 3 months ago

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✨️ Day 4 ‒ Mama's boy

Synopsis: Captain Price knows he can count on his team; no matter what and no matter when. He knows it and his soldiers know it, too. 1–4–1. Still, to say you were shocked when he’d asked you to play his darling girlfriend at his annual family Christmas gathering, is an understatement.

Pairing: John Price x fem!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; humour; fake dating (or is it???); awkward flirting; sexual tension; cussing; fluff; happy ending; teammates to lovers

Word count: 2.4k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

This is for the lovely @staytrueblue ! You've become the absolute Captain John Price expert to me. Hope you'll like it! 🩵

You pick at the hem of your dress; deep red velvet with elegant long sleeves, a tight top with a Carmen neckline which allows a peek of the soft curve of your shoulders, and a bottom that flows seamlessly into a skirt that reaches just above your knees.

A white pearl choker adorns your neck, along with the matching earrings. You’ve done your hair and make-up, and added a spritz of your most expensive perfume – and you don’t question yourself why you’re even doing this much, but perhaps it’s simply the all-consuming urge to please and impress your Captain, like an eager pup with its owner.

You’ve cleaned up nicely for tonight and you’d be more focused on that if it wasn’t for that tight ball of anxiety manifesting deep down in your gut since this whole ruse had taken root a few days ago. It didn’t help when Price gave you a genuine compliment after picking you up from your apartment on base, either.

Trying to relax back into the soft leather of the passenger seat, you decide to glance out of the window and distract yourself by watching the steady storm of snowflakes flutter furiously outside, covering the scenery in fresh powdery snow while the engine of the car purrs steadily.

Aston Martin Vantage. V8. British racing green. Jet-black rims. Sleek interior. Holy shit.

You’ve never sat in a car like this before, nor did you expect Price to own something fancy and flashy like this. Then again, you didn’t expect him to ask for this favour, either.

“Would you stop worrying, darling? You’ll be fine.”

Your eyebrow quirks as you glance at Price, giving him a side-eye as you hear how casually he drops that pet name in that gruff voice of his. It shouldn’t feel like this, this right, shouldn’t make the hair at the back of your neck bristle this pleasantly.

Darling.

“Getting into character already, sir?” You can’t help but ask teasingly, unable not to take the piss out of this whole situation you’ve found yourself in.

Your Captain and superior asking you, one of his Sergeants of all people, to accompany him to his annual family Christmas get together, and what a shit show it is going to be. You’re sure of it.

However, Price huffs, brows furrowing as he keeps his sharp eyes focused on the snowy road.

“Might as well,” he counters curtly, “and stop calling me ‘sir’, will ya? We’re not on duty and I need this – us – to be believable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you make a dismissive gesture with your hand, pondering for a moment before turning your head to really take a good look at him this time.

John looks handsome, too handsome and too civilian, wearing a dark grey chequered pair of chino pants that accentuates his firm rear a little too well, with black dress shoes and a simple black turtleneck sweater that stretches over his broad chest, shoulders and bulging biceps.

The cab of his car is cosy warm and filled with the scent of his tangy yet subtle cologne, a smell that makes you want to hook a finger into the hem of his turtleneck sweater, tug the fabric down to expose his neck and then bury your nose in it to take a sniff.

Yes, no, you’re absolutely normal about all of this.

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink those thoughts away at once, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“So, uh... W-What should I call you, then? Honey buns? Babe?” You quip and cringe internally at your own joke, though you’re gauging his reaction as he drives over to his parents' house.

“Baby? ... Good boy?”

His jaw clenches under his beard, you can see it in the way his temple twitches, and the leather of the steering wheel creaks softly as he grips it tighter. Interesting.

“John is fine,” he answers eventually, “Sweetheart or love if you’re feeling bold enough after a glass of wine, ya bloody lightweight.”

“Sweetheart... Love...” You repeat those pet names quietly, testing them out on your tongue regarding him, still your Captain and superior – and the man you’ve been harbouring feelings for, for the past few years, if you’ll finally start to be really honest with your damn self.

“Okay, I can do that.”

He reaches over and pats your knee; the warmth of his rough palm seeping through the thin fabric of your black tights, “I know you can, darling.”

The first few minutes were incredibly awkward, but that’s just you – being incredibly awkward in general.

Put yourself in any gunfight, jumping out of planes, fake dating Gaz or Soap for a mission, or stalking a target for days on end without a break – no problemo, – but social interactions outside of the field? One such as this?

Oh, boy.

However, you stick to the plan, to the detailed briefing John has given you prior to tonight, and it does seem to work.

His father, William, is surprisingly chatty, but you could also already smell the bourbon on his breath when he went in for a brief hug at the front door.

His mother, Margaret, though, she’s not an easy read, and you quickly realize where your Captain got his steadfastness from. A proper lady who’s obviously the head of this household. He’s got her piercing eyes and appraising look, and you know you’re being scrutinized thoroughly, but she’s friendly enough and gives you space, though you’re already anticipating the moment she’s going to herd you away from her son to put you through the wringer like a wet kitchen towel.

His older brother, Robert, wife Deborah, and two kids, Luke and Ben, are easy to fool, though it seems old Bobby gets a kick out of trying to make his younger brother and especially you flustered. It doesn’t work on John, but after a first glass of wine, you have to admit that it does work on you.

Robert is even less funny than John and that’s just because he’s trying too hard; trying too hard to make everyone like him, and you wonder why John lets him get away with it, but then again, Robert’s the firstborn son, so maybe it’s just the respect John is forced to have for his older brother that’s holding him back. Classical sibling and brother hierarchies, and all of that.

“Say, how did Johnny even manage to woe a woman like you? He’s as charming as an ice pick that one.” Robert dares to ask during dinner, and you actually get offended by that.

“Charming enough for me,” you retort, staring daggers at him and wishing you had an ice pick to throw right about now, “I prefer a straightforward man over some bootlicker.”

Deborah laughs while Robert looks bewildered, eyes flickering between you and John, who’s seated next to you. You cringe internally at yet another blunder, but then you see John’s smug smile out of the corner of your eyes, and his hand finds your knee again under the table, lingering there for the remainder of dinner.

His mother keeps watching and observing from her seat across from you at the long table, a small smile tugging at the corner of her red-painted, wrinkly lips.

John’s younger sister, Alice, shows up right after dinner, before everyone is moved back into the spacious living room to exchange presents; with the large, decorated Christmas tree looming in the corner next to the fireplace, where the birch wood is already crackling nicely.

Alice is an artist, a photographer, living in Paris. Her flight got delayed due to the weather, hence why she’s late. It’s clear by the way John pulls her into a tight hug while simultaneously calling her a muppet that he prefers her over Robert.

She’s a cold breeze of fresh air; a whirlwind full of buzzing energy, joy and kindness, and she would almost be too much for you in any other situation, but when she embraces you gleefully and welcomes you into the family, it’s too easy to get lost in that fantasy for a moment.

This whole ruse is starting to turn cruel on you, really.

Especially, when John’s large and warm hand comes to rest on the small of your back, just above the curve of your rear, once Alice demands to take a picture of you two in front of the Christmas tree. You glance up at him as he towers next to you, smiling boyishly at his little sister while he pulls you closer into his side, one arm curling around your waist and making you go somewhat rigid as you practically feel his strength and dominance radiating off his body, and there is a touch of possession in the way he’s holding you, too.

Or perhaps, you’re simply imagining it.

A sudden camera flash goes off, blindsiding you momentarily and you blink away the dots blurring your vision when Alice speaks up again.

“Alright, thanks for the mugshot, cherié,” she quips, snapping her fingers at you as if to wake you up, “Give me a good one now, aye? I need to capture proof that John actually brought a woman home for once. Look at your poor man; bloody sap’s completely infatuated with you.”

Infatuated? You blink dumbly and glance up at him instinctively as if to check for that yourself, acting as if you could tell how said infatuation would even look like.

And then, your stomach drops and the blood in your veins starts simmering, toes curling in your pumps to ground yourself as soon as your eyes lock with his slightly glazed, steel blue eyes, like a steady flow of ice melting in a rivulet.

Sometime, somehow, in this moment, your hand reaches up to rest on his chest, manicured fingers splaying over the fabric of his sweater to feel his strong heartbeat thudding against your palm–

... and then, Alice coos at you two – breaking the spell.

“Yes! That’s more like it, cherié!”

You excuse yourself after Alice gets the perfect picture to her liking, and before John can follow you, his mother urgently calls out to him, asking for his help in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you almost feel bad that Alice’s family photo album will have a staged picture of a fake relationship in it, one that will taint it with a big, fat lie.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be here tonight and yet, you are, after having agreed way too quickly and eagerly to the Captain’s request to play his girlfriend and help getting his family to back off.

Now, you find yourself wandering the hallways upstairs of his old family home, where he grew up in, you’d learned; sipping your glass of white wine absentmindedly while you study the rows upon rows of pictures littering the walls, like a walkway through time.

It feels like overstepping a boundary, but John should’ve expected you, a trained special forces soldier, to sneak off at some point to snoop around a bit; he never explicitly told you not to, after all.

You get stuck on graduation pictures of all three siblings, though your eyes linger on John, standing at attention in his dress uniform; tall, handsome, very beardless and fifteen years younger, at least, and you catch your smile before it can spread into something too fond.

Taking another slow sip, you feel a familiar presence behind you; still, you wait for him to address you first and maybe chew you out for being nosy.

“Don’t get caught up in the past, darling,” his gruff voice cuts through the peaceful silence, “I’ve long lost that youthful charm and vigour.” He chuckles gruffly.

Darling. There it is again.

“You can drop the act when we’re alone,” you mumble into the glass as you take another sip, trying to get rid of that damn flutter of nerves deep in your stomach, “I’m positive we’ve fooled them well enough tonight, sir.”

His footsteps are dulled by the carpet covering the hardwood floor as he keeps approaching you from behind, and your grip tightens around the wine glass, nearly shattering the delicate glass, when John’s powerful arms come to wrap around your midriff from behind; his buff body moulding against your back like it’s meant to be.

Admittedly, you go rigid again, holding your breath, stiff as a board.

His breath is warm, a hint of smooth bourbon catching in your nostrils as he leans in to murmur against your ear while his arms tighten around your waist, “I told you to stop calling me ‘sir’, haven’t I? Mhm, darling?”

You shudder involuntarily in his sudden embrace, this forbidden intimacy, breath hitching as your brain begins to short-circuit at once.

“Yeah… You did,” you croak out, voice coming out too breathlessly for your own liking, “But there’s no one to fool here right now, John.”

His chest rumbles and reverberates against your back with something like a pleased hum when you use his first name.

“Not trying to fool anyone, love. ’s just you and me now. ‘sides–”

He then nuzzles his nose against the exposed juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, trailing the tip of his nose along the smooth curve while his beard scratches over your skin pleasantly.

“My bloody mother knew the moment we stepped over the threshold of this house. Thought I’d trained ya better than tha’, Sergeant, or were you not faking any of this after all, hm?”

Despite your better judgement, you allow yourself to lean into his embrace, feeling his body heat seeping through the velvety fabric of your dress.

“Were you?” You counter-ask overzealously, tongue loosened by the alcohol you’ve already consumed, before biting down on your bottom lip, though you can’t take your question back to swallow the words like you probably should have.

“Faking it… I mean.” You add, clearing your throat awkwardly as you continue clutching your wine glass.

There is a heavy pause, one that has your pulse thrumming violently in your neck with each passing second of his silence, until John’s low, gravelly voice murmurs, his lips brushing over that sensitive spot right below your ear.

“Thought I was already being terribly obvious, darling.”

#call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price #cod:mw #tf 141 #reader insert #cod advent calendar 2024

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virtualfoxkoala · 4 months ago

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Brandi gillis

Skydawn phillips

Paige tsosie

Tiffany Sam

Marie Kennedy

Tyra claw

Monique Rose

Nadine skye

Aspen Rojas

Autumn Chino

Makaila Jesus

Amber j martza

Elena sosa

Cheyenne thomas

Dina curley

Felicia charley

Jessica Nosie

Delia Martin

Aoleon kaye

Carla yazzie

Janine Nachu

Kelcie quay

Shaundina yazzie

Jazmyne stanley

Jolonda Barlow

Brianna Jimenez

Tonita yazzie

Tamika Tsosie

Amanda Tsosie

Johnita Lopez

Tamalika shortie

Cheyanna stevenson

Demetria begay

Celeste seeley

Amanda joshevama

Taliyah john

Deanna Yazzie

Nicole Martinez

Taya sampson

Allison monroe

Kayla Goldtooth

Cecilia Laughter

Mary Ozmotiy

Cheyenne begay

Aubrey Redmustache

Faye Bennett

Adrianna Joe

Chanel Henry

Nuria grey

Deanna yazzie

Anna Hernandez

Joy begay

Nicole Curtis

Mariah frank

Marie yazzie

Nasasha Jane

Siane Hale

Tegan Lee

Tanya nih

Kaibah joe

Vannika mann

Shaye notafraid

Shawnee de

Aaliyah Claude

Queta yazzie

Laneisha brunette

Tysheena bedonie

Elgin youngbear

HMU to pay or trade for any or all of em

#sexy native #n8vgirls #nativebigtitt #n8v #nativebaddiez

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beansprean · 1 year ago

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Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

One day in January I thought, "wouldn't it be hilarious if there was an episode where the camera crew changes places with a crew filming a documentary on werewolves in california. and everyone is playing a werewolf counterpart version of their character?" And it all devolved from there. Ty to @vampireshmampire and @memosminifridge for riffing with me and coming up with hilarious ideas <3

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Title card, close up on a full moon glowing blue, surrounded by swirls of fog and bands of purple, blue, and green light. Overlaid is tht title "What We Do Under The Moon" in the What We Do In The Shadows font, letters dark blue with a brighter blue to purple gradient at the bottom, backlit in white.

2. Wide shot of the werewolf character played by Kayvan Novak doing a talking head. He is wearing medium wash jeans, a grey tee shirt over a millennial pink vest, a small gold medallion around his neck with a matching crescent moon earring, and has his long wavy hair half up in a messy bun. He is sitting on a light cream L-shaped couch adjacent to a glass patio door letting in the sunlight and below a wall hanging that says 'live, laugh, lick'. The lower third identifies him as "Navid - beta werewolf". Navid leans back casually against the cushions and props one elbow up on the back of the couch, leaning his head into that hand, and says, "If I am to establish myself as the Alpha of the pack over Lionel and Niki, I must find a mate. Someone strong, powerful, and...nearby. In the same house even, if possible." As he speaks, he glances meaningfully to his left, where the character played by Harvey Guillen is standing behind the couch, his back to Navid as he fusses with a vacuum. He is wearing square retro glasses, airpods in both ears, brown chinos, and a short sleeved green button up unbuttoned to the sternum with a dog silhouette pattern and sleeves rolled up his biceps. His beard is well-kept stubble and hair is buzzed short on the sides, curls pushed to the side in artful disarray and sun-bleached a lighter brown.

3a. Close up on Harvey's character as he walks down the hall away from Navid's talking head. In the background, Navid whips around to lean over the back of the couch with an expectant grin, howling, "Gerardo!! Eavesdropping again? Do you have anything to add to this topic?" Gerardo barely pays him mind, tossing his reply over his shoulder: "No, sir. Seems like a werewolf-only interview. I'm going to go vacuum the alpha den, they've been shedding." 3b. Waist-up of Gerardo standing with his arms crossed, doing a talking head. The lower third reads "Gerardo Cordero de Luna, werewolf familiar (familiar is crossed out) apprentice." Gerardo says haughtily, "I am not a familiar! Only witches and vampires pull that nonsense. I'm an apprentice, and I'm part of the pack." 3c. Repeat. Offscreen, one of the crew asks, "And what does a werewolf apprentice do?" Gerardo goes a bit red, embarrassed, and glares off to the side, hesitating to answer.

The following are all cropped close ups on a mottled orange and yellow background from a colored doodle dump. 4. Waist up of Gerardo and Navid as Navid begs, hands laced together, "Gerardo, won't you let me bite you?" Gerardo avoids his gaze with a nervous grin, flapping his hand dismissively, and replies, "Ehh...not yet! There's still plenty for me to learn about being a werewolf! I've only been apprenticed what, 3 years?" "Almost 15!" Navid shoots back.

5a. Knees up of Navid and Natasia Demetriou's werewolf character, Niki. She is wearing dark red gradient high waisted leggings, a dark red low cut bralette with crossed straps in front, a fluffy cropped brown fur coat, a gold medallion matching Navid's, and multiple golden piercings in her ears with two large oval discs dangling from the lobes. Her lipstick and square cut nails are dark red, and her long hair is permed in tight fluffy curls half up in twin buns. Navid grabs his left wrist with his right hand and thrusts it at Niki's face with an anxious expression, asking, "I smell like I love him, right??" Niki curls her lip and cringes away from him, hands up to swat his arm away as she spits back, "Ugh, yes!! You stink up the whole house with your pining! There's no way he can't smell it." 5b. Knees up of Gerardo sitting on a light cream couch, reading from a book titled "Care for the Lonely Werewolf" help up in his right hand. Navid is laying across the couch, sans vest and hair loose, with his head resting on Gerardo's left thigh. His right hand is trapped beneath him, fingers hooked at the back of Gerardo's knee, and his left rests on top beneath his cheek. Gerardo's left hand his idly petting his hair. Navid stares intently into the middle distance, thinking, 'Perhaps I should be less aloof with him...'

6a. Bust of Gerardo, who is holding up an iPad in his left hand with a drawing stylus poised in his right. Navid, large and hairy in werewolf form but still sporting his dangly earring and little hair bun, is hugging him from behind, clawed hands on his shoulders and wet nose nuzzling into the side of his face. Navid's eyes are closed and his mouth is hanging open, tongue lolling out happily. Gerardo looks up at him with a fond, if confused, smile. 6b. Knees up of Navid raising a triumphant fist with a grin and confidently declaring, "He is playing hard to get, but he underestimates how hard I am to get rid of!"

7a. Waist up of Matt Berry's werewolf character, Lionel, who looks much the same but is casual in a light cream linen shirt unbuttoned well below his sternum tucked into matching linen pants, his only accessory the gold medallion matching the others'. He is standing in front of a countertop hosting a box of Thin Mints and cringes away with a drawn-out whine as Gerardo pops into frame to spray him with water, scolding, "No, bad Lionel!" 7b. Waist up of Mark Proksch's character, who appears to just be Colin Robinson dressed like Indiana Jones, as he walks into frame with a rolling suitcase. He smiles and waves, shouting, "Howdy, guys!!" Lionel stands in the background, hands on hips with an easy smile, and says. "Oh, look, it's our landlord Arthur Simon Santiago who lives such an interesting life in New York City and uses this condo as a vacation home!"

8. Group shot, knees up, of Lionel, Niki, Gerardo, and Navid smiling for the camera. Lionel has one hand on his hip and the other around his wife's waist, leaning into her. Niki has one arm thrown around Lionel's shoulders, flashing a peace sign, and the other held up behind Navid's head to give him bunny ears. Gerardo is standing slightly in front of her, one hand clutching a pamphlet for Tisch School of the Arts and looking a bit uncomfortable as if he had been dragged into the photo last minute. Still, he offers the camera a hesitant smile and allows his left arm to be crushed to Navid's chest as the werewolf pulls him close with an arm around his shoulders. Navid leans his entire body into Gerardo with a huge grin, flashing a peace sign with his free hand.

9. Uncropped version of the entire doodle dump, repeating images 4 through 8. /end ID

#wwdits #wwdutm #werewolf au #nandermo #navardo #mlm #what we do under the moon #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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forthelostones · 1 year ago

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night out ─── ⋆

°:. *₊ ° . fem!reader x mullet!abby °:. *₊ ° .

warnings. 18+ (mdni), nsfw; sub!abby, modern au, fingering (a receiving), and slight jealousy.

synopsis: abby is headed out for a small get-together but you want to make sure you stay on her mind all night.

an: hi everyone! thanks for all your likes and follows i really appreciate the support. i want to start writing more abby, she's just a cutie.

wc: 858

you were getting ready for bed while abby was headed to go out. after brushing your teeth and getting settled under your warm sheets, you take peeks at abby as she runs product through her short sunny hair. you pretend to finger through the pages of the book you’re currently "reading". you watch her muscles contort as she raises her hands above her head to get the perfect strands.

she told you she was going to this party weeks ago with some colleagues for work, to celebrate a coworker's birthday. naturally, you were jealous that she had gotten all dressed up to go sing happy birthday to some woman you knew nothing about. you hated the fact that other people could even look at her. she was in charge of bringing the gift that everyone paid for to the restaurant. you peered over at the stupid gift bag as she snaked her belt through the loops on her nice chino slacks. why’d she have to wear her best pants?

“how’s your book?” she smirks, knowing you weren’t reading at all.

“fine.”

you say dryly, trying to not let your pout overcome your entire face.

“whadda’ya think. which jacket?” she asked.

she was holding up two different jackets, a black and grey flannel jacket, and a black bomber. you just point lazily, not actually choosing one. flannel it is, she mumbled.

you close your book and watch her slip the jacket over her plain white tee. her hair was damp from the shower you both took together, and she was more focused on getting clean than the kisses you planted on her bare back. and every time your hands would trail to her ass, she just stayed focused on scrubbing — her obliviousness drove you crazy. you couldn't take your eyes off of her, she looked so fucking good and smelled even better from her sweet & warm perfume.

“ah, shit.” she spat as she looked at her phone, checking the time.

she rushed back into your shared closet and pulled out her favorite boots. she ran over and slowly leaned down to give you a kiss. even though she was in a rush she didn’t hesitate to slip her tongue into your mouth as she wrapped her hand behind your neck, pulling you in deeper. she played a game of dominance with your tongue, nearly choking you as she pushed you farther into the mattress. her hand slides from your nape to your throat, gently cupping each side. her lips travel downwards to press into your sensitive skin. without warning, she pulls away, leaving you a disheveled mess.

“okay, i will see you later tonight.” she says as she begins to walk away. but you intercept her by grabbing her wrist and flashing those soft eyes of yours.

“have fun.” you smile.

she leans down for one more kiss as your hands trail up her stomach. you press your lips into her sweetly scented skin, which makes her shiver. you lift her shirt up more, and the next kiss is followed by your wet tongue, licking a stripe down to her naval. your hands don’t hesitate to unbuckle her belt and peer up at her desperate eyes.

“baby, i have to go.” she groaned, stifling her moans.

you ignore her, slipping your hand into her black, lace panties.

“and who were you wearing these for?”

“y-you,” she stutters and you hold her trembling pussy. “for when I came back, o-of course.”

your hands smooth over the silky part of the panties, pressing against her clit. she looks down at you, waiting anxiously for your to take her over the edge.

“well, i’ll just wait.” you say dragging your hand away.

she pleads, and pushes your hand into her underwear. she drops her pants to her ankles, and you couldn’t believe how slutty she looked right now, desperate for you, not even upset that you’re making her even more late.

you brush against her clit and her large hands came down onto both your shoulders for stability. you take your index finger and gently flick her swollen nub like a guitar string. abby never liked giving up control, but in this moment, she couldn’t help but melt into you.

she kisses your forehead gently just before you force your fingers inside of her dripping hole. she squeals obnoxiously at your digits curving inside of her. “fuck me, please fuck me.” she whispered in your ear, lips wet with spit as they wrapped around your earlobe.

you press your thumb against her clit and she huffs in between moaning your name, overcome by the pressure hitting all her most sensitive spots.

“abby.” you groan.

“yes… yes baby?”

“i can’t let you cum, you know that.”

“wh— shit.” she sighs as she tries to stifle her orgasm from taking over her body.

but she’s not good at hiding it, because suddenly she becomes suspiciously quiet in an attempt to focus. her muscles start to cramp and shake, her grip forms bruises in your skin, and she tosses her head back. suddenly, you just pull your fingers out of her pussy, leaving a mess in those beautiful lace underwear. her face scrunches up at the lack of relief.

“go. i’ll see you when you get back.”

#lesbian #wlw post #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #wlw ns/fw #abby smut #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #tlou abby #abby anderson tlou2 #ellabs

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adibatex-blog · 1 year ago

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Gloria Vanderbilt Women's Classic Amanda High Rise Tapered Jean

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doctordeathawaits · 2 months ago

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transage but for ages 40-50 ? or just being older transage in general i just want to be an old man instead of a 20'something but unfortunately every transage tip I've seen is for kids and teens

thanks for being so helpful by the way. i have both learned a lot about myself and others aswell as improved a lot about myself from your blog. hope you are having a wonderful day

TransAge ( 40-50 )

Casual, timeless clothing : Opt for classic pieces like button-up shirts , blazers , chinos , and comfortable loafers ! Colors like grey , navy , and earth tones can give a more mature , sophisticated look ! Consider wearing simple , elegant accessories like watches , glasses , ties , or pocket squares ! They can add a touch of class to your outfit without going overboard !

Haircut : Choose a haircut that suits a more mature look — think short back and sides or a slightly longer , well-groomed style ! Embracing gray hair can be very euphoric too ! One way would be simply dying your roots gray / white-ish to appear as though that's your natural hair ! If you prefer facial hair , taking two mascaras - one white , other black , and brushing it on your face for an aged look can be great !

Skin : Use makeup to mimic slight signs of aging like fine lines , crow's feet , or slight sagging ! Products like contouring kits can add depth to areas like the cheeks, jawline, and under the eyes ! Wrinkles too ! Subtly draw faint lines around common areas like the forehead , corners of the eyes , or mouth with a light pencil or blending product ! " Age spots " can be mimicked with fake - freckle makeup or henna ! Using blueish / greenish shadow to accentuate / thicken your veins for a more aged look !

Behavior : Doing small things like squinting at labels , grunting when you standing up , preferring to be sitting down can be euphoric ! Going on more mature-dominated socials , such as Facebook , can also be euphoric ! Consistent routine , such as " early to bed , early to rise " , enjoying a quiet coffee in the morning , or setting aside time for hobbies like gardening , journaling , or puzzles ! Practice patience and avoid rushing decisions or responses ! Show understanding when others are in a hurry or stressed ! Dadjokes all the way ! Always lightens up the mood !

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mathclassboyfriend · 2 years ago

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ngl my color matching has been on point lately

#green #navy blue #grey #black #white #flannel #chinos #vans #work

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thighzp · 4 months ago

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SENTENCE SUNDAY BECAUSE WHY THE HELL NOT???

started writing the AU that's been gnawing at me since about a week into kinktober! can't believe I already feel like writing again but here we are. take this all with a grain of salt because it is VERY loosely planned in my brain.

thanks for all the tags today omg so many delicious snippets I got to read! @onthewaytosomewhere @firstprincehornyramblings @sophie1973 @thesleepyskipper @seths-rogens

@tailsbeth-writes @caterpills

no smut because this is the LITERAL opener to the fic (could be slightly different once actually written and uploaded but here's a start)

“I still don’t understand why you need me to go with you,” Pez repeated, Henry in step with him as they approached the front door. “Because,” Henry explained, again, “We were allowed a plus one for this event and I don’t know anyone in my class yet and it’s awkward and this is my professor’s massive, elaborate mansion and… I need you.” Henry was rueful to admit the last part, but when it came to schmoozing older rich folk, Pez was his ace in the hole. He wasn’t even in the course with Henry, but had been won over with the promise of an open bar and canapes. While Pez dressed in a wildly patterned pair of tailored chinos and a practically neon velvet sport coat, Henry opted for a simple sweater and grey trousers. To be fair, Pez did compliment how “scrumptious” his arse looked in the slacks. Not that it mattered; this particular class was a small one and Henry didn’t plan to sleep with anyone he had to look in the eyes on a biweekly basis for an entire semester.

tagging!!! wow haven't done this in a whole month lol i missed y'all @judasofsuburbia @gayhoediaz @pinkamour1588 @kiwiana-writes @catdadacd @clottedcreamfudge

#alex claremont diaz #firstprince #rwrb #alex x henry #alex and henry #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #first prince #henry fox #rwrb fic

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mudandmire · 1 month ago

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✨WIP Wednesday✨

Something unleashed in me and now I have several one shots of varying length and an unhinged drive to finish all of them. so. Here's some snippets of each plus a tiny summary?? I guess??

Azriel x Eris ~3k Firefighter Azriel AU

“Azriel, report,” Zeb demands. His thumb presses down on the button, waiting for the click and croaks out, “still looking Cap, he's not in the first room.” The splintering howl of the flames corrals him for a second as he quickly scans the area. The fire from the floor below having eaten through the hard wood, through the nice carpet in the center of the room. “You have two minutes, Azriel, and then you have to get out. That's an order.” Azriel swallows hard, breathing coming labored. He knows he should reply, say something to counter it—but there’s no time so he leaves it, moves further down the hallway. “VCFD call out!” He yells again, tapping the floor gently with the toe of his boots to make sure it's relatively stable to walk across. His foot is tapping one rhythm—and then faintly, he hears another.

Azriel x Eris ~4k Freak4Freak Breeding Kink with some angst

Azriel's words are filthy. Eris hangs on by his hair, his shoulders, for dear life as a cascade of all the most shameful, secret longings come pouring out of Azriel's slack mouth. As if he can't stop it—won't stop it. Entirely dissolved in the primal mindset that has his arousal glinting on Eris's stretched skin.

Azriel x Eris ~3.7k Shadow Creature Azriel AU

“Brother, please, let us help!” Something hot and wet drips from his nose. Azriel forces his lungs to work, trying hard not to pass out even as the knife in his head plunges and twists in a new place. His agonized groans echo against the washroom tile. The edges of his vision blurs, spots like blots of ink. Looking down, pulse pounding against his palms where they’re clamped over his head as if that will keep him together, he sees a single drop of red fall from his face and land by his feet. There’s still yelling outside. Azriel can’t think, can’t breathe. The shadows are swarming around him so tight they feel like the edges of walls and there’s something, something, under his skin.

Azriel x Eris ~2k Couples Therapy (but not a couple) AU

Dr. Manachin rubs her palms on the legs of her chinos, taking a deep breath. “Option two is not as…conventional, let’s say. But, looking through your file and spending one session with you makes me believe it might be able to benefit you.” Her eyes are such a pale blue they’re almost grey. Watery, when they peer at him from behind the thick rims of her glasses. Eris shifts uncomfortably in his seat as if she can see the charred lump of muscle in his chest that refuses to beat. “And what, exactly, would ‘unconventional’ therapy look like.” Eris questions her haltingly. Dr. Manachin moves to answer, pauses, and then her hands thrust up like she’s physically and verbally giving him an answer. “Couples therapy.”

Told myself I wanted to write more this year, so I guess I'm starting it off with a bang eheh. School work is a lot lighter this semester which is nice so I'll have more time to finish these because I have a whole ass doc called 'One Shot Central' and man oh man send help it just keeps growing 🫠

#azris #azriel x eris #azris fanfiction #had so many ideas over break #idk why azris fuels me like no other #they drive me insane thanks

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slasherholic · 23 days ago

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Disclaimer: This is a repost! I deleted then remade my blog (more on that here) and people have requested for me to repost some of my old fics as they have become unavailable due to my deletion. Enjoy :-)

Synopsis: A shitty night leaves you in desperate need of some TLC, so you abandon better judgement and show up unannounced at Asa’s door.

Contains: gender neutral reader, themes of an abusive relationship, forced cuddling, Asa does fluff very much his own way :v

Words: 3k

Asa Emory / The Collector x Reader | When Push Comes to Shove

You can recall thinking the first time Asa invited you to stay the night that his house, with its muted-yellow paint and red brick walkway, its porch furnished with plants inhabiting deep clay pots and all the curtains drawn back on all the windows, was not the sort of house you’d expect him to own. His interior decor is less than subtle; still. You figure you could drive right on down his neighborhood street without ever guessing the identity of the man who lives at residence 859.

But the better you’ve come to know Asa beyond what he presents to his peers at work, Dr. Emory, professor, museum curator, the more you’ve come to realize why this is exactly the house a man like Asa would own.

You stand on the brick walkway in front of the door looking through the ornate glass window. All the lights are off inside. Off to the right a red porch chair swings soundlessly back and forth on its thin silver chains in the breeze. You aren’t sure if you’re actually going to ring and wake him up. In fact, you’ve come prepared with a multitude of excuses to walk away which you concocted on the drive over.

Asa works very early sometimes. It wouldn’t be fair to wake him up for your own selfish reasons in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t be responsible to test his patience with a spontaneous visit. It might end very poorly for you; but being close to him tonight, in any capacity, even for half an hour, even if he’s not being particularly kind to you, sounds better for you right now than spending the whole night alone.

So you ring it.

The chime carries far in his dark house and shatters the silence in a way that makes your breath catch and your toes curl in your shoes. The note dies as suddenly as it began. Insects sing in the distance. The wind ripples through the trees and carries the song far away. Asa’s neighborhood street is picturesquely peaceful.

You set your jaw when a light goes on by the stairs, hugging your arms against the gust that’s picking up.

You don’t hear Asa’s quiet footsteps approaching, but you can see his dim silhouette getting bigger through the thin curtain on the opposite side of the glass. Maybe you should back away. He won’t try anything out here, but inside, well—you would like to be able to sit down at work tomorrow.

You squint and blink as the bright yellow light overhead goes on, illuminating the porch. Too late for a change of heart. The lock clicks on the inside of the door. The knob turns and twists sharply. He pulls it open.

Asa isn’t quite scowling at you, but the look he’s regarding you with is less than understanding. He’s dressed down to a dark cotton t-shirt and the same grey chinos he was wearing earlier when you visited him during lunch, thrown so hastily back on that the top button is undone. His hair is atypically untidied. You can see the sleep still hanging in his eyes, just barely. You definitely woke him up.

He surveys you up and down. You watch his eyes flit up over you, past you, scanning the street behind you, then back at you again.

“Interesting hour of the night to show up without calling. Everything alright?”

Asa’s tone isn’t cutting, but it’s devoid of concern enough to imply that he’s really telling you something to the effect of, “this had better be a damn good excuse, or I won’t be in a very good mood.”

You don’t have a good excuse. So you say the first thing that comes to mind. Not because you think he can be bribed; just to get into his house faster. You sorely underestimated how bitter the chill out here would be from inside your car.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You say. “I just really need you to fuck me right now. Any way you want, I don’t care.”

Asa doesn’t blink. His irritation is plastered on his face.

“Flattering. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No. My phone died on the way over, that’s why I didn’t text or call.” It’s the truth. You watch him, looking him in the eyes even though the coldness creeping into his stare hurts more than a little bit.

“I’m sorry.” You add. “Can I please come in? I don’t care what we do.”

Asa leans his shoulder into the doorframe, his shirt sleeves getting tighter when he crosses his arms over his chest, watching you closely.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to go with? I’m having a hard time buying it.” He concludes, shifting his weight away from the door. He takes a step towards you, and you know better than to take one back. Now he’s looming.

“I’d like to know what this is about before I let you in, that’s not asking a lot. So why don’t you start over? Would you like to tell me what you’ve been crying about?”

You shuffle your feet on the walkway. No use in lying, Asa can see right through you when you’re this vulnerable. You’re shivering as you give him the truth. He listens wordlessly, his arms still crossed.

When you finish, you’re hugging yourself beneath your armpits, trying not to look like the cold has you quaking so miserably, and when you glance up at Asa again, he’s watching you with the same unpitying look as when you started. You fear for a moment he might not let you in after all, so you drop your eyes to the red brick walkway. This was a mistake. You aren’t sure what you were thinking running over here to him like this.

Then, Asa exhales, deeply. Uncrossing his arms, he steps aside.

“Fine.” He says, holding the door open with one hand. “You’re already here. In, before you freeze.”

You gaze up at him for a moment. He looks back at you expectantly, his face still rather agitated, but when he blinks you can see the weariness hanging in his eyes, well-masked, more noticeable the longer you hold his stare. You suppose he’s too tired to turn you away.

You rush in through the door before he changes his mind. Turning around in front of his coffee table, you catch the tail end of him returning something to a drawer in the stand next to the door. He pushes it shut without looking at you.

“If you’re waiting for permission to go up to my room, the answer is yes. Go.” He says, locking the door behind him, and then he stares at you, as if considering you.

“But go straight to sleep.” He adds.

You will.

You turn and climb the stairs, going on ahead to his bedroom, where the light is on. His brown jacket has been tossed over his armchair, his work shirt hanging unbuttoned over the armrest. Must have been a long day. You’re more than a little shocked he’s letting you stay. There’s the pang of guilt again; Asa must be one of the hardest working men you’ve ever met, and he needs every hour of sleep he can get.

Climbing onto his bed, you slip beneath the downy bedspread on the opposite side from where he’s pulled the covers back. You plop your head on the pillow and your next breath brings the detergent he runs in his wash. When you stretch out your legs, you close your eyes with a shudder and a half-hearted sigh. The sheets retain heat well; you can feel exactly where he was sleeping.

Not long after, Asa’s measured footsteps are coming up the stairs.

You’re already curled up with your face in the pillow when he enters the room, careful that your only sound is your breathing. Though your mind is still romping places you wish it wouldn’t, you can at the very least look like you’re making an effort to comply with his instructions.

Asa flicks the light off when he passes the switch. His quiet footsteps stop in front of the bed. You crack one eye open to keep track of him in case he’s about to touch you so you don’t jerk. His broad silhouette is stooped over a bit beyond the foot of the bed, shrugging off his chinos, undressing down to the pair of dark boxer briefs he must have worn to bed.

“That’s not straight to sleep.” He comments dryly, straightening up and draping his pants over the armrest next to his button-up shirt. You shift a bit under the covers when you realize he’s been watching you.

“Are we done crying? Full disclosure, I won’t be letting you sleep here the next time you have one of these little breakdowns if you wake me up. Again. Alright?”

You nod your head slowly up and down where your cheek rests on the pillow. But when you think about it longer, suddenly, you aren’t so sure. There’s a way he can distract you. There’s also not a chance in hell you’re going to ask him for that right now.

“You know what, I can’t promise that. I’m sorry. I’ll go sit downstairs if I have to do it.”

Asa clicks his tongue.

“That isn’t good enough. Wait here—“

“No.”

Shit. You should have kept a lid on that; he’s stopped in his tracks.

“Asa, please, I don’t want anything like that. I just want—I honestly think what would help the most right now is…” Your voice breaks and trails off. You don’t like the way his outline has frozen in the dark, head cocked over his shoulder, listening too intently to your proposition. His mood is souring fast.

“That was going somewhere.” He comments, after a long beat. “I think you should finish. Let’s hear it.” He doesn’t bother to turn around and face you.

“Nevermind. Listen, I’m sorry. Something to drink sounds fine.”

He lets out a particularly deep breath, his wide shoulders going up and down.

“If you’d like to do it that way, we’ll pick this up in a minute. Stay put.”

You don’t watch him leaving the room, you just roll your face back into the soft pillow, not keen on finding out what he means by that.

When Asa comes back, you follow him with cautious eyes as he goes around the bed, until he plops a bottle of water down on the nightstand next to your head. You glance at its cap; unbroken.

“I want that empty before you get up in the morning.” He says, going back around the bed, out of view.

“Do I look that bad?” You say at the wall, meaning it to be some sort of joke.

He makes a sound like a scoff under his breath, but doesn’t answer. That hurts you a little more than you were expecting, so you close your eyes when the mattress dips down, his weight rolling you a little toward him, and you’re about to shuffle stubbornly away from him again when—

His arm snakes around your middle from behind.

You nearly lurch and yell, but he’s already sweeping you across the sheets before you can manage any sort of struggle, the arm banding your midriff flexing, giving you a tight squeeze. You’re helpless to prevent the shudder that rocks your body.

“Asa, no. I changed my mind.”

“Ah-ah, no you haven’t. No more talking.”

“Yes I did, please let go, I’ll go to sleep. I swear. Please let go of me.” You’re trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

He breathes into your hair, shifting his arms beneath you, and locks his fingers together around your waist. Oh, you asshole.

“Asa, let go. I said I don’t want this right now.”

You’re gripping his wrist so hard your own fingers are starting to ache. His steady heartbeat pounds up through his chest and you can feel it on your shoulder.

“One more lie to me, and you’ll regret coming over and waking me up.”

The sleep is gone from his voice just like that. And now being trapped this close to him is nothing short of unbearable.

Your hand shoots down to pull adamantly at his thick wrists still locked around your middle and as you knew would happen his arms only snake tighter, becoming restraints. You know you can’t pry him off and you try anyway. When you lurch and thrash and knock your head against his chest he seizes one of your arms, scooping up the other in the same hand, holding them securely to your stomach, sparing none of his strength to put an end to your flailing. Your toes curl as his lips brush your ear.

“Shhh.”

You whip your face back and forth on the pillow so fast it burns your cheek. Not fair. You hate it when he does that. He’s borderline torturing you now and not even trying to make it subtle.

“Asa, let go of me right this god damn—mmph!“

His hand shoots over your mouth before you can finish, squishing your jaw, fingers engulfing your face. The words he whispers next to your head are the lock that seals the argument.

“When have I ever let you talk back to me in my own house?”

You make a broken whine. He hasn’t. He doesn’t let you do that.

“I’ve been incredibly patient with you.” He continues. “You wanted this so badly you showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night for it. Five minutes ago you were ready to beg for it, don’t you dare be disingenuous with me. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you that this is the way it’s going to be. You’re here, you’re done now. I’m very tired. Go to sleep.”

Your heart is pounding out of control. You’re petrified, sniffling, starting to cry. The fight drains out of your body like you’re giving up the ghost. You collapse against him with a tiny, shuddering sigh. He’s right; he wins. You’re done.

His hand leaves your mouth when you dribble spit on his fingers which he wipes off on your shorts. When your shoulders start to tremble with hitched breaths he pets your navel gently, stroking your stomach back and forth with the flat of his thumb.

Everything gets better when you stop fighting him. The tightness of his hold gets a little bit looser when he feels in your dead-weight how thoroughly you’ve given up. He moves up to brush a tender spot on your ribs while you bury your face deeper into the pillow in defeat and let the tears out.

You fall into utter silence when it’s all gone.

“There. There you are.” Asa comments. You don’t hear his yawn, but you can feel it flexing his chest muscles and tightening his abdomen, and when it’s done, you can feel the tension draining from his own body. “What did I tell you?”

The jest is rhetorical so you don’t bother opening your mouth. He’s not caging you anymore, just holding you, stroking your waist very slowly beneath your thin nightshirt.

Several minutes pass.

“Asa?”

You wouldn’t normally dare ask him this, but you figure you’re already too far up shit creek for it to matter.

Precarious seconds pass before he speaks.

“It had better be life or death.” He mutters into your hair.

“I’m still a bit cold.”

You feel his exhale on your neck and then he sits up, reaching, pulling the blankets over both of you. His arm returns to your waist.

“Thank you, but, do you think maybe you can—“

“Fine.” He cuts you off. “But that’s the end of it.”

He pulls his arm away again, pushing up on his elbow, and you watch his silhouette on the wall gather his shirt around his waist, pulling it up over his head in a fluid motion. You hurry out of your own, tossing it over the side of the white bedspread.

A soft sound floods out of you when Asa hugs you from behind. When your back meets his bare chest a chill spills over. You’re shuddering at the heat of his embrace, at the weight of his arms, at the way you feel like melting ice against his body.

He lifts two fingers to your mouth, holding them over your lips.

“Not another word.”

You nod. He gives your lower lip an acknowledging brush. His weight comes down somewhere on the pillow behind you, very close to your head.

The night drags on in silence.

Asa’s breathing has fallen even and quiet on the back of your neck. His arm is draped loosely over you, fingers half-curled around your wrist. He’s asleep.

Even when you know this, you don’t try to untangle yourself from his arms. You do not move, do not fidget against him. You just grip his slack hand, rubbing his fingers, feeling the smooth surface of his broad, clipped fingernails, the light yet raised scars peppering his skin that you figure were obtained during fieldwork, or maybe some mishap with tools, although that doesn’t sound much like Asa; you’ve never witnessed a hint of carelessness in his work. When you shut your eyes, you clutch his hand tightly to your chest. This is what you needed.

You can practically hear his voice chiming in,

“Look at that. Told you so.”

You suppose he did. You suppose Asa always knows best.

#asa emory x reader #asa emory #the collector #slashers #the collection #writing #horror #fanfic #reader insert

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