#hes scared he looks wrong or looks like a monster | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yandere-sins · 1 day ago

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OMFG I absolutely LOVE your writing and the overall creepyness of it💕😩 May I request a yandere childe with a crybaby s/o who Gets scared way too easily? Ik this might be basic but I really wanted to interact with you 💗🥹

Aah, thank you so much, you're so sweet! Sorry it took me so long, but thank you for requesting and interacting with me, I appreciate it! I gave the reader a good reason to be scared this time, hope that is okay! ♥

Extra Warning for Murder, Blood Mention

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"Shh, babe, what's wrong? You don't have to worry about them anymore."

A calloused hand caressed your cheek, the other arm wrapping around your body as Childe drew you close to him. You were shivering, sobbing in his embrace. Still, he didn't seem to mind at all, a gentle smile on his face as he cradled you, having had more than enough practice with comforting his siblings to know how to comfort you. With the weight of his head on top of yours, you were nestled perfectly in the crook of his neck, his hand wandering back to brush down your hair while the one at the small of your back rubbed its thumb up and down. It was a perfect hug for a perfect darling, as Childe liked to call you. But there was one thing off about it.

The stench.

The squishy, wet feeling smeared all over your cheek and soaked into your clothes, together with the biting, iron smell of blood that stuck to him. Or perhaps it came from the corpses that lay behind his body, shielding the view. Or maybe you were only imagining it. It was hard to believe that you had just watched people die, their deaths caused by this almost stranger's hands. These people were your friends, and yet you couldn't believe it was real.

"I-I'm scared," you stammered, barely able to get the sound out of your throat. "They- They're d-dead."

"Oh, that's true," Childe replied, his voice full of pity and gentle reassurance. As if it hadn't been him who killed them. As if it was a coincidence, you stumbled over the bodies when, really, your friends had been laughing and talking next to you just mere seconds ago before Childe struck them down out of cold-blooded malice.

More tears dripped down your cheeks, countless of them. You were in too much shock to scream and run, but the flow of tears seemed endless as regret, guilt, and horror mixed. You felt nauseated, and yet you couldn't throw up, couldn't do anything. Frozen in place, you listened to the rapidly beating heart of the monster comforting you, feeling Childe take a deep breath, letting it out with a content sigh.

Whatever he was feeling, he seemed... proud of it.

You whimpered miserably as he pressed you tighter against his chest, swaying you side to side before pulling away a few inches. Not enough to let go of you, just so much that he could look into your eyes. Instead of pupils, there was only endless darkness, the moonlight dimly reflected in them, causing swirls of infatuation in the madness that was his gaze on you. Even with barely any light, you could see your own scared reflection. The blood stain on your cheek, the shock etched in every inch of your features.

"You need to keep it together, babe," Child whispered, the same broad, boyish grin on his lips that he had the first time you met him. Where you still thought he was a good guy, helping you carry some groceries home and inviting you to see the festival with him. You had to tell him "no" back then, since you already made plans with your friends. But now, they were no more, and he remained. Only now, that grin was nothing short of psychotic, standing in stark contrast to his eyes so devoid of emotions and the gore on his clothes.

"The guards will be here soon. You wouldn't want them to find you covered in the blood of those people, would you? They might think you did it."

Humiliating as it was, you could see your features grow desperate as a sob escaped you, your eyes crinkling as more tears fell. Childe hushed you again, pressing his lips to your forehead and kissing it over and over as he told you everything would be alright. That he wouldn't let anyone take you or take the blame for him. You could only listen half-heartedly as your feelings threatened to take over your whole body, controlling it and cementing you in place.

It had always been this way for you; the tears were your lifelong friend. Crying was the reaction your body knew best, whether in good or bad situations, and there wasn't much you could do. As a child, you had been mocked for being a crybaby, and as an adult, you were pitied for not having better control over your emotions. Fear had been your constant companion. Whether it was about making a mistake or not feeling like you were good enough to finish a task. You soon began fearing your own incapability, but no one—sometimes not even you—understood that this fear was a force to be reckoned with, one you were completely helpless against.

Unless there was another person stronger than it.

"Aaand up!" Childe proclaimed, having stood up and gripped your hands in the time you spiraled into anxiety and desperation, the overwhelming guilt not helping. But suddenly, you were on your feet despite the tears still falling. Even though you didn't know how to move or act. First, he had comforted you for the crime he committed, and now he did what you had never managed before—pull you out of the trance of your fears.

"Let's go!" he announced chipperly, a slippery, bloody hand gripping yours so tight that it hurt. Jerking you forward, you could only watch Childe's back as he began to run, laughing carefreely as if the death of your friends didn't bother him. As if he was free, unbound by laws and those feelings, you felt so strongly.

Only when you looked down did you notice your own feet moving—rapidly, swiftly. You didn't need to look up as Childe led you through the labyrinth of people who were so occupied with the Lantern Rite in Liyue Harbor that they didn't notice the two blood-soaked individuals passing through.

Breathing was hard, moving was straining, and his grip on you was relentlessly painful. Yet, neither of you stopped until you were already partway up on a mountain outside the harbor, Childe panting just like you, trying to catch his breath. He collapsed with a groan on the dirty trail up the mountain, and with your hand still in his grasp, he pulled you down with him.

It should have hurt when your body was forced to give out, but you landed cushioned in his chest and on his lap. The vibrations of his laugh against your skin felt weird, your senses not yet having returned fully. Lifting your head, you saw the countless lanterns rise to the sky, illuminating it beautifully with the people's memories of those they lost—and you should have been there, lightning lanterns for your friends.

"There we go," Childe muttered, catching your attention as he wiped over your cheek, sticky skin against more sticky skin. Only now did you realize that your tears had dried up, and you looked at the monster that had both made you cry and took care to run them dry—literally.

"You're a pretty crier," Childe sighed, the glow of the lanterns returning some life to the blue in his eyes. Or perhaps the sight before him returned his emotions to him, making him almost look normal despite the red stains. "But I like you better when you're happy. One of us has to."

Leaning his head on your shoulder, Childe reached for your hand, giving it another tight squeeze. Above you, the night sky was filled with beautiful lights, the view even better than from the harbor itself, but you couldn't forget even a second of what had happened that day. That you weren't enjoying this view with your friends, but with some murderer you barely knew, who had pulled you out of the sadness in your heart, only to leave it empty, no feelings able to fill it.

"I'll keep you happy," Childe promised, a faint blush on his cheeks that reached up his ears. "Everything will be the way you want, so you don't have to cry anymore."

Only then did you realize what it truly meant to be afraid, sitting on the lap of someone who thought manipulating the world to his liking would make you happy. Someone who didn't bat an eye before killing an innocent soul. Someone determined to make you feel as empty as he was, just to keep you by his side.

And when Childe looked up grinning, you managed to wipe the smile right off his face, a tear dropping down your cheek.

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crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 2 years ago

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gogurt

#ethan winters #leon kennedy #lethan #rosemary winters #rose winters #resident evil #resident evil fanart #rebhfun #roomate au #ethan living in a constant state of paranoia #hes scared he looks wrong or looks like a monster #he wears a hat to try and hide more

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mechahero · 7 months ago

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@anestofocs asked- 😱 for the text meme with Yuki? social media and texting prompts (accepting!) send 😱 for a scared text from my muse

[text]- hey.

[text]- what the fuck are you doing?

#//if this seems a little weird sorry! he's usually not going to send a scared text to someone he doesn't really know #//and even then it comes across like this #//he probably sent this to the wrong number and that's how yuki got it lol #//lambda's currently looking at some weird monster peeking into the window like 'why do you think this is a good way to spend your time?😐'#//GBHDFBGHDNJBHN #he's a killer queen... {ic}#why are you botherin' me? {answered memes}#anestofocs

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poisonf0rest · 11 days ago

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wrath of the sea god

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Rafayel is a creature worthy of worship. Something born from the deep sea, something incomprehensible, something that should scare you. And yet his siren song only lulls you in closer, and you fear it may be too late to even think about running away. (deep sea monster!rafayel)

♱⋅── word count: 5.9k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, inhuman raf, possessiveness, overstimulation, worship, breeding kink, tw yandere, tw drowning, tw teratophilia, tw thalassophobia

art credit to @/hcneyvae on x, dividers by @cafekitsune

psst, if you want more monster!raf read this next

What does it mean, to drown in something?

To watch the surface break above you, disrupted by the last bubbles of oxygen leaving your lungs, like a lover’s final kiss. To feel the vicious urge to fight, to struggle, to scream even as you feel your final dregs of strength escape, leaving you cold and gnawing and alone. To not feel fear, because even as your vision goes dark the melody is still there, the voice still singing, cradling you gently as you draw blood. To know, perhaps, that drowning was the only way this story could have ended.

What does it mean, when I kiss you and finally feel like I can breathe again, even if you were the reason I sank in the first place?

Rafayel has been nothing if not the perfect boyfriend. Clingy, annoying, hopelessly devoted, but perfect for you nonetheless.

Three months into your relationship, and you’ve begun to notice things that are only just slightly… Off.

For one, Rafayel runs terrifyingly cold, and the baths he gives himself twice a day are even colder than he is, and when he teasingly splashes you with it you scream, complaining he’s soaking in the arctic or the depths of the ocean’s abyss.

But the approach of summer means more baths, more moisturizers, and more of poor Rafayel always complaining about how it’s too hot, too dry. His skin gets bumpy, rough, textured patches growing on the sides of his neck, his arms, down his ribs too. Like something coming to the surface, something cracking through the flesh.

The list of anomalies goes on.

His joints bend just a little too much, his fingers curving at unnatural angles when he moves quickly or reaches for something. His spine rolls more like an eel or a shark than a human’s, like a creature still adjusting to having bones, something he brushes off as old habits from dance or ice skating. Whenever you take flash photos his eyes come out hollow, even the faintest glimmer makes them shimmer like something not meant for the surface.

It’s becoming more common to catch Rafayel slipping now, uncanny moments where he fumbles and slows down, repeating certain movements or habits, as though remembering them. Reminding himself of them.

You’re lounging on the couch in his studio, your legs kicked up onto his lap as Rafayel holds a book in one hand, the other caressing your ankle with the gentle rub of his thumb. Something prickles against the back of your neck and you look up over your phone, expecting to see Rafayel still engrossed in his reading. Instead, he’s staring down at you. Watching you, unblinking, for so long that your skin begins to crawl.

At first, you don’t really mind— willingly lost in the warmth of his gaze, the way it seems to hold so much unspoken devotion, the way his pupils dilate viciously when you finally meet his gaze. But then minutes pass. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t break eye contact.

"Raf," you say, laughing a little, trying to shake the unease creeping up your spine. "You're staring."

His lips quirk, just slightly. "Am I? Can’t help it, cutie."

You hum, expecting him to look away. He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, something you’ve always considered adorable, the way his full lips pout and innocent doe eyes seem to plead up into yours, studying you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

Then you realize what’s wrong.

"Blink," you whisper, suddenly uncertain if he's forgotten how.

He does, slow and deliberate, like he’s remembering only because you told him. And when his eyes open again, they shine, hollow and flat, reflecting the dim light of the room like something that doesn’t belong in the light.

“Shit!”

This is the last time you cut steak with a dull knife.

It’s nothing severe, but you must have nicked a vein in your thumb, because the damn countertop is splattered with blood, a thick stream of it nearly at your wrist as you run for a paper towel.

Rafayel was supposed to be by the stove, tending to the vegetables busy sauteing, but when you move to rip a sheet from the dowel, you find yourself bumping into him headfirst. How did he manage to cross the kitchen so fast?

His gaze flicks to your hand, brows furrowed. You follow it, noticing the vibrant red already soaking through all the layers of makeshift gauze. Maybe you cut yourself deeper than you though.

"It’s nothing, Rafayel," you say, knowing how worked-up he can get when you injure yourself, fully expecting a dramatic lecture later.

Turning, you step to throw away the bloody napkins when his fingers close around your wrist too fast. Too tight. Rafayel’s pupils dilate, nearly turning his entire eye black as his body physically follows the trail of blood down your wrist, lips parting just slightly as if—

As if he’s tasting the scent of your blood on his tongue.

"Rafayel," you call to him again, voice shaking. Why is your voice shaking?

He blinks, slow, as if waking from something deep. His grip loosens, but his fingers linger, his thumb dragging just barely across your pulse against the inside of your wrist before he exhales a quiet, low sound from deep in his chest. Something between a sigh and a growl.

“You really should be more careful, miss hunter. You could get hurt next time.”

Neither of you notice the slight acrid smell of something burning in the background.

The next time it happens late at night.

After spending the weekend lazing in each other's company, the two of you decided to end the day with a movie, drifting from various positions on the couch to curling up against Rafayel’s chest, the soft glow of the TV flickering across the room. The credits are rolling, low music humming beneath the sound of his steady, rhythmic breathing. He’s cold, almost unnaturally so, compared to the sticky, sweltering summer night air, but you can only be thankful for that fact as his chill and the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you into something hazy, that liminal space where thoughts slip too easily from your grasp.

When suddenly, it just stops. Rafayel’s body goes still beneath your touch.

No breath. No movement.

Just complete and utter stillness.

It doesn’t register at first, not fully. Still feigning sleep, you fight to keep your own exhales even, purposefully holding your breath to get your heart to calm from its erratic skip, the hairs on your arms prickling, some primal part of you sensing it before your mind catches up. Wrong.

You shift slightly, pretending to be lost in a dream, just enough to press closer to his chest, to feel the gentle rhythm of where his lungs should be. Wrong.

But nothing comes. Rafayel’s chest does not rise, his heartbeat does not echo against your cheek. The only movement is the gentle circling of his fingers against the tender flesh of your ribs, tracing the curve of bone. Other than that, he is completely, utterly motionless beneath you, the kind of eerie stillness that isn’t possible for a human. A stillness reserved for hunters, for predators. Wrong.

Something is wrong.

Your pulse kicks, a sharp, violent thud-thud-thud against your ribs, under the tips of Rafayel’s fingers, and in that instant—

Rafayel breathes again.

A slow, deep inhale as if rousing from sleep. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers slipping under your shirt as he shifts beneath you, stretching out his long limbs with an exaggerated yawn like nothing happened at all.

“You still awake?” His voice is drowsy, laced with warmth, so natural you almost believe it.

You nod, pressing closer, trying to shake the creeping chill settling in your bones. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you were too tired, caught somewhere between dreaming and waking, your mind playing tricks on you. You were simply tired from the long week. Simply haunted by nightmares that no longer exist.

But you feel it. The way Rafayel’s fingers idly stroke over your side, slow and soothing, almost seeking out your own heartbeat as close as he could get to it. The way he breathes too deliberately now, a flawless imitation of what he thinks you expect to hear. A rhythm that’s just a little too shallow, a little too perfect.

Then, there’s something prodding and coaxing into your brain, and instantly, the feeling of calm returns. But your pulse does not slow, because the thought has already settled in the back of your mind, something cold and certain.

He didn’t start breathing again for his sake.

He did it for yours.

Rafayel must have been sculpted by divine hands. A Greek statue given breath, something carved from impossibly white marble and polished by time itself.

His is a kind of beauty that isn’t soft or gentle, but arresting, almost violently so. One that makes your breath hitch every time he turns to face you, all sharp cheekbones and full lips, somewhere devastatingly between beautiful and handsome, possessing every muscled curve of a swimmer’s body honed by centuries in the depths. It isn’t just his face, his form, his effortless strength. It’s the way he moves. Angelic and otherworldly— graceful, powerful, always with the effortless magnificence of the ocean itself.

And, of course, his voice.

He hums under his breath sometimes, a habit he seems to be letting slip the longer the two of you are together, barely audible in the quiet hours when you’re cooking or painting or lounging together. At first you mistook it for an old record or the echoing sound of the ocean from the open balcony doors, and when you ask him about if Rafayel simply laughs it off, the sound addicting enough that soon you’re laughing too.

But on late nights after sex you hear him humming again, something absentminded and indulgent, like the sound exists only for his own amusement. And for yours.

Oh, but when Rafayel sings, it’s something else entirely. It’s after an opera the first time you heard it, and any memory of the show prior is dissolved into a monotonous drivel at the music Rafayel makes. You swear you felt it in your ribs, melody settling beneath your skin, an ancient song that spoke to your soul in ways that left you dizzy and aching and yearning for something you couldn’t name.

It left you hungry.

And still, Rafayel’s paintings hurt the most.

Each one nearly brought to life with each brushstroke, enough that you swear you can hear the crash of waves or the sharp sting of sea-salt, each one that brings a deep, unknowable sorrow and guilt to your core. Each one hurts to look at a little more than the last.

There’s one painting in particular that hangs in his studio, larger than the rest. A towering, floor-to-ceiling masterpiece of muted blues and violent reds, brushstrokes slashing across the canvas with all the power of a storm at sea.

At first, you think it’s simply a shipwreck.

Then you’re lured in closer.

Bodies tangled in the waves, limbs limp and reaching. Some still clutching weapons, some are already swallowed by the dark. But every single figure seems perfectly content, relaxed, embracing death as they are lulled—just like you just like you—to the sirens below.

They are not the innocent beauties of fairy tales. They are terrible, glorious, vicious beings. Something between human and god, their bodies half-submerged, lips parted in a song you cannot hear but can still feel, something clawing at your heart, begging you to listen. Begging you to come closer.

And Rafayel is among them.

It takes you a moment to recognize him, but once you do, you cannot unsee it. The slant of his jaw, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, his lips curled not in hunger, not in rage, but in something unreadable. Something almost mournful.

"Do you like it, cutie?" His voice startles you.

You turn, pulse jumping, but Rafayel’s only watching you with that same lopsided smile, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looks like part of a masterpiece himself, bare shoulders kissed by the low light, the soft glow catching on his collarbones, his throat, his hands.

"They were hunted." Not a question.

A laugh. Short, humorless. "Of course they were, don’t you know Lemurians cry pearls?"

Your fingers tighten at your sides, but nothing you could think of saying seemed appropriate. After all, what did you possibly have to offer a mourning god?

You look back at the painting. "And worshipped?"

Rafayel’s gaze lingers on the canvas for a long moment before sliding back to you, eyes failing to reflect the light of the sun as he tucks himself into your embrace, pulling you close. You swallow hard, body naturally yielding to relax into his embrace. You’re not prey, and yet, something in you screams at you to run.

"Is there a difference?"

You don’t answer.

You think of the way he moves, the way he sings, the way your breath catches every time he looks at you, the way you could drown in the depths of his eyes, the cloudless blue like the ocean at dawn, stained with a red more vibrant than blood. Like a shipwreck. Like a massacre.

“Would you worship me, cutie?” Rafayel purrs against the shell of your ear, nipping the tender flesh. Your knees buckle, and you’re already kneeling before him, looking up at those same eyes as he smiles at your answer.

You already do.

You’ve been noticing gaps in your memory.

Not big ones. Nothing you can really say for certain, just little things, things you used to chalk up to your goldfish memory. Forgetting why you stood up. Losing track of time mid-conversation. Finding yourself already doing something before you even register why.

And it always—always—happens when Rafayel is speaking to you.

It’s never forceful. Never obvious. But there’s always a soft hum in his voice, a subtle pull in the melody beneath his words.

You don’t even remember when he began doing it, and that might be what frightens you most.

You’ve always been weak for Rafayel, giving in as soon as he pouts and complains about how he might die of neglect, how he just needs you so badly, and how, oh, won’t you do this for him? There’s no command. No sharp pull at your mind, no unnatural force prying into your thoughts. Just his voice, smooth and honeyed, curling around your resolve like the tide creeping onto the shore. Gentle. Patient. And before you even notice, you're waist-deep, sinking into something you can’t quite name.

"Let’s go to the beach," Rafayel suggests, fingers lazily tracing patterns against your thigh.

You frown down at him, in the midst of filling out a hunter’s report when he snatches your computer away, replacing it with his own head plopping down in your lap.

You glance at the clock, it’s already six pm. Late, not to mention the drive is an hour away. And you have a mission early in the morning.

"I can’t," you say.

He hums, thoughtful. "Mm. No, of course not." He turns his head, pulling your sleep shirt up just enough to kiss your stomach, lips cool against your skin, grazing your hip as he speaks. "But," a pause. A slow, indulgent breath. "Wouldn’t it be nice? Just us. Moonlight on the waves. I could take you out past the shallows, show you things no other human has ever seen."

You close your eyes. You can picture it too easily. The salt in the air, the sound of the tide pulling you both forward. His hands on you, weightless in the water, his voice a hum against your throat. A melody entering your brain.

"It’s a Tuesday," you murmur, weaker now.

Rafayel begins sitting up, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "So what?" Another to your jaw, "Work is so boring, you don’t need it anymore. Not when you’re with me." You feel him smile, sucking a mark right against your pulse. "It’ll be worth it, promise."

You should say no.

You should.

You should shut out the idea of indulging him, of the welcoming feel of sand beneath your toes and the gentle curl of the tide. And how nice the fading sunlight feels on your skin. Because you’re already standing at the shoreline, waves licking at your ankles, the city far, far behind you. Rafayel’s fingers laced with yours, his smile easy, teasing as he pulls you forward.

You don’t remember driving here.

Your pulse stutters. "Rafayel."

He turns to you, eyes dark, unreadable, his mouth curving into a wide smile, a sweet gummy one that has too many teeth. Rows upon rows, like a shark’s, gone by the time you blink. "Yes, my muse?"

You swallow hard. The words tangle on your tongue, and you forget, just for a moment, why you were about to say them.

But the worst is when he begs.

Because it doesn’t feel unnatural, it doesn’t feel wrong.

Because it feels good.

You don’t realize how much you’re giving him until your body won't stop trembling, until you’re wrecked and obedient, until he’s cooing praise against your skin like you’re something precious.

“Can’t–” you sob, barely getting the word out. “Can’t cum again. Please, Raf, Raf, please don’t.”

Your hands scramble for his head, still buried between your thighs, tugging violently against those sweat-slick strands of hair as you all but scream as he whines into your cunt in protest.

You’ve lost track of how many times he’s made you come, lost track of how long you’ve been beneath him, beneath his touch, beneath the spell of his voice. Time means nothing, just a rhythm of sensation and need.

All that you can feel is the hot layer of sweat making the sheets stick to the sharp arch in your back, the painful overstimulation of your clit as Rafayel moves to suckle against it once more, lapping greedily as you kick and push at his shoulders with a cry. You can’t take it, not again, not when you’re already raw and aching and falling apart.

"Just one more time, cutie," he begs, relenting just long enough to kiss your marked-up thigh. "Please? Look s’cute like this, taste even sweeter."

Rafayel’s pale skin glows faintly where his lips brush yours, a ripple of bioluminescence that pulses in time with your heartbeat. The dull blue light blooming along his veins, casting soft, eerie shadows across the sheets, a reminder of the alien beauty woven into his flesh and blood.

You’re sobbing, shaking your head as the entire room spins around you even without the extra stimulation. But Rafayel simply unlaces your poor trembling hands from his hair, unfurling your fists and kissing your palm before intertwining your fingers together, pinning them to the bed as he leans in closer. His hands are cold, an icy restraint to your feverish skin, and you shiver, goosebumps prickling along your arms.

"Last time, promise."

You don’t believe him. You shouldn’t.

But Rafayel’s voice is addictive, liquid gold, sinking into your skin, forcing you to relax against him just enough for his mouth to reacquaint itself with your swollen clit, immediately making you scream again as your hips mindlessly buck, writhing to get away, to find mercy from his touch as you fight to hold onto the last scraps of your fraying resolve.

“Don’t.” His voice is a purr, a low warning against your flesh as his hand tightens, pressing your wrists together, bruising. “Don’t run from me. Don’t make me chase you.”

Your body stills, responding to his command before you can even process what he's said. Surrendering as he hooks your ankles around his neck, forcing you up onto your shoulders as his tongue delves back into your cunt, curling inside you, savoring every spasm, every quiver. It’s a slow, indulgent kiss, his tongue is colder than his lips, drooling and messy as he brings you closer and closer to the edge for the nth time.

"You’d never leave me right?" His voice once again sings like a promise against your skin. "You can’t. You wouldn’t, she’s too sweet for that—" His nose grinds against your clit and you moan, seizing. "Always so needy, always taking me so well. Practically made to worship me."

You're babbling nonsense now, incoherent. Rafayel coos, kissing you through it, one hand never letting go of yours as the other greedily gropes up the plush of your ass, your breasts, and he watches with rapt fascination as you arch for him. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, and wonders absentmindedly how it is you humans produce milk. How he could get you to do that for him.

A deep trill vibrates through him at the thought, more felt than heard, a sound that curls around your ribs and settles there.

“You know that you’re mine, don’t you?” he breathes, voice dipping lower, “Mine. Made for me. Nothing else in this world could satisfy you like I do. You’ll never need another god.”

Rafayel’s words slip into you, twisting through your mind, settling like truth in your core. And just like that you shudder, body tensing, and you’re cumming again, hard.

Squirting across Rafayel’s awaiting mouth and jaw as you scream his name like a prayer, cum dripping down his heaving chest. Rafayel moans, lapping at the mess, and you feel his devotion in the way his entire body trembles as he consumes you, as he claims you, his offering, his sacrifice. His beloved bride.

His fingers subconsciously trace your empty ring finger. Worshiping it, memorizing it.

You don’t even realize you’re still nodding as his fingers loosen their grip on your thighs, finally setting you back down on the bed as a pleased little sound spills from his lips. His tongue drags up your limp body, lazy and lingering, kissing every inch of you, bringing your hand up to kiss your ring finger as well.

Nuzzling his face between your breasts, Rafayel looks up at you, eyes glowing, too bright, too colorful, too gorgeously inhuman.

When sensation finally returns to your legs, the haze of pleasure fading and your breath evening out, you’re revolted by the feeling of something releasing its hold on your mind. Shuddering, you press a hand to your temple, trying to shake off the eerie feeling of something slipping out of your head.

Rafayel watches you, tilting his head, his fingers brushing lightly down your arm as he pushes himself up on his elbows. Grabbing your chin, he swallows any questions you might have asked, kissing you with the same reverence he did your clit and every inch of your body before, the taste of you still on his tongue. When he pulls away, his expression is soft, almost tender, even as his hand curls back around your ankle, a possessive shackle.

“You’ll never need another god,” he repeats, the words sinking into your bones, echoing in your mind. His fingers tighten, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Because you’re mine.”

And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to breathe without him.

You suppose it should scare you, knowing Rafayel isn’t human. Even if you have yet to understand what a Lemurian really is or wants, what Rafayel’s true form really looks like, what or who truly resides in him.

You suppose it should scare you that despite not knowing any of this, you listen to his every whim regardless.

The ocean is calm tonight, with the full moon hanging directly overhead and her silver providing the only light over rolling waves. You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, weightless in the gentle pull of the tide, safe knowing Rafayel couldn’t be far away. He never is.

At least, you can only assume that’s still the case. Since the ocean itself is dark enough that it blends in with the horizon, dark enough that you wouldn’t be able to see your own toes should you stop floating, the only sounds are the gentle crashing of waves on the distant shore.

Rafayel was untraceable in the water, his powerful twenty-foot-something Lemurian form outpacing yours as soon as he hit the water, cutting through the black waves with a grace that should be impossible for a creature of that size. That was nearly an hour ago, and only an occasional singing that seemed to both surround you and come from deep within the ocean served as reminders that your lover was never far away.

There it is again, that distant sorrowful song, and you try and hum along, not realizing how far from shore you’ve drifted.

Something brushes your ankle.

Jolting upright, you spit out a bit of salt water from your scare, scanning the horizon as you tread water. Rafayel is nowhere in sight.

Of course you don't even realize he's been circling you, tail cutting above the waves before twisting around your kicking legs. Laughter echoes into the night, sweet and addicting, enough to have your body relax involuntarily into the cold rock of the waves. Enough to send every other sea creature swimming away in terror.

Then, warmth. Hands, familiar and steady, slide up your bare ribs. There wasn’t even so much as a splash as Rafayel swims closer, arms pulling you in tight, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck as you feel the entire length of his tail tighten like a coil around your body. He could drown you before you'd even remember to scream.

Rafayel kisses up your neck, savoring the taste of sea salt, arousal, and fear against the broad, cold length of his tongue. It feels rougher than usual.

“Need you, cutie.” A trill, something deep and low, vibrating in his chest as his entire body tightens its grip around you. Grinding up against you. “Need you s’bad.”

His voice is a low, syrupy murmur, words dripping into your ear with the same fluid grace as his body winding around yours. You shudder, pulse thrumming as the coil of his tail tightens, the powerful muscle shifting against your skin, keeping you perfectly in place. The realization should terrify you. Perhaps it should terrify you more that it doesn’t.

But Rafayel’s still nipping at the delicate skin of your neck and jaw as that soft, mournful hum resonates from his chest. The sound vibrates through your bones, familiar and soothing, seeping into your mind as easily as seawater through the crevices of a sinking ship.

You shiver, the sensation of his touch and the water deliciously cold against the heat pooling in your belly.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, turning you so you straddle only a fraction of his enormous tail, clinging to his shoulders and the scales that now rest there. “Hate that you can’t swim with me, can’t see my home.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, the same playful lightness you’ve heard a thousand times. But beneath it lies a deep, aching hunger that has his clawed fingers pressing into your ribs, hard enough to draw blood.

“I-It’s not exactly possible,” you stammer, voice shaking, breathless, the world narrowing to the feel of his enormous body wrapped around yours, the prodding of something slimy and thick between your legs, the soft vibration of his hum still echoing inside your head. “I can’t breathe underwater like you, Rafayel.”

He pouts at that, tail flexing, shifting, and you feel two other appendages begin to caress your thighs, gently snaking around them. Not that you could see what exactly they were, not with how impossibly dark the ocean is, left completely to his mercy.

“Poor little human,” Rafayel coos, feigning sympathy as his hands begin to wander, cupping and squeezing roughly at your breasts. A constant fascination he excuses for the fact that fish don’t produce milk and thus have no need for such… interesting appendages. “Your silly human body isn’t much fun. Too fragile. I can fix that.”

His words send a chill through you, something prickling at your spine—but then his lips are on yours, firm and insistent, stealing the breath from your lungs as his fingers tangle in your hair. His inhumanly long tongue invades your mouth, rough and tasting of salt and sea, and you melt, hands clawing into his shoulders as he swallows your moan, fucking his tongue down your throat.

His tail shifts again, something sharp nicking your inner thigh as you gasp into the kiss, only allowing Rafayel to press in closer, deeper, grinding against your core.

Your body reacts on instinct, earning another low trill, hips rolling to meet the pressure, Rafayel’s hands still busy pleasuring your chest as something else forces your legs wider, guiding his cock to grind against you once, twice, fighting the tense ring of muscle as you quiver.

“Please, cutie. Please let me in, my sweet darling. Please, please,” he’s rambling, begging so sweetly into your lips as you feel the jagged cut of his teeth trace down your neck, collarbone, grazing your nipple, licking up the drops of blood as your flesh splits as easily as rotten fruit on the edge of a knife. “So good to me. Always so good to me.”

You barely recognize the moan that leaves your throat—something needy, desperate. And at that sound Rafayel shudders, something else writhing against your pussy as it suddenly pushes in, thrusting and sucking gently at your entrance before following a rhythm he knows will make you fall apart.

“Rafayel, wait, cold. It’s cold—”

“Shh, you’ll warm it up.”

You can only moan in response, clinging onto Rafayel like a lifeline as the ocean surges around the both of you, your limbs trembling and useless as one of Rafayel’s hands goes to circle your clit, matching the tempo of his thrusts as you come undone with a silent scream.

“Say it again for me,” he whispers, reverence dripping from every syllable. His eyes—too blue, too bright—burn into yours, possessive, adoring, hungry. And when he looks at you like that, how could you ever refuse? “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your heart stutters. There’s a pull, something deep and heavy, sinking into your chest. The hum returns, curling around your thoughts, coaxing you to say the words, to give him what he wants. What you both want.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “Yours.”

Rafayel’s pupils narrow into slits, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry and savage. His tail tightens, grinding against you with purpose now, every slow roll of his hips sending another shockwave of pleasure through you, something else beginning to press up against you as well as the first intrusion begins to retreat from your poor overstimulated pussy.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, teeth scraping against your pulse, marking delicate skin of your throat. Something under the water coils tighter, pulling you closer, keeping you where you belong.

No.

“Yes.”

His laughter is the last thing you hear, soft and sweet, washing away every other thought before the roar of the ocean swallows you whole.

The cold is instant, biting, sinking into your bones as the saltwater tears into your nose and mouth. Panic claws up your throat as your chest seizes, lungs heaving uselessly, instinctively, drawing in nothing but seawater.

Instinct demands you thrash, but Rafayel is there, hugging around you like a devoted lover, like a predator with his kill. He drags you down deeper, enraptured, scales scraping against your skin as his body locks you against him, pressing you against the seafloor as the two of you hit the bottom, soft sand floating under your back.

How easy would it be, to leave you full of his brood and writhing, before dragging you to some island far, far away.

He’s dazed at the thought, still inside you, still thrusting, still playing with your body as if you aren’t suffocating, as if the way you kick and claw at his back, nails tearing into flesh and fins, is only a sign of pleasure. You feel him shudder, and it isn’t just from the tight, helpless way you squeeze around him.

It’s your eyes that Rafayel can’t seem to look away from. They’re wide, wild, locked on his face with desperate, pleading terror. Adoration. Fear. Love.

So human, so fragile, and all you can focus on is him, the rest of the ocean blurring into a black abyss.

Rafayel adores it, finally being the epicenter of your attention.

A low, pleased rumble vibrates through his chest, pupils blown wide, swallowing the blue of his eyes until they’re black and endless, reflecting your horrified face right back at you.

All the screaming has left you dizzy, and Rafayel moans, pushing deeper, grinding his enormous tail against your overstimulated clit as your throat convulses around a silent moan as you watch the bubbles leave your throat.

Smiling, Rafayel’s lips curl, exposing sharp, jagged teeth, feeling each shudder, each pitiful, heaving spasm as your lungs beg for oxygen. He wonders how they must feel, those delicate sacks of air tightening, twisting inside you.

Pressing his palm against your chest, right over your heart, Rafayel feels the stuttering beat as it races then begins to falter, slowing to a delicate pulse under his touch.

He could watch you like this forever.

Your nails rake down his arms, leaving raw, bloody scratches as the world begins to go dark. He shudders, his cock twitching inside you at the sting, the way you keep fighting even as your movements grow sluggish, your limbs growing heavy. Your chest heaves one last time, and then your eyes leave Rafayel’s, rolling back as your lips part in a silent prayer.

No. No, don't look away from him.

It makes Rafayel frown, wanting your gaze focused on him alone, wanting your attention back. He wants it forever. His tail coils, possessive, hugging you tight with all the devotion of a human lover as he finally, finally leans in, pressing his mouth to yours.

His hands come down to caress your jaw, fangs nicking your lips as he forces them apart, kissing air back into your lungs.

And you breathe in again, sobbing into the kiss, body trembling, clinging to Rafayel like he’s your lifeline. You do what he knew you would. You kiss him back. Desperate, dazed, pushing closer as though you don't realize there's no where else you could go, the deep, endless dark of the ocean yawning hungrily above you both.

He's close, so close now. Body nearly aglow with that eerie, deep-sea light, casting shadows onto your body as you welcome him even now, desperate for warmth, for safety, for him.

“Mine,” Rafayel sings against your lips in a language you cannot understand. Savoring the way you still arch up to kiss him again and again, desperate for his air and his touch despite it all. Despite knowing what he is. Despite knowing what he wants. “My mate.”

When he finally cums he feels it breach your womb, he feels you swell with it, feels it stick with how eagerly your body welcomes him, his perfect little human.

And for the first time, you truly wonder if you were meant to survive loving something like him.

#𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓 writes #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads rafayel #rafayel x you #love and deepspace #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #lnds smut #lnds x reader #rafayel x mc #lnds

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svgarseason · 14 days ago

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𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two | three | four ‹soon›

Unfortunately for you, your big brother's friend sukuna can be surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large. It seems that startling the living hell out of you is his new favorite pasttime. And he's around all the time now. He shows up unannounced and lets himself in. When you ask Toji why he has a key, he just laughs and says, "He doesn't. He wants in. He gets in."

Okay? That's cryptic and annoying, but you'd rather feign indifference than ask questions. Why overcomplicate things?

Mostly, he just sneaks up behind you and shouts, "Hey, brat!" In his stupid, booming voice as he claps all four of his large hands down on your shoulders. You count it as a victory when you detect his smokey scent first and actually manage not to jump out of your skin. Although you still break out in goosebumps at his touch, he doesn't seem to notice, judging by the satisfying look of dissappointment on his face. Your satisfaction is short-lived, however.

The sound of the two men crashing through the front door in the wee hours of the next morning startles you awake. You flick the bedside lamp on just in time to see sukuna crash through your bedroom door. Of course, you scream and clutch the pink duvet to your bare chest. "Oops," he says, with a shit-eating grin. "Wrong room." Toji drags him out with some half-assed muttered apology about drinking too much. You're not so sure that's a pertinent excuse. The smug look he shoots you before the door slams shut seems pretty much par for the course, at this point.

Sadly, that was not the end of early morning encounters with the monster. Now he has you caged in against the counter, nearly breaking your back in an effort to lean away from him. Evidently, he had seen fit to creep up behind you and you between the kitchen counter and his mountain range of a body. And you wee only trying to steam milk for your latte. What the fuck is his problem, anyway? Can't a girl make her morning coffee in peace? Your protests remain lodged in your throat, however, along with your racing heart.

He's so large and so close you have no choice but to look at him, which, to your horror, still renders you temporarily speechless. Being so close to him reminds you a little of the first time you ever saw a tiger at the zoo. The animal was so unlike anything you had ever seen before, so deadly and beautiful, that you could hardly believe it was real. Could hardly believe that it was roaring and pacing close enough that you could reach out and sink your fingers into its thick coat if not for the bars. The bars kept you safe, then. What is keeping you safe, now?

It is unsettling, the way his upper set of eyes remain locked on yours while the lower set look down at the hand scalded by your spilt coffee. "What's the matter brat? Hurt yourself?" He mocks as you clutch the injured hand to your chest. You hardly notice that one of his hands has left the counter, but somehow you don't flinch when he lifts it to your cheek to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "Did I scare you?"

The gentle gesture alongside his mocking words is so disconcerting that you remain a quivering-lipped mute as seconds crawl by at a snails pace. You wonder if the action was subconscious on his part. Seems the only viable explanation.

You don't find your voice again until Toji's breaks whatever hypnosis the monster has you under. "Let's go," he says, and, just like that, Sukuna pulls away and you are finally able to pull air into your lungs again. "Gonna be gone for a couple of days-" Toji begins, addressing you.

"Please tell me you're taking it with you," you interject, stabbing an index finger in Sukuna's direction.

"Yeah," he says. And sukuna gives you one last smug, spider-eyed glare before he disappears through the door.

You're so relieved that it doesn't occur to you how quickly a couple of days can pass. Or that, when they do, your brother might not be the first to return. Relieved, not only to be free of Sukuna's bullying for a time, but also because what you feel is not truly fear. It's more like awe, if you really had to put a name to it. But you make a point not to think about it too much, or at all if you can help it.

part one | two | three | four ‹soon›

taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›

@orikixx ; @scorpiosugar ; @just-lilita ; @shesabeeler

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk smut #sukuna angst #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #true form sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen smut

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absolutedestinyapocalypsse · 3 months ago

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i love how as you read more into tlt, the ninth house seems more and more normal. Like if i'm at an immoral evil government competition, and i use human fat as soap and animate skeletons to do menial labor, i'm gonna LOSE if my competition is the third house, represented by ianthe "who HASN'T eaten human flesh and fucked a corpse" tridentarius. My weird skeleton thing seems normal, suddenly. Well-adjusted, even. It's recycling. They're using resources in a sustainable way. Normal and regular and productive for a post-climate change apocalypse universe.

People go on and on about how Muir drops you into gtn hearing from the person who knows the least about whats happening, and does not hand hold the reader through the crazy shit that occurs, and that's all true. It truly is a crazy writing decision to make your first pov character come from the universe's equivalent of amish fundamentalists. But the reader is actually done a huge favor being dropped into the ninth house first, because we already understand that space is cold and what catholic nuns are, and what goths look like, and what lesbians are. Very little time is wasted in the first chunk of gtn ripping hair out of your head wondering what the fuck is going on, because for all of its strangeness, the ninth house is already the most familiar thing we're gonna get.

Because THEN we learn that this whole universe's medieval chivalry system is designed to groom people from CHILDREN to not only be exploited and used as human batteries for necromancers, but to LIKE it. to wax poetic about it. to confuse it for love, to write fucking academic papers about it! Then we learn about planet flipping, an act so horrific and violent it turns the planet's soul into a massive vengeful monster capable of killing GOD. Like what do you MEAN the animals "change"? Is this why noodle has six legs? I would MUCH prefer to wear skeleton makeup and repent forever if the alternative was to witness my family dog grow TWO EXTRA LIMBS because the planet he lived on fucking died. Suddenly, living in the asscrack of a planet where no light gets in seems like a sweet deal when the whole solar system is lit by a sun that MAKES YOU GO CRAZY. The ninth house's WORST sin, killing 200 babies to make Harrow, a waste of resources and an act so terrible it haunts Harrow for the entire span of her life, is like a BLIP compared to the death count Jod's empire. God even hears about it and he's like, no big deal! The cohort probably kills that amount of people in a DAY.

And its ALSO tragic because you realize that all of this trauma and abuse that Gideon goes through is not really because of the ninth house at all. It's really just an individual skill issue that she wasn't treated with compassion. Nobody hated her because she's jesus or a bomb, nobody even KNOWS she's a bomb. It's just Priamhark and Pelleamena being deeply guilty and scared people that motivates her treatment, and absolutely nothing else.

They did something bad, and they know it, and Gideon survived it, and they can't kill her to cover it up, and that's IT. They killed themselves for pride, because they were afraid of the consequences of their actions (both the baby killing and Harrow opening the tomb) coming back to bite them. You can argue this is the catholicism of it all, and I wouldn't say you're wrong, but compared to the cavalier system, where exploitation is in the very lining of the house's institutions, the ninth house is really removed from the space empire's blood factory. This is compared to the fourth house where they have tons of children to be CANNON FODDER to join the cohort at fucking 14, compared to the eight house uncle nephew fuckery, even the fifth house which actually does seems nice to live on but also seems to have the fourth house in some sort of fucked up political bear hug??? (maybe the fourth house has so many kids in order to fight the fifth's battles? which is EXACTLY what jod's whole empire is about; politely stirring your tea and acting nice while you destroy everything) compared to ALL OF THAT, the cruelty that Gideon faces is really more a bug of the ninth's system than a feature.

There's nothing baked into the culture and everyday life of the ninth house that necessitated that cruelty; in fact, for such a pragmatic and resource-scarce place, it's WEIRD that a strong able-bodied young person was treated like a waste of space and resources. It could just have easily not happened, if Harrow's parents had been different people. Maybe they were products of their environment, but so was Harrow, and she values Gideon's life SO MUCH that she'd literally rather carve out parts of her own brain than exploit her. Gideon grows up knowing really NOTHING about cavaliers, so remote from the horrors of the empire that she develops an idea of what the cohort is from porn magazines. And in a lot of ways, that upbringing was desolate and terrible, and in a lot of other ways it literally DID NOT HAVE TO BE.

Gideon's MAIN THING is that she wants to be useful, to be needed, to be loved and it SUCKS that she couldn't even get it in the one place where she was actually an invaluable resource, where the death empire had the weakest reach. Gideon can't even blame her lack of love on the fucked up chivalry system like everyone else can because it JUST WASNT REALLY RELEVENT!?!?! This is like if i rolled up to the trauma competition and everyone else was raised in a nuclear warzone by wolves or something and i grew up in like, the suburbs and was raised by teachers and i somehow STILL WON. truly what the fuck guys.

#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #tlt gender studies #none gender with left grief #the locked tomb trilogy

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kitten4sannie · 6 months ago

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sleepover

pairing: perverted bsf! wooyoung x fem! reader feat. a comatose mingi (he’s asleep on the bed lmao…or is he…)

summary: wooyoung is more than willing to hold you when you’re afraid during your horror movie marathon, and even more willing to help distract you like a good friend does.

wc: 1.4k

warnings: perverted dom! wooyoung, subby innocent! reader, bro is convincing and manipulative okay, cnc/dubcon-ish vibes (if that’s not your thing feel free to skip!!), coercion/corruption, exhibitionism (all of the following is done right next to mingi), brief kissing, groping, fingering, initial orgasm denial,, tit play + spit, rough unprotected sex, creampie, this is a wild one idkidkkkkk

a/n: wooyo has been haunting my brain lately so i had no choice but to write this >~< i hope you enjoy <33

song rec: if you think i’m pretty - artemas

“I told you not to put this movie on, Woo. It’s way too scary,” you complained whinily into your best friend’s shoulder, shielding your eyes from the suspenseful scene playing out on the laptop sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Mingi was the one who wanted to watch it, you know,” Wooyoung chided, causally wrapping his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your bare arm up and down in a comforting manner.

“Well, Mingi’s passed out.” Pouting, you pointed to your other friend that was curled up underneath the comforter beside you, his eyes shut. “He’s not even watching, so what’s the point?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t be a pussy.” His cold fingers made their way down to your waist to squeeze at it, making you jump from the sudden contact. “Oh, I see….Do you think the monster’s gonna get ya?”

“Shut up, Wooyoung!” you whisper-shouted, as to not wake up Mingi. You pushed on his chest, feeling his heart beat quickly against your hand. Was it racing like yours was? And, when did he get so close to you? His hand was already running up and down the bare skin of your thigh, causing your thin shorts to ride up more and more, but you didn’t have the nerve to confront him about it. Your pout grew. “I’m really scared, okay?”

“Oh, you poor baby,” Wooyoung cooed softly into your ear, his words laced with faux pity, his sharpened gaze focused solely on your blushing face. “Do you want me to help you, Y/N? Distract you from the scary movie?”

“Y-yes, please…”

You didn’t know what you were getting into, but you trusted that Wooyoung had your best interest in mind. It was then that he gently coaxed you further into his arms, lying comfortably against him as you faced the laptop screen once again. Goosebumps began to spread across your limbs from underneath the warm comforter, but it wasn’t from the frightening movie — it was from Wooyoung’s hand slipping underneath your shorts, his slender fingers rubbing at your pulsing cunt through your panties.

“W-Wooyoung…” you croaked weakly, your face and body growing so hot, you could pass out. Friends didn’t do this sort of thing, did they?

“Shhhh, baby, just look at the screen…yeah, just like that…” he sighed softly, his warm breath fanning over your neck, now concentrating on the way your tank top clung to your softness of your tits, how your nipples grew hard enough to poke through the thin material, groaning when he found your clit through your panties, rubbing at it in slow, small circles.

“B-but we’re friends, Woo…” You made a sad attempt at pushing his hand away, the moral debate you were having internally slowly fizzling away the longer Wooyoung touched you.

“Isn’t this what friends are for?” Wooyoung persisted, pulling your panties to the side just in time for his fingers to dip in between your soaked folds. “And, fuck, you’re so wet right now, Y/N. It feels good, doesn’t it? What’s so wrong with that, baby?”

“But, nnngh…Mingi’s right next to us…” You began to melt into Wooyoung’s arms and the soft mattress below you, unable to resist spreading your legs out for him, your thigh even resting against Mingi’s, not noticing when it shifted just as two of Wooyoung’s digits slipped inside you.

Licking at his lips, Wooyoung then pressed them onto your cheek, egging you on in a low voice, “Then, tell me to stop, baby.” He began to fuck his fingers into you at a fast pace, your walls clenching around them. “Right now. Say it.” Now, he was relentlessly rubbing his thumb into your clit with his free hand, still working your cunt, hooking his digits against the spot that made you spasm, your body growing warmer and heavier. When you pouted up at him and whined, he simply mirrored your helpless expression. “What’s the matter, baby? Hm?”

“Oh– fuck, right there…” you moaned out, not even attempting to look at the laptop screen in front of you, instead solely focused on your best friend beside you, so desperate to cum, you began to roll your hips down every time his fingers plunged into you.

“Yeah? You’re feeling really good now, aren’t you, Y/N? Now that you’re nice and full? Just look at you, baby…You can’t help but fuck yourself dumb on my fingers, huh?” Wooyoung looked like the monster from the movie now, eyes full of hunger, like he was ready to eat you up.

“Uh-huh, uh-huhhh…” Just as your sounds of pleasure began to crescendo, your mind growing cloudier by the second, pulling at the sheets below you because you were right there, Wooyoung ceased his movement completely, leaving you high and dry. “No, please, don’t stop, please…!”

Wooyoung gave you a look of indifference, much like a cat that suddenly wasn’t interested in playtime anymore. “Show me your tits. Maybe then I’ll make you cum.”

Desperate for your best friend’s attention and touch, you slowly rolled your tank top up until your tits spilled out, tears pricking at your eyes. How did you get here? Why did Wooyoung’s deliciously dark gaze successfully distract you from the paralyzing shame you felt? Or is that what made you wet? The way you were slutting yourself out for your best friend while the other was sleeping right next to you? “Please make me cum, Y-Youngie…”

“Fuck, you’re so cute, come here.” Now, Wooyoung was on top of you, leaving as much of his saliva on your tits as possible, squeezing one when he was noisily sucking on the other, his dilated eyes never leaving your teary ones. “Can I fuck you, Y/N? I’ll make you cum, I promise…I need to be inside you, baby, please, you’re so fucking hot…” Desperate for release, Wooyoung lowered his sweatpants until his heavy cock dropped onto your bare cunt, rubbing himself along it, making your mind grow that much more empty. “Just the tip, okay? That’s okay, yeah?”

Before you knew it, you were nodding, and just like that, he was inside you, your best friend, using you like a cocksleeve. Wooyoung was ramming his cock into your cunt like he was trying to knock you up. “That’s a good slut, fuckkk, taking me so well…” You tried to moan, to speak, to say anything, but you couldn’t, not with the way his tongue suddenly went down your throat.

All you could do was cling onto Wooyoung, your nails digging into his skin when it felt like the tip of his cock was pounding into your cervix, almost growing dizzy. When you heard your best friend groaning about how he was getting ready to fuck you full of his cum, you gasped, unable to talk, short, broken moans being punched out of you each time Wooyoung slammed himself into you, your thighs hooking around his waist once his hot load began to pour into you. It was then that you turned your head just in time to realize Mingi was watching you intently, his plush lips parted just enough to let drool slip past, catching onto the way that something was moving rapidly underneath the comforter somewhere near his abdomen.

“Told you she would put out, didn’t I, Min?” Wooyoung mused smugly, fucking you through the orgasm that tore through your used body, using your bruised hips like handlebars as he did so.

“You were so right, Woo, so, so right,” Mingi sighed out, tossing his head back into the pillow behind him, leaving a few watery cumshots on the inside of your comforter and his hand.

You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to cum again, instead just trying to catch your breath, hiding your face underneath one of your wrists, at least until Wooyoung pulled it down and made you look at the both of them.

“You’ll let Mingi have a turn, won’t you, Y/N? It’s only fair, right?”

Mingi nodded in agreement, before leaning in, licking across his teeth. “Having my cock inside your little used cunt next will make another good ‘distraction’, don’t you think?”

Even though the credits were rolling on the laptop behind them, the monsters hadn’t left. They were right there in front of you, waiting for your permission to ravage you. You couldn’t help but nod. They were your best friends, after all.

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bitchimasnake-sss · 7 months ago

Note

I wanna see how the monster trip would react to their partner begging for round two..

maybe I'm just dirty or smth but I really wanna see Sanji's nose bleed /j

ahaha making sanji nosebleed is kinda my passion /hj

🌙thinkin' about: the monster trio! vs round two!

cw: pussydrunk boys. nsfw thoughts include: cunnilingus, creampie, overstimulation, cocky men, doin' it raw. oh, and pussydrunk men. okay, thats it. MDNI OR ILL HUNT YOUR PETTY ASSES. m.list

monkey d. luffy:

❤️monkey d. luffy knew — from the bottom of his heart — that you were the girl of his dreams. there was no doubt about that. the way you smiled at him, the way you pouted when he would annoy you, the way you happened to lecture him when he would act reckless. you were his, no doubt. ❤️but holy fucking shit. looking at you all bleary-eyed and tongue-tied, he almost felt his heart rip him apart whole. looking up at him with such a desperate look that it almost knocked the wind right of his lungs and replaced the air he breathed with something much more sinister. what did you want of him? he was all yours from the very start. ❤️covered in sheen, strands of jet-black clung to his forehead and his heavy breath fanned over you spent face. his cock had stayed buried within you despite painting your walls white a few minutes prior. despite making you cum twice already. shifting his weight on his elbows, he bent down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your pretty face. and as he felt weak nails breaking the skin of his biceps, his eyes met yours, "what's wrong, peach?" "l-luff," your voice stuttered, and he almost grinned at the the sweet falsetto, "hm?" "'nother round, please?" ❤️and how could monkey d. luffy say no to the girl of his dreams? grinning ear to ear, his larger palm intertwined against your weak ones. bringing you dainty palm up to his lips, he pressed down a messy kiss just as his hips pistoned into your cushiony heat, "ah ah, luffy. fuck—" "shh." a delirious smile on his face, lust-induced haze in his eyes, and your name on his lips, "don't need'ta say twice, baby."

roronoa zoro:

💚as a swordsman, roronoa zoro revered himself to be a man that could mask all emotions, all calculations behind a stoic look-of-stone. but were you so well-versed in him that you could read his mind? seemed like that since you were begging for the very thing he was ready to give. "zo." you looked over your shoulder, a stern twinge in your words despite your trembling lips and teary eyes, "again, please." "ha-hah, again?" his thumb circled your twitching clit, enjoying the way you squirmed under him with every wicked swipe over your overstimulated cunt. faux concern on his tongue, he teased you, "think you can handle it?" "yes. another round, please." bobbing your head up and down so fast, looking back at him with such raw emotion that he felt a lump in his heart where you were. fuck, why did you have to be so pretty? 💚snuggling his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his heady words accompanied the frenzied touches across your swollen clit, "might regret it later when you can't walk." "i don' care, zo— want you." you whined, your sweet voice so close to his ears. and who does he think he is that he can say no to you? nothing. he's a fool at your hands, always. 💚 and you should really be careful what you wished for. because as the swordsman dragged his tip all the way out just to push it right back in all of a sudden jolted you forward. your moans muffled as you bit down the pillow, "s-slow down, zo— ngh fu—" "c'mon," he purred, words strained as he tried to maintain whatever sanity he had, "you asked for this."

vinsmoke sanji:

he has a nosebleed as soon as you call out his name in that weak voice of yours but let's pretend he's got game. 💙vinsmoke sanji treated you like you were glass in battles. scared of out his wits that one wayward shove, one reckless pull and you would shatter. but what a fucking hypocrite he was! becausr right now, he was the one wrecking you. experienced fingers curling within your plushy heat, his tongue toying with your swollen clit as his eyes watched the woman over him fall apart. "hah, fuck." you panted, walls clenching around his fingers dangerously as nectar pooled from your divine body down his greedy throat. he almost felt himself come undone as your feeble voice called out his name. 💙he knew the routine by now. vinsmoke sanji would lap away at you like a man starve as you will try to pry him off by squirming and pulling his hair. in retaliation, he would grab your thighs harder and continue eating you out till you cried out his name loud enough for everyone to hear. simple enough, right? 💙but right now as he looked up at you, he didn't find you clenching your eyes and trying to pry him off. instead, you met his eyes with a hungry glint. reddened, kiss-bitten lips commanding him, "sanji, again." "hm?" his eyes widened, and as he pulled back, your slick shined on his lips and jaw. he looked up, grinning like the devil, "what did you say, my love?" at his sudden inspection, your throat closed up. voice growing weak, feeble, "a-again?" he answered by sinking his face back against your heat. and the last thing you heard before you lost all semblance of sanity was a rough rumble of, "again."

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD, IM LEGIT GOING OUT WITH FRIENDS IN LIKE 2 MINS AND I NEEDED TO POST THIS BEFORE I LEAVE AAAAAH anyways. ahem, ahem. am i ever gonna get tired of these men? no. so, just enjoy. okay, a genuine question: should i add ace, law to my usual roster [i.e. the monster trio]? i love writing ace so i'm just finding excuses lmaoo and with law, i think it'll give me good practice before i transition into long fics for him. let me know what you think lol. credits: @rookthornesartistry for the dividers! tagging: @mist-ixx [let me know if you'd like to be in the taglist!] m.list

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jojikawa · 11 months ago

Text

Beauty and the Beast

An event where you are a woman in the 50s trying to turn the head of your neighbor, Francis Mosses when you are stalked and pursued by his evil counterpart.

Art by ilameys

Zettai Zetsumei • Co shu Nie

Word Count: 5.7k

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, SMUT(CNC, mentions of a "rape kit"), and monster cock.

I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi 🎀

Life was somewhat boring for you as a woman in the 50s. Despite being sought after by a lot of the men in your apartment complex, you had your heart set on one man. You only got to see him once a day. Francis Mosses. When he would deliver milk to your door in the morning. No matter how cute or cherry you were, it seemed like his mind was set on other things. The man always looked tired but you thought he was handsome no matter what. Maybe even more handsome…it was just something about hot men being tired that made them so much hotter.

You had hoped that eventually, he’d notice you and finally take you on a date!

But that hope soon faded when you read the newspapers. They talked about how doppelgängers are becoming a lot more frequent and the D.D.D. would be installing new units everywhere to ensure that no evil counterparts are making their way into the homes of others and killing people. You were able to tell if this made you feel safer or a lot more scared. What if someone made a mistake…?

Well, you didn’t have a chance to feel anything really, as the D.D.D. was extremely secretive about this kind of threat. After some time, it became normalized and it soon left your mind. The Doorman job seemed to be pretty effective as you had never seen any monsters before and were very much alive. It was rumored that the creatures would murder and eat any person they encountered if they succeeded in passing as humans. This is another reason you had your heart set on Francis. You felt as though he could protect you at a time like this. Maybe it was naive of you but after all, you were just a girl.

“Good Morning.”

Upon hearing the small knock at your door, you went to greet him. Francis stood tall, rather confused about you coming to get your bottled milk so quickly.

“Oh, good morning…” He replied flatly, gripping the strap of his milk bag. You thought that maybe he had a mutual crush on you and was too shy to act on it. So, you could take that step for him.

“How are you this morning? I hope that life is agreeing with you today.” You stepped outside of your apartment door with your glass of milk in hand. Francis shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He then yawned before saying “What’s wrong? Are you looking for another?”

You blinked. “Huh?” Your eyes then darted down to your hands. “O-Oh…sure.” You smiled attractively, causing him to break eye contact with you. He reached into his milk carrier and revealed and took out another. “You’re only allowed to get one every day but you can have mine.” He walked up to you and placed the bottle into your free hand.

“Th-Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

After he disappeared around the corner, you were filled with joy! That interaction was such a good sign. He gave you his milk bottle. You had to make him something for dinner tonight as a gift!

Thunk!

You almost jumped at the sound of glass falling on the carpet at the far end of the hallway behind you. It looked like an empty milk bottle if you squinted hard enough. There was a shadow as well. It made you feel uneasy and quickly made you retreat into your home.

You wanted to try seeing if you could have more time with Francis. There was a job opening for the D.D.D. Doorman of your building and you instantly took it. Being able to meet with Francis when he wasn’t busy might have your conversations with him take a turn for the better. You really appreciated his selfless gesture. So, seeing him at least twice a day would make your life so much brighter. Francis was the complete package. Tall, handsome, quiet, and most of all, soft-spoken. You’d be a good wife to him.

On the first day of the job, you didn’t receive any proper training. You were given an informational video and a set of instructions that you scrambled to memorize as a long line of your neighbors awaited their inspection outside. The job was easy at first and you did it well. It was a chore but those are easy. You let in the right people and you called the D.D.D. when you found a doppelganger like you were instructed to. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Francis didn’t pay you any mind. You gave him a soft smile through the glass before asking him about his day.

“I hope work is treating you well.” You pitched your voice up to sound cuter. Your graceful hands moved swiftly as you sifted through the many layers of documents, trying to organize them before your next neighbor. “Yeah, I suppose.” He answered, blinking rather slowly. Your smile widened. “Any days off soon? I’d like to see you outside of your uniform.” You winked at him and he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Well, maybe, sometime after your hard work, you tell me a day you’d think you would be free?”

You waited with anticipation for his response. He seemed rather confused and it was rather adorable. Then he said “I don’t really know. I think I’m busy but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Your smile faltered just a little but you were good at faking emotions. “Oh, no worries.” You waved him off in a playful manner before pressing the button to allow him inside. Your shift ended and you thought that you should probably get to making that dinner for him as a ‘thank you’ for the free milk. As you began to clean up, the pressure of your job began to set in. This wasn’t something that you could just quit if Francis were to reject you. Ignoring all the unexplainable noises, the dark figures, and the constant feeling of being watched, it would be very awkward seeing him every day after that.

It was a new day. Francis came to check into the building and you let him go without chatting with him because you didn’t want to seem like a bother. But…then you saw him again.

“Francis?” You cutely tilted your head. The way he looked at you was much different than usual. The Francis you knew could barely make meaningful eye contact with you but right now he had no problem burning holes into your skull with his eyes. Not only that but he was visibly bigger as well. Taller and more masculine. His arms were big and veiny. This was NOT Francis Mosses.

“I-ID…?” You gave a nervous half-smile as you tried to hide your stutter. The humanoid creature gawked, a subtle sense of happiness washing over its face the longer it stayed there. “Don’t have it on me.” It replied plainly. You picked up the clipboard before exing out the box that was labeled “ID.”

“W-Well, you seem to look a lot like someone who’s already checked in. Please, give me a moment to confirm.” You flashed it a close-eyed smile. Upon seeing it, the fake Francis moved closer to the window, fogging it up with its mouth breathing.

You pressed the big red button to close the shutter before dialing the number to the D.D.D.

The representative told you someone would be over right away to dispose of the doppelgänger. It only took about a minute before they’d arrive. Normally, the shutter would open on its own after being reset by the D.D.D. member but for some reason, it didn’t You figured that now would be a good time to open it to help the last neighbors but when you did, you were not met with the hazmat suit you were so familiar with.

In front of you was the same fake Francis from before, now covered in some blood. His expression was one of annoyance and the veins in his arms were pulsating as if he were trying to contain some kind of anger.

“E-Excuse me, but you need to—!”

“Let me in.”

Your heart dropped. It talked! And it sounded just like Francis too.

You shook your head. “N-No! I’m not letting a monster in.” You reached for the number to re-dial the number again.

“But I think you look so pretty today. You wore that just for me, huh? I’d love to t-tear it off of you.” The creature’s neck involuntarily cracked its neck, twisting it in a demonic way. You screamed at the sight, pressing the button once more to close the shutters so that you wouldn’t have to see it. As they went down, the doppelgänger tried to stop it by putting his hand under it. It got caught in the track, causing it to get stuck on the track and it was open halfway.

“Come on, Darling, I know you’re not about to call those bastards again. I don’t want to have to hurt anyone else.” The large man-creature crouched down. You could see his fanged canine teeth poking out of his mouth. You backed away from the window with the telephone in hand.

3312…

You listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before the receptionist answered.

“Hello?”

“P-Please send help!” You cried over the phone. Tears began to spill out of your eyes upon hearing the squeal of metal as the predator stretched and bent it to his will. The glass was the only thing left that could stop him from entering.

You saw how abnormally long his tongue was when it glided over his lips. “I just want to taste you…”

The receptionist dispatched another group of workers to help dispose of the doppelgänger. They arrived almost instantly. It was only then that the fake Francis moved away from the window. You sighed in relief, trying to calm yourself down from the events that transpired. You ran over to the tempered glass. The mental door looked like sheet paper.

You saw no trace of the Hazmat people but you also didn’t see the fake Francis anymore. You quickly gathered your things and rushed to leave. You opened the door to let yourself out. You planned to run to your room and lock the door but as soon as you had left the room, you bumped into a stiff, toned chest. The figure grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look at them. The gloved hand was covered in blood and it stained your skin and the collar of your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?”

His grip around your throat was so tight that you weren’t able to form words. It was completely covered in blood and in its other hand was a knife dripping with blood as well. It kept the violence to one side of the room so that you weren’t able to see anything unless you completely left the screening room.

The light clank of the knife hitting the ground could be heard and its newly free hand grabbed your waist. The doppelgänger hugged you to its masculine chest. Its head rested itself on top of yours before it planted its nose in the crown of your head before inhaling your scent deeply. The blaring sound of the alarm continued to go off and it was deafening.

Your nose was overloaded with the scent of fresh blood. The pure shock didn’t let you resist his touch. His grip loosened and you dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor, staining it in with the red substance

“P-Please.”

You felt its large hand around the back of your neck and you feared that it would snap it and kill you any second. You held your breath as you felt it set the other hand on your waist as well, rubbing it gingerly.

It felt like the doppelgänger was sizing you up to see if you’d be a good enough meal for it.

“He-ey, beautiful. It's… okay…”

The doppelgänger’s speech was somewhat disconnected but it was fluid for the most part. At first, it was clear he was a fake but the more he kept talking, the more it sounded like the real thing…like it was learning in real time.

Your heart rate accelerated when you felt its hand travel ever so slowly from your waist to the collar of your dress. The inhuman smile on its face widened and it suddenly ripped the cloth that covered your torso. You gasped, instinctively covering your now exposed bra.

You wiggled out of its grip and used the opportunity to run. You kicked off your pumps and ran barefoot to your apartment. All you could do was hope that more of the D.D.D. would come and solve the issue before anyone else could get hurt. The emergency alarm was still going off so the authorities should be there soon.

When you arrived at your door, you tried to scramble to look for your keys so that you could get inside but…

…you remembered that you dropped them along with the rest of your possessions.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. The large shadow engulfed your smaller form.

“Allow me.” The stranger said, calmly. Their large fist went through the door handle, shattering the lock and making it completely useless. You were too shocked to try running again. It found you.

The doppelganger shoved you against the door, swinging it open and causing you to fall forward inside of your home. You hit the floor with a soft but swift thud. “I see the way you look at him.” Its voice was laced with venom—anger but left more to be desired. It was playing with you awfully long for a creature that was trying to kill you.

“But you’d never look at me that way…”

The Fake Francis entered the apartment making sure to secure the door behind it so that you couldn’t run anymore. You cried and whimpered as it took its sweet time pushing your bookcase in front of the door so no one would intervene with what was supposed to happen next.

“I-I don’t know what you’re—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as it smashed its lips into yours. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, slipping its way into your mouth. You tried to push it away but any attempts just resulted in your lips connecting once more. It was too strong.

You were terrified but it passed so much for the real Francis.

“Tell me you don’t like it ‘n I’ll stop.” It whispered into your mouth before it French kissed you once more. You kissed it back, unable to resist his appearance any longer. When it pulled away, a string of saliva connected between both of your mouths. It’s warm breath hits the surface of your face, eyes full of lust and horror.

It’s soft lips attached themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until your skin slowly began turning red. “Mmm.” It hummed deeply, traveling lower and lower until it reached the cavern between your breasts. “You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” It placed kisses in the valley of your chest, waiting for a reply. You were unable to form words at this point. It wanted to ravage you and steal your innocence. It took your idleness as consent, continuing on with satisfying itself and by extension, satisfying you.

It took the delicate hand you had been using to drive a wedge between the both of you. You thought that at this point it was going to break your arm! You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to endure the pain but…it didn’t. You felt the heated bulge beneath it’s bloodied white trousers. It throbbed.

That’s when it finally clicked for you. It wasn’t playing with you like you were food. It wasn’t trying to taste you and pick it’s teeth with your bones. It wanted to be with you. To breed you.

“I—ah~♡!” You bit down on your lip to contain the pretty moans that left your mouth. Your bra was removed, fully exposing your breasts. Its tongue touched the tip of your nipple and its mouth enveloped over your entire areola. It licked and sucked on the bud until it was nice and hard. The other hand was subtly slipped under your dress.

It took barely any strength at all to rip the fabric, showing how inappropriately wet you’d become from this activity. It craved the essence that was oozing from your tiny cunt.

At the feeling of the cold wind, you brought your legs together just to have them forced apart again. The creature made you feel so small and vulnerable. It used force when it felt necessary but overall, it was….soft. Licking, kissing, biting but no drawing blood, taste, loving.

It salivated at your legs, raising one and nuzzling the side of its face into the smooth skin. “So…gorgeous.” It pulled you forward. “When I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

“Y-You did…?” You squeaked. It’s touch sent goosebumps from your limp to the rest of your body. “Two years I’ve been watching you. It was so damn annoying seeing you talk to that piece of meat.”

Piece of meat?

“I don’t know who you mean.” You shied away from the perfect creature. Could it mean…

“F-Francis?” You knitted your eyes together in confusion.

“Yes—HIM!” The doppelgänger dropped your leg and pulled you by your thighs to its crotch. “…I could never decide what skin would be the best to pursue you in. But then I’d see the way you look at him.” Pre-cum was beginning to show from its member inside. You could feel the wet fabric on the lips of your hot cunt. “So, I became him…but better.”

You heard the subtle unzipping sound of the pants and it took out its thick cock. It was larger than normal and didn't look like the standard male genitalia. You’d need to use both hands to hold it.

There was no denying this thing could perfectly replicate a human man. Before you could even react, the big “man” picked you up by your hair.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded and you felt obligated to obey him. You’ve never been in a situation where you were being held up by a man like this.

“I’m gonna split you in half with this cock.” He pushed its large tip against your cheek, straining it with warm cum. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted for a moment but you hesitated. There was no way that whole thing could fit into your mouth. Your eyes traveled up to his for guidance. He only stared down at you with hard, tired eyes. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.

“I said…open your mouth.”

He spoke through his teeth as if it were a threat. You were reluctant but tried to ease it in. You kissed his tip, causing him to grunt and tighten his fist around your hair. “Open.” He growled, yanking your head back. His cock was so close to your face that you could truly take in its side. It was nearly the length of your skull.

You opened your mouth out of fear and he shoved it inside. He was kind enough to let you get used to it in your throat by going soft and slow…or maybe he was just distracted by the imprint showing on your throat.

You grabbed his hips to keep yourself from falling backward. Even a bit of force made you lose your balance. “Good girl.” He sighed, relaxing into you, pushing the limits by pushing it deeper. Your choking and gagging only made him feel pleasure.

“You struggling with my dick in your mouth is so hot.” You heard him mutter under his breath. Your eyes began to water from the choking, causing tears to carry mascara down your cheeks.

“Keep sucking.” He fucked into your throat and gentle too. “I’m close.”

Both of his hands found themselves on the back of your head. He sped up his pace until a loud groan emitted from his chest and a mysterious liquid found its way down your throat.

The doppelgänger let go of your hair. You fell back on your bottom and he crouched down. “Hey.” He called, grabbed both sides of your face with one hand. He squeezed your cheeks together. “Swallow.”

You swallowed what was left and once he knew it was in your belly, his lips crashed into yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and explored every cavern.

You felt yourself get lifted again but this time to your feet. He walked you over to your dining table and shoved you into it. “Bend over.”

You didn’t really get a choice. When you tried to stand, he forced you down to the table with his hand on the back of your head.

You expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. You felt him explore your backside from your hips to your exposed ass. The wind was so cold but his hands were so warm.

He chuckled darkly, spreading your ass cheeks and sticking his shaft in between. His dick was so much bigger than you that you would definitely have a belly bulge because of it. He wanted to experience it for himself.

You waited with silent anticipation for him what he would do next. You weren’t too sexually active anymore because you wanted to reserve that for the real Francis, if you ever got the chance with him, so you were really nervous about having something so big inside.

“Uah!” You squeaked, feeling a wet, warm muscle enter the deepest part of your cunt. It was his tongue!

You whipped your head around to see that his face was buried in you from behind. “Mmm.” You heard him hum vibrations into you. He consumed all of your juices as they came out. It must’ve tasted so good coming from a pretty human like you.

With every moan and whimper that left your mouth, it made his dick grow harder and harder. He didn’t stop until you had creamed all over his tongue. So much came out that it got all over his face too.

“I-Is that it? Is that what you want…?” You asked, but you were only ignored.

“Pick a hole.”

“Wh-wha—“

“Pick a hole, or I will.”

Pick…a hole…?

His large thumb massaged your asshole while his knuckles, now sleek with your cream, was stimulating your pussy.

“Um…I—“

“Both it is!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”

You felt his thumb sink deep into your ass while he struggled to get his large tip into your pussy. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” He growled through his teeth. His free hand grabbed your ass, fingers sinking in so deep they’d leave marks.

“W-Wait, you have to go slow!” You cried, face heating up from being touched in such filthy ways. “I am.” He grumbled, pushing the limits of your vagina by forcing himself inside. Despite going at the pace of a snail, the pain of trying to fit himself inside didn’t decrease at all. You helplessly clawed at the table beneath you. It didn’t matter how wet you were. He was too big.

It took a moment but he was able to get it. It slipped in with much ease on his end but the difference inside made you gasp so hard you needed to cover your mouth.

The doppelgänger began thrusting without warning, quickly overstimulating you. You could feel him in your stomach too. You reach back to push him off of you but he just grabbed your arm and kept it. There wasn’t much you could do to get someone this big off of you. You would only take it.

“P-Please…I can’t take it!” You gapped out, drool escaped your mouth as you tried to form words. He was fucking you so hard you couldn’t even think. All that could be heard around the room was the lewd slapping of his filled balls against the bottom of your pussy.

“Beg for it then. Say you love me.” His breath hitched. “Say you want me and I’ll let you go.”

“I—“ Slap!

You tried to speak. “I wa—“ Slap!

It seemed that when you tried to comply with him, he’d remove the hand playing with your asshole to leave a rough, skin-reddening slap on your ass. Your struggling amused him. He couldn’t help but smile.

The doppelgänger has been stalking you for so long. It was hard getting into your apartment normally because of the last doorman but he couldn’t resist you once you were sitting at that desk.

“What’s wrong?” He teased, his deep voice going soft. “My dick isn’t in your mouth anymore…so what’s the issue?” He chuckled. “Beg.”

“I want you!” You blurted out.

“You…want me? Say there’s no one else. Say you love me!” It was like music to his ears, really. It was helping him reach his climax.

“I…I love you—“

“FUCK!”

Your belly bulge quickly became bigger as his cum painted your walls and womb. Even with his dick growing more flaccid, he continued to fuck his cum into you so that you both knew who you belonged to now. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you squirted onto his cock, mixing your juices together.

“I love you too, Princess. More than you could ever imagine—“ Before he could finish, his ears perked up almost like an animal. His attention turned towards your door that he had destroyed before. “Here they come.” He muttered, putting his member back into his pants.

You weakly lifted yourself from the table. Your hand placed itself tight below your navel. It was so sore now. “Who’s coming…? What are you talking about…?”

The doppelgänger ignored you, its horns flesh and bones began contorting and changing color. Its physique turned from that of a huge masculine man to the familiar form of that of a D.D.D. member. Yellow suit and all.

It ran to the door, opening it, and sticking its head out. “I found her, she's in here!” Its voice changed to a generic man as well. Not at all like the deep gruff from before.

Your legs felt like jelly, you fell to the ground as soon as you were able to stand. They were numb from the pleasure, leaving you unable to walk.

What happened next went by as a blur. The D.D.D. Reinforcement Team took you to a hospital where you were taken care of and given rape kit. You were unable to refuse it once the forensics team found semen at the scene. In order to maintain faith in the D.D.D., your assault was largely covered up but only those who were in the apartment that day knew about it.

After the commotion of filing our paperwork and giving information, you were sent home. You didn’t sustain any life threatening injuries but you were asked to come in periodically to see how your body would react to having the semen of a doppelgänger inside of you…so now you were a bit of a test subject to them. You quit the job after that but you were quickly replaced by a new guy.

You hadn’t seen the doppelgänger the entire time. Or at least, you thought you didn’t. You wanted to process the situation but you were more confused as to why it craved so much validation from you. It wanted you to say you loved it. It wanted you to say that you wanted it. It said that it’s been waiting two years to be this close to you. It looked like Francis.

You had just arrived back home. Carpenters quickly replaced your door before you got home and you decided to continue life as usual by making dinner for yourself. Your heart still aches from the fear you felt when you thought you were going to die. And so did your vagina. It didn’t bleed, thank god, but it was sore to the touch from how big that monster was.

“Man, I thought you’d never come back.”

You were alone in your kitchen when a voice emitted from behind you. The familiarity in the voice made your heart drop. You quickly turned around to see the doppelgänger from before, masquerading as Francis again.

“What are you doing here? What do you—“

“Shh, princess.” He strided through your small kitchen, stepping so close to you that you were against the counter with nowhere else to go. You placed your hands on his chest, giving you the illusion that you could push him away. He grabbed your arm by the wrist before kissing the inside of your palm. He kissed your fingers and then the back of your hand before making you cup his cheek, which he nuzzled into lovingly.

You wanted to rip your hand away but his grip was so strong. You blushed. Was it wrong to admit that he…it, was attractive?

“Why didn’t you kill me and eat me? Why did you do that to me?” You questioned meekly. His eyes were closed, enjoying your warm touch with a smile before they opened. His eyes were like hunter's eyes. “Because I love you.” He replied flatly.

“I don’t know what that means…”

You opened your mouth to speak again but you were cut off by a knock at your door.

“I’ll get it.” The doppelgänger quickly said and in a mere second, it shapeshifted to turn into…you. It was able to mimic you in all your glory, including the hickeys, bites and bruises from your attack.

“No!” You blurted out. “Don’t do that.”

The doppelgänger allowed you to move away from it and your arm fell to your side. You went to get the door but you made sure to check who it was before opening.

It was Francis!

“It’s him!” You hurried to your bedroom to find your cardigan to cover your tattered clothes before answering the door.

“Francis? What brings you here?” You forced a smile but your eyes looked just as tired as his. You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I heard what happened. ‘m so glad you’re okay.” Francis sighed, quickly invading your personal space. He hugged you to his chest. You blinked “F-Francis…?”

“I felt all torn up when I thought you died but when I heard that you were just fine, I just had to come see you myself.” Your stomach burned with delight. Francis was worried about you?

Francis let go of you and you pulled away. His face was red like he was blushing and you couldn’t help but blush too. Your lips curled into a smile. “W-Well, I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t. He saw the marks on your skin. You were hurt. “I know you are.” He masked his sadness with a weak smile. He rested his hand on your head and ruffled it a bit.

It would probably be inappropriate for him to admit that he’s actually had feelings for you all this time, so he’d save it for another day. Hearing the news about the doppelgänger through gossip during his job of going door to door made him realize he could lose you at any moment. But today, he settled with placing a kiss at the crown of your head. “Stay safe. I’ll check on you again later.”

For a moment, everything in your life went still. Even after he had walked away and left you standing there, it didn’t feel real. This more or less confirmed he had a crush on you as well. No man just does that and doesn’t see you as more than just a neighbor.

Your heart fluttered as you came back to reality. You slipped back inside of your home. You need to get cleaned up! You had to bathe and find something suitable just in case Francis wanted to come inside upon your next meeting.

But then….

“You look awfully happy.”

The doppelgänger was still here. You gulped, seeing his much bigger form. He grabbed the sides of your face with his hand again. He didn’t bother crouching because of your size difference, leaving you standing on the tips of your toes.

You were too shocked to try defending yourself, so he continued. “I saw everything so don’t even try to lie. That bastard is so lucky that I have to lay low until the D.D.D. gets their claws out of you or else I would’ve…”

“Don’t hurt him!” You tried to beat and punch his arm to get him off but he didn’t budge. “Why not?!”

“Because…I’ll be sad. And you don’t want me to be sad, do you?” Your voice was unlabeled and lacked confidence. It was a Hail Mary but you’d do anything to prevent Francis from getting hurt.

“Shit.” The doppelgänger let go of you, setting you back on your feet. It seemed…conflicted. He paced around your living room briefly. It had a soft spot for you but you could tell it has trouble processing emotions like a person. It was just imitating a person to get what it wanted.

“You don’t want him. You just wanna marry a guy. I’ll marry you.”

You shook your head. “No. Y-You can’t. You’re not him.”

“Of course I am.” His expression became mischievous. A smirk settled on his handsome face. “You can even call me Francis in bed if it fancies you.”

You felt your stomach do a flip!

“No! I’m not calling you that. Even though you look just like him…wh-what do I call you anyway…?” You retreated inward, hugging yourself and looking quite nervous as if the situation was beginning to dawn on you. You were currently desired by one of the most dangerous beings in the world.

“Francis.”

“Stop! I’m never using that name for you.” You got angry enough to shove him but he didn’t move an inch. You quickly realized that you shouldn’t push too hard or else it might change its mind and kill you.

“Mmm….” You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the monster. “Wh-What about Franz? Is that good enough for you…?”

Franz, huh?

“Perfect.”

Tagged Folks: @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2

#that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #Francis Mosses x reader #Milk Man #Milk man x reader #Yandere Milk Man x Reader #Yandere francis mosses #tnmn #doppleganger #dark romance

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comatosebunny09 · 3 months ago

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Imagine your little minion running up to you in the mansion, hugging your leg, and tripping you up. You kneel to his level with a fond smile, patting him on the head.

“What’s wrong, baby love?” you coo to your trembling toddler.

He looks at you with watery eyes, bottom lip quivering, cheeks puffed out. “Mommy, there’s a monster in my room.”

“A monster?” you parrot, smoothing his hair back. Your spooked toddler nods slowly, tiny hands clinging to your sleeve for dear life. God, he sure knows how to tug on your heartstrings.

With a fist raised in righteous fury, you say, “Well, that won’t do. Show me where this monster is so I can kick its butt.”

Sniffling, your son leads you to his bedroom, where he stands in the doorframe, pointing to his closet as you venture further inside.

“Here?” you say, hands on hips as you scrutinize the sliding doors, donning your most theatrically brave face.

He nods, hiding his face behind his hands.

You rattle the doors, trying to scare off whatever imaginary being lurks inside, putting on a show for your son. “Come out, monster! You got the wrong house! We eat monsters like you ‘round here for dinner!”

Your son giggles, a little braver now that he has his mommy here to chase away that which goes bump in the night.

Drawing one of the doors slightly ajar, you peer inside, not at all surprised to be met with a wash of scarlet, amusedly watching you from the shadows.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, your voice dropping to a murmur whilst you glower at your husband.

“Sylus. Quit being a jackass. You’re gonna traumatize him.”

The man in question merely chuckles, shrugging from his spot crouched on the floor, plastering an innocent look onto his face. “What? He said he wanted to play ‘pretend.’”

A comically large bead of sweat forms on your temple. “I think you’re leaning into the role a little too much.”

#boy dad sylus agenda #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #dad!sylus #sylus fluff #domestic!sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #qin che

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crimsonspring · 3 months ago

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"What's wrong, sweetie?" Sylus, the leader of Onychinus, once most loathed creature of Tarus City, looks and sounds almost unrecognisable as he stares down at his sniffling beloved, with crimson eyes that twinkle with specks of admiration, yearning and concern. His strong arms, so used to battles and defending himself from acts of violence, now cradling his treasured lover ever so kindly and tenderly. His voice, often rough and speaking out of pain and anger, hardly louder than a decibel and soft enough to lull an infant to sleep when he speaks to her.

His calloused fingers comb through her hair, and he reminds himself to ask her another time if he could braid her hair, just like when they were in the Grasslands. But not right now, not when his other hand is occupied with rubbing the small of her back in soothing circles. His actions has practically turned her body into putty, melting it deeper against the mould of his body as she lays atop him, face buried into cotton of his shirt. She looks so vulnerable at this very moment, a little different from the fearless hunter everyone is accustomed to seeing and knowing. He feels the atoms of anger (on her behalf) and natural protectiveness form in his chest as he tries to think of what possibly could have upset his lover tonight. This damned world is undeserving of her, he thinks, so he tries his best to fill in the cracks the world has left her with.

"Everything has been so tough," her tiny voice answers. In the midst of the ever-changing, Sylus seems to be the only constant she has. It feels like as everything is against her, and he is the only one for her. "I'm so scared," her voice barely audible, yet Sylus doesn't miss the crack at the end of her sentence. Instinctively, his palm stops its ministrations of the gentle circles on her back. His knuckles now bending ever so slightly to clutch onto her back more protectively.

"What can I do to make you feel better, sweetie?" His voice is low, the vibrations grumbling from his chest against her own. Almost desperate to make her feel better, he starts peppering kisses into her hair. It's a win-win, Sylus thinks. While she finds some comfort in his affection, he gets to indulge in the faint smell of her strawberry shampoo and the way she melts further into his body. It causes his hold to tighten around her. "What can I do to make you feel... less afraid? Safer, if you will," he asks, noting her admission of fear.

She pauses, as if to think, then moves to rest her chin on his chest as she stares at him for moment. They simply gaze into each other's eyes, a silent language both of them are fluent in. Sylus doesn't want to get ahead of himself, but could it be that her eyes are mirroring his; the way it screams of pure and true love. Sylus knows that without a doubt that he'd love her even if it was never reciprocated, so when the familiar gaze is reflected in her eyes, a breath gets stuck in his throat. He clears his throat, fingers brushing away a lock of her hair, "What is it, beloved?"

She stays silent for a moment more, and Sylus bears in mind the way he grows a little nervous under her loving yet intense gaze, though he tries to mask it with a raised brow. "Well?" Her hand finds his own that had tucked her hair away, bringing it to her cheek. Like clockwork, Sylus moulds his palm against her soft cheek, his thumb grazing the smooth skin.

"I think I only feel safe with you."

It knocks the wind out of him. Sylus is self-aware of his reputation- once, he was the creature so feared by humans that it ignighted much self loathing. And even now, people fear him as the infamous figure that breathed danger in the N109 Zone. Sure, it is for different reasons now, but Sylus has always felt to be synonymous with Monster.

"With me?" he repeats, a crease forming between his brows as his heart begins to pound against his chest. She simply nods and confirms, "Yes." One word to cause a visceral reaction in his heart.

She doesn't say anything more and doesn't elaborate, and Sylus is far too taken aback to push it further either. Thinks he needs a moment to himself to take in this revelation. A monster like me... that is what makes her feel safe? He sighs, shakes his head as if to deem herself almost foolish for feeling as such. there could be trillions of creatures in the entire universe, and she would be the sole one who'd find safety with him.

And if Sylus hadn't already made it his mission to keep her in safety, he makes a silent oath with himself at the moment; he'll protect her until his dying breath. This woman shall never have to worry for as long as she decides that he lives.

He pulls her in impossibly tighter, "That's the first time someone said those words to me." He echoes words he has said before (albeit she doesn't and won't remember a thing) and he reminisces the memory for a bit. The same way she sees the beauty in him, the similar softness she so graciously graces him with - such a stark contrast from what others are to him. It reaffirms to him though, that she is his one true soulmate, across all universes and through time. He'd burn the world for her take a claymore to his chest, if ever need be. In the previous and present lives, she would always be kind to him and he would always be hers.

She hums, then nuzzles her nose against the crook of his neck where she presses the petals of her lips against his warm skin. "Well, everyone else doesn't know you like I do." she mumbles, and sylus chuckles.

The whole world can cower in fear and misjudge him, for all he cares. He is simply Sylus in her eyes, "I don't want anyone else to know me like you do."

#ok some might think this is a bit ooc for sylus #but after his myth drop i truly think sylus is more vulnerable and soft than we think he is #like he is SO soft and in love that i think he'd even cry during s*x #anyways i love sylus even more after this myth drop #i want to keep this 190cm man in my pocket and kiss him 10 every 5 mins #sylus x reader #sylus #lnds #lads #sylus love and deepspace #sylus fluff

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

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Still You Want Me

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pregnancy, a little angst if you squint, pre-established relationship.

Summary/Warnings: Dean's fought the worst evil in the world, but only one thing has really managed to scare him. His pregnant wife.

Author's Note: Request from an anon!! I got emotional with it, and I'm very sorry about that but I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.9k

“We got three hours left.” Dean returned to the parked Impala, sorting through the bags in his hands. “But we can make it back in two if I-“

Sam shook his head, taking his bag of bird feed—trail mix, but the pointless kind without any M&Ms—from Dean with a frown. “Two’s a bit stretch, don’t you think? I mean even for you, Dean, and it’s not like we’re in a rush-“

“You’re not in a rush, Sammy.” Dean muttered, dumping the rest of the snacks in the backseat. “I got a pregnant wife who’s left me three voicemails about how she’s either gonna castrate me or give me head, and-“

“Gross, dude.” Sam walked around the car, making a scrunched bitch-face of disgusting. “All you needed to say was that’s she’s got mood swings-“

“Don’t call them mood swings.” Dean dropped behind Baby’s wheel, saying Her name with a sigh. “She hates that. And you can’t charm your way out of like I can.”

“I think I could.” Sam shrugged. “She likes me more.”

“She’s my freakin’ wife-“

“She loves you.” Sam grabbed his phone as they pulled out of the lot. “She likes me. I’ve never been threatened with castration-“

“Yet.” Dean muttered. “Cas thought he was safe until he got a shade of yellow that was too red for the nursery. I mean, yellow is yellow, Sammy, but she threatened to cut off his wings-“

Sam frowned. “I don’t think she could do that-“

“Trust me, man.” Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “She’d find a way.”

Sam just nodded, because they both knew Dean was right. He was pretty goddamn sure that, if She wanted—or if Dean pissed Her off enough—She’d figure out how to send him somewhere worse than the Empty, bring him back, then start sobbing and apologizing on Her knees all within a ten-minute span. Then She’d probably give him a blowjob, he’d saying the exact wrong dirty talk, and she’d bite off Little Dean. Shit, he’d only been gone four days for the hunt, but half that time had been spent on the phone, reassuring Her he was being safe, the hunt wasn’t a part of any world-ending scheme from a new big bad, and he’d be home soon. The time that Dean wasn’t on the phone, Sam was, promising he wouldn’t let anything happen, that Dean was sleeping well and looking at the baby names list She’d sent, and that he’d called Eileen so she wouldn’t worry either.

Annoyingly, Sam had been keeping his promises to Her. Dean read the baby names list because Sam wouldn’t let him leave the table until he did, Eileen had gotten two calls, and Dean was being safer than he’d ever been in his freaking life. At this point, he was pretty sure the pregnancy was just one long scam to make him take care of himself. He was drinking and hunting less after Her breakdown that she’d lose him, driving a little slower—just a little, he wasn’t a blind old lady—after the ice incident got him the silent treatment for three days, and he’d even tried some of Sam’s rabbit food. He’d spat it out, but he’d tried it. For Her, for the baby, and because he was terrified for his life.

Dean loved Her more than every pie in the freaking universe, but She was freaking terrifying right now. She might be the only thing he’d ever really been afraid of. Planes he could avoid. Ghosts and monster he could kill. Hell, even Lucifer had been better. At least the son of a bitch hadn’t begged to give Dean a hand job, then started sobbing because Dean tried to move it to sex and they didn’t feel pretty enough for sex. And if Lucifer had done that, Dean wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t give a shit about Lucifer.

But he gave a shit about Her. Every time She cried it felt like someone was stabbing him, but he had less and less of a damn clue for how to help her the more pregnant She got. She’d said she felt ugly, he’d told Her she was beautiful, and that her tits looked better than ever, and She’d started accusing him of not loving her tits before. He’d missed one phone call and She’d sent Cas to teleport him home. He’d gotten the wrong candy bar and She’d had a breakdown about him not loving her enough to get the right one.

That last one was why the gas station had taken so long. Dean had triple checked every single snack he’d bought, and added a few extras just in case she changed Her mind. He’d even had Cas text him a second list after She’d told him all her requests over the phone, out of fear that he’d missed even a single one. Even now, on the road, he was running through everything one last time, because he’d gotten five different Gatorade colors, but maybe She’d want a sixth, or two of the same color, or only one color and he’d get yelled at because She didn’t even like orange-

“Hey!” Sam pulled Dean out of his thoughts with a shout. “Phone!”

“Wha-“

Sam said Her name, holding Dean’s phone in front of his face. “She’s calling you-“

“I got that.” Dean snatched the phone, shooting Sam a glare. “And that’s not safe, Sammy. Gonna get us fuckin’ killed-“

“Yeah, sure, Dean.” Sam just shrugged—even though Dean was right, that was dangerous—and nodded to the phone. “I’d pick up if I were you-“

“Shut up.” Dean muttered, ignoring Sam’s laugh as he answered the call. “Hey, baby, we’re-“

“Dean!” Her voice was a half-shriek through the phone, and Dean winced. “Holy shit, you’re alive, that’s good-“

“Course I’m alive, I promised I would be-“

“But it’s not up to you!” She was pacing. Her voice had grown frantic and high, so She was pacing. “Monsters don’t ask before they kill you, and they’d defiantly want to kill you, and Sam told me he’d take that bullet but I don’t want him to die either, and you’re both amazing hunters but if you die now, you can’t come back, and I’d miss you, I miss you now, why aren’t you home, you dick, I fucking hate you-“

Dean swallowed, saying Her name slowly as Sam snickered at his side. Asshole. “Take a breath-“

“Don’t tell me how to breathe, Winchester, I’ve been breathing my whole fucking life-“

“I know, sweetheart, I have too-“

“You’ve never had to breathe while pregnant-“

“And I’m not planning to, ever, but- just listen-“

“We should get you pregnant, it’s only fair-“

Sam started to cackle, Her voice loud enough he could obviously hear every word. It wasn’t really helpful.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a death glare that just made him laugh more. “Sweetheart, we’ll be there soon. I promise.“

“Okay, but don’t go too fast, if you’re far, because you promised me you’d drive carefully, and you need to be safer. I don’t want to lose you.” She started to sniffle. Shit. “I can’t lose you, De, I need you, the baby needs you, and Sam and Cas are cool but they’re not you and I want you and the baby wants you. It wants you more, it hates when your gone, it just keeps kicking me and if you die I’ll be a terrible mother with a baby who hates me-“

Dean snapped Her name, pressing the Impala’s pedal to the floor. He needed to be home soon. “Listen to me. I’m not gonna do anything stupid like die, and you’re never gonna lose me. Plus, our baby won’t hate you. It’s half me. It can’t.”

There was a slightly static hum from the other side, and Dean sighed.

“I know you miss me, baby, and we can get you whatever you’re craving, but-“

“I do miss you, De.” Her voice was soft and pleading through the phone.

But it wasn’t Her crying voice. That was her-

“I miss your cock, too. I miss touching you, and why is your bed so stupid and big-“

Dean chuckled, shaking off the whiplash. “Because I’m stupid and big-“

He could hear Her pout through the phone. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid, and our baby’s gonna be a genius-“

“Because they’ll get their brains from you, pretty girl.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean leaned slightly forward, checking a highway sign. “Hour and a half, okay? Then I’ll be home.”

“Fine.” She mumbled. “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you too, baby. And I’m always safe.” Dean waited for Her sigh, letting her hang up first. He’d learned to do that the hard way. “Not a word, Sammy, or I’ll shoot you.”

Sam raised his hands, palms up. “I didn’t even open my- got it.”

Dean turned his scowl back to the road, and he could be safe and get home in an hour. Both could be possible, and She’d never have to know that he’d been going 15 over the speed limit. And if She started to catch on, Dean could distract Her with his hands and dick and mouth, because—as hot as she was when she was pissed—Sam said stress wasn’t good for the baby.

They made it forty-five minutes of mostly safe driving—Dean’s hands gripping the wheel and listening to the music at a deafening volume, Sam texting Eileen and pretending he wasn’t bothered by the deafening music—before another incident.

Cas appeared in the back seat, said Her name instead of hello, Dean—already a bad sign—and looked almost genuinely scared. Dean had never seen his face do that before—red and sheepish like a child being scolded by a dinosaur—and it was a little off-putting.

He was used to Cas doing this enough to not swerve off the road, but he was still pissed. “Fucking hell, Cas, a warning would be nice-“

Cas frowned, then leaned forward, turning down the music. “Did you not hear what I said.”

“No, the music was on, I know you said-“

Cas said Her name again with Dean. “It was her message. I would, ah, prefer not to repeat it.”

Sam blinked, turning in his seat. “Why, is she-“

“She is well.” Cas’ eyes stayed on Dean in the rearview mirror. “She is feeling some very… confusing emotions. Towards Dean.”

Sam frowned. “Confusing? How-“

“She told me to relay to Dean that she hates him, and she hates hunting, and if he’s not home in forty-five minutes she’ll leave him, but she can’t leave him because she loves him more than life and she cannot live without him. Specifically his smile, voice, hands, stupid flirting that did this in the first place, and,” Cas swallowed, his voice dropping slightly as his face grew red. “Big cock.”

Dean smirked slightly—she was a menace, but damn it if he didn’t love his girl—as Sam paled next to him.

“By this,” Cas mumbled. “I assume she was referring to the baby. Which is in good health. I checked this morning.”

“Good. Thanks, Cas, but,” Dean sighed. “This could’ve been a phone call-“

“I was instructed to deliver it in person. To make sure you were safe, and driving carefully.” Cas leaned forward with a frown. “The speed limit on this highway is meant to be-“

“I know what the speed limit is.” Dean grumbled, refusing to ease his foot off the gas. “I’m tryin’ to get home, Cas.”

“I believe she would prefer you get home slower, rather than sacrificing your safety.” Cas let out a long sigh. “Although, I will admit I’d prefer you return quickly. I am not equipped to handle a pregnant woman alone, despite reading all of the books on the subject I could find. And, uh,” Cas said Her name with a red face. “Is frightening in this state.”

Dean sighed. “Thirty minutes, dude, can you hold down the fort-“

“He could take you now?” Sam cut in with a small frown. “Cas could zap you back to the bunker, and I could drive Baby home.”

“Sammy-“

Cas nodded. “I agree with Sam’s plan. If you could pull over, Dean-“

“I’m not gonna pull over!” Dean snapped. “I can get back just fine myself!”

“But I could-“

“You won’t always be there, Cas.” Dean grunted through his teeth. “I gotta be able to take care of my family by myself. Shit, I’m doing all the safety bullcrap for it, and I’m hunting less.” He said Her name, his grip on the wheel painful. “She’s gotta know I can take care of her, and the baby. I said I’d drive home, so-“

Sam cut Dean off a sigh. “Dude, she’s gonna care way more that you’re home with her.”

“Sam is correct.” Cas said, and Dean could feel his gaze through the mirror. “I attempted to make her breakfast this morning, and she started crying. When asked, she told me that you make it better.” Cas frowned. “It was cereal.”

“C’mon, man. Let Cas take you home.”

Dean glanced over to find Sam giving him puppy eyes—the bitch—and groaned. “Fine. But if I see one scratch on Baby-“

“You’ll kill me, yeah, I know.” Sam unbuckled as Dean pulled over, not sounding nearly threatened enough. “Let’s move.”

It took a minute for Dean to get all the snacks, but the moment the last bag was in his arms Cas grabbed him by the shoulder, the world because a spinning rush, and he was home.”

“Dean!”

He was barely on steady legs when She slammed into him, sending him stumbling slightly back as his arms wrapped around her, careful not to push too far into the baby bump.

“Hey, Sweetheart. I heard you missed me-“

“Of course I missed you, you asshole!” She pushed off of him, shoving his chest slightly. “Do you have any idea how many pies are just rotting in the fridge for you! You said the hunt would be fast, Dean, but I was stuck alone for four fucking days-“

Dean frowned. “Wasn’t Cas-“

“Cas doesn’t count!” She screamed, and over her shoulder, Cas didn’t look that offended. He’d probably gotten this outburst—and the following, tearful apology—at least twice already. “Cas isn’t you! He didn’t knock me up and then leave me-“

Dean thought about pointing out that he had not left Her, but thought better of it and let her keep shouting. She usually calmed herself down.

Usually.

“And Cas is an angel, and he’s been okay, and I feel so bad because I was such a bitch to him, but he deserved it! He wasn’t you! And I missed you and I hate you, Dean, I fucking hate you, why weren’t you home-“

Dean caught Her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to Her knuckles. “I’m home now, baby-“

“I know.” She whispered, crumbling in half a second into Dean, clinging to him like a koala. “And I missed you so much, De. I can’t do the laundry with this stupid bump, I can’t do anything, I’m useless and I’m a bitch and I think made Cas cry-“

“I’d pay to see you make Cas cry,” Dean muttered Her name, running a slow hand through her hair. “And you’re not useless. You’re growing a person, that freaking awesome and insane-“

She tilted her head back, pretty eyes glossy and wide on Dean’s. “But what if I mess it up? What if I fuck the baby up and you leave me-“

“I’m never gonna leave you.”

“But I’ve been mean-“

“You’re always mean, baby.” Dean grinned at her, letting his affection show in his voice. “And it’s always pretty freakin’ hot. And you aren’t gonna fuck up the baby, and I’m not gonna leave you, but,” he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “If you wanna make Sammy cry a little more, I think he’ll deserve it.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I’m not making Sam cry-“

“He said you had mood swings.”

She gasped, hitting Dean’s chest. “You’re a snitch-“

“Gotta spread the love somehow.” Dean shrugged, squeezing his hands on Her as he dropped his voice down. “But I can think of a few other ways, just you and me, to spread some better love.”

She flushed—already putty in Dean’s arms—and almost dragged him back to their room.

And this made it worth it. All the screaming and flying objects and threats, all the living in cautious fear in his own damn home, was more than worth it for this. Not just the awesome sex—sex was always awesome, sex with Her was better than almost anything, and sex with pregnant Her was what Dean imagined crack was like—but the way that, in the end, She smiled at him no matter what. She smiled and giggled and moaned, proving to Dean in a million ways both between the sheets and after that she didn’t really hate him, and he got to rest his head on her stomach and feel a small kick near his brow. Her fingers combed through his hair peacefully, all her noises made of content, and everything was more than worth it.

Worth pushing through the worst of the screaming and moods—just like She’d pushed through all of his world-saving bullshit—to see Her peaceful face as she slept by his side. Worth letting Sam drive the Impala just once, so Dean could get home faster.

Worth the family he was finally getting to have, and being here with them.

End Note: Sam Winchester once again being a true trooper in my stories.

Title from Next to Me by Imagine Dragons

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@Youdontknowwe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

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lacydollette · 2 months ago

Text

HIS FAVORITE PERSON ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: bsf!rafe x fem!reader

warnings: angst, rafe having a breakdown, mentions of a dead body, trauma, ward, comfort, slight fluff, kissing, cuddling, inspired by season 2 ep 2 of obx

Rafe’s room was a storm of chaos, just like his mind. His chest heaved as he sat on the floor, back pressed against his bed frame, fingers tugging at his hair like he could somehow yank the thoughts out of his head. His palms were clammy, his heart slamming against his ribs. The body, the ocean, his dad’s cold commands—the images were crushing him. He could still hear the splash, still feel the sick churn in his stomach as they drove away from the scene like nothing had happened. Like it was normal.

But it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” he hissed, slamming a fist into the floor. The pain grounded him for half a second before the panic resurfaced again, boiling over. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t be alone in this house with its suffocating walls and memories of what he’d just done. He couldn’t stay under one roof with Ward right now.

Without thinking, Rafe grabbed his car keys and stumbled out the door, the night swallowing him whole. The only place he could go was yours. You were the only one who could calm the chaos, the only one who made him feel like he wasn’t falling apart.

You were deep in your slumber when you were jolted awake by a loud knock at the door. Tired, you checked the time—2:37 a.m. You frowned, your sleep deprived brain struggling to process who would show up at this hour. Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the door, your favorite oversized t-shirt, one that you stole from Rafe, hanging loosely around your figure. And when you opened the front door, your confusion turned to worry. “Rafe?”

He stood there, his shoulders hunched, his hair a complete mess, and his blue eyes wild with something dark and unhinged. He was pacing on your porch, his breathing uneven, and his hands were shaking. “y/n,” he said, his voice strained, barely above a whisper. “Sorry for bugging you this late, I just—I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Rafe, what’s wrong?” You asked, stepping forward. He looked up at you, his expression haunted. “I did something. Something bad. Really bad.” Your heart sank, eyebrows furrowing, “You’re scaring me.” Rafe was always intense—impulsive, reckless—but this was different. He looked broken, like he was barely holding himself together. You reached out, grabbing his arm to steady him.

“Come inside,” you urged, but he shook his head violently. “No. I can’t—I can’t breathe in there. I can’t breathe anywhere.” His voice cracked, and he backed away, running a hand through his hair as he began muttering. “He’s insane, y/n. My dad is insane, and now I’m—I’m just like him. I helped him. I didn’t want to, but I did, and now—”

“Rafe, slow down,” you said firmly, not understanding a single thing before stepping in front of him. “You’re not making any sense. Just talk to me. What happened?” He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours. “A body,” he said, his voice barely audible. “We got rid of a body.” Your blood ran cold. “What?”

He let out a hollow laugh, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his temples. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. I did it. I helped him dump it into the ocean like it was nothing. Like it was trash.” His voice grew louder, more frantic. “And now I can’t stop hearing it. I can’t stop seeing it. It’s everywhere.” You stood there, stunned, mind racing to catch up. Rafe was unraveling in front of you, and you had no idea how to help him. “Rafe—”

“I’m a monster,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “I’m just like him. I didn’t even hesitate, y/n. What kind of person does that? What kind of person—”

“Rafe, stop!” You snapped, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you. His breathing hitched, his wild eyes meeting your comforting ones. “You are not a monster. You’re—” you faltered, unsure what to say. “You’re you. And whatever this is, whatever happened, we’ll deal with it.“ You nodded, saying it more to yourself than him.

Rafe shook his head, his voice breaking. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what I’ve done.” His whole body was trembling. “Then tell me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Tell me everything.” He stared at you, torn between fear and desperation. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you too.”

Your heart twisted painfully. You’d never seen Rafe like this, so vulnerable and raw. And yet, there was something else—a connection that had always been there, just right beneath the surface of your friendship. You’ve been best friends since forever, sure, but you weren’t just friends. Not with the way you looked at each other, the way you touched and held each other like it was normal.

Without thinking, you closed the gap between you two and kissed him. You’d kissed before—dozens of times, maybe more. It had always been casual, something you would do to calm each other down or just because it felt natural. It was soft and deliberate, a reminder that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere.

When you pulled back, Rafe’s breathing slowed, his hands coming up to rest on your waist like he was grounding himself in you. He leaned forward, stealing another kiss, then another, his lips brushing yours with a quiet desperation while tears fled the corner of his eyes. Trying to shut up the voices in his head, and you didn’t mind. You never did. That’s just how things between you were and neither of you had questioned it before.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.“You don’t need to thank me, Rafe.” you whispered back. “Now come inside.”

In your room, you pulled Rafe onto your bed, wrapping the blankets around the both of you as you settled in. He curled into you, his head resting against your chest, as you tried to give him as much comfort as possible, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back.

You held him close, your arms wrapped tightly around his body as his breathing finally began to even out. The storm of his panic had calmed, but his weight against you felt heavier than ever, like he was carrying something too big for either of you to handle. You didn’t know what to say—what could you say? His words kept ringing in your ears. A body. Dumped it in the ocean. You shivered, though the room wasn’t cold.

Rafe’s head was tucked under your chin, his breath warm against your collarbone. He was silent now, but his body still trembled faintly. You tightened your hold on him, resting your cheek against the top of his head. You’d always thought of yourself as his anchor, the person who could pull him back when he started spinning out. But tonight felt different. Tonight, it felt like you were trying to piece together an already broken vase.

Your fingers absentmindedly combed through his messy blonde hair. You’d been best friends since kindergarden, your lives so deeply intertwined it was hard to tell where one of you ended and the other began. But your friendship wasn’t normal, and you began to acknowledge that as time passed. Friends didn’t kiss to calm each other down. Friends didn’t fall asleep in each other’s arms, your touches lingering in a way that always felt like it meant more.

You weren’t just friends, you thought, the truth settling heavily in your chest. But whatever you were, figuring it out had to wait. Rafe needed you now, more than ever, and you couldn’t let him down.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, the faint scent of saltwater and his cologne clinging to him. “You’re going to be okay,” you whispered, trying to convince both of you. You wanted to believe it, but the fear in his eyes earlier had shaken you to your core.

He didn't say anything, but his arms tightened around you, his head pressing harder against your chest. You didn't push him to speak. You just stayed there, holding him, trying to give him the comfort he so clearly needed. But the storm in his head wouldn't stop. He needed more—needed to feel you, to ground himself in you, to find something real in his world that suddenly felt like it was falling apart.

Without thinking, Rafe shifted, pulling you down to him. Before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours again, and for a moment, he could escape reality. At first, you thought it would be like the kisses you’d shared earlier—soft and grounding, something to pull him out of his head and bring him back to you.

So you started to respond instinctively, heart beating a little faster. But it wasn't enough for Rafe. The panic clawed at his chest, and his kiss grew desperate, frantic, as if he could pour everything he couldn't say into you. Rafe thought maybe this was what he needed. Maybe you were what he needed. Because it had always been you. The only person who saw him, who really knew him.

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't deny what it did to you—the way your stomach flipped, the way your hands instinctively gripped his arms as his lips moved against yours. You couldn't ignore how your feelings for Rafe had grown into something far more complicated than friendship. But this wasn't right. Not now. Not when he was like this.

"Rafe," you murmured against his lips, hands coming up to his shoulders to gently push him back. He resisted for a moment, his desperation endless, but then he pulled away, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"y/n," he whispered, his voice cracking. For a moment, Rafe just stared at you, your hesitation hitting him like a punch to the gut. You weren’t rejecting him, not really. He could see the worry in your eyes, the care. You were right, but it still shattered something inside him. This wasn't what he needed right now. And it wasn't what you deserved, either.

"You need to rest," you said softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb. "You're not doing fine right now, and that's okay. But this—it's not right like that."

He stared at you, his expression crumbling as the reality of your words sank in. He'd come here hoping to escape the weight of what he'd done, hoping that you could fix him the way you always had. But nothing could fix this. His chest heaved, and then, all at once, he broke.

A raw, heart-wrenching sob tore from his throat, and he dropped his head into his hands, his entire body shaking. Your heart ached at the sound of his sobs, and you reached for him immediately, pulling him into your arms again. He clung to you, burying his face in your shoulder as his cries wracked his body.

“I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice muffled and strained as his chest felt heavy. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have-"

"Stop," you interrupted gently, your hand threading through his dirty blond hair. "Don't apologize. You're allowed to feel, Rafe. I'm here." Rafe tried to believe you, tried to hold onto your words, but the guilt was suffocating. “I shouldn't drag you into this," he said, his voice breaking. "I shouldn't have put this on you.”

"Shh," you whispered, holding him tighter. "You just need to breathe, okay?” Rafe let out a shaky breath, his tears soaking into your shirt as his sobs began to calm.

You kept holding him, your heart breaking for the boy who had always seemed so untouchable, so invincible. You could feel all his shame, his guilt, his fear, and you wished you could take it away, even just for a little while.

Rafe shifted slightly, his arm wrapping around your waist like he was afraid you might disappear. “Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, stroking his back in slow, soothing motions. “I’m scared, y/n,” he admitted finally, sobbing into your chest, “Of what I’ve done. Of what I’ll become. That I’ll be like him.” You shook your head, “You’re not your dad,” you said firmly, your arms tightening around him.

He’s not like Ward. He can’t be. You didn’t care what Rafe had done or how messy his world had become. He wasn’t a monster. He couldn’t be—not the boy who used to sneak you ice cream when you were sad, who called you every time he was having a bad day because he trusted you more than anyone else in the world.

But as much as you wanted to save him, a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind whispered that this might be bigger than both of you, but pushed the thought away, pulling him closer. “We’ll figure this out,” you whispered. “Together.” Rafe didn’t respond, but his grip on you tightened slightly, his breathing slowing as he finally started to relax. He didn't deserve you—your loyalty, your care, your softness. But for now he let himself trust you.

You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing even as your body stayed still. You didn’t know what you were to each other, didn’t know what might happen after this night or what was up with Ward, and maybe you never would. But right now, Rafe was yours to protect, and that was the most important thing.

tags: @gibson-g1rl @beausling @rafesheaven @rafescokewhore @rafespreciosa @rafeysbunny @rafey-baby @rafesangelita @drewspinkbunny @whinyangel @nativegirltapes @cherrygirlfriend @moremaybank @littlelamy @rafesweetie @deansbeer

#works ₊˚⊹♡#writers on tumblr #bsf!rafe x reader #bsf!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff

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kochslut · 5 months ago

Text

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 ╰┈➤ cooper koch.

playing: every breath you take by the police

synopsis: you work as a costume designer and have grown close to actor cooper koch. what started as a friendly connection quickly turns unsettling when you realize he's been following you outside of work.

paring: cooper koch x fem reader!

warnings: stalking, unprotected sex, fingering, +18, dubious consent, manipulation

word count: 4.117

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

You've been working as a costume designer for the second season of Netflix’s Monsters for a while now. You were already close with the cast and crew, but no one stood out more than Cooper Koch, who played "Erik Menendez." You were in charge of his costumes, and he was always polite, friendly, and eager to help behind the scenes. At first, it just felt like part of the routine—he was charming and easy to talk to, and you two ended up building a connection.

But over time, his presence became a little too constant. He started showing up everywhere you went, even outside of work. Sometimes, you'd catch him standing at a distance, just watching you, his eyes always locked on you. He was at the café you visited after work, on the street you walked down on your way home, and even in the studio parking lot. It was like he knew exactly where you'd be.

The feeling of being watched went from uncomfortable to suffocating. Every step you took, it felt like he was right there, lingering. You never said anything, maybe out of fear of what might happen if you confronted him. That friendly, charismatic Cooper now seemed like someone else entirely. There was something unsettling about how he appeared out of nowhere, his eyes never leaving you. You tried to avoid being alone with him, but escaping this quiet pursuit felt impossible.

It was late at night when the day’s filming finally wrapped up. After packing up your things, you decided to walk home — it wasn’t far, and you needed some air to clear your mind. The night was cold, but nothing unbearable. The streets were quiet, with only a few people here and there, but the familiar feeling of being watched wouldn’t leave you alone. You just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

As you turned the corner, your pace slowed. Your heart started to pound, and suddenly the cold felt more biting, making your whole body tremble.

He was there again — Cooper. Standing at the corner by your house, as if he were waiting for you.

His back was turned, and he hadn’t noticed you yet. Should you slip inside unnoticed, or confront him? The question gnawed at you, because any other woman in a stalker situation would feel pure fear and dread. But not you.

Well, part of you wanted to feel scared. You should feel scared. It made sense. But you didn’t. Somehow, in a twisted way, knowing he was always around gave you a strange sense of security. Like he was there just for you, as if you were his only focus. But why, instead of fear, were you feeling attraction? The situation was far from normal, and something was deeply wrong.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to walk towards him. He seemed to sense your presence, turning to face you, and when your eyes locked, the air between you grew thick. There was no going back now; you had to face whatever this was head-on. With each step closer, the tension between you intensified, and when you finally stopped in front of him, the silence was suffocating, as if the world around you had frozen.

"Cooper, you're freaking me the fuck out," you said bluntly, struggling to find words that didn’t seem to exist. You both knew it was a lie, that your attraction to him was only growing. Cooper stood there calmly, just watching you with that unreadable, hardened look in his eyes. You hated when he did that — analyzing you like he was in control. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"No," he said, and you blinked, confused. "I’m not scaring you," he added firmly, no hesitation, as if your attempt to push him away didn’t bother him at all.

Closing the distance with a few steps, he leaned down, his mouth hovering near your ear, making your skin prickle with tension. "Don’t lie to yourself. You know I don’t scare you," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your ear. "If I did, you would’ve run. Called someone... but you didn’t. You’re here, trying to handle this alone." He chuckled darkly, pulling back slightly as his words hung in the cold night air.

Now, you don’t know what to say. Your breathing is heavy, and your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. What could you possibly say in a moment like this? He’s completely cornered you, and now you’re part of his twisted little game. You try to take a step back, but your body doesn’t respond. It’s like your feet are glued to the ground, and the truth behind his words catches up to you. He was right—you didn’t want to run. Even though logic told you that you should, you’ve never been one for logic.

“Why are you doing this?” After a long pause, you finally manage to ask, your voice hesitant as you release the question that’s been stuck for so long. “You keep showing up wherever I am. That’s not normal, Cooper. I don’t know what you want, but...” You swallow hard, pretending to be scared even though the fear doesn’t come, hoping it will work. “It’s making me nervous.”

He laughs—loud and unapologetic—and it makes you feel genuinely uncomfortable now. Who the hell does he think he is? "I know you noticed. I wanted you to notice." He steps closer, and your heart races—not from fear, but from desire. You liked hearing those words from him. "I’m not following you for no reason. I need to be near you. I need you. No matter where you go, I’ll be there. Not because I want to scare you, but because I can’t stay away from you."

The way he speaks is hypnotizing, and the mix of obsession and desire in his words captivates you. You know you should run away from him; you know that. But there's a part of you gaining strength—a powerful urge to give in to his desires, to let him have you right here, right now.

"Oh God, this doesn’t make any sense," you mutter, denying it to yourself. "Why am I not scared of you?" You find yourself stepping closer without even realizing it, the gravity of the situation pulling you nearer to him. "Why does this feel... right?"

Cooper feels your fingers brush against his cheek, and he smiles.

"You know I’m not a monster. You know I’d never hurt you; I just want to protect you. Watching over you, making sure you’re okay... because you’re mine." His words are possessive, and they should terrify you, but instead, a wave of heat washes over your body. Fear melts away, replaced by an attraction that’s impossible to deny, and Cooper notices it.

He steps closer, the air between you thickening, charged with unspoken tension. The world around you fades, and in that moment, all that matters is the connection between you two. You feel alive, exhilarated by the danger and the desire, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been drawn to him all along.

"Why don't you invite me in, and we can settle this like two adults who desire each other?" he says, pulling back slightly but still keeping his hands on your face. His voice is provocative, and he knows he can ask for anything, and you'd obey like a lost puppy. He has power over you, and he relishes it.

You don’t say anything, instead gripping his hand and guiding him into your apartment. You both hurry up the stairs, barely acknowledging the guard on duty. In that moment, nothing else matters; it’s just you two. This night is yours, and you can do whatever you want without interruption.

The sound behind you is muffled as the door slams shut, thanks to the tall man who made it. The silence is thick, and neither of you is sure what to do next. Cooper has been waiting for this moment for so long; he can hardly believe you’re finally his. For him, nothing else matters.

Every breath is an invitation, every glance a promise. You gasp as he steps closer, his eyes studying you with an intensity that feels like they’re devouring you. Your body is already on fire. Finally, Cooper touches you, as if he’s been given permission to unleash everything he’s been holding back. You can feel the heat radiating from him, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, but the intention behind that touch is undeniable: he needs you.

The air is thick with desire. Neither of you speaks because there’s no need. Words are irrelevant at this moment. The longing is palpable, igniting when you throw yourself against him. Your lips crash together fiercely, without hesitation, as if you both need this like a sick person needs medicine. Cooper is elated; he never imagined it would be you to take the lead, but he doesn’t hesitate.

The kiss is urgent, as if time is running out and every second is too precious to waste.

He presses you against the living room wall, the force of his body pinning you in place, leaving you unable to move. But there’s no fear, only a growing desire that intensifies with every movement of his lips against yours. Cooper’s hands explore your body with an intensity that makes you shiver. There’s no delicacy here; everything is necessary. You feel his nails digging into your skin, as if he wants to mark you, making it clear that you belong to him—at least for this night. This overwhelming blend of pain and pleasure only fuels your craving for more.

You reciprocate with equal intensity, your hands roaming over his body, pulling him closer, as if mere proximity will never be enough. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently as he trails kisses down your neck, each touch igniting a fire within you.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asks breathlessly, pulling back from the kiss. “I don’t want to fuck you in the living room, not for the first time.”

You shiver and point to the door of your bedroom.

He flashes a teasing smile, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom as your breath quickens. As soon as Cooper opens the door, he sets you down on the bed with a firm motion, standing tall as he admires your body. His gaze lingers on every curve and detail, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his shorts, a thrill coursing through you, mixing anticipation and desire.

“Just look at you,” he murmurs, a hungry glint in his eyes. “I can't wait to have you.”

He moves closer to you, hovering above, the heat of his body pressing down on yours, and you find yourself completely surrendered. “You have no idea the things I’ve done imagining this moment,” he touches your skin. “Knowing you’re here completely for me is more than enough to drive me crazy with desire to enter you,” he whispers as he brings his lips to your ear and bites your earlobe.

Every movement he makes is calculated, precise, as if he knows exactly where to touch, where to provoke, to leave you on the edge of losing control. A simple nibble on your ear has you ready for what’s to come. He glides his mouth down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, sending a shiver through you that makes you involuntarily arch your back. His breath is heavy against your skin, each exhale a reminder of who’s in control here, and it’s not you.

“You like being followed, don’t you?” he says, looking you in the eyes, his hands squeezing your thighs as you become completely inert under his gestures. “You like knowing it’s me watching you… that it’s me who wants you completely.” Cooper lifts your shirt, quickly removing it and leaving you bare from the waist up. He bites his lip at the sight of you, seeming to guess that you already knew he would come today.

His voice makes you tremble, but it’s the touch—his firm fingers exploring every part of your body, every curve—that takes your breath away. His hands are everywhere, demanding, marking territory, as if he wants to engrave on your skin that you belong to him. Now, your breasts are his property too, and Koch makes sure you know it as he starts to suck on them with brutality.

This is going to leave so many marks tomorrow. It’s the only thing you can manage to think about.

“Cooper…” you say, breathless and with a voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckles softly, a low, husky laugh, before pressing his lips hard against yours, the kiss filled with possession, with repressed desire. When his lips pull away, he cradles your face with one hand, forcing you to look directly into his eyes, which burn with intensity. “You can tell me to stop… but I know you won’t” he says provocatively, looking at you so deeply that you forget to breathe.

You know you don’t want to stop either.

He leans in, his teeth now nibbling at your shoulder, while his hands explore every part of you, quick and decisive. His fingers find your bare skin, gripping possessively, and the pressure of his bite intensifies the pleasure. His dominance is absolute, and you feel lost with every touch.

When he finally moves down, trailing slowly along your belly with a teasing slowness, his gaze never leaves yours, each second thick with tension. He watches you, savoring every reaction, as if he has total control over your body and mind. His hands pin your wrists against the mattress, his eyes sparkling with pure need.

“Now, you’re mine; don’t try to deny it or do anything you’ll regret,” Cooper says softly, but you know it’s not a lie.

“I won’t, Cooper,” your voice dripping with desire. “Do whatever you want with me,” it sounds more like a plea than a request, and he doesn’t hesitate to agree.

As if confirming your words, he carefully removes your pants while keeping you pinned beneath him, his eyes burning with uncontrollable desire. You’re now just in your panties, and he’s trembling more and more with growing lust for you. Without taking his eyes off you, he pulls down his own pants, tossing them somewhere in your room. He places light kisses along your intimate area, and you almost beg him to claim you already.

As if reading your thoughts, Cooper finally positions his tongue at the entrance to your pussy, his tongue is hot, making you arch your back a little. He explores every inch, as if he is reaffirming the possession he has just declared. The touch of his tongue is both teasing and possessive, and each movement makes you lose control a little more.

Now, he also plays with his fingers inside you, starting with one and increasing to 3 as he hears your moans get louder and louder, you couldn't control yourself seeing that man possessing you like that. To the same extent that he is ecstatic to taste you, and to know that you were fragile like that just for him.

"Cooper… I think I'm going to…" his voice becomes low, almost inaudible and he immediately stops what he was doing.

"No, darling. You only cum when I think the time is right" he has a more dominant tone, apparently he's decided that he's in charge of you tonight and you're not capable of disagreeing.

Cooper gets off of you, standing up and removing all the clothes from his body. You can't help but notice the size of his dick when he takes off his underwear. He knows you're looking, so he starts touching his own member, in an attempt to make you even more crazy with pleasure - which works. He covers the entire length of his dick with his hands, making back and forth movements as he looks at you nibbling on your mouth and completely naked to him.

As if in fright, Cooper comes to you on the bed and turns you on your side, maintaining full control of the situation, a firm hand on your hip as he whispers hoarsely into your ear:

"I know you like this. My control." he whispers. "Don't think you're in charge of anything, I'm the only one who touches you today."

He guides you, positioning your body as he wants, you get on all fours for him, you could feel his cock brushing close to your entrance. His heavy breathing on your neck, his lips drawing a trail of heat across your skin. You feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, and there's no denying the growing tension, which only increases with each touch.

Without hesitation, he bites your neck, hard enough to make you let out an involuntary moan. His hands tighten around your waist, and he pulls you closer, placing himself inside you without any prior warning. You were already completely wet, it didn't take much effort for him to fit inside you without difficulty. Their bodies fit together perfectly, as if they already knew the path by heart.

"You like being mine, don't you? Being taken like this, without any choice." he says as he thrusts his member into you and you moan in agreement. His body moves against yours, in a slow rhythm, but full of tension, as if he was enjoying every second, teasing, stretching the pleasure to the limit. His touch is at the same time soft and hard, his fingers firm as they explore more, intensifying the contact, drawing breathy sighs from you.

Each movement is a new peak of intensity, and the control he exerts over you drives you insane. Cooper continues to guide you, holding your body as if molding it to his, his fingers pressing your skin harder, sometimes leaving bites and slaps on your body that would remain as marks for a long time. "You'll remember me when you see these marks, that's why I make them" he whispers in your ear, letting out a low chuckle.

His words are like a trigger, and the heat that builds between you is uncontrollable. The pace increases, the control intensifies, and you find yourself completely surrendered to desire. Your bodies move together, and there is no more hesitation.

“Ride me” his voice is breathy when he orders you. It's like a hypnosis process, you don't say anything and just obey. He removes his erect dick from inside you, catching you very easily and placing himself underneath you.

You adjust yourself on top of him. Maybe now, you would be the one in charge of the situation and that makes you wetter and thirstier with desire. You start with slow movements, but Cooper's hands are faster and hold your hips, making him in control again. The moans they both let out are uncontrollable, it's not clear which moan is louder. Both of you are in a dispute over who feels more pleasure in this situation, you scratch Cooper's chest while he grabs your hips very tightly.

"Fuck" he lets out amidst moans. “Feeling you feels so good…” he said as you rode faster and faster. He wouldn't last much longer there and you knew that even you weren't capable, it had been long enough since you had both had sex with someone else. Cooper was waiting for you. Another person wouldn't supply what he wanted to do with you, what he was already doing with you.

Amidst all the waves of heat that were being emanated from both of you, Cooper came inside you. It wasn't his plan. He was frustrated for a moment, but he couldn't resist the face you made when you realized he had filled you. "Did you like that?" he teased.

You nodded as you bit your lip. "But you didn't make me come…" you gave a naughty smile, you knew that would make him furious and that was what you wanted. Cooper narrowed his eyes, the teasing smile you gave him igniting something even more intense in him. The frustration he felt at losing control quickly turned into a domineering energy, as if your every word encouraged him to further prove the dominance he had over you.

Without saying anything else, he pulled you back towards him with controlled force, his fingers squeezing your waist as he turned you onto your stomach. His face got closer to your ear, his breathing hot and heavy and he pressed his body against yours, his hands quickly went down your back, exploring every inch with more intensity. His touch was no longer gentle, and you knew he wouldn't stop until he heard what he wanted from you.

Firmly, he leaned into you, each movement calculated to prolong your anticipation. His fingers played with your pussy, making you moan louder and louder and demonstrating how completely you were in that man's hands.

He didn't need any more words. His touch, firm and determined, moved with precision, each second taking you deeper into pleasure. He alternated his fingers and you felt more and more fragile, closer and closer to reaching your limit. The way he moved you, it was as if he was in complete command of your body, bringing you even closer to the edge.

Your breathing hitches as your body responds to each touch. He intensified the pace, each movement becoming faster and deeper. His body began to arch, the sounds that escaped his lips mixed with his heavy breathing. Cooper, realizing you were on the brink, held your hips even tighter, the controller in his hands. The climax came like an explosion, your body shook, and you lost yourself in the moment, you were already completely surrendered to him. He smiled victoriously and removed his fingers, leaving you lying on the bed with your breath hitching.

While the heat of the moment was still dissipating, Cooper began to stand up, quickly adjusting his clothes, as if returning to that calm face. You watched him in silence, your body still throbbing from what had just happened, not knowing exactly how to react or what to say. If anything needed to be said.

"Take me to the door, beautiful. I have to go," he told you with a charming smile and a light voice, almost unrecognizable from the Cooper of moments ago, and you just nodded.

He grabbed the jacket tossed in the corner of the room and followed you to the front door. He was already stepping out when the words slipped from your lips, an attempt to make sense of what it all meant.

"I guess now you stop following me," you said hesitantly.

Cooper paused at the door, his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn to face you right away. He let out a low, almost mocking laugh, and then finally turned slightly, his gaze fixed on you over his shoulder.

"It’s not that easy to get rid of me."

He stepped closer, his eyes darkening with a hint of something that made you shiver. Then, he recited, in a low and deep voice, the lyrics of the song that had echoed in his mind from the start:

"Every breath you take, every move you make... I'll be watching you."

Before you could respond, he slowly opened the door. The sound of his footsteps descending the stairs echoed through the hallway, each step taking him further away, yet leaving a lingering sense that this was far from over.

You stood there, frozen at the door, breathless as you processed his words, the melody of the song almost reverberating in your head. Even with him out of sight, the impact of Cooper’s presence still hung in the air, as if he had never truly left.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

hey, angels! i hope you all enjoyed it. i don’t have much practice writing this kind of stuff, but i noticed not a lot of people were doing fanfics about Cooper, so I decided to give it a shot. About the English: it’s not my first language, so I used a translator for a lot of things!

#cooper koch #monstersnetflix #erik menendez #fanfic #fanfiction #cooper koch smut #smut #cooper koch fanfiction #cooper koch fanfic #cooper koch x reader #monsters netflix #cooper koch imagine #cooper koch x y/n

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laligraves · 9 months ago

Text

a wedding in june

cult leader!joel miller x virgin fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~3.2k summary: You run from Joel on your wedding day. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), some proofreading, post-outbreak, commune/cult vibes, arranged marriage, mentions of infected/gore/violence, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, some face slapping, loss of virginity (and some pain associated to that but only a few sentences), outdoors sex, oral (f! receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i promise i have other ideas rattling in my brain besides dubious consent 😭 i have a whole wip chart with tons of ideas that i hope i can write

You run faster at the sound of shouts behind you. Sweat drips down your temples and fear makes your heart beat erratically, but you don’t dare stop.

The outer gates are only a few more hundred feet away. All you need to do is get past the trees and you’ll be able to escape. You don’t have time to think about how this will be your first time venturing outside of the commune.

Everything you were taught about the outside, about the orphaned souls and monsters that lurk, none of that matters. Not when you’re more terrified at what your future will bring.

Joel Miller. The man who in just a few months, cleared away the hundreds of infected in the nearby valley. Joel, who in the commune’s monthly hunting trips, manages to find everything from venison to medication.

The times you’ve been close enough to Joel, to feel the heat emanating off his body, you can almost taste the violence that simmers beneath his skin. Instead of it scaring you, like it would any sane person, it excites you.

The longing in his gaze whenever he looks at you makes you dizzy. There’s a pulse of heat between your thighs each and every time, one that will only go away after you ride your pillow until exhaustion. Whenever you face him again, after you’ve dreamed of him taking you, you wonder if he knows what you do in the privacy of your room.

There’s no denying that he’s saved this commune from the brink of starvation. Of course everyone, including you, is grateful for the kindness of a stranger. But in the months he’s been here, their gratitude has turned into pure devotion.

Your parents practically pushed you into his arms the moment Joel asked about you. Normally quite level headed, your parents have begun to treat Joel like a God. You thought Joel would find their insistence of marriage off putting, that he would be an honorable man and let you choose your own path in this place.

You were wrong.

Your parents saw it as an honor that out of all the women in the commune, Joel chose you. The books and pretty dresses he finds on his trips are only a sign of how devoted a husband he will be, at least that’s what your mother tried to tell you.

And the times you tried to speak to Joel and get him to rethink this marriage? Don’t worry about it, pretty girl, was all he would say before he’d send you off.

You can imagine him in your bed and fantasize about him in your dreams, but to be his wife? Especially now that he’s been chosen to lead the commune—you want nothing to do with that.

A denser path to your right has you changing directions, wishing to throw them off your trail. You can still make it if you run through here.

Except it’s too late. Strong arms grab and push you into the lush grass.

“No,” you scream, “let me go!”

“What’s wrong with you,” Joel snaps, “don’t you know what’s out there?”

“I don’t care,” you scream out childishly, “I’d rather be out there than be with you!”

He climbs on top of you, grabbing your wrists in one hand and pressing them above your head into the grass. He leans on your thighs to keep you still and grabs your chin with the other hand.

“Listen to me,” he insists, “you don’t know what you’re sayin’. You know nothin’ of what life is like outside these walls.”

He digs his fingers into your cheeks and shakes your head slightly since you refuse to look at him.

“Joel, did you find her?” your father calls out from a distance.

“Yeah, I got ‘er.”

“Great, let’s go back and finish the celebration–”

“No,” Joel calls out.

“Joel–”

“Leave,” Joel interrupts.

He continues sitting on you, putting most of his weight on your trembling body. The white dress you're wearing, a satin piece that he found on their last hunting trip into the town, rides up dangerously close to your panties.

“I need to teach you a lesson in respect, wife,” Joel growls.

He stands and just when you think you can escape again, he yanks you up with him. Joel holds your arm tight with one hand while taking off his belt with the other. He spins you around and brings your wrists behind your back, using the belt to bind them together.

“You wanna see what’s out there? Since you think you’re so tough?” Joel asks, not waiting for an answer and instead dragging you to the gate. “I do everything to make this place safe for you, darlin’. But this is how you repay me? Runnin’ off at the first chance you get?”

You’re surprised at his words and the sincerity of his voice. He sounds almost… sad.

“Practically beggin’ to be out there with those fuckers instead of me?” he continues, “The only man who can truly protect you?”

You reach the gate and your heartbeat picks up again. You’ve never been out this far. In fact, you’re acres away from the actual commune. While the gates are secure and regularly enforced, you can’t help but feel truly terrified that something will grab you just outside these barriers.

“I’m sorry, Joel–”

He stops, spinning you around and landing a hard slap, slap, slap on your ass.

“You address me as sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you cry out, “I learned my lesson. Let’s–let’s go back.”

Joel ignores you, choosing instead to march you right to the gate. He keeps one hand on your arm and uses the other to maneuver the many locks and wires on the barrier door until it finally opens.

“No, please! I said I was sorry! I wasn’t thinking!”

He drags you out and for the first time in your life, you’ve left the commune. Despite only a metal gate separating both sides, this area seems devoid of life.

He walks and walks until you wonder if you’ll pass out from the panic. You fall to your knees and Joel crouches right in front of you.

“Your daddy ever tell you about the infected?” Joel whispers, tilting your chin up with his index finger. “How they’ll bite and rip into any part of your flesh.”

“No, please,” you whimper.

He drags a finger down your neck and over your exposed collarbones, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Your nipples tighten as he glides his finger over one breast and then the other.

“Once they’re done with you, if there’s anything left, then you become just as mindless and violent as them. Forever lost–”

“Sir–”

His hand tightens around your neck, cutting off your words.

“It’s not just one, babydoll. They like to travel in hordes. Makes it easier to find their victims.”

Your air supply thins and blood rushes to your ears. You squeeze your thighs unconsciously as the pulsing between them only grows. Joel ghosts his lips over yours and your eyes flutter closed without thinking.

“But it’s not just them,” he whispers over your lips, “there’s non-infected out there. People who won’t think twice about hurtin’ a pretty girl like you. Killin’ ya’ just for fun.”

You’re not sure who kisses who first. It’s not the chaste kiss the two of you shared at the altar. It’s rough and has you pressing your body close to his so you can take every swipe of his tongue or bite from his teeth. He continues holding your neck, lightly squeezing so you have no other choice than to gasp for air.

You fall back at the push of his hand on your chest. He flips you on your side to untie his belt from your wrists. You attack the moment your hands are free, sliding your hands through his salt and pepper hair and tugging him down.

Joel hisses but returns each of your kisses and bites with his own. You hear the squawk of a crow from above and you're immediately reminded of where you are.

“Wait, sir,” you gasp, “not here. Take me back to your–our house–”

He drags his teeth down your neck, rubbing his beard into your soft skin and biting down.

“Thought you’d rather be out here than with me?” he says, repeating your words from earlier.

“No,” you whimper, trying to push him off, “not here. I–”

He reaches your chest and sucks your nipple into his mouth right over your dress. Your words are cut off and you're arching your back, trying to push more into his mouth.

Joel makes room between your thighs and grinds down as you twist his wavy strands of hair between your fingers. His hard bulge rubs over your pussy and your whimper at the roughness.

He pinches your other nipple between two fingers then leans back to tug down the straps of your dress. Warm, summer wind glides over your now naked breasts and you shiver.

“Look at these pretty tits,” he groans, “all mine.”

Joel yanks the skirt of the dress over your tummy and runs a finger up and down your panty-covered pussy. You shamelessly grind down on his hand and cry out the moment he lands a harsh slap.

“Please,” you beg with what's left of your sanity, “take me home.”

With the same technique as before, Joel holds both wrists in one hand and uses the other to rip your panties off. You try to close your thighs from the sting of the elastic, but he’s quick to stop you.

“Christ,” he whispers, “now ain’t that a beauty.”

With two fingers, Joel swipes through your slick folds and brings them up to his mouth.

“Mmm, sweet girl. Needa taste of this pussy.”

“What do you mean—“

You try to remind Joel of just where the two of you are, but he fits his broad shoulders between your thighs and fuses his mouth to your pussy.

You’re surprised, stunned silent by the heat of his mouth on your most intimate parts. You’re by no means ignorant of what a husband does to his wife—you’ve read enough of the romance books your mother keeps hidden in her bedside table and heard enough stories from your friends to have an idea of what happens on a wedding night.

But never did you imagine it would feel like this. His beard and mustache only heighten the sensitivity between your thighs. The setting sun and the dense forest that surrounds the two of you should add to your terror, but Joel manages to put your attention elsewhere.

His tongue lashes repeatedly over your clit and down to tease your entrance. You throw your head back onto the grass and stare through blurred vision at the purple sky, uncaring of where you are and of what creeps in the dark.

He’s greedy, eating away at you like you're the last meal he’ll ever have. You’re slick and sticky, painting his face with your juices, making it easy for him to push a thick finger into your entrance.

The stretch burns, but he calms you with a swipe of his tongue on your clit and the vibrations of his moans on your skin.

“Your parents were right, you are a virgin,” he groans, pushing on the little piece of thin flesh that separates the rest of you. “Gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

You have no time to think about when your parents had that conversation with him. Instead, you're dumbfounded at the size of his fingers. You whine, unsure of what exactly you're asking, but nonetheless chanting more, more, more into the air.

Joel manages to slide a second finger, curving them and pressing on something bumpy that makes you twitch and see black dots in your vision.

He stretches and scissors his fingers in your tightness, opening you up more and sucking your swollen button between his lips. Just when the heat is about to consume every inch of your body, he stops.

“No,” you whine, trying to yank his head back to your thighs.

Joel dodges your hands and laughs at the desperation written all over your face. He leans down, pressing his wet face to yours in a sloppy kiss, forcing you to suck on his tongue. Riding your pillow doesn’t compare to this.

Just as before, Joel rips away and catches your wrist right when you reach for him.

“If you woulda been a good girl, I woulda eaten this virgin pussy till mornin’,” he says while unbuttoning his jeans. “Made you ride my face and cum as many times as you wanted.”

You barely understand how someone could ride a face, and yet you clench and gush around nothing, wanting his mouth or fingers back. You see the dark, curly hair at his base before he pulls out his length.

“But for bein’ a brat, I’m gonna make you come on my cock instead.”

The tip is swollen and leaking a white-ish liquid that makes your mouth water at the sight. He lets go of your wrist and gently slaps your face.

“Are you listenin’ to me, girl? I won’t fuck you if you ain’t payin’ attention.”

“Y-yes, sir. I’m listening.”

Joel laughs once again, noticing the dazed look in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it fit.”

There’s a craving inside of you, one that has you suddenly feeling so empty, that if he doesn’t fill you with his cock you think you’ll die. You repeat the word over and over in your head.

You’ve read it more than enough times and heard it through hushed giggles from your friends, yet the way Joel says the word, the way he squeezes and twists his hand over his cock, you finally understand what the word truly means.

Your fingers and the handle of your hairbrush were never able to give you what you so desperately seeked. You always stopped before you went in too deep, never able to take that final push inside.

He spreads open your thighs and you lean up on your elbows to try to catch a glance at what he’s doing. You see your sticky fluids stuck on your inner thighs and over the tip of his cock. He pushes in just an inch, and you gasp at the thickness.

“Fuck, tight little thing,” Joel moans. “Need you to beg f’me, baby.”

“Please, please, sir,” you answer quickly, “please, I–I want it!”

He sinks in another inch, his face pinching in barely controlled restraint.

“Say–fuck, say ‘I need your cock, sir’.”

The words are caught in your throat as you try to adjust to his size. Joel doesn’t like that you take too long to answer and slaps your cheek.

“Answer me.”

“I need your–your cock, sir,” you whine.

“Again, fu–again,” he demands.

You try your best to repeat his words, except he’s too far gone now. There’s a pinch, a rip of thin flesh and suddenly he’s sliding all the way in. You claw at his arms and at the grass to get away but he’s gripping your thighs, pressing deeper and whispering take it, pretty girl and you ain’t getting away from me.

You feel full, so incredibly full. You’re split open, ripped apart just for him.

“I know, baby. I know,” Joel coos, “it’ll hurt only for a minute.”

His thumb rubs tiny circles on your clit and he leans over to press kisses on your eyelids and cheeks, licking away the tears that fall.

The stretch burns, but his groans of pleasure and his gentle kisses have a warm glow spreading through your body. Joel notices the change in you and glances down to watch your hips move in small circles.

“There we go, baby,” he moans, “knew you’d like it.”

He pulls out slowly, keeping eye contact with you and watching each pinch of your brow and flutter of your eyelids.

“Saved this pretty cunt just f’me, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, pushing away the sweaty curls from Joel’s forehead.

He picks up the pace, curling his hand behind your knee and pushing it into your chest, arranging you like a doll. The pain now completely gone, you lay there, running hands over his arms and watching the sweat drip down his temples.

Every slide of his cock kisses the very end of you. Your hips move and twist on their own accord and you have no choice but to cry out into the night sky.

“Takin’ this–this big cock like a good girl, yeah?” Joel groans, watching his cock plunge in and out of your little hole. “Need you–fuck, need you to say you’re mine, baby.”

“I–I’m yours, sir,” you whine, feeling a twinge in your core, “yours, yours, yours.”

You dig your fingers in his neck and drag him down for a kiss. He grunts as you bite deep enough to draw blood.

The thoughts from earlier, about running away from him, leave your mind. Even if it hurts a little, even if you aren’t prepared to be a wife, this is exactly what you need. And you won’t let anyone else have him.

“You gonna cum, girl? Gonna cum on your husband’s big cock?”

This time he doesn’t stop you. His hand squeezes your neck and he traps you into the ground, pistoning his hips into your slick cunt. Your oxygen lessens and your cumming, numbness and white heat spreading throughout your body.

“Just like that, baby,” Joel growls, “soak my cock.”

You're gushing on him, painting the hair at his base with sticky juices. You tremble in his arms and claw at the hand that squeezes your neck. Joel doesn’t let up, fucking into your limp body, loving the way you mewl underneath him.

He moves in short thrusts, stiffening and letting out an animalistic grunt into the night sky. He presses his head into your neck, sucking and biting into your soft skin while he spills his seed inside of you.

"Take my cum, baby. Take it, take it," Joel moans.

You clench around him, massage his cock with your inner muscles. Every drop of his cum belongs deep inside of you.

With the little strength left in your body, you run your fingers through his hair. Joel's hands move to grip your thighs and he grinds down, spilling the last of his cum into your cunt.

"You belong to me," Joel whispers. "Don’t ever run again."

You lay there in the grass, breasts bare and pussy full of your husband's cock.

"I won’t," you promise.

Joel leans back and slowly slips out. There’s a twinge of red mixed with his cum that he wipes up with your ripped panties. He lays down next to you and brings you in close so that your head is placed on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat and the sounds of crickets around you.

You think about the long way back to Joel's–well now your house too–and then you remember exactly where the two of you are.

"Sir, we're outside of the gates what if something or someone comes–we don't have any weapons–"

“There’s another gate a few miles out," he interrupts, "I installed it for extra protection around this place.”

You drop your head on his chest from relief and exhaustion. Joel rubs a hand down your back and squeezes your arm.

“I’d never put you in harm's way, pretty girl.”

general taglist: iloved1lfs0

ps: i know that there has been other cult leader!joel fics but in no way shape or form have i copied those works for this. if there is something major in my work that sounds similar to someone else's, it's purely by coincidence. i respect each person who takes time out of their day to write FREE content and the last thing i'd do is steal their storylines 🤍🤍🤍

#joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #hbo joel miller x reader #dark joel miller #dark fic

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