#i feel like it’s a fever dream when i write smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reshinless · 2 months ago

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Hear me out..Jealous!kinich x reader smut...also I love your writing style it makes me wanna explode🤭

──── bet you feel it now, baby

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. you didn't have to laugh that hard at his joke. it wasn't even that funny. he's better, it's fine, he'll just show you how much better he is.

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader, !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. posting wip list in a bit plus brief overview of 800 special fic (it'll probably be genshin/hsr :3)

۪ ⠀✧ warnings. possessive behavior (kinich), jalosi /j, kinda ass/pussy eating (see to it however you like, i used no real specific term, reader is blindfolded for some parts, jealous behavior, rough sex, sex itself, y'all get walked in on (be ready for this to be implied into more of my kinich works LOL), establish relationship

"ahhn- kinich i said 'm sorry.. pleasef- slow down!" your face in the pillows, your words muffled and long gone into the night. the black-haired man's raspy voice spoke from behind— your boyfriend, kinich, of course. "he wasn't all that entertaining, why laugh like how you do with me?"

it was torture to him, seeing how it went from an awkward laugh, a polite smile, to a more genuine appearance to the stupid guy that just had to come up to you while he was busy getting a little snack for ajaw— even ajaw wouldn't comment on how his face looked this time, keeping his own silence as he ate the delicious candy.

"fffuck- he was an old classmate i had at the akademiya- 'm sorry, i-i really am kin-!" he almost laughed at your words. classmate? doesn't mean you should be playfully hitting shoulder like that. or teasing him like that. it's all his, no one else should be able to have it.

you shuddered, what felt like cumming again for the umpteenth time in a row, he hadn't stopped pinning you against the wall, and making you see stars over and over again ever since you saw your "classmate".

"doesn't matter." he groans, finishing inside you once more, your eyes were blindfolded by his headwear, previously on his forehead. he carries you onto the mattress, laying you down a little roughly. "w- what are you doing?"

you shivered once more, feeling warm exhales near your entrance, his cheek resting suddenly on one of your thighs. "all mine, right?" the blunt tone present in his tone definitely made it out as if you couldn't tell him anything other than yes (because it was true). his lips start to scatter a plethora of glossy little kisses all over your thighs, the sensation of getting him to cover every inch of your legs felt like a fever dream.. was this really a punishment?

you could feel his other hand snake to one of yours, which was somewhere on the bed. holding it tight as he started to place wet pecks over your hole. "hhnnn.. kin stop- ... stop teasing me.." you felt yourself moan into his touch, your other hand reaching out for wherever his head was. your fist grabbing at his hair, almost trying to push him into you further.

you felt him groan into you, you could sense he was whipped for your taste. the way you moaned his name. his.. name. "ahh- ahhh fffuck!— kin it's all yours, i promise!" his hand left yours, and stopped lapping at your hole for a moment- you heard a small grunt, and two things landing on the floor.. was he taking his gloves off?!

you could feel him sitting you up with one of his other hands, arms setting you down onto his face, arms locking around your thighs. straddling you over his mouth, as he started to devour what was his. no other guy could do this to you, not without making you feel as good as he did.

shit and he definitely did, the way he made you feel wasn't like the stupid losers who'd try to hook up with you back in the akademiya. or tried to pick you up in the streets. they can't make you feel turned on as much as you did when kinich blindfolded your eyes with something he doesn't usually take off and hear his belt buckle start to come off- ahhh nothing was better!

oh you felt yourself almost creaming on his face just thinking about it. not to mention how good he worked his tongue into you, definitely tasting every little bit, every little nook & cranny his tongue could reach.

he made a small sound, looking up to see you slowly riding his face as is, trying to rub yourself near against his nose. his authorative hold was more than enough to stop you from moving again, one of his palms moving over your stomach to feel the way his tongue moved inside you.

his head busily buried itself more into your scent, glossing his tongue so carefully, making sure you feel it. you started to feel something pool in your stomach- ssshit you were gonna cum again! your hands trail back down to his hair, gripping it harshly again, him seeing signs that you're close, he fastens his pace, licking as much as he could, no longer concentrating on the taste, more on your facial expression.

"ahhn- kin i'm g'na-!" "mmm there it is, such a good kitty." were the words he moaned into your hole, as he gladly lapped up every inch of your delicious juice/cum.

as he placed a kiss onto your entrance once more, he places more than just one kiss onto your lips, making out with you for a bit. letting him taste what he's been tasting for the past hour, the shared, mix of both of your cum.

your lips finally parting from his, your eyes still shut close 'till you feel a fist of your hair being gripped, "not done yet." is all kinich whispers, his voice a little coarse as he continues to kiss you. "all.. yours," you feel him take your hand, putting it over his heart while you both pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva being created. "and all mine, please?" he points to where your heart is in your chest.

his blunt attitude could only make you laugh, planting a kiss onto his head, and nodding to an agreement. "mmm- yeah. all yours."

"you guys are reaaaaaaalll corny! you're lucky i like your partner this time!" ajaw butts in as you laugh, while kinich simply scoffs- looking the other way and burying his face into your chest.

not as cool as my other works, and it's more cringe if i keep looking back on it, cute request tho !!!!<3333

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guiltyasdave · 3 months ago

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help me hold onto you

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff

a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.

massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest.

It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness.

He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn.

He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him.

“Did I do it again?”

He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan.

“What exactly?”

“All of it.”

Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands.

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.”

He would much rather wake up like this.

But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place.

His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight.

He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him.

“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady.

It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.

“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.”

His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again.

“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now.

He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches.

As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it.

With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level.

Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it.

“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this.

“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.”

You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh.

It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin.

“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.”

He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him.

You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.

Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.

“All of them.”

You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.

“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble.

He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat.

“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind.

Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.

“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.

“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot.

“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.”

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you.

“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out.

Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm.

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.”

The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run.

Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice.

Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself.

While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness.

It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down.

Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.

No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself.

He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does.

He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.

By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.

“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain.

“Stop what?” he growls back.

Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other.

But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released.

“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!”

He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches.

“I’m not—”

You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside.

Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless.

“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.

He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat.

“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression.

He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up.

“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly.

“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.

He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once.

The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth.

“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay.

You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes.

“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes.

The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.

He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world.

“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair.

You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes.

“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.”

That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release.

You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes.

He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel.

You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—”

You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you.

With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips.

Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin.

“Feels good, kitten?”

You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit.

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Logan.”

You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.

Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride.

As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again.

He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer.

He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close.

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.

You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him.

A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving.

“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance.

“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you.

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good.

“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him.

He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time.

Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—”

He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat.

“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction.

Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.

You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.

God, he’s such an idiot.

“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”

thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)

-> part 2!

#logan howlett #wolverine #james logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x female reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x female reader #x men #hugh jackman #logan howlett fanfiction #janas fics

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cherry-writes-yanderes · 2 years ago

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so tiny~

(könig x gn! reader)

a/n: had a fever dream and I just HAD to write this 🤭

cw: dead dove do not eat, just filthy smut, mention of being fuckbuddies, possessive sex, size difference, tummy bulge, claiming, fucking while unconscious, cumming inside without permission, noncon near the end, mention of kidnapping

“S-So fuckin’ tiny~..” König never failed to choke out every time that he pushed inside of you. It was like a tradition now, praising how tight and small you were compared to the massive, hulking man on top of you.

You never failed to shed a tear every time he pushed in, his cock practically breaking you apart the first time. It luckily had gotten easier, but your hole still struggled to take him every time. He made you cum better than anyone else ever had, so it was all worth it in the end.

This time, he was too excited to wait for you to adjust before thrusting his hips, his dog tags jingling softly from his pace. Your moans made him growl, burying himself deep inside to watch your belly bulge from his massive cock. He loves doing that, your moans get so loud and cute!~

He suddenly presses your knees to your chest, making you squeal as he fucks into you over and over. König huffs, biting lovingly into your calf as he watches his big dick disappear into your hole and reappear again, his hips kissing yours every single time just to hit that spot that he knows makes your eyes roll back.

“Mmh… gonna cum in you this time- you’ll be mine-“ The giant man grunts, his grip on your thighs even tighter as he quickens his pace. Your veins run cold. He’s never done that before. You two agreed that this was just a hookup thing, not anything serious!! You try to pull yourself away from him, your legs pushing off of his broad and scarred shoulders.

“Ah ah!” He shouts, pausing his relentless thrusts to hold your down at your arms, his leg coming around and hooking his knee over your leg to keep you from kicking too much. Sweat dripped from his rough skin, mixing with yours as he descended onto you once again.

“M’ sorry… I jus’ need you so bad…” He slurs slightly, a telltale sign that he was close to cumming. He resumes the desperate thrusts of his hips, managing to pound against your sweet spot with every stroke. “Mine, mine, mine~” He chanted, punctuating every slap of his skin to yours with a claiming note. You couldn’t stop yourself from cumming all over him, gushing and shaking as he fucks you through it to reach his own high.

König’s end came quickly, his thick and hot cum spilling into you like a waterfall as his shaky hips press against yours to keep it all inside. “Alles meins…~” He whispers into your ear, his breath heavy from his orgasm. His grip stays, his fingers digging into your skin just to feel it under him. You belong here. Right here, under him. All pretty and full for him~

His eyes were blown wide, staring at your beautiful figure as he started to move again. He didn’t need long to cool down, he was so insatiable when it came to you! Orgasm upon orgasm wracked your little body, sending you into cockdrunk stupor with your eyes barely open; and even then, König refused to stop using your pretty hole. You were long unconscious, but he was still chasing that high of the crown of his cock catching on you and sinking in. He lived for that, his head falling back from how tight and perfect you are.

He planned to never let you leave. You are his, and you’ll be happy, he knows it.~

~i do not condone yandere behavior/noncon irl~

#call of duty mw2 #könig mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #könig smut #yandere könig #dead dove do not eat #mordern warfare 2 #könig #tw noncon #könig x reader #konig cod #könig fanfiction #mdni #call of duty modern warfare ll #call of duty #cod könig #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #könig cod

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homestylehughes · 7 months ago

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boyfriend quinn headcanons

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: headcanons of bf!quinn!

wc:703

warnings: fluff, cute soft quinn, smut 18+!

authors note: hi guys!! i randomly had this idea this morning so i thought id write about quinn and how i think he'd be as a boyfriend! hes been taking up too much of my mind recently LOL. i hope you guys enjoy!! more fics are coming up later this week! like and reblog if you like <3. as always much love <3

happy reading <3

Sfw/fluff:

Bf!quinn: quinn would be the type of boyfriend to wake you up with kisses all over your body, tracing his hands all over your back. Quinn would love looking at you while you're sleeping, not in a creepy way, in a loving way, that he couldn't believe that you're his.

Bf!quinn: he would give you one on one skating lesions, holding your hand whenever you feel like you're going to fall. He'd insist that he put on your skates, tying them extra tight and patting your leg to make sure you're okay. Quinn would laugh at you when you get excited about skating on your own finally, giving you a forehead kiss, saying he's proud of you.

Bf!quinn: After a long day at work, when he knows you've had a bad day, he'll cook you your favorite meal. Even drawing you a bath, that you then insisted that he had to get in with you. He would ask you about your day, you would tell him as you lean comfortably into his touch as he runs his hands all over your body to help you relax.

Bf!quinn: quinn lovesssss when you wear his jersey to a game, he loves seeing you in the stands in his jersey, cheering for him and the rest of the team. He loves the support that you always give him. Waiting for him by the locker room, giving him the sweetest hug and kiss. Always letting him know that you're proud of him, win or lose.

Bf!quinn: quinn loves how you are around his family, how you think of them as your family. How you laugh and joke with his brothers, talk hockey with his dad, how you embarrass him and smile with his mom. He loves the relationship that you have with them. His family jokes that if you guys ever broke up, his family would be more hurt than you or quinn.

Bf!quinn: quinn would definitely get baby fever when seeing you around children. Imagining if they were your kids, wanting nothing more than to pull you home, and make his dreams come true.

Bf!quinn: quinn loves to be babied, he loves when you let him be the little spoon. His favorite way of being babied is when he comes home after a long road trip is throwing himself into your arms, dragging you to the bedroom, quickly getting changed and laying down on top of you. His face finding its way to your neck, nuzzling himself in your body breathing in your scent. He'd quickly fall asleep as you play with his hair, and rub your hands up and down his back.

nsfw 18+ below:

Bf!quinn: quinn is definitely a munch. He could spend hours in between your legs, even when you try to push him away he always comes back. He could never get enough of your cunt.

Bf!quinn: He loves marking you up, showing everyone that you're his. He can't help but feel a sense of pride when he looks over the marks. Smirking to himself, knowing you'll yell at him when you see how dark they are the following day.

Bf!quinn: quinn is obsessed with your boobs, he considers himself a lover of both ass and boobs equally but his downfall is your boobs. Any chance he has to kiss, bite, lick them he takes advantage of it. You can't even count on your fingers how many times you guys have been late to dinners because your boobs are “calling his name.”

Bf!quinn: quinn loves when you take control during sex, it's a side of you that he doesn't get to see a lot but he loves it when he does. The view of you on top of him riding him, never fails to take his breath away.

Bf!quinn: Your moans? Oh gosh your moans. They make his knees weak, He loves hearing how responsive you are. His favorite is when you moan lowly in his ear, feeling your warm breath fan his face. When you drop your head back and your mouth is hanging open as your body shakes in pleasure.

Bf!quinn: loves everything about you.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes #vancover canucks

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hoshifighting · 28 days ago

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minghao + telepathic sex

— you give a try to the soulmate meditation, finding minghao inside the meditation, the barista that you meet everyday before work.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, spiritual setting, another dimension experience, mentions of aura (minghao's aura), destinity, soulmates plot, fingering, doubled sensations, mentions of fluids (oil, cum/precum).

[my spiritualist ass needed to write something like this]

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you’re sitting on your bed, lights off, laptop open, the screen way too bright in the dark room. your friend’s words still echoing in your head, “just try it, y/n. i swear, it’ll change your life.” and you rolled your eyes so hard when she said it, the thought of meditating to a youtube video making you scoff. but now, after a brutal day at work, your head spinning with numbers, deadlines, and your boss breathing down your neck, you figured what the hell. couldn’t be worse than staring at the ceiling and drowning in your thoughts all night, right?

so, here you are, headphones on, listening to this soft, whispery voice telling you to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. you do it, even though it feels a bit stupid. the voice is saying something about connecting with your inner self or some other woo-woo shit, and you kind of tune it out, focusing more on the slow inhale, exhale.

but then, something shifts. like, for real. your body feels lighter, like you're floating, and your limbs start tingling. your brain’s screaming okay, this is weird, stop, but your body’s already in, pulled deeper into whatever this trance is. it’s like you blink, and suddenly, you're not in your room anymore. everything is... different.

it’s not dark, not light, just this weird in-between, and there’s this warm glow in front of you. the air smells different too, fresh and kind of sweet, like those damn essential oils your friend swears by. it feels real, but not? you glance down at yourself, and yep, still you. but your feet are moving like you’re not the one telling them to, dragging you closer to this light.

and then you see him.

at first, it’s just a silhouette. a tall, lean figure surrounded by this soft, white aura. your heart does that thing where it skips a beat—because, like, wtf is happening—but you keep moving. something about him pulls you in, despite the knot twisting in your gut.

as you get closer, you can see him more clearly. his hair’s a soft, burnt orange, strands almost glowing like they’re lit from within. the kind of hair you’d probably spend hours trying to replicate at the salon, but never really get right. and his face... god, his face. sharp, but soft in all the right places. it’s minghao. minghao? of all people? the dude you’ve seen in the cafeteria, that does your ''the usual'' everyday before work?

you freeze. not because you’re scared—well, maybe a little—but more because what the actual hell. is this meditation or did you fall asleep and end up in some kind of fever dream?

“you good?” his voice cuts through the fog, smooth, with that laid-back vibe he always carries. he’s looking right at you now, dark eyes catching yours, like he’s not even fazed by the fact that you just appeared out of nowhere.

you blink. “uh... what is this?”

he laughs, low and lazy, like you’re the one who’s being weird. “soulmate meditation, right?”

you feel your face heat up. oh, fuck no. “don’t tell me you watch those too.”

you stand there, still not quite sure if you’re dreaming or if this is actually happening, when minghao steps even closer. his energy is calm but intense at the same time, and it’s making your body buzz, like the air between you is charged with something you don’t understand. you can feel your feet getting heavier, like the ground itself is trying to pull you down, almost glitching beneath you.

minghao shrugs, the motion casual, like none of this is a big deal. “i don’t need to,” he says softly, not looking at you but feeling everything. his fingers brush against yours, and it’s such a light touch, but it sends sparks up your arm. “you can feel it, can’t you?”

you don’t answer, too caught up in the dimension. it’s like your body knows more than your brain does, and suddenly, you’re aware of every sensation, every beat of your heart, every breath.

“don’t freak out,” he murmurs, his hand sliding into yours fully now. “it’s just the energy here. you’re fine.”

yeah, right, you think. totally fine. but the way his hand fits around yours, it’s like he’s grounding you, keeping you from slipping through the cracks in reality.

“relax,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your palm lightly. “relax your shoulders, your jaw... even your eyebrows. you’re holding everything so tight.”

his touch is steady, calming, and without even realizing it, your shoulders start to drop, your jaw unclenches, and the tension in your forehead eases.

you huff, rolling your eyes, but you do it anyway, letting out a long breath. “i didn’t even know i was that tense.”

minghao chuckles, the sound easy, and you can feel it in your chest. “i could tell. your body’s giving you away.”

you shoot him a glare, but there’s no bite to it, not really.

but he’s right. you’re so damn tense, always are. work, life, all of it piles up until your body’s like a coiled spring, and he noticed on the cafeteria, he did, and here, same thing, and you don’t even notice it anymore. but here, with him, it’s like all of that just melts away. you don’t even know how it’s possible, but you feel... lighter. freer.

he tilts his head, eyes locking with yours, and there’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes your stomach flip. “you know,” he starts, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “there’s a better way to relax... here too”

your breath catches in your throat, he’s not just talking about meditation anymore—no, there’s a shift in the air, something heavier tugging at your sacral chackra.

“oh yeah?” you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless, even though you try to play it cool. “and what’s that?”

minghao’s smile is slow, he leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your skin, his body lightweight, moving like an angel. “you’ll feel it. just... let go.”

you don’t even have time to respond before his lips are on yours, soft and dense, and everything around you dissolves. the world, this dimension, the ground beneath your feet—it all fades until there’s nothing but him, his mouth, his hands, the heat radiating from his body.

and it’s not just a kiss. no, it’s like every sensation is magnified, doubled, like your nerves are on fire. his hand slides up your arm, leaving a trail of warmth, and when his fingers dig into your waist, you gasp into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders because suddenly, you’re not sure if your legs are going to hold you up.

he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “see? just like that. relax.”

your brain’s spinning, but your body’s already giving in, sinking into the feeling of his touch, the heat building between you. you’ve never felt anything like this—like your body is hypersensitive.

minghao’s hands are everywhere now, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. you’re pressed against him, and the way his body feels, hard and warm against yours, only makes the tension inside you snap, releasing in waves of need.

his mouth moves to your neck, lips trailing down, sucking lightly, and your head falls back, a soft moan slipping out before you can stop it. it’s like every touch is amplified, like your body is more in tune with his than it’s ever been with anyone else.

“you’re doing good,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and breathy. “just let go.”

and you do. fuck, you do. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth works its way down your throat. the heat between your legs is building, and it’s so intense, like nothing you’ve felt before. everything’s heightened—the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way his breath feels against your neck, the way his body presses against yours.

his hands slide lower, gripping your ass and pulling you flush against him. you can feel him hard against your thigh, and a low groan escapes him as he grinds against you. making you call for him.

he cuts you off with another kiss, this one rougher, more desperate, and you can feel the need radiating off of him in spirals. it’s like the air between you is droning, the energy from before now crackling with something more carnal, mundane, something that’s pulling you both under.

“you want this?” he asks, his eyes dark and filled with warmth as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

you don’t even hesitate. “yes.”

everything’s blurred, time slipping away as the two of you become a mess of tangled limbs, moans, and desperate touches. and fuck, it feels good.

you don’t even remember how it happened—one second, you were both tangled in each other, grinding and gasping like it was the only thing keeping you alive, and then, somehow, without even realizing, you were both naked—were you naked form the very beginning?

skin against skin, slick and slippery with something that felt almost like oil, but thicker, warmer, making your bodies glide against each other with every touch. you couldn’t even focus, too caught up in the way minghao’s mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking slow, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

his teeth grazed lightly over your nipple, and you gasped, back arching up, pressing yourself harder against his mouth. your hand was wrapped around his cock, your fingers curling around the thick, bulbous head, and the way he twitched in your grip made your own heat pool between your legs, soaking your thighs in a way that felt obscene.

he moved lower, trailing kisses down your stomach. you could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his breath, the slickness of your own sweat mixing with whatever was coating your bodies, making each touch feel like it was magnified, like it was burning into your skin.

“this... feels insane,” you whispered, your voice trembling, not just from the pleasure but from vibrations. every sound, every moan, every gasp echoed in the strange, otherworldly space you were in, bouncing off the walls—or maybe it was just the ground? you weren’t sure anymore. the whole place felt like it was vibrating, like your moans were traveling through the very air, rippling through the dimensions and coming back to you in curls. it was dizzying, overwhelming, and it made the heat between your legs pulse harder.

his fingers slid down between your thighs, finding your clit with a kind of confidence that made your head spin, like he belonged his, like he knew everything. his touch was light at first, just barely grazing the swollen bud, but still made you shake like he’d shocked you. your hips bucked instinctively, chasing the friction, and minghao’s breath hitched, a soft chuckle escaping him as his fingers pressed down a little harder.

“relax,” he whispered, guiding your hips down, his other hand gripping your waist, “you’re so tense. just let me do it.”

his fingers circled your clit in slow, teasing motions, not enough to send you over the edge but enough to make you ache, the need building inside of you until it felt like you were going to burst. every flick of his fingers made your whole body shudder, the sound of your slick echoing in the space around you, loud and obscene, like the wet slap of your skin against his was the only thing that mattered.

“fuck, minghao,” you moaned, your voice coming out in a broken gasp, the sound vibrating through the air, making everything feel more intense. the ground beneath you seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your bodies, every sound amplified, the wetness of your slick mixing with his groans, creating this heated, filthy symphony of pleasure.

“good girl,” he muttered, voice low and rough, fingers sliding lower to tease at your entrance before plunging inside. you cried out, the feeling so intense it almost knocked the breath from your lungs. his fingers stretched you, curling just right, finding that spot inside of you that made your legs tremble.

the sensation was heightened, doubled somehow, like you could feel every single ridge of his fingers inside of you, the way they twisted and stroked, pulling moans from your lips like he was playing an instrument. “just like that,” he breathed, his voice guiding you, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your other nipple. “relax into it. let go.”

you did. you let go of everything—the stress, the tension, the worries. it all melted away under the touch of his hands, the press of his body against yours, the sound of your wet skin slapping together. he was moving faster now, his fingers thrusting inside of you with a steady rhythm, and you could feel your orgasm building, that tight coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“minghao—i’m close, i-i can feel it, oh my god!” you gasped, your hips moving on their own, grinding against his hand, desperate for release.

he smirked, leaning down to press his lips to your ear. “come for me. let it all go.”

coil snapped, and your orgasm ripped through you, so intense that you screamed, the sound echoing in the space around you, bouncing back at you like a thousand voices crying out in unison.

your whole body shook, and you could feel minghao’s fingers still working inside of you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm, coaxing it from you until you were a quivering body.

the sounds of your slick, of his hand sliding against your skin, filled the space, amplified by whatever dimension you were in. it was all so wet, so filthy, and yet it felt like everything you needed, everything you’d been holding in for so long.

when it was over, you collapsed back against the ground—if it was ground at all—your body boneless, your mind hazy with the aura of your orgasm. minghao pulled his fingers out of you slowly, carefully, and you could feel the wetness dripping down your thighs, soaking into whatever surface you were on.

he laid down beside you, pulling you close, and you could feel his warmth, his steady breathing, his presence grounding you again. your body felt heavy, but not in a bad way—it was the kind of heaviness that comes with complete release, with finally letting go of everything.

“how do you feel?” minghao asked softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

you smiled, eyes already drooping closed, exhaustion pulling you under. “better. so much better.”

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, making your view blur a little. “good. now sleep.”

and you did, falling into a deep, dreamless slumber, your body completely relaxed, every bit of tension gone. all that was left was minghao’s warmth, his soft breathing, and the sound of your own heartbeat slowing as you drifted off into the most peaceful sleep you’d ever had.

— // next morning // —

you stumble into the cafeteria, still buzzing from whatever the hell last night was. it’s like you can’t shake the feeling, like it’s clinging to your skin, still there in the way your body feels light but also charged with something—missing something? your head’s all over the place, replaying those moments from the trance, that other dimension—or whatever the hell you wanna call it. but you need coffee, you’re exhausted, barely slept after the... experience, and you’re kinda hoping a caffeine hit will bring you back to reality.

and that’s when you see him. minghao. standing right at the counter like he always does, casual as anything. except something inside you twists the second your eyes land on him. it’s like your body knows before your brain does, the way your stomach flips, the way your breath catches. no. no way. he can’t know, right? you try to shake the thought, telling yourself it was just a dream or something. maybe your imagination is screwing with you, making you see connections that aren’t there.

but then he glances up, meeting your eyes for a split second before he looks back down at the coffee machine. “the usual?” he asks before you even have a chance to say anything, like he already knew.

your heart skips a beat, but you try to play it cool. “yeah... thanks,” you mutter, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels.

while you’re waiting, you can’t help but sneak glances at him. he’s just standing there, doing his thing, but every now and then, his eyes flicker up to you, just for a second, like he’s watching you too. and it’s making you paranoid, like he knows. like he was there. but that’s impossible, right?

the coffee’s ready in no time, and you step up to grab it. your hand curls around the cup, but just as you’re about to lift it, minghao’s hand comes down too, his fingers brushing over yours. the touch makes you freeze, way too similar to the way his fingers had felt last night, the way he had— okay okay, calm down.

“you look well-rested,” he says, voice low, hardly audible over the hum of the cafeteria. his thumb strokes the back of your hand, subtly. “i hope it helped... relaxing like that.”

your heart slams in your chest, and for a second, you freeze. you can’t even speak, your mind going blank as his words hit you. he knows. there’s no way he doesn’t know. the way he said it, the look in his eyes—it’s like he’s toying with you, like he’s waiting for you to admit it.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your eyes are wide, staring at him in shock, and minghao’s smirk widens just a little, like he’s enjoying the way you’re reacting.

then, without breaking eye contact, he adds, “are you gonna meet me again?” minghao asks, his voice dropping even lower, his lips quirking into a knowing smirk. “there… or maybe here?” he points to the counter, as if meanings, real life.

you can feel the heat creeping up your neck, your mind still spinning from everything. he knows. he fucking knows. and the way he’s looking at you right now, there’s no mistaking it.

you swallow hard, trying to compose yourself, but all you can manage is a small nod. minghao just chuckles softly, his fingers giving yours a little squeeze before he finally lets go of the cup. “good. i’ll see you soon then.”

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inevesgf · 1 month ago

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BITE ME • CHARLES LECLERC

the vampiric nature of charles slips into the depths of intimacy as he lets his desires lead the way, treating you to a night of pleasure.

content + warnings: +18 vampire!charles, pure smut, p in v, oral (female receiving), table sex, slight fingering, dirty talk, praise, creampie, no use of a condom (practice safe sex!). word count 1.5k.

decided to write a little vampire au since i love all things vampires (and charles leclerc)! if you would like to find other works from this special or read my other works, click the link here ⋆·˚ ༘ * happy fictober! notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated. yes .. title is an enhypen ref soz.

a vampire’s ability to seduce was incredulous — all it gave was a look of the eyes, a glint of desire in them, to get you soaked.

your boyfriend, charles, was a blood sucker — a monster, even — though his heart was anything but malicious. charles loved deeply, heavenly, peppering you in any form of love you desired. smalls gifts, forehead kisses, acts of service — he would feed you the appreciation he knew you deserved.

charles was aware when you wanted it, he could practically smell the desire radiating off of you. the way your pulse quickened in your neck, your blood pumping through your veins. he was a vampire — of course — but he would never dream of sinking his teeth into your pretty skin unless you wanted him too.

your body laid sprawled on top of the dining room table, legs spread as charles laid between them, sucking on the sweet flesh of your thigh. the feeling of his fangs dancing delicately around your skin made you gasp, your muscles tensing in an attempt to keep you from squirming as he worshipped your body like a saint.

vampires were sexual creatures of the night, their touch possessive and firm as they stalked their prey. to charles, you were anything but prey, yet a snack who had willing given themselves to him. despite his vampire nature, charles was one to please, mapping the skin of your body as his lips made their descent.

“you’re so sweet, amore,” charles’ voice hummed between your legs, his stubble brushing softly against your thigh as his lips swam inches away from your cunt. his words sent a shiver up your spine, your darkened eyes of desire pooling into his as you caught your bottom lip under between teeth.

his lips kissed softly on the side of your cunt, eliciting a moan from your pale lips as they parted into an o shape. “just like that,” you hummed, a soft whine slipping through as you praised the man. your body grew desperate, waiting impatiently or his tongue to work his feverous magic exactly where you craved him.

charles chucked dryly at your words, his eyes sparkling with a readiness to please as his tongue darted out, flicking the bud of your cunt painfully soft. a moan escaped your widened mouth, manicured nails digging into the doily below that sprawled upon the table.

charles’ mouth opened to suck on your clit, his tongue flicking the bud as his teeth pressed against you, his fangs tickling your sensitive skin. “fuck,” you moaned out, an exclamation of your pleasure falling from your mouth so eloquently despite the brutality of the attack on your cunt.

charles hummed against your dripping core, the saliva trailing from his mouth coming to soak the table below as his tongue dipped inside, sitting snug between your tight walls. his curved nose pressed against your clit, the sensation doubling as your hips slightly rocked, your body desperate for the attention you ensnared.

as charles ate you like a man starved, the familiar sensation pooled in your stomach, your cunt throbbing as it twitched under his mouth. before you could exclaim your undoing, charles’ lips pulled away, his fangs glistening as his hungry eyes looked into yours.

a whine fell from your lips at the loss of contact, your legs shaking as a hint of disappointment ruptured through your body. you were so close, teetering on the edge of complete pleasure from the consummate elegance of his mouth against your pussy.

“why’d you stop?” you grumbled, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stared up at him, your eyes widening in a sense of confusion. all charles did was laugh softly, his calloused hands coming to rub the smooth skin of your thigh.

“what’s the fun of having you cum on my face when you can on my cock instead?” his filthy words had you reeling, your stomach turning in excitement as the glance of his green eyes danced around the curves of your body. you nodded in agreement, your cunt pulsating in need as charles began to rid himself of his pants, pulling the waistband of his boxers down in its wake.

“fuck,” you grunted, the need overcoming every ounce of your body as charles’ undressed himself, “need you so fucking bad.” despite your usual elegant facade, you had a dirty mouth on you, and charles ate up every word as if they were a full course meal as he took his hardened cock in his hands. his stroked it teasingly, letting his pupils pool into yours as he egged you on, desperate for the begging tone to fall from your lips again.

you knew what he wanted as his cock twitched under his fingers, the precum glistening which only excited you more. “need you to fuck me full,” you begged again, the dirtiness laced in your words eliciting a soft groan from charles, “please fuck me, charlie.”

all it took was an utter — a whine — of his name before charles aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, your slick decorating the tip more as it pressed into you. a sharp hiss escaped your mouth as he entered, the stretch of your cunt welcoming and warm. taking a hold of your hips, charles’ eyes found yours once again, a glint of desire decorating his pupils as he groaned. “look at me while i fuck you,” he instructed, his hips starting their rhythmic rock as he began to fuck into you, your cunt consuming him whole.

charles’ pace picked up quickly, his body slamming into yours as the sound of skin slapping filled the dimly lit dining room. small grunts and curses fell from his pale lips as he thrusted in and out, his fangs poking through as he bit down on his bottom lip.

“fuck, so good—“ you moaned out, your eyes drifting to where you met as the desire in your stomach only bubbled more. a glistening ring formed around his cock from where you cunt had swallowed him, your excitement visible through the slick decorating his base. the comparably pornographic scene had you stirring, little whines and moans escaping your parted lips in pleasure and enjoyment.

“feels good, amore, huh?” charles grunted, one hand coming up to grip your chin as you pulled your gaze back to meet with him. the eye contact was erotic, charles’ pace only growing as your eyes stared into his. “mhm, yeah,” was all you could moan out, the parted o of your lips still plastering your visage as pleasure rocked your body.

when charles was content with your matched gaze, his hand fell from your chin, his hips still fucking into you with great speed. his thick cock slipped in and out of your cunt feverishly, hitting the spot that made your body tremble over and over again.

charles’ fingers delicately traced the flesh of your thigh, making intricate circles around the bruises and bites he had decorated you with previously. his cold digits slid up your skin, sending your body into a shock as they began to finger at your clit.

the combined feeling of charles cock fucking into you and his fingers dancing around your core had your body trembling, the moans ringing throughout the air louder than before. “making me feel so good,” you grunted as charles’ pace began to speed up, the rock of his hips mimicking that of a maniac as he chased his high alongside yours.

in response to your subtle praise, charles hummed, sweat beading around his forehead as his skin slapped against yours, his fingers working their magic around your reddened clit. “so close, aren’t you?” charles groaned, his tone laced with a teasing desire that pummeled through his whole body. all your fucked out brain could work out as a response was a nod, the moans telling the same tale as your stomach twisted into a tightened knot.

“cum for me, bella,” charles demanded, a slight hint of a beg drifting through his words as his cock twitched inside, ready for his own release. you didn’t need charles’ order to push you over the edge, your own slick already leaking around his cock as you finished, the help of his fingers melting you in his grasp.

charles fucked you through your high, his cock throbbing as he pumped his cum deep inside of you, his body shaking in pleasure and satisfaction. pulling his cock out of your tight cunt, the milky liquid slowly leaked out, pooling underneath you and onto the wooden table that had taken the role of the bed in a time of need.

the air smelled of sex, the filthiness of it all overpowering as you came down from your high, a small smirk decorating your lips as charles hummed. “everybody will know you’re mine, amore. they’ll know how much fun we had when they see those marks on your neck,” charles’ teased, his words a bit breathless as he composed himself. in an attempt to match his tone, the tinge of desire still lingering in your body, you pursed your lips. with a glint of mischief in your eyes, the challenging words fell from your mouth in a whisper:

“oh, you love it? then bite me.”

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nomazee · 8 months ago

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close to your heart and that bed of yours too

you've been having the same weird dream about dan heng, over and over, and it just so happens that he's had the same dream, too.

dan heng x gn reader — 2.4k — super suggestive content but definitely nothing serious or graphic, some guilt abt attraction, dreams, romantic fantasies but not weird ones, kissing and closeness and physical touch, literal sleeping together

notes: forgive me and my debaucherous writing... this is nowhere near smut but it's definitely suggestive they get touchy and feely but it's very emotions-focused...oh my god what did i write this is so

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

It’s probably not possible to get cabin fever on a constantly-running space train, but that’s the only reasonable explanation for the weird, weird recurring dream you’ve been having about Dan Heng. It’s not— not that weird, not weird enough that you feel like a complete deviant, but enough for you to realize that it’s a complete reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires, and that scares you more than anything.

The dream— it goes like this:

You wake up—not in real life, but in the dream world, which freaked you out the first time because you didn't realize you were dreaming at all so you thought everything was entirely real—and it’s usually because of the noise of your door sliding open. The instinct to look and see who it is doesn’t hit you. You lay there, gaze fixed distantly on the steel surface of your ceiling until the feeling of your bedsheets moving next to you pushes you to full awareness.

You still don’t move your gaze until you feel a body—warm, breathing, real real real?—lift up your blankets and slide underneath them, pressing next to you, curling into your side as if seeking out your life source. Your breath catches in your throat every single time as you turn to see that it’s Dan Heng, still dressed in his work clothes because he doesn’t understand the concept of pajamas, and his arm reaches around you and curls around your shoulder and he rests his head on your collarbone, gently, and you can feel his breath fan against the fabric of your shirt and your skin.

Dan Heng says your name with reverence, with something like desire, and it makes your stomach clench and he turns his body into you more. He tucks his leg between yours—not moving, just sitting there, a reminder of him, his warmth—and he’s so, so warm, it amazes you that he’s like a furnace, and that he’s so unbothered by laying so close to you under all of your blankets.

And he says your name again, each and every time, and it spurs something in you and you bring your arms around him each and every time, and pull him close, and feel the way he shudders, like a cold breeze wracking his body, like he’s never been this close to anyone before, and it dawns on you that he probably hasn’t—and that thought alone spirals into the realization that Dan Heng would never do this—

And then you wake up. Each time.

The first time it happened, you didn't realize it was a dream, and you were so overwhelmed with thought after thought and feeling after feeling and sensation after sensation. When you finally woke up, it felt like you were grieving a loss. You felt too cold, and too empty, and curled into yourself and laid in your bed for an hour taking in shaky breaths until you finally got over yourself.

You couldn't face Dan Heng for that entire day. Which was fine, because he spent his whole day in his room shuffling through the archives, so he was easy to dodge. But then you dreamt of him again. And again, and again, and then it just became a part of your nighttime routine to dream of your own friend so intimately and then wake up and pretend like nothing matters and nothing changed. Pretend like you didn't feel anything, and pretend like these dreams didn't flood you with guilt about your sick sick feelings and your sick sick fantasies.

You tried to rationalize it, make yourself feel less awful. The dreams never went past him laying beside you, for the most part, and you preferred it that way. If they got any more intimate than they already were, you would’ve thrown yourself off the Express the next morning.

Regardless, the Dan Heng in your dream and the Dan Heng that you saw every morning were different people, because the Dan Heng you saw every morning would never get so close to you. Would never lay in your bed and breathe on your neck like that.

Never. That distinction is the only thing that convinces you to let yourself dream. You indulge, and it’s sickening, but you let your dreams happen over and over, and each time you hold Dan Heng tighter and tighter and tighter, and let him breathe against your neck, and feel the rush of his blood circulating through his body.

One night, in one iteration of this dream, Dan Heng kisses you. It feels so real that it makes you nauseous. His lips were warm and damp and clumsy against the corner of your mouth, and he let out anxious breaths until you tangled your hands in his hair and tugged him closer and kissed him back.

You woke up sick, running to your bathroom to puke in the sink as your hands shook in guilt. Somehow, you could still talk to Dan Heng normally that day, stomach twisting only the slightest bit whenever your gaze lingered on him for too long.

Welt might have noticed how weird you were acting. There was a nagging furrow in his brow and he caught your gaze more than once and each time, you felt waves of humiliation crash into you, flooding you in heat and guilt and vertigo. He looked like he wanted to pry in that odd, awkward, old-man-paternal way of his, but you just shook your head and looked away and begged, hoped, wished upon a star that you would have a normal dream tonight.

The night— it goes like this:

You lay in your bed, staring at your ceiling, leftover remnants of guilt swimming in your lungs and nightly congestion forcing you to take shallow breaths through your mouth. Thoughts run through your mind and slam into your skull at rapid speed. Has Dan Heng noticed how weird you’ve been acting? He hasn’t treated you any differently, but maybe it’s out of pity. Maybe you haven’t been paying enough attention, because you’re so busy replaying that dream over and over and over, obsessive, wondering if you should just let go of the rope you’re suspended on and slam into the water and drown in your wants and your needs.

So you close your eyes, and you let yourself drift off and wake back up in your dream. You’re on your side now, instead of on your back, and the door is on the far wall behind you. You still hear it slide open, as it always does in this dream, and the footsteps get closer until you hear the shuffling of someone kneeling behind you. And then there’s nothing.

Your blankets don’t get lifted up. There’s no warm body tucking itself next to you. But there’s— a voice, Dan Heng’s voice, and your heart sinks into your stomach as you hear the pitch of his voice, the vibrations of sound.

“Are you awake?”

Your brow furrows, and you clench and unclench your fists twice before parting your dry, trembling lips. He’s never spoken in a dream before, not like this. He’s only ever said your name. Your fingers twitch with the instinct to pinch yourself.

“Yes,” you respond, hoping that the confusion isn’t clear in the timbre of your voice. “What’s— is something wrong?”

“No,” he says immediately. Clothes rustle as he adjusts himself. You’re scared to turn around and face him. You don’t know what you’d see. “You…” and he pauses, thinking of his words. Dan Heng would rather take a full minute to think about what to say, what words to pick, instead of stumbling over syllables, and it’s so unlike your own habits and as you think of this, your fingers twitch again. This time with the desire to hold his hand, because that’s what you’re supposed to do in this dream, but everything feels too real now and you don’t know where you are.

Finally, he finds his words. You’re patient with him. “I can’t sleep alone,” he whispers, as if embarrassed to admit it, “not tonight. I trust you.”

God. He can’t say that. He shouldn’t say that, because your head is spinning and you’re going to throw up. Your hand finds the strength to pick itself up and pinch the skin of your forearm. You’re not dreaming.

“Yeah,” you cough out, sniffling afterwards to cover up your budding anxiety as you finally sit up and turn to face him. “Yeah, you can, um. Sleep here.”

When he finally enters your field of vision, he looks the same as he always does—both in your dreams and in real life. It makes you sick. The guilt that you feel now comes more from the fact that he’s still in his typical outfit instead of pajamas.

“Dan Heng,” you start as you shuffle back on your bed to make space for him. He follows your motion, kneeling on the edge of your mattress before adjusting the sheets around you to tuck himself underneath and lay down. “We need to get you pajamas. I don’t know how you sleep like that.”

“I don’t sleep,” he admits, “not usually. I don’t need a lot of sleep.”

“You do. You might not think so, but you probably do. I wish I had a spare set of pajamas, but— they’re all, um, in the wash right now.”

“It’s okay. Your blankets are nice.”

Words tingle against your gums, syllables of confessions lighting up in your mouth. You want to tell him that a dream-version of him has slept under a copy of these blankets multiple times before, that you’ve dreamed for weeks about him curled into you and sleeping, and saying your name, and kissing the corner of your mouth. Right now, you’re just laid side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but you can feel how warm he is and his hand is so close to yours and you just want to hold it. You want him to say your name and look at you and hold your hand.

“Good,” you say instead of everything else that you could say, because you have a sense of self control at times.

Then Dan Heng says your name, rolling onto his side to face you, hands tucked underneath the side of his face in a stupidly endearing sleeping position. You follow suit, because your self control isn’t that strong. He doesn’t say anything else. Just your name, once. With reverence and desire. Maybe you’re dreaming it, but you pinch your knuckles again and yet you’re still in the same room with the same man in front of you.

One of your arms is bent between you two, hand resting on the pillow that separates you two. Dan Heng’s own hand—warm, and breathing, and real— comes up to rest on top of yours, and you cannot believe any of this is happening. You want to pinch yourself again but his hand is curling around yours and he’s inching forward and you hope that your deer-in-headlights expression doesn’t scare him off.

“Dan Heng,” you whisper, voice cracking with an embarrassing desperation. It’s a warning for him, before he does whatever he’s about to do. But he says your name, again, and his face is so close to yours that you can feel every breath fan against your face, and your entire body is warmed and your hand flips over to hold his, fingers slipping between his and tightening around it.

“Have you had these odd dreams these last few nights,” he asks, a leading tone in his voice, “because I have. About you,” and he’s too honest, and you have to swallow your saliva before it turns into sweat and blood, and you feel his hand squeeze back around yours. His is shaking, and you find some kind of comfort in knowing that you’re not the only one.

“Yeah,” you answer, because you can’t get more than one syllable out at a time tonight. Could anyone blame you? Would Dan Heng blame you for that, afterwards, even though his face is so close and his hand is so warm and it’s tight around you, and he’s shuffling around again, constantly fidgeting, and he takes his other arm and slides it around you, hand between your shoulder blades. He hooks a leg between yours, tugging you closer and closer and closer. You’re blinking at him, heart caught in your throat and eyes landing on his lips so that maybe he’ll finally take the hint.

He does. He does, and as cliche as it is, it’s better than your dream. He kisses you, desperate, and right before your eyes flutter shut you catch the contemplative furrow in his brow. His mouth is—warm, damp, but you feel the crack in the skin in the center of his bottom lip. It scrapes against you and you can’t help the shaky sigh you release at the feeling, and the hand on your back curls into the fabric of your sleep shirt.

Your eyes are closed, tight, scared that if you open them, you’ll just wake up back in your room, alone and cold again with your empty steel ceiling. Dan Heng’s mouth is moving against yours with a practiced proficiency that you’re almost jealous of. You let your tongue trace the edges of his teeth, carnal in your desires, before you bite down on his lip hard enough to leave a temporary dent. He shudders, hand trembling against yours and lips pulling back from yours as he tucks his head into your neck and lets out shaky breaths lines with addictive sounds. You’re going crazy. He’s driving you crazy.

The hard, carved metal parts of his clothes dig into you. Your hand goes around him to rest on the back of his head, threading through his hair as his breathing slows against you. “We can go shopping somewhere tomorrow,” you tell him, already thinking of how you’d convince Pom-Pom to land at some shopping district of some planet. “You need pajamas.”

“There’s no need for me to have that,” he says, stubborn and set in his ways, even with something as mundane as sleep clothes. “My normal clothes are fine.”

“Not if you’ll be sleeping in my bed.”

And that makes him succumb to your whims, much too easy for your own good, and you laugh when he lets out a weary sigh at your reciprocal stubbornness. Your fingers keep combing through his hair, soft and meaningful, until he falls asleep. You think you'll get him a blue plaid pajama set. He'd look nice in it.

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dewdropdinosaur · 25 days ago

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Kinktober Day 16: Cock Worship

Summary: His noises were always your favorite. The way he whimpered and moaned into the vast expanse of the room, the delicious vibrations echoing off the wall as you once again took his heavy and aching cock into your warm and inviting mouth. Warnings: Oral sex, smut, pet named, sub/dom dyanamics, etc. MDNI, 18+ You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @fraugwinska for helping me learn how to write blowjobs lmao. For you my writing queen! This is my first time writing one sooo….

His noises were always your favorite. The way he whimpered and moaned into the vast expanse of the room, the delicious vibrations echoing off the wall as you once again took his heavy and aching cock into your warm and inviting mouth. You could never describe the taste of it, it was just so Lucifer.

When Lucifer had left that morning for an urgent meeting with the other sins, you were left aching as your boyfriend had unfortunately decided to get you all hot and bothered before his departure. He didn’t mean it really, he had no idea he would be summoned so immediately. But it left you wearing soaking panties for the rest of the day. Those very same panties that were now shoved so dantily in Lucifer’s pretty little mouth.

He had returned to the castle late that evening, leaving you the whole day to scheme. A little teasing never hurt anybody. So as he walked through the door of your shared bedroom, you dropped to your knees dressed in your most transparent nightgown right then and there. It had taken some manuvering but after a bit, Lucifer laid back on the large bed, panties shoved in his mouth, as you continued to worship his cock and bring orgasm after orgasm out of him.

“Oh shit—ducky I am so sorry I left you hangning—“ A quick scrape of your teeth across his cock.

“Mommy, sorry, I left you alone—“ You resumed your normal ministrations, it was the fifth orgasm by this point but you didn’t care. Your lips continued to suck as your tongue would swipe over the large head of his member, enjoying the taste of the salty liquid that kept weeping from the tip despite its abuse. Your mouth is like Heaven again for him, soft and wet. Like morning dew in the Garden, it feels like the first fire in his loins as you worship him. Sinful in all the best ways.

Pulling away for a moment, allowing a whistful whine to go past his lips in desperation, the King of Hell bucks his hips in the air in a futile attempt to get you to return him back to the lustful afterlife he has carved out. You chuckle, drunk on desire and the power you hold over the former angel.

“Patience, my king. Good things come to those who wait~”

Pulling yourself up from your hunkered position, you rose your hips in a languid manner to sink your tight cunt on his cock. The stretch entinicing and you relished in the euphoric sesation that coursed through your body. The velvet of your walls were fluttering around Lucifer and it almost felt like he was vibrating within you, his hips convulsing with every exit and entry of his member into your cunt as you bounced above him. The ribs of his cock rubbed against you in a painfully tempting way. You could just start bouncing feverently, allow him to cum easily and get this done soon. But you’ve come too far now, you’re in too deep, have drawn too much ectasy from him to even dream of ending this wonderful game.

With a sharp thrust, you send your boyfriends member deep into your weeping hole, the tip barely nudging the edge of your cervix. A crude sob left Lucifer’s lips, his hands coming to grip the plush flesh of your thighs as you continued your assualt.

“Shh, that’s it baby. Let me make you feel good.” Your words sounded sweet but they were anything but. You loved to worship his cock, but it was fun to watch him cry and beg for more of you. You would give him what he wanted, soon enough, but first…you would have your fun.

#hazbin hotel fandom #romance #radio killed the video star #lucifer imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #hornyasf #hornyposting #so hot 🔥🔥🔥#lucifer x reader smut #lucifer moringstar smut

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fonteyn · 3 months ago

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sweet lips like pink lemonade (when he's feeling generous he'll give me taste)

Pairing: Michael Gavey x afab!reader, no use of y/n. Warnings: Smut. Minors do not interact. +18 rating. Read on AO3.

Author's note: So. this isn't as much of a proper fic, it's more of a fever dream headcanon I had to write down.

*Images are purely for their aesthetic sentiment and not reflective of any particular descriptions of reader inserts.

**nobody look at me. enjoy!

Word count: 1.6k.

It was a Friday like any other during the Oxford term. Students flooded every bar near the campus, drinking their weight in beer with fearsome abandon, trying to forget how exams were getting closer and closer and the grades they needed to recover to make it through to the next year.

You, though, had been getting used to a different kind of normalcy.

Soon enough, your boyfriend of a few months would arrive to hang out in your room. He'd always bring the food and, in exchange, you'd offer him tales of your week along with the easy intimacy you had found in each other as of late.

This time, when Michael Gavey arrives at your dorm room, he finds you lying belly down on your bed, reading a book for one of your classes and just. Freezes. Already flushed and embarrassed and yearning for you.

It had been a long week. With exams approaching, he barely saw you other than in two quick visits you paid him at the library, on which you pecked him on the lips, talked for less than five minutes, and were soon forced to leave or else you’d risk being late for your next class. During weekdays, he tried to remain laser-focused on his tasks, so much so that he sometimes forgot to eat as he got through endless papers and exercise lists. On the other hand, every time he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel a larger-than-life, disgusting, and too-big want for you, distracting him from everything else.

He knows you like him, especially given that you made a point to reassure him about it so often. He thinks you might even love him at some point.

Nonetheless, he couldn't help but think about how you’d react if you knew the truth.

That what he felt was more than simple affection, an easy enjoyment of your company.

What he felt was overwhelming and all-consuming, keeping him up for hours at night, heart racing thinking of your smile, planning ahead conversation starters and factoids he thought would be interesting to you, marveling about the increasingly easy ways you showed affection.

How your hand would reach to touch his knee under the table at dinner. The times you’d hide your nose on his chest, hugging him to protect yourself from cold weather. The times you’d position yourself behind him and massage his neck when you knew he had been studying for hours without ever so much as getting up once. You always managed to break his focus with minimal effort.

Tonight, when he lays eyes on you, he is once again flooded with that overwhelming greed, accentuated by how you are wearing just one of his 'math pun’ shirts which you took home with you after spending the night in his room a few weeks prior. He fails at not staring, but the hem is hitting your thighs at the absolute perfect length so he can have a peek at your panties.

He lays down by your side, pretending not to be bored. And frankly, he didn't stand a chance. From the moment he saw you, he was aware of his cock growing hard. You innocently think he's just going to keep you company while you finish the last chapter of your planned reading for the night and then you can hang out together.

But. It's nearly impossible to focus when you can feel his gaze burning on your ass. He barely makes a sound, however soon enough you feel the warmth of his fingers starting to trace the hem of your/his shirt. And soon after, he touches the edges of your panties. Unknowingly playing with your emotions as he grazes a finger just underneath the elastic and then retreats.

He keeps doing this for a few minutes, still silent, eyes closed, almost like he's meditating. You're stuck, trying to read the same paragraph over and over, without absorbing a word.

"These are cute", he says, quietly.

An edge in his voice, and before you know it, it's as if something in him snaps. He moves to his knees.

He's got his hands massaging your ass and his nose gliding on the back of your thighs, leaving kisses here and there, so soft you can barely feel. Just enough to make your body stand alert, preparing for his next move.

Despite this, any awareness goes out of the window because you simply don’t expect him to shove his nose right there in your clothed pussy from behind. Mouthing on your lips, kissing and licking and moaning against you until you don't know if your panties are wet from his saliva or your juices.

And though you want to drop everything right there and then, you can't. Through strokes and licks and moans he manages to say: “No, no, baby. Just keep reading, don’t mind me.”

But he doesn’t stop or grant you mercy, as his hands spread your ass to give him more room to continue kissing your pussy through the fabric of your panties. Pausing only a couple of times to bite the curve of your ass, or take in your scent.

One of the many things you loved about Michael was how shameless he allowed himself to be in adoration of your body. How openly he wore his hunger for you. With clear infinite want.

You can tell his hips start rutting against the mattress as he worships you. And you are breathless, wanting just as bad to feel him without any barriers between you.

He stays like that, kissing your panties, running his nose across your clothed pussy, humming and biting the delicate skin of your butt cheeks until you finally have enough and decide to beg.

"Mikey, pleaaase, put me out of my misery, take off my panties, honey."

Never in your life had you whined like that to a man. And it strikes you like a bolt of lightning that the only one who managed to drag anything like that out of you was this skinny nerd with a big dick and an unawareness of his unbeatable head game.

When he hears your voice, he finally raises his head, as if he’s coming out of a ‘pussy drunk’ trance. He seems only vaguely aware of everything else. His sole focus for the past half hour had been enjoying your body, feeling your skin, smelling you, locked in an unbelievable dreamland of "I can't believe I get to do this, I can't believe I get to have you".

As soon as he hears you ask, he immediately, and clumsily, pulls down your panties and dives his tongue straight into your core. Adding quickly, two long fingers inside you. And you're nearly crying because as much as that feels good, it's not what you want. You want more. You need more.

"Baby, please just give me your cock.", you’re almost sobbing.

His brain nearly short-circuits. He gets up, stumbling, dizzy with desire, and before he can grab a condom, your hand shoots out to stop him. Holding his wrist.

He eyes you, surprised. Stunned by how disheveled you look, with pupils dilated, quick pulse, and a wild look in your eyes.

"Just take me raw. I wanna feel all of you."

He could have died right there and then.

Michael manages to, somehow, climb back in your bed, noticing how you put a pillow under your hips and now you're presenting your ass, prettily and ready. Pussy glistening to take him.

So he does.

Pushing his leaking cock inside you, where you hold him tight. Clenching in a way that has him nearly seeing stars. He needs to stop for a moment.

He still wasn't very experienced, and if he was going to last at all until he could make you cum, he needed to recite pi on his head a couple of times to calm himself down.

So he leans down and presses kisses along your neck and your jaw, delighting in how you whimper, crying out in desperation. He leaves a trail of kisses down your back until he feels ok enough to start fucking you.

By this time, you have turned from nearly crying to whining and moaning, to finally begging him to move. When he starts fucking you, it's as if all is good and right in the world, and you bask in a surreal notion of Michael and you just fitting together in an impossibly perfect way.

He keeps pumping inside you, and he can tell he's closer to coming than you. He's getting louder, unable to quiet the effects of having your tight pussy clenching and squeezing him. Michael knows he's nearly done for and, in a desperate and instinctive moment, uses his thumb to gather some of your wetness, bringing it up to softly massage your hole. And you cum instantly .

So hard it makes him shoot his load inside you for what it feels like forever.

He finally collapses on top of you, feverish from it all, heart beating so fast it's threatening to jump out of his chest. But you manage to move underneath him, turning your body to face him.

You feel flushed, cheeks burning with embarrassment from cumming this hard and in this particular way. So before Michael can say anything that will inevitably be somehow a mixture of awkward, shy, and arrogant all at once, you hold his face in your hands and pull him towards a kiss.

Your lips appreciate the soft press of his own, still wet partly from him licking his lips, and partly from eating you out. Your thumb traces his stupidly perfect cupid’s bow and jawline, nearly getting yourself in a trance, much like he was when he first started this whole thing.

Finally, your eyes meet. Michael still has that wild, ravaging, and all-consuming gaze, now mixed with the distinctive look of satisfaction. It would be overwhelming if you didn't know that you were looking at him in the same way.

"So, that was good... right?, he asks.

And all you can do is smile and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

A/n: I have one final point to make. Michael Gavey IS the type of guy who will take your panties home after the first time you hook up (probably a handjob in the bathroom of a bar where you are both slightly inebriated and you smile as you stuff your panties in his pocket, thinking that you're soooo funny for doing that and bringing out a priceless look of his face). And he WILL masturbate with his nose pressed against them afterward. AND he WILL tell you when you ask, because of course you ask and he CAN'T for some reason lie to you. His face and neck flushed with embarrassment unaware that if it were anyone else you'd find it creepy but because it's him, you think it's the hottest thing ever and you give him a blow job right after he admits to that.

#michael gavey x reader #my fics #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey #saltburn fanfiction

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alrightieaphroditie · 1 year ago

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sticky situations | j.m

*:·ﾟ✧ back to masterlist

pairing *:·ﾟdbf!joel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ5k warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! pretty much porn w/ minimal plot, dads best friend, age gap (reader is in early 20s, joel is like late 30s/early 40s) kissing, fun with popsicles (so like ice play, in a way), brief mention of choking, titty play, pet names (lots of ‘baby’ and ‘honey’) dirty talk, praise, slight humiliation if you squint, smidge of mutual masturbation, bossy!joel, unprotected p in v (please wrap it before you tap it), slight breeding kink, probably poorly written smut… i think that’s it :)) an *:·ﾟi lowkey told myself i’d never write a dad’s best friend joel miller story and yet here i am. this literally came to me in a fever dream, and i promise i am still working on my screwed series, but i could not stop writing this. mostly unedited (my bad) but i feel hella proud with this one, so i really hope you all enjoy!! stay safe if your celebrating the fourth today!

synopsis *:·ﾟbeing in a secret relationship with your dad's best friend isn't for the weak. while getting some popsicles from the garage, said boyfriend - joel miller - corners you during the firework show after you spent the day teasing him.

the scorching texas sun was high in the sky, and the sounds of children squealing carried loudly over the radio playing. the miller’s (moreso tommy, even though he didn’t technically live there) had been kind enough to open their pool to the neighborhood for the fourth of july holiday, and on a day like today, you weren’t surprised that their backyard was crammed full of people.

given that your father was joel miller’s best friend, you had already had plans to come utilize his pool, but now you could barely float like you planned with how many children were swimming in it. sarah’s soccer team had come over after practice as well, and it was to the point where even walking in the backyard was like walking through a landmine; you were consciously trying not to bump into anyone or step on a foot (or a child.)

your father had planted himself at the grill with the host himself, the two of them talking about god knows what. every now and then you’d catch joel’s eyes, and he’d take in the bikini top you wore, the sage green color complementing your skin.

you had told your father that you had bought it at the mall last weekend, but the truth was that joel had bought it for you, along with the skimpiest bottoms he could find. those you were wearing too, but you had them concealed by a pair of jean shorts. with the way he was eyeing right now, and the way you were subsequently eyeing him back, you were surprised that no one around you had picked up on the fact that you two were together.

it had been a few months, pretty much ever since you came home to your dad’s from school for the summer. he had moved into this neighborhood after your parents divorce, and when he told you back in january that he had the most amazing neighbor, you were happy for him. flash forward to your visit during spring break and it was joel miller this and joel miller that in your house. not that you really minded, you thought the contractor next door was very handsome, even if he was almost twenty years older than you.

your dad had introduced the two of you during your spring break, with joel being an absolute gentleman, and for a little bit that was all you had. but then your dad was pulled away for work, and even though you were fully an adult, he wanted someone to be there for you if needed. he gave you joel’s phone number, along with the promise that joel would do anything to help you, and that started the snowball effect to the beginning of your relationship.

you hardly used the number while you were home, but for some reason you found yourself staring at it one night alone when you were back in your apartment. joel hadn’t given you any hint, any indicator that he even liked you as a person. you mean, sure, he was kind and always polite to you when your dad had him over for dinners. but you noticed he always purposefully put some type of distance between you, and it just didn’t sit right with you.

so, slightly drunk and alone, you sent him the first text message. a simple, hey, it’s y/n from next door, and then, because you were in a mood and wanted attention: sorry to bother you so late, but my dad told me to text you if i ever needed anything. immediately after you wished you could’ve deleted it, and a few minutes had passed before you decided to put your phone down for the rest of the night. just as you placed it on the table next to your bed, you felt it buzz. think he meant that for when you’re next door, but what can i do for ya?

and that was that. you and joel texted throughout the night, and then all morning, and all afternoon, and all the next night. this continued for weeks, until you graduated to having nightly phone calls, and then facetime calls (you had to have joel ask sarah how to use facetime to begin with, but you thought that was cute) and for the rest of the semester, joel became your closest friend, and your biggest crush. and when you came home for the summer, you officially started dating joel miller. well… it was official between the two of you.

you never imagined falling for your dad’s best friend, and yet, here you were, in his backyard, wearing the bathing suit he had bought you, wishing you could at least hold his hand in front of everyone.

you saw his brown eyes dart in your direction as you moved near the grill, your ears picking up their conversation about the most recent football game. you watched as his pinky finger on the hand by his side extended ever so slightly, and as you walked passed, you brushed your pinky against his. the warmth the feeling gave you made you grin, and you slipped through his open back door, looking for sarah to help you and tommy set up the fireworks display in the street.

the rest of the evening went by in a blur - there were hotdogs and burgers eaten, smores were made with the small bonfire tommy had started, the music volume continued to increase with every passing hour. by the time the sky was pitch black with only a smattering of stars, everyone was full, content, and ready to sit on the sidewalks and lawns to watch the display happening at the end of the cul-de-sac.

you sat near sarah and some of her friends from soccer, listening to them gossip about what was going on in their highschool, but your focus was on joel. your eyes followed every movement of his, watching him pick up the boxes you had hauled out there and rearrange them. the gray t-shirt he was wearing was tighter around his arms, and you watched as the material strained against his biceps, his worn blue jeans curving to the muscles in his thighs.

the sun had gone down hours ago, but your cheeks were burning like it was still noon.

it finally came time for them to start the first round, and everyone chatted excitedly as they watched tommy set up the firework. you watched as joel tossed his brother a lighter, and before you knew it, sparks were flying across the pavement, and both brothers were running from it laughing. everyone’s head tilted back as they followed the spark, and seconds later a ground shaking boom exploded, the sky becoming colored in blue sparks. the children cheered, the adults laughed, and the dogs went crazy barking.

you watched a couple more rounds, grinning as kids began chasing each other with sparklers and laughing when tommy burned his finger slightly on a rouge firework. pushing up on your feet, you wiped your pants for straw pieces of grass while you turned to sarah. “hey, i’m gonna go grab a popsicle, do you want one, hun?” the girls eyes met yours and she nodded her head while still talking to her friend.

you made your way into the garage where you knew joel kept a deep freezer full of goodies on sarah’s behalf. you grabbed the first one you saw, a red cherry popsicle, and opened it while you searched the freezer for sarah’s favorite. you were so preoccupied that you didn’t make out the sound of the door to the garage click shut under the noise of the fireworks, didn’t realize that you were no longer alone until you shifted up and rough, callused hands spread across your exposed middle.

“joel,” you gasped, turning around in his grip with a laugh. his brown eyes were lit with amusement, but they darkened slightly as they roamed down your chest, down your hips where the strings of the bikini bottoms were peaking out. his hands slid down your sides, resting on the waistband of your shorts as he tucked his fingers through the belt loops.

“y’just had to wear this damn bikini, didn’t you?” his voice was rough, grumpy almost, but that was joel’s typical voice, so you just laughed in response. behind you, the freezer door fell shut, and joel took the opportunity to lift you up so that you were sitting on top. the cold surface made you shiver, but it was joel stepping between your legs, pressing his hips against yours harshly that gave you goosebumps.

“well, a nice older man did buy it for me, so i felt compelled.” you teased, moving one of your arms to rest against his shoulder while you licked along your popsicle, the treat already melting in the heat building up in the garage. joel’s eyes zeroed in on the movement, and you couldn’t help but grin as you repeated the motion, sucking the popsicle further in your mouth than probably necessary, watching as his brown eyes practically blended in with his pupils.

“god, you’re trouble,” joel managed to get out before his lips slanted over yours. you moaned into the kiss, consciously holding your popsicle to the side so it didn’t get all over the two of you. your other hand moved to the back of his head, fingers running through his brown locks gently. joel swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and made a low humming sound. “taste like cherries,” he commented, sliding his hand from your waist up to your throat.

“it’s the popsicle,” you gasped out, feeling joel’s hand encompass your neck. he pulled your hips forward against his by your belt loop, rocking you against him. his lips trailed from yours down to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. the action had you panting out his name like a prayer, and it only further encouraged him. he managed to untie your bikini top without you noticing, and he roughly yanked the material over your head.

“let me see this thing,” leaning back, he took the popsicle from your grip, your hand becoming sticky from it melting in your hand. he licked it himself, which had you giggling, but then he put the treat up to your mouth. “open up, baby. wanna see you lick this like you lick me, yeah?” his voice was soft, comforting almost, which went against the actions of his hands, as one tightened around your neck and the other pushed the cherry treat into your mouth.

your eyes went hazy, and you focused on maintaining eye contact with joel while your face burned with heat. your mouth wrapped around the popsicle, letting him push it in as far as it could go. the coldness of the treat shocked you momentarily, feeling a slight burning sensation against your tongue as he held the popsicle in your mouth for a moment before slowly pulling it out.

your cheeks hollowed against it, sucking as much of the flavor off as you could, and when joel pulled it out of your mouth, a red string of your spit fell from your lips to your chest, dripping down in between the valley of your breasts. “fuck, honey.” joel groaned, his hips rutting against yours momentarily before he leaned down, licking up the trail of red juice on your skin. a whimper escaped from your mouth as you pressed your chest closer to his mouth, and joel took the opportunity to force the popsicle back in your mouth.

he slowly moved the popsicle inside your mouth, and even though he had his eyes closed while he pressed his mouth against your chest, you twirling your tongue around the treat, wanting to please him always. you could feel your bathing suit bottom sticking to your core with how wet you were becoming, and you wiggled your hips against joel’s body to get some type of friction.

he sucked one last kiss against your neck, biting against your skin before he pulled away. “goddamn, baby. such a good girl for me, huh? suckin’ on this popsicle like it’s my damn cock.” his crude words made you whimper, and with one last twist, he pulled the popsicle out of your mouth. his dark eyes stared at your mouth for a moment, taking in how red the popsicle made your lips. how wet they were from your saliva.

joel’s mouth formed into a smirk before it was pressed against yours. your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails scratching his scalp faintly. he sucked your bottom lip in his mouth, running his tongue over it slowly as if savoring the cherry flavor. his teeth nipped your lip, causing a moan to emit from your mouth. joel grinned against your mouth, and you tugged him closer, desperately seeking more.

the air in the garage was becoming suffocating, and you could feel sweat forming along your upper body. joel could feel it too, still clad in his t-shirt and jeans, and he gave you one more deep kiss before he pulled away. “you feelin’ hot, baby?” you could only nod your head, a whimper escaping your mouth as he grinned wickedly at you, eyeing the popsicle once more, the treat half melted. “let’s cool ya down, then.”

you watched with a slightly opened mouth as joel moved the popsicle to your chest, and you gasped when he pressed it against your skin, moving it down the valley of your breast. the coldness made goosebumps rise across your chest, and you couldn’t help the small moans at how good it felt. joel’s attention was solely on popsicle, watching the sticky trail of red juice follow where he guided it.

“joel,” you whimpered, reaching down to grip his forearm tightly. you could see him smile, could see him bite down on his bottom lip as he moved the popsicle to trail over your nipple. the gasp you made had him obsessed, and he ran the cold treat over your sensitive nub over and over again, taking in your gasps and moans, which were being drowned out by the fireworks outside.

“fuck, you look so pretty like this.” joel muttered, almost to himself, but you could make out the words in his deep voice. he sounded strained, as if he were holding himself back from simply pouncing on you. you wish he would, though, as you could feel your inner thighs become wet with your slick. your core was clenching around nothing, and it had been so long since the two of you were able to get away that you were desperately aching for him.

the popsicle was melting quicker now, the juices moving swiftly down your stomach as joel traced the popsicle across your chest to the other nipple. you were squirming as much as you could, seconds away from begging joel to stop and to just fuck you already. but you could see it in his eyes that he wanted this, that he was enjoying this, so you let him have it, and you admired the growing bulge in his jeans.

soon the popsicle was nothing but a puddle mixed into your skin, and joel tossed the stick to the side. “think i need to clean you up now, baby. look at the mess you made,” he said with a tsk, as if you were the one who drew on your chest with the popsicle. you didn’t have it in you to argue, though, especially when joel bent down and took your sensitive nipple in his mouth.

the contrast of the cold popsicle juice with joel’s warm mouth had you groaning, and you slumped against the garage wall as joel traced the popsicle trail with his tongue across your chest. he would pause here and there to place open mouthed kisses along your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d have some small bruises littering your skin. you liked wearing them though, liked having the reminder than joel had marked you as his. because you were, undoubtedly.

“joel, baby, please,” you whimpered, not fully understanding what you were asking for, but joel thought you were begging so beautifully. he wanted to hear you plead his name for the rest of his life. he pulled your nipple in his mouth, tweaking it with his teeth. a sharp pain flitted through your body, only lasting a second, but he did it again, and again, and soon you were panting.

“please, what?” joel mocked, grinning against your skin as he moved to squeeze your breast with his rough hands. “this not enough for ya?” satisfied that he cleaned up the mess the popsicle had made, he trailed his mouth up to your neck and across your jaw before pausing right in front of your face. his breath was warm as it fanned across your face, and you leaned in to kiss him but he pulled away, a teasing grin on his face.

“no,” you whined, moving your hands down the waist of his jeans. he let your fingers fumble with the button before he unbuttoned his pants himself, yanking the zipper down. your hand went inside his boxers immediately, and joel let out a curse as your fingers wrapped around the hard length of this cock. just the feeling of it in your hand had you moaning, and you slid your hand along his shaft the best you could in your position.

“‘course it ain’t enough for you. your needy little cunt needs more, yeah? needs my cock in it to stretch it out?” his hips moved in rhythm with your hand, his hand resting against the freezer top in a fist. his eyes fell shut as you pumped along his cock, and you bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him. you loved seeing him like this, because it made you feel powerful. like you were the only person who could bring joel pleasure like this.

with a growl, joel’s hands suddenly moved to your shorts, where he unbuttoned them with swiftness and yanked them down. you lifted your hips, helping him get the material past your thighs, and they fell to the garage floor. “feet up, baby.” joel tapped your thigh gently, and you removed your hand from his boxers, lifting your legs up and bending your knees to rest your feet on the edge of the freezer.

you wanted to blame the wet feeling between your legs on the humid air gathering inside the garage, but you would’ve been a damn liar. you could feel yourself soaking through the material of your bikini bottoms, and you knew the moment joel was able to see it because he let out a string of curses. he brought his hand to the material, running his fingers gently down the seam, and you both moaned.

“jesus christ, honey. have you been wet like this for me the entire time?” his southern accent was starting to show more, as it did when he got excited. he ran his fingers along the seam once more before pushing the flimsy material to the side and running his finger through your wet folds, and he groaned at feeling how wet you were before sliding one of his fingers inside of you.

“oh, yes, joel. please, fuck me, please,” you whimpered, your hips rocking against the freezer in tandem with his finger as he pumped it inside of you. if you were more cognizant, you would’ve probably been embarrassed by the noise that was coming from between your legs, but you were too lost in the pleasure, especially when joel moved his thumb up to glide against your clit.

“you are askin’ nicely, baby,” he said, mostly to himself as he watched his finger push inside of you, watched the wetness that coated it with every pump. he was obsessed with the way you were clenching around him, and he could hardly wait himself to feel that movement against his dick. “yeah, i think i will fuck ya.”

with one last push, he pulled his finger out from inside you, and laughed when he heard you whine about the loss. “‘s okay, honey. promise i’m gonna fill that little pussy up with my cock real soon, okay?” he made quick work of letting his jeans hit the floor, soon followed by his boxers. his throbbing cock sprung free from his underwear, and you couldn’t help but trail your hand down to your core, pushing your bottoms to the side and slipping your fingers through your wetness at the sight of him. he let out a low groan before spitting in his hand, bringing it to the tip of his cock and slowly palming it while he watched you swirl your fingers against your clit.

“here baby, make sure ‘m nice and wet for that pussy,” joel muttered, stepping closer to your body as held the underside of his cock in his hand, still pumping it up and down slightly. you ran your fingers through your folds once more, gathering the wetness that had started to spread down your thighs, and reached out to wrap your fingers around his tip. soon, the head of his cock was shining from both his spit and your juices.

joel moved his left hand to settle on your waist, tilting his thumb down just enough to pull the material of your bikini to the side. his other hand continued to work his shaft as he moved even closer, his knees hitting against the side of the freezer. his eyes were solely focused on your exposed pussy, but you were watching his face, wanting to see his expression when he put it in for the first time.

“god, you’re so pretty down here. think i’m the luckiest man in texas, baby.” joel said, a smirk settled on his lips as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, your mouth dropping open in a sigh as you felt it slide against your clit. joel moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, and he lifted it to his mouth, holding it between his teeth. you took in the sight of his tan and toned body, and then his eyes snapped up to meet yours as he pushed the head into your wet hole, the both of you taking in each other’s reaction.

you fought the urge to close your eyes, the feeling of his big cock stretching you out was almost too much for you. your nose scrunched up slightly, and a louder moan came from your throat. for the first time that night, you were glad tommy had spent two hours shopping for fireworks, as the sound of the explosives and festivities drowned out your cries. joel bit down on his bottom lip as he continued to push himself inside of you, mentally focusing on not coming right then and there.

he paused when he was fully seated inside of you, taking a moment to catch his breath as the two of you were both panting in the heated garage. you noticed joel’s forehead had become slick with sweat, and you gently brushed back the dark hair that had fallen forward. your hand slipped down to rest on his cheek, and he pressed a kiss into the middle of your palm before he started moving his hips.

“fuck, joel,” you whimpered, your foot slipping from it’s hold on the edge of the freezer. joel moved his right hand to grip your thigh, spreading you open before him once more. his nails dug little half-moon imprints in the fat of your thigh, and the angle allowed you to take him a little deeper than before.

“that’s what i’m doin’ honey,” his words were slightly muffled from the t-shirt in his mouth, but you could see the grin from his teasing, letting out a sharp laugh before it turned into a groan. he moved to pull his cock out, and you almost cried at the loss, your hips moving on their own accord to follow his length. his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you still, until he barely had the head of his cock inside. he thrusted forward again, much quicker this time, and this time your eyes did screw shut at the feeling of is cock filling you up so completely.

your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping him so hard that you were basically anchoring yourself to him. “so deep, joel… so good,” you praised, your head rolling back on your neck as joel continued to fuck you at a thourough pace. the t-shirt fell from his mouth as he started to moan. his knees banged against the freezer, the freezer banged against the wall, and the fireworks outside masqued both the sounds. curses and praises fell from joel’s mouth - “fuckin’ hell, baby. your pussy gets tighter every damn time i fuck you, huh? you’re doin’ so good, honey, takin’ my cock like a good girl” - and you were feeling so hot, so full. joel was nearly fucking you into oblivion with how muddled your thoughts were.

the sound of his skin slapping against your wet skin was all you could focus on, a noise you would’ve been more embarrassed by if it weren’t a testament of how turned on joel made you. each stroke of his cock had you whimpering, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. you moved a hand down to your pussy, moving your fingers against your clit and brushing up against his length every time he thrusted inside of you. the action not only made heat pool to your stomach, but it made joel groan. “that’s it baby, play with that little clit of yours. gonna make yourself come on my cock tonight? gonna let me fill this pussy up with my cum?”

“oh my god, joel, please - right there,” you sobbed, your inner thighs shaking slightly as the feelings became too much to handle. joel picked up on how close you were to coming with how tightly your pussy was clenching around him, and he continued to thrust his hips against yours, the wet noises coming from between your legs made his head feel light.

small, breathy pants fell from your mouth as you moved your fingers faster against your clit, and distantly you could hear joel encouraging you to let go - “that’s it, honey. you’re takin’ my cock so well, let me make you feel good baby.” - and as joel leaned forward to place a kiss on your damp forehead, you felt yourself burst. a loud cry came from your lips as your body went rigid, little white stars showing up behind your eyelids as pleasure coursed through every vein in your body.

“oh, fuck, baby,” joel groaned out, his grip on your body becoming impossibly tight as his hips thrust into you, his movements faltering slightly. the feeling of your pussy clenching around his length while you came was what sent him over, and he ground his hips against yours as he came. you could feel his cock throbbing, the warmth from his seed filling you up as joel tilted his head back and moaned. you watched him through hooded eyes, struggling to catch your breath, but the sight of joel coming was almost enough to help you come again.

he kept his cock inside you as you both came down from your orgasms, and it moved inside you a little when he leaned forward again, making you whimper. “sorry, baby,” joel said softly, slowly pulling himself out while pressing his lips against yours. you eagerly kissed him back, moving a hand to rest on the back of his neck while he deepened the kiss. you felt unbelievably wet, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“your cum is running down my thigh, miller.” you said against his lips, causing the older man to laugh. he pulled away enough to take in the mess that was leaking out of your pussy, and then he did something that shocked you - he gathered up the slick with two of his fingers before pushing it back inside of you. your nails dug into his skin as his fingers entered your sore pussy, moaning softly as he watched himself intensely.

his gaze moved back to your eyes, where he gave you a wicked grin before leaning in to kiss you again. you sighed against his mouth, your body relaxing on the freezer before the two of you started to clean yourselves up. joel went into the house to grab a washcloth and a spare t-shirt for you, considering your chest was stained red and covered in little hickeys. he gently cleaned the mess from between your legs, then himself, and helped you pull your shorts back on. you had him help tie your bikini top again, his fingers coasting against your skin. he gave the back of your neck a quick kiss before turning you around and putting his t-shirt over you.

“there. now those pervs outside can’t catch a glimpse of ya,” he said, seeming satisfied with himself as he yanked up his pants. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes - his cum was literally dripping out of your pussy and yet he was acting jealous.

“oh? you mean pervs like you?” you teased, laughing as he swatted away your fingers that were trying to poke him. you thought you heard him mutter something in agreement, but a particularly loud firework went off at the same moment, so you were clueless. you figured that they were on the finale with how frequent and how loud the next few fireworks were, so you gave joel one last kiss before sneaking out the door, which you thankfully noticed was locked.

as you made your way to the grass, you mentally ran a checklist. you remembered to put your shorts back on, along with your top and a t-shirt. you remembered to clean off the freezer top with one of the towels joel kept in the garage, and you remembered to let your hair down to cover a hickey on the side of your neck. you remembered to go out the garage door, while joel went out through the living room, as he told tommy he was going in to get medicine for a headache. you felt like the two of you had covered all the bases as you sat down on the grass near sarah.

“hey, where are our popsicles?”

oh, fuck.

2K notes · View notes

cyberslvts · 1 year ago

Text

DEPRIVED || w. maximoff

Summary: Following the events in Westview, wanda, obsessed and unhinged, becomes determined to get you back.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI smut, oral ( r recieving), enchanted strap (r recieving), blood, consumption of blood, pain kink, slight breeding kink, choking, marking, brief restraints, reader has lowkey lost it,

Pairing: Wanda maximoff x witch!reader

wc: 4.5k

note: Was in the halloween mood and had a craving to write witch reader. Also I apologize for being MIA for a hot minute school has been kicking my ass

In the dimly lit and clandestine lair, you stood amidst a chaotic array of potion bottles, spell books, and mystical artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of arcane ingredients, and the room was bathed in an eerie, pulsating glow emanating from enchanted crystals scattered about. Rows of tall, ancient shelves were lined with tomes containing secrets of the mystical arts.

Your eyes fixated on the ominous pages of the Darkhold stood at the center of the lair, your brows furrowed in concentration. The book seemed to emit an unsettling energy, its dark runes shifting and writhing like a sentient being. Your hands cradled glowing orbs of blue magic, feeling a tingling sensation of power coursing through them.

Your mind crackled with a frenzied electric charge. The relentless grip of sleep deprivation fuels your obsession. The effects of prolonged wakefulness gnawed at your sanity, leaving your thoughts frayed and disjointed. Muscles twitch uncontrollably as if charged by lightning flashing within your wide, bloodshot eyes. Your voice, barely a murmur, subconsciously reciting spells and rituals from the book's ancient pages, the words stumbling from your lips in a fevered trance.

Everything around you seemed louder and more intense than usual as if your senses were on overdrive. It was like your body was a sponge soaking up all the noise and energy in the room.

As you delved deeper into the forbidden knowledge within the Darkhold, a sudden disturbance rippled through the room. The sound of crackling energy filled the air, and a portal of swirling scarlet light materialized before You, Startled, you turned to face the unexpected intrusion.

Emerging from the portal, with a sultry and determined expression, was Wanda Maximoff. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, and she stepped forward with an air of confidence. Despite the anger that still simmered within you, Wanda's presence sent a shiver down their spine.

It felt like seeing a ghost

In the not-so-distant past, you and Wanda Maximoff had been deeply entwined in a passionate and tumultuous love affair Your connection was built on an understanding of each other's innermost desires.

You, a gifted witch in your own right, had always admired Wanda's incredible power. Your initial meeting had been marked by sparks, both figurative and literal, as you recognized kindred spirits in each other. You spent countless nights together, honing your magical skills, exploring the boundaries of your abilities, and indulging in the fiery lust filled passions that burned between you.

But as your love deepened, so did the complexity of your relationship.Wanda's insatiable thirst for power often put her on a dangerous path, seeking forbidden knowledge that few could comprehend. It was during one of her quests for dark magic that everything changed.In a moment of desperation, Wanda cast a spell that trapped you in a false reality—a twisted version of suburban life in Westview. In this artificial world, you lived a mundane existence, blissfully unaware of the magic and powers you once wielded. Your memories were altered, your true identity erased, and Wanda had complete control over your life

For you, it was a nightmare and a dream come true. You oscillated between feelings of betrayal and intense longing. The life she had created for you two was everything you could have ever dreamed of, filled with the perfect haven of your loving family

When the Westview Hex was eventually broken, and you regained your true identity and memories, the rush of emotions was overwhelming. You confronted Wanda, your anger, burned but the love you once shared still lingered beneath the surface. It was a complex and conflicted love, one that was impossible erase

Wanda, haunted by her actions and desperate to atone for her mistakes, fled to find the Darkhold—a powerful and dangerous book of magic that held the key to her quest for the power she would need to reclaim the life that was harshly taken from her.

In an attempt to divert Wanda until they built up the necessary forces to defeat her, Doctor Strange, aware of the dangers that the Darkhold posed, entrusted it to you for safekeeping, knowing that you were one of the few who could resist its seductive pull

At the sight of her, you immediately conjured the dark hold shut, the glowing hues of blue dimmed around you as you lowered yourself to the ground, standing before her.

"Y/n," Wanda purred, stepping out of the portal her voice husky and laced with desire.

Before she could get too close, you crossed your arms in front of your body and threw them outwards. A tendril of blue magic wrapped around her arms and legs, effectively freezing her movements. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" you demanded, your tone filled with anger.

Wanda smirked, Seemingly amused by your reaction. She could have easily overpowered you, but she wanted you to have your fun. She didn't want to scare you. Not yet, at least.

"Oh, Y/n," she grinned, her eyes never leaving yours. "How I've missed your fiery spirit.”

“You shouldn't be here.”

Wanda's expression grew more serious as she struggled against your magical bonds. "I need the Darkhold, Y/n. It's the only way to undo the chaos I've caused."

Your grip on the magical restraints tightened,and you shot back, "Save your breath, Wanda. Me and you both know you have no intentions of doing that”

Wanda's eyes flashed with a hint of frustration “You’re always so stubborn”

The room crackled with tension as the truth hung in the air. Both of you were harboring secrets, aware of each other's desires and motives

You stepped closer to her your fingers twisting in the air to hold the restraint “I won't ask again, why are you here.”

“I needed to see you” she confessed, her voice husky, her gaze never wavering from yours.

You broke out into a sarcastic smile, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you shook your head in disbelief. The madness that swirled between you and Wanda had reached a fever pitch, and it was clear that this reunion would only further entangle you both in the web of chaos that defined your complex relationship.

“You didn't seem so eager to see me when you left me in Westview” Your voice came out sharper then you intended. obviously still hurt from her actions. The way she had left you was awful. Alone, surrounded by ring of flashing red and blue lights that demanded answers to questions you couldnt even comprehend

Wanda let out an exasperated sigh a sense of guilt building up inside her “I had no other choice y/n. Strange was after me and You would have never gone with me”

The soft flicker of candlelight casted an eerie, shadow on Wanda's face, accentuating the mysterious allure that always seemed to surround her. Her eyes, partially obscured by the dim light, bore into you with a mix of longing and lust. You couldn't help but notice how her figure looked in the low light – the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the seductive curve of her lips as they formed that infuriating smirk. The undeniable attraction that pulsed between you two was like a magnetic force, drawing you together. It was a desire that both thrilled and repulsed you.

“Because you trapped me, you stole my life!” you echoed with a sardonic laugh, your voice tinged with a hint of hysteria. the memories of your past experiences with Wanda had driven you into a state of rage and paranoia, endless days and night spent waiting for her return

“It was the only way to protect you,” she argued back, her conviction unwavering, convinced that she had done what was necessary to shield you from the dangers of the outside world.

Your eye twitched with rage as you denied her allegations vehemently. "You're delusional Wanda, You just wanted to control me.”

Her head dropped to the floor, and her shoulders shook as she let out a menacing chuckle. When her eyes returned to you, they were three times darker, and the room itself seemed to respond to her shifting presence as if the shadows deepened around her

"When will you understand," she whispered, her voice now dripping with an eerie, otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if she had tapped into something primal and ancient, a power beyond comprehension.

"I would kill for you, Y/n," her words took on an ominous weight, the air growing heavy with her declaration. "I would rip myself to pieces if it meant keeping you safe," she continued, her breathing growing heavier, each word laced with an intensity that seemed to vibrate through the very walls of the room

Her grin widened, taking on an unsettling edge as if she could see right through you, right into the depths of your soul. The intensity of her gaze was suffocating, and it terrified you to your core.

"And you fucking love that," she hissed, her eyes glinting with a manic fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. “It excites you.”

"Shut up!" You couldn't contain your frustration any longer. With a surge of power, a flash of brilliant blue lit up the room as the magical restraints around Wanda tightened. She gritted her teeth, and a prominent vein bulged on her neck, her struggle against the sudden and intense pressure evident in her clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

"Well, someone has certainly been doing their homework," a deranged expression of pain and excitement glowed on her face. "I wasn't sure how far along you had gotten in the Darkhold, but my god..."

"Oh, for the love of God," you muttered through clenched teeth, your jaw tightening in frustration. as you struggled to maintain your composure in the face of her unsettling revelations. "What kind of deluded fantasies have you come up with now?"

The room seemed to hum with tension, The past and the present collided, and the lines between reality and the pull of the Darkhold blurred your thoughts into a red haze.

"I can feel it. The darkness you've been studying. It's consuming you, just like it did me." The switch in her tone made your blood run cold. Her eyes locked onto yours, searching for a reaction "I've been watching you, Y/n."

For months, Wanda had been studying you, watching you from the shadows, watching your obsession grow with every passing day. She had guided you, manipulated events, all with the intent of drawing you into the same darkness that had overtaken her. But she had to be patient, allowing you to come to it on your own, letting the seductive pull of corruption work its magic until you were entangled in its irresistible web.

“You weren't supposed to read the darkhold, you were only supposed to watch over it” Her voice dripped with a sultry and unhinged desire as she taunted you. “You’re no better than me.”

The consuming darkness of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, as you recalled the ghastly events of the past few months. At first, you only started studying the Darkhold for research purposes, perhaps trying to understand Wanda, to fathom why she did the things she did. And yet, in the depths of your mind, the Darkhold's whispers grew louder, its promises of untold power and the allure of the forbidden knowledge beginning to take hold. The more you studied it, the more it consumed your thoughts, leaving you with an insatiable hunger for its secrets.

While you were lost in the sea of memories, a beam of red magic shot past the corner of your eye, and before you knew it, you were sent tumbling back to your feet.

You stumbled backward, Adrenaline beginning to course through your veins. Wanda advanced on you with an unsettling mixture of hunger and madness. She threw her head back, and a loud cackle echoed in the room. "Isn't it exhilarating! The power, the temptation. It's irresistible!"

As Wanda closed in on you, you couldn't deny the odd thrill that surged through you. Her presence was overwhelming and a part of you couldn't help but be endlessley drawn to her.

“You're sick.” you spat out, backing away until your back hit your desk. “You’re fucking sick!”

“Sick with love,” she returned with a hint of seductive playfulness

You turned away from her, your hands anchored to the edge of your desk, your shoulders rising to your ears as you tried to fathom how you ended up here, in this twisted dance with the woman who was once the center of your world. The woman who you spent months missing, nights filled with aching longing and days spent wondering where she was, if she was dead or alive.

“Dont you remember our life together” Her tone was soft and convincing “How nice it was”

She came up behind you, her arms wrapping around you, and she smiled when she didn't feel you push them away.

Painful flashes of your memories in Westview flooded into your mind. You remembered your two boys, whom you were equally bonded to. You remembered the endless movie nights and family dinners, waking up and falling asleep next to Wanda every day had become a feeling you grew accustomed to. Those memories were a bittersweet reminder of the life you had shared before everything went awry, and they added to the torment of your current situation.

You remembered how safe and loved you had felt. But it wasn't real. None of it was real. You had told yourself that countless times—nights when everything was too quiet, and the familiar suffocating feeling of loneliness threatened to consume you. You ached to be back in Westview, with your family. But most of all, you yearned to be with Wanda. the memories of what you had shared weighed heavily on your heart.

“I know who you are Y/N,” You could feel her breath against your neck as her hands rubbed mindless patterns down your stomach. “I know what you crave”

A surge of anger suddenly lit up inside you, furious about how she made you feel. Angry that you had spent months alone, going insane with paranoia and the uncertainty of where she was in the world, Angry that she imprisoned you, controlled you, manipulated you. And you liked it. You loved the fire between you, the intense and deranged connection that bound you together. After all of that, she remained the one person who understood you best, the one who endlessly craved and longed for you.

You suddenly spun around and gripped onto the leather edge of her suit dragging her down until her lips roughly met yours.

Wanda's response was immediate, her hunger for you matching your own. Her arms enveloped you, pulling you up until your legs wrapped around her. Her strides were long across the room trying to find the closest surface to hold you up against.

She pressed you against the oak of your bookcase, and you let out a whimper against her lips when you felt the painful bite of your spell book spines digging into your back.

Wanda took attention to this and used her magic to smoothly fuse through the bookcase and into the privacy of your bedroom. Her determination to be with you becoming increasingly evident. She tossed you onto the bed and crawled over you, reconnecting your lips into a searing kiss.

Her tongue wrestled with yours untill you were moaning into each other's mouths. With one hand holding herself up the other slid up and down your thigh, Warm and possessive. With an expert touch, Her lips moved down to your neck, where she immediately began nipping at that spot she knew you loved so much.

Your breaths were starting to become uneven and you through an arm over her neck, Wanting to be closer to her. You felt Wanda smile into your skin, reveling in your neediness

She conjured away the rest of your clothes, leaving you fully exposed infront of her longing gaze. Your body shivered when the textured leather of Wandas suit rubbed up against you, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Lowering herself down, she pressed her lips to one of your erect nipples, envelopong it in a sensual kiss. Her mouth then tenderly sucked on the sensitive bud while her fingers skillfuklly squeezed and pinched the other. She glanced up at you, her eyes filled with satisfaction as she took in the sight of your blissful expression, eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slightly parted, completely lost in the pleasure she was giving you.

“I want to taste you” she mumbled against your skin, Descending down the mattress, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your stomach. She kneeled in front of the bed and roughly pulled your legs until they were hanging off.

You could feel her breath on your pussy as she kissed everywhere, purposefully missing the one place you needed it the most.

She gently slide a finger into your hole and let out a low groan when she felt your wet walls immediately suck her in further.

“Still so responsive... you really are mine, aren’t you baby?” she mumbled in between kisses to your thighs, when you didn't respond she nipped at your skin.

“I will never be yours again” your breathed out, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took in

Something twisted inside Wanda at your words and a dark expression overcame her features as her grip on your thighs involuntarily tightened.

“Well see how you feel after this, pretty girl”

The pet's name is spat out like a curse. But you don't miss the way her tongue rolls over the words like she meant it. Like she actually thinks you are pretty. And so, despite the situation your cheeks burn red, and your heart hammers in your chest.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before you felt her roughly slide two fingers into your dripping hole, immediately curling and hitting your sweet spot. A satisfied grin formed on Wanda's face as she watched your head fall back in pleasure.

Unable to wait any longer She dropped her head and replaced her fingers with her tongue, moaning at the taste of you. You glanced down and felt your pussy clench at the erotic sight of Wanda stuffed between your legs.

She opened her mouth wide and immersed her tongue as deep as it could go. Swirling and twisting in all the right places. It had been so long, Too long since she had gotten to taste her girl, the urgency and desperation became evident when she started lapping at you like a ravenous creature.

A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the metal points of her crown pressed into the tender flesh of your thighs. You instinctively squirmed and writhed in an attempt to escape the painful sensation

She only tightened her hold on your thighs keeping them secured to her shoulders “Stay still," she commanded, her voice dripping with desire. "I'm not done yet.”

Your response was reduced to a mere whimper as an overwhelming sensation engulfed you. All of your nerves felt like they were on fire. You couldn't even form a coherent sentence. It all felt too good.

You felt your orgasm build embarrassingly fast, the tight coil in your stomach winding even tighter. It had been an eternity since someone had touched you this expertly—no one living up to the lofty standards Wanda had set.

Her tongue dipped into you and then dragged along your slit until it reached your clit, where she relentlessley started sucking on the hardened bud. Your moans echoed throughout the room As you began to mindlessly grind up into her mouth.

Every roll of your hips sent the sharp material of the crown deeper into your skin. Your mind began to feel fuzzy as it fell into a haze of overwhelming pleasure. Wanda was drunk off the sight of you right now. Fucked-out and completely at her mercy. Her chin was coated in your slick as she shamelessly devoured you.

Her eyes were glued onto your body, taking in the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure, your limbs squirming under her, watching you struggle to fight of your orgasm only encouraged her to go faster.

She pressed her face further into your core. A crimson streak of blood trickled down your thighs and onto her crown. Mingling with your arousal.

“Cum for me baby,” she commanded with a throaty groan, her fingers digging into your thighs. “show me that you’re mine”

You let out a loud moan and your hands flew to the sides of her head, Tangling into the mess of frayed red hair, Wanda's own moans harmonized with vibrations coursing through you, heightening the intensity of your orgasm.

Your hips slowed their pace as the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving your body pulsating with the aftermath of your climax. Breathing heavily, you propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyes fixated on Wanda who was undeniably captivated by the streams of blood tracing their way down your thigh.

A sinister smirk curved your lips as you taunted “You twisted bitch, you love it when I bleed for you”

Wanda responded with a chilling expression. Without breaking eye contact, She re-wrapped her arm around you. Her fingers possessively digging into your skin. She dragged her tongue over the cut, savoring the metallic taste

Your eyes fluttered shut, The gentle warmth of Wanda's tongue soothed the irritated burn, providing a small measure of comfort. As she rose from between your legs her hand found your throat, gripping it with a firm hold that demanded your attention.

Your eyes reluctantly reopened to meet Wanda's intense gaze. Her lips captured yours in a demanding kiss, and the lingering taste of blood mixed with your arousal coated your taste buds. It was a heady mixture that left you feeling undeniably dirty yet strangely exhilarated.

“You belong to me,” she whispered against your lips, her hand still wrapped around your throat. “You are mine to touch, to pleasure, to mark. Don't you ever forget that.”

You smiled and bit your lip, amused by her sudden possessiveness. Using her magic, she removed the rest of her clothes and waved her hand in front of her hips until a long scarlet dildo attached to a black harness reappeared.

You bit into your lip harder as recognition washed over you. It was your favorite toy, the one that allowed Wanda to intimately feel every inch of your throbbing pussy. You felt yourself clench, Anticipation coursing through your veins.

Still hovering over you, She held the base of the strap and dragged the tip along your slit a low groan emitting from both of your mouths at the contact. You began to grow impatient, arching yourself up as you watched her tease herself.

She finally pushed herself into you, and an unrestrained moan escaped her parted lips as she savored the exquisite sensation of your snug, velvety walls enveloping her. She stilled herself for a moment, allowing you to gradually adjust to the fullness.

“I missed your pussy so much” she groaned out, coming down to press her chest against yours as her hips began to rock into you. The toy curves up and and slides against your insides in the most perfect way, she’s nearly halfway in and you clamp down on her.

“Fuck, you're squeezing me so good.” Wanda leans closer to you, inhaling your scent as one of her hands grips your thigh. She pulls the toy out until just the tip remains inside before roughly snaping her hips forward. You loudly moaned into her ear, digging your nails into her back.

“Harder” you whined, wrapping your legs around her waist and pressing your heels into her back, edging her in deeper. “Please, wanda”

She grinned and started pounding into you harder. Pushing her cock in as deep as it could go. “I knew you were still my slut.”

You could only respond with a breathless call of her name. She further pushes your body into the mattress making you feel even smaller as her strap rams into your pussy. you grip onto her tighter and your moans float all throughout the room, they bounce around the walls and come slamming back into your own ears.

“Yeah, you like being called what you are? Because you're my slut. Mine” Her movements are becoming erratic. The mattress squeaks under you and your headboard slams into the wall with every forceful thrust of her hips. “im never letting you slip away again.”

Your hands claw deep red streaks across her back that move with every flex of her muscles. Her hand grip your ass, grinding you onto her cock as her thrusts begin to lose their rhythem.

She thrusts at an angle that has you seeing white light. Your whole body shook as your orgasm crashed over you. Every nerve was sent into overdrive, no feeling could ever compare to this. Being under Wanda, your limbs tightly bound to her as you fell apart on her cock. It all felt so right

“Fuck, oh fuck, You're gonna make me cum” she grunted, shoving her face into your neck. As she chased her high, tortured with the need to release into your wet heat “Gonna fill this pussy up so good-Fuck!”

Her hips roll into you until she is fully submerged in your pussy. Loud moans and whines fill your ears as you feel thick ropes of her cum paint your insides, filling you to the brim until it splatters on the insides of your thighs. Her hips are still fucking into you and your cunt wraps around her cock pulling her in further.

After she rides out the last bits of her high, her body collapses onto you, pressing you into the mattress. You feel her shaky sighs against your neck, and her body slowly relaxes as you soothingly run your hands through her hair. Just when you think she might have fallen asleep, she abruptly leans up to look down at you.

“You're a fucking nightmare.” you breathlessly whisper

She responds by kissing your lips, her love and obsession intermingling in that stolen moment. You can't help but return the kiss with the same feverish fervor, wrapping your arms around her neck and arching into her.

This new side of you excited wanda to exhilarating heights. Even in the early stages of your relationship, you had always embraced your darker nature, and it was one of the things that had initially drawn her to you, but this newfound level of intensity made her pulse with excitement about your future together, the things you'd do together, the things you'd learn, all the things she would teach you.

You were just so perfect for her, you had always been, and In your bones, you knew you could never be without wanda, it was as if the two of you were eternally connected at your very core.

A smile stretched across your face as she gazed into your eyes. It was clear that your journey into the depths of darkness was far from over.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x y/n #elizabeth olsen #fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #smut

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tremendum · 1 year ago

Text

i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you

[not my gif. title from song Of All the Gin Joints in All the World] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 4.6k requested: Could you write something (literally anything really) like mean Joel x feisty Reader but based on the ancient Fall Out Boys song "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" pretty please? 🥺🥹 I was just listening and I thought the lyrics were perfect for your writing ❤️But as always no pressure and no problem at all if you don't like the idea or anything else. Lots of love! P.S. smut is very welcome btw hihihi summary: “Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job." warnings: established previous hookups, use of girl/babygirl, established age gap (unspecified but addressed openly), brief mention of oral m!receiving, brief mention of reader and joel’s canon-typical scars. choking, mean!Joel & brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader lol, dirty talk (its joel), degradation, use of the word slut, slight dumbification, spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum eating, nipple play, slapping (tits, ass). think that's it!

notes: okay finally another mean!Joel for the soul!!! this is super unedited also. tysm for the request, obv inspired by the song Of All The Gin Joints in All the World by FOB. :) this was fun and i hope yall love it! dont b afraid to request anything yall wanna read at all and as always pls comment or reblog :) love u xoxo

[other Joel fics: mr. miller series fever landmines ]

★

Joel Miller isn't sure exactly when all this bullshit started.

one day, he was introduced to you fleetingly in the cafeteria while you and Maria had an intense conversation - he’s not sure if you spoke for more than ten seconds; but months later and Joel happens to know exactly what your sweaty skin tastes like on the sharpness of his tongue and could probably list his favorite pairs of underwear you own.

it's nothing, really.

you patrol together often, and Joel guesses that out of all the insufferable people he's had to deal with, you're definitely not the worst. perhaps your handiness with a trigger - not nearly as inept as his own but definitely a close second - helps; or maybe it's the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.

and he's not stupid; he knows exactly what Tommy was doing when he signed Joel with you for patrol - the same shit he'd been pulling since they were thirty years younger and Joel was fresh out of the relationship with Sarah's mom. but it's different now, because life is not the same - nothing is the same.

Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job.

you are one talkative motherfucker; usually, that'd drive Joel up a wall, but after repeated and incessant exposure to Ellie for such an extended period, his patience has surprisingly grown.

and unlike others, you never acted nervous or scared by him. irritated, maybe, but it's not like he cares much if you get irritated by his attitude; you're worse than he can be.

at first, he thought you were just fucking him because you just didn't know who he really was yet. but months into whatever this shit is, and you're still - for whatever fucking reason - hanging around him, even after everything. he likes it, though, that you fight fire with fire.

and maybe that's why Tommy stuck you two together, because in some ways it was inevitable - maybe it was a good thing, Joel thinks.

but this morning, as Joel's mind slams against his body, jolting him awake, his aching head makes him double-guess that.

it's weird how different it all is now - before you, Joel was tortured through nights plagued with sweats and memories. blood, pain, loss. he used to dream restlessly of life and all of its unforgiving horrors; but now, to his shock, he finds himself plagued with dreams of you.

he gasps awake - he's not sure he'll ever stop that.

but this time, you're next to him in the bed. his skin feels warm as the light filters through the blinds that stay constantly pulled down this time of year to retain the cool air and Joel lets out a shuttered sigh, his head aching.

it's only the second time you've stayed the night. he's never stayed at yours, god forbid - but a small part of him aches this morning when you slide out of his heavy, sleep-addled muscles. in the absence of your heat there is still bliss for a moment, until he's roused fully by your voice.

"these sheets are dirty." the sound carries into his ears, melodic and fiery. he cracks one eye open, hand raising to rub over his face - a deep, tired sigh.

"g'mornin' to you too." he snarks, sighing as he pulls himself on aching muscles to blink his eyes open; you stand over the bed, on the side that usually remains cold an empty while Joel thrashes in fits of restless sleep. there's not a single scrap of clothing on your body.

he feels himself stir at the sight of you, naked, neck painted in a splattering of beautiful marks that'd been pulled forth in moments of ecstasy the night before.

you send him a half smirk, shrugging as you tug on a shirt - his, fuck, his stomach swirls at the sight of you wrapped in him. something primal crawls in his chest as you smile at him, legs almost glowing in their bareness as they knock against the side of the mattress. your fingers brush the fabric to the left of his head.

"there's stains on the pillows." you shake your head, your face alluring in its tease. he feels himself roll his eyes as he grunts, "you're actin' like it ain't your makeup stainin' it?"

he stares at the marks on the pillowcase; black, from that shit you sometimes put on your eyes which just makes them all the more beautiful, wide, and alluring. the makeup that's surely expired after all this time but still is something you like to do to, as you'd mentioned once, 'reclaim your humanity.' whatever.

Joel would never admit it to you, but he hadn't even really tried to wash out those stains; something about them gives him a warmth in his chest every morning that he wakes up in this cold bed.

but when his eyes fall back to you in your silence, you smirk and it hits him: you're fucking teasing him.

he glares at you as your lips curl in a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. "if you keep complainin' about every damn thing, might as well just fuck you on the floor." he mutters, mostly to himself- but also to see the way your thighs shift, eyes widening slightly as color washes your cheeks. you're squirming at his words, just like that - oh, he's got you pinned.

you'd like that, you dirty little thing.

but you regain your composure quicker than lightning, ready to snap back; yet another tally to add on the list of things he admires about you.

"you're such a gentleman, Miller." you snide, fanning yourself sardonically with one hand as you roll your eyes, searching for your underwear.

he remembers the first time you'd said that to him -

"why so shy?" you'd purred. the memory of your voice curls around his ears as he huffs, watching you bend over and give him a complete view of your ass as you fetch your panties from the floor. "c'mon, Joel, you don't need to be such a gentleman. 's nothing you haven't seen before." you'd stripped yourself of your shirt, your pert nipples pebbling in the cold breeze as he'd sat, cleaning his rifle. "the hell's the matter with you?" he'd grumbled; but it didn't stop either of you. you'd been pressed between him and the splitting backseat of the broken down crashed car within seconds, anyways.

his eyes meet yours as you stand again.

he snarks, "well you’re givin' me a headache, an' I've only been up for two minutes." he glares at you, swinging to pull his boxers over his hips, standing up to find his shirt. he pointedly ignores the glare you send him at his grumpiness.

"you're the one acting dumb," you mutter, "acting like I'm the one who gives you headaches." you retort, a teasing glint in your eye; he knows that look. Joel knows you'd never get a headache from him - as much as he pisses you off, he knows you're too fiery, too lucky to get caught up in whatever miserable puddle he's drowning in.

because Joel's bad luck curls around his fists wherever he goes; the talons reaching out, crawling through every hallway and seeping through every door. you, on the other hand, are like a goddamn firecracker. Joel hates the idea, but you're... somehow gifted in that way.

he's convinced his bad luck couldn't touch you if it tried.

no matter the dumb shit you pull - forgetting a flashlight, not flipping off your safety that one moment when the clicker had stumbled out of the brush; all of that, and you escape unscathed, nothing but a giggle and a half-shrug from you before you move on to the next stupid thing.

if you weren't such a goddamn brat, it'd be charming.

his eyes snap to yours as your words fall from your lips; a burning in his chest at your tone. he watches your legs carry you into his bathroom, and he can't help it when his follow yours.

you haven't even flipped on the lights before he shuts the door behind him - you're already wearing that snarky fucking smile on your face, and he's straining already against his boxers.

he stares down at you, crowding you slowly into the wall. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he hisses, mouth close to yours. as you turn your chin up towards his face, he can tell that you try your hardest to control your smirk, playing into the tense energy that's emanating from his chest.

"I said you're acting dumb."

you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you drink in the darkness in his eyes. lord, you'd let that darkness swallow you in a fucking heartbeat.

speaking of; your own heartbeat thunders in your chest, anticipating. you know what's coming, you can nearly taste it on your tongue.

"oh, 's that right?" Joel asks, tilting his head to stare down at you. you swallow as you stare back into those deep irises, the small bit of golden light that shines through the small bathroom window illuminating in an ominously heavenly ray.

his hand settles on the crook of your shoulder and neck, sliding gently upwards as you nod your head defiantly, pushing as far as you can to see when he'll snap. his eyes glisten in temptation; daring you to act up more.

raising your brows, you try to play like it's obvious, "waking up and complaining about your headaches, old man?" you tut gently, shaking your head innocently. "I don't think it's my fault that you fucked me twice, immediately passed out and now your head hurts when you've woken up the next morning. you know better than to push yourself in your old age, Joel. that's stupid." you add coyly, knowing it'll push him over the edge - he loves it when you act like a brat, no matter how much he denies it.

his response is immediate and exactly what you'd hoped for.

he's on you in a split second - hand sliding from your shoulder to grip your throat, pushing you back onto the wall of the bathroom. the towel bar digs into your middle-back slightly and you gasp in arousal at the force of his body on yours. you can feel his cock, hard and straining in his boxers, as it presses into your lower stomach.

"y'wanna play like that, baby?" he growls, "why you fuckin' around with an old man like me, then?" he asks.

your face heats up, arousal flooding your core, your cunt slowly wetting itself at the purr of his voice - the meaner the words, the larger the flame.

"hm?" he gently pushes, raising his brows as his hand squeezes gently on your throat, nudging you against the wall further; your gasp is slightly rasped under the pressure, your whole body screaming with desire. this is what you love - mean, angry, hungry Joel Miller. "'s it because nobody fucks you like I do, is that it?"

his knee slides between yours, wedging himself high up, rubbing suddenly against your aching pussy, the material of your cotton already soaked with a damp spot that rubs against his thick thigh.

"Joel, fuck-" you groan, already willing to just do what you can to get him to touch you. his hand on your throat tightens at your word, thigh rutting up to slide against your needy clit, your hips bucking at the feeling. "-'s because nobody else is so easy." your fiery mouth betrays your body; the snarky comment snaps his eyes to yours, a dark breath leaving his lips.

"that's ironic," he snaps, "comin' from someone who begged me to fuck them for hours."

your face burns at the memory of the first time you and Joel'd hooked up; your desperate voice hoarse from pleading him to fuck you - out in the middle of the woods, a sleeping bag that, by the end, had rips on it from rocks and twigs and the force of his thrusts; the shyness gone from either of you as your touches made up for all the silence between you.

he hums lowly, watching you as you swallow at the memory, his thigh rutting up again and pulling a yelp of pleasure from your lips. "y'don't feel so high 'n mighty when I fuck you stupid, right baby?" he asks, voice dripping with condescendence as he nods gently, encouraging you to answer him. your core throbs at his words, your mouth going dry.

his hand leaves your throat; you swallow a gulp of air, staring with wide eyes as he grasps your jaw roughly. "answer me."

"n-no, I don't." you mutter, voice sounding small; the arousal that pulses through your veins begs your mouth to be smart, do what Joel says so he'll give in to what you want.

he smirks, hands roughly grabbing the thick of your hips and flipping you around to press you against the counter, your hips bending as he shoves himself just behind you. your eyes meet yourself and his own hawkish gaze in the mirror in front of you; your heated breath fogs up the mirror in the faint morning light.

his fingers thread through your hair, tugging you back again as he tilts your head back. his upside down face, smirking down at you, has your thighs clenching - "open." he orders, voice stern.

your tongue sticks out and he wastes no time spitting roughly onto your tongue, moving your head back to stare into the mirror; his eyes meet yours as his spit slides over your tongue and his furrowed brows twitch with a slight smirk. "look at you, doin' what I tell you. now swallow it and say thank you."

your core flutters at his words deliciously as you do as you're told; swallowing, you take a breath and mutter, "thank you," - though it's more breathless than you expected, Joel seems to approve. he hums, "there are those manners," he mutters into your ear, cock pressing against the swell of your ass. "almost seemed like you'd forgotten you had them."

"didn't forget." you mutter, face heating up as your pussy aches, fluttering around nothing and desiring for his fingers, his cock - anything.

one rough palm slides his shirt up your torso, exposing your bare tits to both of you through the mirror. with his face stooped down near your neck, a short inhale of your hair before his hand reaches it's destination - your throat.

"then why're you actin' up?" he rasps, teeth grazing your shoulder. he squeezes his hand again and your eyes roll back in pleasure, arousal soon slicking your thighs as you think you may die from all the teasing. "you don't wanna cum?"

your eyes widen, breath halting as you shake your head, "wh- no- no!" you hiss, "I do want to cum, please."

his other hand raises, slapping your breast harsh and quick; your gasp of shock tapers off into a whine of pleasure, your nipples hard in arousal as his palm comes to soothe over the sting.

"then why're you acting like this?" he asks again, shaking his head. another slap, this time to your other breast. his eyes follow the skin of your chest; the way you gasp, your whines at the slight stinging and the pleasure that follows. fingers pinch your nipples, teasing in circles before another sharp slap echoes through the room. "just a little brat, y'can't help yourself." he decides, biting on your neck lightly.

you can feel him rut against you hard, grinding his hips as he lets out a short groan. you let out a low moan, whining slightly when he smacks your tits again, skin glowing with the impact. his eyes meet yours in the mirror. "quit the whinin'," he grunts, rutting his hard cock against your ass, "you'll be stuffed full of me soon enough." he grunts, "then we'll see who's dumb."

your shaky moan sounds more like a groan, elbows falling to steady yourself as Joel releases your throat, tossing you forward to grab your hips instead. he pulls you back, grinding into you as his head tilts back in how own small groan of pleasure. "this ass." Joel grunts to himself as he palms the curve of your ass in both large hands, one falling to smack harsh onto the left.

you're dripping down the inside of your thighs as he ruts against you twice more; thick fingers soon slide to thumb at the slick wet of your panties. his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with need, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty pussy, just for me." he mutters; you nod, looking up at him through the mirror, "all for you, Joel." you affirm, voice shaking with anticipation.

"you gonna be good when I fill you up, baby?" he lifts his brow, stern look as he palms himself. fuck, he's so sexy behind you like this, his thumb slowly dragging the material of your panties to the side and exposing your weeping cunt; you nod, "yes, I'll do anything-"

you're cut off by a sharp gasp as the stretch of his cock's head cuts off your brain. he eases in gently at first which you're more than grateful for - no matter how many times Joel fucks you, his size is always something you have to adjust to; especially after your rounds last night left you barely able to walk straight.

he lets out a breath, "there y'go, baby, take me." he says it surprisingly gently, easing in inch by inch as you breathe deeply, your soaked pussy easing his cock through your channels. his cock is heavy and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within another few seconds - Joel's hands grip so hard on your ass, splaying you open for him, that you think his fingers will remain there for days.

he's still only for a moment, letting you accommodate to his size before he's leaning forward to press his chest to your back, "gonna fuck you stupid, baby."

"please, Joel," you groan, cunt fluttering, begging him to move. "do it."

it's all that he needs before he's setting a pace that has you whining under him, your breath choking as you brace yourself agains the counter of the sink.

it's bliss. his hips are sharp, the reach of his cock pressing against the spongy spot inside you, dragging against your pulsing walls. "fuck, so deep-" you hiss, eyes closing in pleasure as he presses himself against you, hips surely going to bruise against the thrusts that shove you into the countertop.

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as his cock reaches up into you deeply. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- christ, you're s-so tight," he grunts, "even after fuckin' you all night."

you moan, the quick bout of his praise causing you to squeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. the both of you moan at the feeling and suddenly one hand presses on your spine until you're low to the counter. his hands grab your shoulders, fingers curling around the base of your throat as he changes his pace to hard and rough, the sound of your ass against his hips nearly hitting your ears over your cries of pleasure.

the noises of your arousal swallowing his cock echo around the room in a familiar, comforting chorus as you both let out shuttering moans; his strong arms pull you back until you're once again pressed against his broad chest. his breath fans over your neck and you whine slightly when his thrusts press you up onto your tip-toes. his lips find your ear, "how's that feel?" your hole flutters from the deepness in his voice - he groans at the feeling.

your response is a whine of ecstasy as you claw at his forearms, head tilting back until you can almost feel his erratic heartbeat. his chest rumbles with a light chuckle, "look, barely took ya any time to get fucked out on my cock," he praises, hand petting your wild hair, "knew you'd be good for me. always take what I give you, right?"

you nod, desperate to reach the climax that's easily built within you from the stretch of him deep in you and his voice in your ear. your clit aches from being ignored and your hand snakes down to rub light circles on it; your hips jolt as you gasp raggedly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

"no." he growls, hand grabbing your jaw sternly as he pounds into you, "when I'm fuckin' you, you keep your eyes on me." he snaps, squeezing your cheeks. "'s that clear?"

you nod in the mirror, whines getting louder as his name falls nearly incoherently from your lips- you see his lips ghost over your neck, the smirk that spreads over his pink lips as you finally get out a strangled, "Joelpleaseplease- s'close-"

he knows what you need; you and Joel are each other's best escape. he pistons into you hard, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "easy, huh?" he snarls, hips just as harsh as his words, eyes sharp on yours. "who's easy, baby - me, or the one beggin' like a slut to cum on my cock?"

for someone so quiet and closed off, Joel Miller has never shied away from using his goddamn words when he's fucking you, that's for sure. his words, his accent - they push you towards the edge and it almost distracts you from his question. his eyebrows raise in the silence as you gasp for words, moans choked as his fingers slide down from your jaw to squeeze your throat.

"look at'cha, can't even speak for me," he groans, his hand suddenly snaking down to smack your away from your clit; two larger, calloused fingers replace your shaky ones and you wail at the stimulation, almost too much.

you blink up at him through the mirror, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful growing; you let out a whine of ecstasy. "I'm- I'm easy," you concede, finally able to spit your words out, your voice higher than normal in your pleasure.

Joel nods, kissing your sweaty hairline, "'s goddamn right you are, babygirl," he hisses, "easy for me. this pretty little pussy is mine, isn't it?"

you scream, "yours, Joel-" before he barely finishes the sentence.

with your words, he smiles against your neck - the feeling of it sends goosebumps over your whole torso. "you're a lucky girl," he growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell before licking it gently, "you can cum."

you barely realize you've hit your orgasm until you’re writhing - a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision as your eyes roll back. he fucks you steadily through your orgasm, your thighs closing slightly around his large palm, but his fingers don't stop their motions on your clit.

you shake and stutter for gasps as he pounds into you, chasing his own high that's been spurred - by your own words or the clenching of your orgasm around him, you're unsure.

"love how you feel-" he groans, voice weakening as he nears his own orgasm, hips sloppy as he pushes your face down, against the cool tile of the bathroom sink. "fuck, baby, made to take this cock."

his sentences are choppy, his gasps and grunts of pleasure mixing with the slap of your ass against him as he thrusts, your legs tired as he fills you full and then suddenly pulls out. you gasp at the suddenness of his absence, turning to look at him as if betrayed - but he looks completely gone, eyes dark with need. "gonna cum on your tits, sweetheart."

your stomach flips at the word - one he's never used before - and you relax into his harsh grip, moving down to the ground on your knees as he grunts, "take this shit off now."

his shirt is on the ground in half a second, your breasts bare to him as he fists his cock, eyes on you and lidded with pleasure. your hands fall onto his strong thighs, looking up at him in awe as he fists his cock, slick with your sticky spend, tip flushed and veins stretching over the shaft. "please, cum on me, want it so bad, Joel," you whine - his hand caresses your jaw and slips over your lips, sticking his thumb into your mouth. you suck eagerly and he moans your name deep, head tilting back in ecstasy.

"fuck," he grunts, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before you can even swirl your tongue around it, and then he's hitting his orgasm.

ropes of his cum land on your tits, a small bit gathering on your chin as he slows his hand, letting out a few sharp breaths. he's barely caught his breath before your fingers are gathering a swipe of his thick cum, bringing it to your mouth. his dark eyes follow you through his labored breaths as you slowly suck his spend off of your fingers, "fuckin'- pretty," he mumbles into his hand as he runs a palm over his face, shaking his head.

you smile, cheeks heating up. the sun is rising and the room is fully golden, bouncing off the mirror and illuminating his tan skin, the scars on his body and yours. he's pretty, you realize.

you tell him so, quietly - in the silence of the bathroom. his scowl softens and you swear you see a blush forming as he rolls his eyes down at you from where you perch on the linoleum.

Joel always says you only tell him sweet things to get him to fuck you - but in the afterglow of your actions, you catch sight of your makeup-stained pillowcase back in Joel's bedroom and it makes you grin. you know he doesn't wash it for a reason, the same reason you keep coming back to him.

and you also know that the way he smooths his thumb over your hairline, the way your own hands in turn soothe over his thighs - those actions, they make up for everything else that's unspoken.

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taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @onmytallesttiptoess @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeia @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers

message me if i forgot to tag u. i was pretty lazy with this one sorry. requests are open.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

#joel miller x reader smut #joel miller smut #joel tlou smut #joel x reader smut #joel x reader #joel smut #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou spoilers #tlou hbo #the last of us smut #the last of us (tv)#the last of us x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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3nni3 · 2 months ago

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What happens in teledisko, stays in teledisko...

cw: +18, nsfw, rpf, consumption of alcohol, smut (handjob), cursing, lowkey exhibitionism. f! reader

a/n: when the idiots get an idea for a story, i make it happen. this is my first smut i've ever published, and english isn't my first language, but i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this. also if you find any mistakes, no you didn't 😅

no word count because idfk i wrote this in my phone's notes app👍🏻 kinda short one

okay let's go

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The night had started out with getting drinks at the nearest Späti. You two had been wandering around Berlin for a few hours now, getting drinks at every corner store. After seven different spätis, and six beers (one stop was to get a bottle of water, even though the tall man who accompanied you wasn't that excited about your drink of choice) you started feeling tipsy and tired.

Sightseeing in Berlin was amazing, but tiring. You felt the energy being drained from your body and ready to return to your hotel, but the man who was sat next to you in this tram had other ideas.

"Found it!" he basically dragged you after him, holding your hand gently but firmly as you approached the teledisco booth. This was a mutual agreement earlier today, before you felt too tired, but your time together was getting closer to an end so you pushed past the exhaustion and enjoyed the moment.

You stop in front of the screen to choose a song, and he stands next to you, his hands now in his pockets.

Scrolling through the music lists, looking for the perfect one, you find something. "Can we do Gimme Gimme Gimme by ABBA?" you ask and press the button, without waiting for an answer. He grabs you by your shoulders and pushes you in the booth, closing the door behind him laughing.

The first notes of Gimme Gimme Gimme starts playing, lights flash and the vibe is intense. You scream out the lyrics together, your arms against each other as you feel the beat of the music in your body.

The space is small, not much air left between you two as you glance up at him, noticing his eyes on you, the hot air in the booth making him sweat and his face glisten. 'He looks so fucking hot' you think to yourself as you suddenly get pressed against the wall, startled. His chest is flush against yours as he gently tilts your head up, feeling his breath against your lips as you look him in the eyes.

"You're gonna be the death of me..." his voice is a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, the music fading in the background as you feel his tongue brush against your lower lip. The intensity of the moment drowns your thoughts and your mind gets blurry. The blonde man's hands explore your body as yours find their way to his hair, pulling slightly as he moans against your lips. That must be the most gorgeous sound you have ever heard. You pull away to breathe, he smiles against your lips as the song nears it's end and you hear the last chords of it playing.

"Another song or do we get the fuck out of here?" he asks smirking. You push him away, laughing, as you pass him and step out of the booth, going back to the screen to choose another song. Joost stands behind you, and you feel him take a step closer. His chest pressing up against your back and you feel lips on your neck, making your breath shaky. Shaking him off of you, you open the door to the booth. "Ladies first," you joke as he rolls his eyes laughing, entering the booth.

Stepping in the booth after him as Call Out My Name by The Weeknd starts playing, and everything feels like a fever dream. Beautiful man in front of you, smiling his charming smile, you both surrounded by music and flashing lights.

"So this was your song of choice huh?" his voice low as he presses you against a wall once again. You feel his hand dragging down from your chest, over your stomach, to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up as his fingers trace your inner thigh. Whimpers leave your mouth as he grins at you, pressing his lips slowly against yours.

"What's up with all the teasing?" you ask, pulling away for a moment, playing with the buckle of his belt, and it opens...accidentally? Oops. Your fingers find their way to the waistband of his boxers, sliding ever so slightly underneath it. As a shaky moan escapes his lips, he laughs quietly, his eyes closed and his head slightly tilted back, mouth staying open. You slide your hand a bit further and his eyebrows furrow as he whimpers, begging for any kind of friction with the desperate sounds leaving his mouth. He drags his hand up your thigh, thumb getting dangerously close to your heat, turning the tables as you're now the one who's desperately trying to hold back the whining.

"Oh so this is how you wanna play?" you smirk as you slide your hand fully in his boxers, placing your fingers firmly around his length as your thumb brushes over the tip. He lets out a loud moan, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the beautiful sounds as you stroke him up and down. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut and his concentration drifting away enough so he drops his other hand down from your thigh, fully at your mercy now.

"You sure you wanna keep doing this here?" you ask as he moans again. "I truly do not give a fuck." he answers with his head still tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. You grin and move your hand faster, as he grabs your shoulders to gain some kind of balance. As if it wouldn't be hard enough to maintain your own balance with how tipsy you are, you now need to hold up the man who's literally towering over you. His head falls forward on your shoulder as your thumb brushes over his tip again.

"I'm not gonna last much longer, liefde..." he lets out a chuckle, but not amused one. More like an 'embarrassed about how strongly he reacts to your touch' one. Proud smile creeps up on your lips as you try to hold the man up while he moans shakily in your ear. "The song isn't that long either." you remind him, and the exciting realisation hits you both that anyone could open the door any second and see this all.

You feel yourself getting more wet by every moan he lets out, every breath you feel against your neck. He presses his mouth on the soft skin of your neck, nibbling as he tries to muffle out his begging whimpers. You work your hand up and down, earning more and more beautiful sounds that get louder by every stroke.

You feel him twitch in your grip, his teeth on your neck making sure there's going to be a mark to remind you of this later. "Don't stop... please liefje, please don't stop," his weak words can be heard repeatedly against your neck as your strokes get faster and faster. His hips thrust up to meet the movement of your hand, chasing the high. The last chorus of the song starts playing in the background and your hand works it's magic on his length, feeling the twitching again.

With a final few strokes you feel your hand being coated by his warm release. High pitched whimpers leave his mouth, turning into breathless chuckles as his forehead remains rested on your shoulder. "Fuck...liefde..." he tries to catch his breath, "you're insane..." he finally manages to mumble, still chuckling, as he lifts his head up from your shoulder to meet your eyes.

You laugh, pulling your hand out of his pants and fixing his belt as the song's final chords fade out. He opens the door, places a soft kiss on your lips and steps out as you walk behind him, wiping your hand to a tissue you found in your purse.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost #f! reader #joost x you #joost x reader #joost klein smut #joost klein x you #joost smut #joost klein fanfic #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction

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kookslastbutton · 1 year ago

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch.I

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), flirty banter, fighting, jk has a bit of a temper, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Okay I have been having such baby fever for last few years no joke. I wanna be mom or aunty but my sister won’t have kids yet! So i write this lame series to cope even though it's lowkey sad? lmao. Enjoy!! 🥰

༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

You’re not exactly sure when it happened but one minute you’re crouched over, sketching in your journal and the next, a child with big brown eyes comes up beside you to watch over your shoulder. He’s a cute little fella, you note. Can't be more than four years old. His hair is ink-black and on the longer side. He’s got on a pair of black and white checkered pants, navy blue sweatshirt, and a toy snug under one arm. At first glance, you struggle to make out the toy but it looks like an elephant.

“Hi…” His hand reaches for you. It tugs the edge of your dress sleeve before reaching down to latch onto a few fingers. You smile up at the child, warmth immediately beaming through your heart.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say. “What’s your name?” You wait for the boy to answer but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles down next to you on the grass and points to your drawing. His delicate eyebrows knit together in an inquisitive manner. “What is this?” he asks.

You look down at your drawing, examining it from various angles. It's unfinished but you're working on a sketch of the pond nearby. You've managed to capture the sun-kissed water but the sky needs more work. Being the weekend, you couldn't give up the rare opportunity to indulge in your favorite hobby. “It’s the pond with all the colorful leaves,” you reply.

Blank face, the child thinks before speaking again. “Who taught you?”

Now that's an interesting question. Drawing had always been in your blood since a child. You fell in love with the ability to let your imagination run wild on paper whether it be on the back of your homework or even cardboard. To you, drawing was freedom and discovery. It allowed you to express emotion, memories, abstract thoughts, and to recreate the real world. You typically preferred sketching with drawing pencils but occasionally dabbled with watercolors. You had a gift for it–a natural gift.

By the time high school rolled around, you tended to hole up in the art room, sketching for as long as you could. Your art teacher suggested you go to school for it come senior year which gave you enough push to bring it up to your parents. Determined, you spoke to your parents about it but it was null–art could only be a hobby, it couldn’t support your future. They suggested you go to school for economics or finance instead. You nearly hurled at the idea but you eventually agreed, knowing they’d never pay for you to go to art school. Drawing, as you found out, had to be on the side.

"I had a teacher once in school," you say. "But I mostly learned myself."

The child tilts his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “You?”, he says.

You nod your head in affirmation.

“No way! Even I have art teacher.”

You chuckle lightly and move to stand up from the grass, needing to stretch due to your crouched position. He follows suit, still clinging to your hand. “Where you going, Eomma?”

Eomma...That's a name you don't get called often. You're not used to being seen as the mom type. In fact, when you tied the knot with Jungkook, the two of you agreed that having a family was a grey area. You both liked kids, sure, but being parents? That was a subject neither of you seriously considered. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” you coo. “I’m not your Eomma. But, let’s find her together, okay?”

The child shakes his head, refusing to budge. "Mm no," he says, clinging to your leg. "Wanna stay with you." Your heart skips a beat. Children don't typically take to you like this. It causes something inside of you to want to lunge down and pick up the child in a tight embrace. But you nip that thought in the bud when you catch sight of a woman roughly your age jogging toward you. She looks like the child’s mother.

“Si-woo!” She gives a wave. "Si-woo come here!"

“Eomma!” The child’s cheeks rise into a big grin as he watches his mom approach nearer. He lets go of your leg but his hand remains locked in your own. You end up squeezing Si-woo’s tiny hand but then, like a bitter aftertaste, you remember– he doesn’t belong to you. You loosen your grip and allow him to run back to his mom.

“It was nice meeting you Si-woo!” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone but you do your best to brush it off. You only knew Si-woo for a short while and now he’s back with his real mom. You should be happy but when Si-woo’s mom lifts her son, she gives you a scowl. She doesn’t even come up to say anything to you but turns around and carries her son back to their picnic area. You frown realizing you were merely a stranger who little kids are told not to talk to.

You sigh and glance at your unfinished drawing. Suddenly, you don’t feel like drawing anymore. You pack up your belongings in your bag and head to your car, the event replaying in your mind.

You can’t blame Si-woo’s mom for being a little rigid, you think. You’d share a similar reaction with your own kids if you had any–if you had any. You repeat the phrase unexpectedly. Were you warming up to the idea? Your marriage did recently surpass the two-year mark, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider having…no, you mentally stop yourself. Yes, Si-woo was cute but it likely wouldn't happen. You toss your bag of art supplies in the back seat and drive home.

“Jungkook! You here?” You step into your shared apartment and drop your bag on the kitchen counter. The smell of burnt wax mixed with vanilla bean hits you as soon as you walk into the living room. “Jungkook you better be home or these candles are going in the trash!” You really didn’t mind the candles but your husband had a nasty habit of keeping them lit even when you were both out of the house. He didn’t do it on purpose, of course, it was accidental but it was too much of a fire hazard to ignore.

“Kook!” you holler again, but no reply. These damn candles. You snuff them out one by one before venturing into the bedroom. Thankfully none were lit in there. You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting it pile around your feet. It's a beautiful dress but you were dying to get into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey honey,” Jungkook says, emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel tied around his waist. You let out a yelp before making eye contact. You've always been easily startled. “How was the park?”

Mentally, you bite your lip. This man was getting sexier every day, especially with that gold band wrapped around his fourth finger. You toss a t-shirt over your head. “Absolutely wonderful. Been a while since I’ve been able to really focus and draw. I loved every second." Should you mention the child? You pause, briefly contemplating the thought. Why not? "A really cute kid came up to watch me draw too…’til his mother took him away.” You don't notice but you nearly spat the last part.

Jungkook lets out a small snort, amused by your sudden irritation. There were many things he knew you could put up with, a resilient woman you were. But whoever this kid’s mother was must have gotten under your skin in the most unusual way. “It’s great you had a good time but you sound borderline offended about whoever this kid’s mother is.”

“It’s nothing really.” You shrug. “The kid came up to me and grabbed my hand. We had a nice talk but then his mom showed up. She didn’t even say hi to me. She just picked up her son and scowled at me like I took him or something. Believe me, I get it. But I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t think about it too much __. She was probably just worried about getting her son back. I’m sure she did mean anything.”

“I guess. But do I really look that harmful?” You face your husband, hands perfectly poised on your hips.

Jungkook strides over to you and strokes down your arms until your hands relax to your sides. He gives you a quick peck on the lips. “Yes.”

Surprised, your mouth falls open. How dare he?! You give a pout, one that Jungkook finds especially irresistible. “Then you can keep your hands and lips off me for the rest of the night, Mr. Jeon.” You wiggle out of his grasp.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past four years Ms. y/l/n. But you couldn’t stay away, could you? Just had to marry your hot professor, you naughty girl.” Jungkook grabs you again, pressing himself against your torso. You squeal at the contact. Married for two years and you’re still a blushing mess, get it together __!

“I wasn’t the one who was grabbing my student’s ass after class halfway through the first semester,” you quip, gripping his biceps. “I’m innocent.”

“Oh honey, nonono. You don’t get to play the role of a shy little angel who got eaten by her big bad wolf of a professor day one of university. You were already a master's student when we met. You knew what you were getting into when you started wearing tight little skirts to my class.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon I had leggings underneath and I wore sweaters. If you’re accusing me of seducing you through my wardrobe then you have a very odd way of getting turned on.”

“Honey, how long have you known me? Sure tits and ass are cool and I won’t say no if you wanna show me.” You give a light shove on his shoulder at that, Jungkook chuckles. “But I have a doctorate in economics. Nothing catches my interest more than a studious individual like yourself studying all the angles of supply and demand. Plus, I liked your sweaters. Made me curious what you were hiding.”

“Oh stop it!” You end up giggling at your husband’s beyond-cheesy explanations. “How am I supposed to know my economics professor was ogling my teddy bear sweater for fuck sake?”

Jungkook throws his head back, feigning frustration. “It wasn’t a teddy bear sweatshirt. It was a bunny and it was very cute!”

“Whatever. Point is, I’m not the one to blame. I was a good student getting her master’s like her parents wanted until she found out her professor was sculpted from the gods themselves. Your shirts were barely fitting you. I swore they were going to bust one of those class periods.” You imagine the horrified look your peers would give. Not you though, you'd probably start drawing him. Shameless, really.

“As I recall that shirt-busting happened many times by your claws. I had to replace a dozen shirts in a month from how many you destroyed.” A pair of manly hands sensually trace down your sides. Jungkook leans forward, lips near your ear. “Seems like you had a lot of pent-up energy.” He nips your ear before peppering small kisses down your neck.

“You have no idea.“ You close your eyes, a moan escaping from you. "Professor–"

Jungkook grunts, suddenly suckling on the sensitive skin. “Mmm you haven’t called me that in a while. Kinda missed it”, he says, backing you up against the dresser. You were about to hop on top when your ass hit the edge but a rude, obnoxious ringing pulled Jungkook off you.

“Hey man!” Your husband answers the phone, a little too joyous in your opinion. You knew exactly who it was on the phone–Park Jimin. You bite your cheek, doing your best to keep down a sour face.

“Yeah let me ask __. Hold on.” Jungkook looks at you. “Honey, Jimin wants us to go out to dinner with the guys. You wanna go or stay in?”

Maybe, you think. You love Jimin but his dinners are usually quite elaborate. He always makes reservations to the fanciest restaurants in Seoul, and he required everyone to be dressed to the hills. It was fun now and then but did you have the energy for that tonight? Eh. What the hell. “Sure. What time?”

Jungkook passes on your inquiry before looking at you again. “6 p.m.” You nod in consent and walk to your closet, rummaging through your clothes for something Jimin-worthy. “Alright man, we’ll see you there. Yeah got it, k bye.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and watches you pull out dress shirts, pants, blazers, literally all your work clothes. “Found anything?” he pipes up.

You pull out a dark green dress, above knee-length, and gorgeously hemmed. “I’m pretty sure I wore this last time but–“

“Next," Jungkook interrupts. "Jimin will notice and you know how he gets when people wear the same outfit twice in a row.” your husband fiddles with through his own dresser drawers, yanking out an oversized t-shirt. You groan knowing all too well how tight Jimin ran this operation. One time Namjoon came in the same maroon dress shirt as before causing Jimin to have an absolute fit. He even made the man go home and change. Dinner was late that night.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You rummage through your closet again hoping to find something tucked in the back. There’s bound to be something. “Damnit, I thought I had more than this,” you grunt, finding nothing.

“Do we need to go on a last-minute shopping trip?” Jungkook throws on a pair of cargo pants.

You groan internally. Shopping isn't your favorite activity. It always took so long, and nothing was to your liking. You prefer online shopping but with only three hours until dinner and apparently nothing in your wardrobe, you suppose it's inescapable.

“Come on, honey.” Jungkook combs through his hair with a few fingers and grabs his wallet from the nightstand. “This is for Jimin."

"Alright, let me put some jeans on.” Jimin, you bougie little punk.

You view yourself in the dressing room mirror, a plum-colored dress adorning your body. This is the tenth dress you've tried on and to be honest, you feel pretty good in it. Nothing feels itchy, too snug, or out of place. The dress was a simple, strapless sheath dress and it fit you like a glove.

"__." Jungkook taps on the door. "You're not gonna like what I have to say but it's inevitable…there's been a change of plans."

"Okay," you reply with strain. "What is it?" You unlock the door to find your husband glancing down at his phone. It's a text from Jimin, you notice.

"Sorry for this but we're not going out for dinner tonight. Seokjin's daughter isn't feeling well so they're going to stay home. Yoongi also hasn't been able to get much time with his kids and wife lately so he's not coming either." Jungkook continues reading Jimin's text aloud. "I don't think we should go out without the whole party so I'm thinking about canceling our reservations."

Damn.

"You look beautiful," he says, catching your half-disappointed expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal," you sigh. "We'll eat in." From Jungkook's point of view, you were upset about wasting an hour and a half on shopping. He knew you'd much rather be back with your drawing pencils or watching a drama. He felt bad. The real reason, the one you think best to keep to yourself, however, is that hearing Jimin's text reminded you of Si-woo again. Further, it reminded you that nearly everyone in your friend group had at least one kid except you and Jungkook. Normally it didn't affect you though, so why did it today? Had the little kid from earlier really stuck with you that much?

"__? Everything alright?," Jungkook says. "I know we had plans and we've been shopping for a while but if you like the dress you should still get it. Jimin will have his dinner again and there will be other times you'll need it."

It takes you a moment but you reply, forcing a fake smile the best you can. "Oh yeah, yeah I'm good. I dazed off for a second there. I'll–I'll put the dress back actually."

Seeing through your facade, Jungkook lightly grips your arms. "If there's something you're not telling me I'd like to know, please?"

His endearing facial expression both soothes you and creates coils of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You want to tell him what's up. You also want to pop the question that you've both been sweeping under the rug for the last two years. But how? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you're just in a mood today.

"Have–" You start but the rest of the words don't come out.

Jungkook waits for you to finish the sentence. "Have you thought of any ideas for dinner?" You stutter out. "'Cause I was thinking it’d be easier to order takeout tonight."

Eyes narrowing, your husband stares into your eyes. He's searching for any hint that you're bluffing–shifty eyes and such. You think he's caught onto you until his shoulders relax and eyebrows soften. "I was thinking the same thing. But also, I'm buying you this dress even if you don't. It's gorgeous on you and I know you want it. Now take it off and let's go find something to eat."

You manage to chuckle a "thank you" and slip back into the stall to change into your normal clothes. You feel a slight pang of guilt in your gut for not coming clean to him but you weren't sure if you were ready to tell him the truth no more than he'd be ready to hear it.

“Seriously honey.” Jungkook’s voice carries over the stall. “Are you really alright? Do you need anything?” You swallow hard at his persistence.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply. “Maybe a little hungry.” One day at a time __, you think.

You end up placing a dinner order at a local favorite nearby. You and Jungkook take it back to the apartment, curl up on the couch, and put a movie on. You nearly fall asleep after the first forty minutes because the plot is so utterly dry and quite frankly, boring. Jungkook seems to be enjoying it though so the movie plays the entire way through.

Still hardly paying attention, your mind drifts off to other affairs. You think about your upcoming work week, what to get for your best friend's birthday in the following few weeks, and the cute dog you saw yesterday, and of course, you loop back to the same lingering topic–your brief afternoon with Si-woo. Part of you wanted to take him home but Jungkook would have a fit, as well as you know...Si-woo's mother. You snort at how interested you've become in entertaining thoughts about children and taking care of them. As you've covered before, you aren't the mom type.

Si-woo and his mother looked very similar though. They shared the same hair color, eyes, and face shape. You wonder what his father looked. Did he have long hair too? Did he share the same lips? Before you can stop yourself from going further you wonder how identical your own child might be to you and Jungkook. Would your child love the arts like you or the social sciences like your husband? You suppose it could be a blend since you technically have a master's in economics yourself. You'd much rather be owning and operating an art museum or being a studio art professor but that's beside the point. Your child would be free to venture down their own path. That is if you have any.

You shift your eyes to Jungkook who's concentrating heavily on the movie. He's a wonderful husband, you sigh, full of love. No doubt he'd make a great father but did he want to? Jungkook never really mentioned it before and neither did you. When you first start dating you had a brief talk about children and building a family but you were still in school then and Jungkook was swamped with his teaching responsibilities. Children weren't something that either of you felt like you could handle at the time. After you'd gotten married there was an opportunity to discuss it again but you were both quite comfortable with it being just the two of you. Today is the first day you've shown any serious aversion to your comfortable lifestyle–you want a baby.

Once the credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Yes there is."

"I don't think so."

Patience running thin, the tone in your husband's voice gets firmer. He's not angry but it's clear his temper is rising. You and Jungkook haven't had a spat in a while and you really don't want to start now. "I can see that there's something on your mind. It's the same one you had from the dressing room and I'm pretty sure it isn't about food this time."

"I don't know what you want me to say," you mumble tiredly. You sit up straight. "My face is my face."

"Honey, I know there's something going on that you're not telling me. Is this about that kid's mother from earlier? Because I'm certain it wasn't personal."

"No, it's not about that at all. It's just been a long week and I'm exhausted," you lie, yawning as if on queue. Jungkook grips the couch arm in agitation. He isn't sure what's going on but he isn't letting you go to bed without getting to the bottom of it.

"You're not having second thoughts about our marriage are you?" He throws the idea out there, hoping its obvious inaccuracy will push you to tell him the truth. You grimace at the guess.

"That's ridiculous!" You sneer. "How could you think that?"

"Well maybe because you're not telling me anything else?" Jungkook tosses his hands up. "I mean who knows, it could be anything. Was it the movie? Shopping? Are you horny? What the fuck is it?!" You jump at his sudden outburst.

"No it's none of those–"

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!" You throw him a nasty look.

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks. You feel your body starting to shake, eyes tearing up. You friggin' hate fighting and you hate being so unsure about telling him the truth–that you want a family. You're scared of his response most. What if he says no?

Realizing your nervous state, Jungkook takes a deep breath and softens his tone. He hates seeing you cry and he hates it even more when he's the one causing it. "I'm sorry honey." He steps towards you but you flinch away. You're not ready to be touched yet.

"I–I want...I want to be a mom. I want a baby." You wait for your husband's reaction and when it comes you instantly start bawling.

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" Jungkook feels everything inside of him panicking. There's a reason he teaches economics to college students and not high schoolers or below. He doesn't do children, he isn't cut out for it. He'll babysit of his hyung's kids from time to time but at the end of the day, they aren't coming back home with him. Jungkook was sure his wife felt the same way but now? Now she's tearing up in front of him, scared to tell him she wants a child–one that will be his.

Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you." You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.” You leave the bathroom, leaving Jungkook scrambling for his thoughts.

A/N: Lmk what you think, tysm for stopping by 💞

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