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beeschmee · 9 days ago

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all part of the colonel's plan

⊹ ࣪ ˖ word count: 7.5k

⊹ ࣪ ˖ p a i r i ng: farspace fleet colonel caleb x mc

⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary: your mission was simple: sneak into skyhaven and escape with the final aether core fragment, right under the farspace fleet's nose. you weren't prepared to fall right into a trap created by the fleet's new colonel.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ t a g s: mdni, explicit sexual content, fem! reader, jealous! caleb, unprotected sex, light bondage, dry humping, orgasm denial, inappropriate use of evol, biting, pet names, cunnilingus, p in v, breeding, light praise

⊹ ࣪ ˖ n o t e: hii guys! the brainrot for this man is unreal, and i just needed to write something, so i hope you enjoy~ not proofread so enjoy the chaos! thanks for reading 𖹭 ao3. banner: me. dividers: cred

When you accepted the mission to search for a lead on the aether core, you hadn’t expected it to be easy. Skyhaven was new territory for you and your information on the Farspace Fleet was few and far in-between. Yet, when you ran into that frazzled cadet, it was like candy falling into your lap.

Her uniform was snug against your body as you flattened out any wrinkles that appeared during the change. The girl barely could barely thank you before darting off into an alley. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You saw your fair share of scared recruits during your time in the academy.

Placing the uniform cap on your head, you take a deep breath before heading towards the crime scene tape on the other side of the street. The smell of ash and burning wood fill your nostrils as you get closer to the decimated property. A similar memory flashes in your mind, threatening to pull you back below its depth, but you push forward. Now cannot be the time to falter.

You stop in front of a commanding officer and salute them, waiting for their nod before ducking under the tape. The breath you were holding loosens from your lungs as you approach the remains of the house in front of you. You refuse to let your eyes linger on the charred front patio, pulling your cap further down your head to block your view of it as you pass.

Focusing on the task at hand, you head towards the backyard. Near the pool, you can sense something pulling you to the bushes. The feeling is faint but unmistakable.

You nod to fellow cadets and officers as you pass. The air is filled with chatter and commands thrown around, causing further chaos, as the fleet is trying to balance an investigation and the return of their Colonel at the same time. The distraction is much appreciated.

You crouch before the bushes, reaching into the vines to search for the presence pulling you in. Thorns scrape against the exposed flesh of your wrist, drawing tiny pinpoints of blood to the surface. You wince as you lean further in, grasping at air. The further you look for this presence, the less you feel it. A frustrated sigh escapes from your lips.

“Is there a problem, Cadet?” A masculine voice speaks up behind you.

You jolt to your feet, ignoring the pain of the thorns trying to hold onto you. The man in front of you is older, probably in his late 40s, and is looking at you with all the contempt in the world.

“No, sir.” You shake your head, then gesture to the bush behind you. “I was looking for any additional evidence that may have been blown back by the explosion.”

The man doesn’t even blink as he stares down at you. You bite your tongue to stop you from rambling off useless lies. He doesn’t trust you, that much you can tell. Yet, he simply nods his head after a few more seconds of silence.

“Carry on, Cadet. This area needs to be cleared within the hour. It’s set to rain soon.”

You swiftly nod your head, holding onto the cap so it doesn’t fly off. The officer scoffs at the notion and walks away, immediately yelling similar orders to the other officials by the house. Once you feel comfortable that he won’t turn back around, you continue your search amongst the foliage. The presence from before is faint, almost nonexistent, and the fear of failure starts to creep along the edges of your mind.

Bending your knees into a squat, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Even if the aether core isn’t here, it’s close by. It has to be.

Opening your eyes, you reach your hand out to part the branches to look further into the bushes. You’re leaning forward to examine the area when a blunt force slams into the back of your head. The air rushes from your lungs and a ringing drills into your ears before darkness takes over.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Memories of gentle laughter and playful fighting war against the sounds of crashing waves as you wave in and out of consciousness. The world feels as though it is spinning. Your head is splitting apart, pain rippling from the back of your skull to your temples. As you come to, your head refuses to lift up, the muscles in your neck sore and locked in place.

It takes an unreasonable amount of strength to pry your eyes open. Even with the little amount of light in the room, you can’t help but squint against the pain. Everything is blurry no matter how much you blink. You try to reach up and rub your eyes, but your hands won’t move. They can’t move.

You’re cuffed to the chair you’re in.

Panic quickly starts to creep in as you take in your situation. You wiggle your feet, only to find them just as restrained as your hands. Pulling your hands against the metal band holding you down, you flinch at the persistent stinging from the cuts on your wrist. A whimper escapes through your clenched teeth as your wrist jams against the restraint, unable to squeeze through.

Somewhere behind the chair, you hear a door open. Your body stiffens as the realization of your situation sets in. You’re trapped.

“I’d be careful. You don’t want to break those slender wrists, would you?” A voice from behind you asks.

In your semi-conscious state, something about that voice prickles the hairs on the back of your neck. Despite the person’s warning, you continue struggling against the metal bands, trying to figure out a trick to get out. Heavy footsteps echo throughout the dark room, leisurely approaching you.

“Persistent as always,” the voice mutters, your ears barely catching the words.

One more useless tug and you resign from the meaningless action. You’re thoroughly stuck. It doesn’t help that your head feels like a ton of bricks and then some. The tension of your position is surely causing knots to form all along your shoulder and back.

The person takes another 10 steps, you count. There’s silence for a long moment and then the sound of a heavy fabric bristling. The feeling of warm air on the side of your cheek causes you to flinch, jerking away from the sudden sensation. They let out a seemingly exasperated sigh before the warmth leaves you, their body pulling back.

“I’d say that I’m surprised to find a traitor in our midst.” The voice states louder. “But, I made it so easy for you. I’m almost disappointed by how easy you fell for my trap. I mean, come on. Wasn’t that incident almost too familiar?”

The ringing in your ear fades away as you focus on the voice now positioned in front of you. A voice that has your heart lurching into your throat, threatening to spill out. It can’t be.

The footsteps resume and you listen to how they reposition behind you. Their warmth radiates on your back. They’re too close.

Suddenly, two leathered hands run over your shoulder toward your neck. You try to yank away from their touch, but they have you caged in. Something cold slides against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as it circles your throat. Click.

“A perfect fit.” The voice is quiet, as if they’re talking to themself.

There’s a boyish lilt to the deep voice that causes an ache in your chest. Your brain is arguing with what your heart realizes all too fast. Memories of that same voice, but lighter and more carefree, echo in your mind. Your hands clench against the armrests, trying to grind yourself to reality. A corpse can’t speak.

One of the hands leaves your neck, lightly tracing a path down to your shoulder before dropping away. The other lets the metal band rest against the base of your neck before wrapping your throat. The leather material is rough against your skin. Your body breaks out into a cold sweat as it tightens ever so slightly against your windpipe.

Slowly, your head is being pulled up. Pain pulses across your skull to your spine as the person behind you straightens your posture. Their thumb and index finger move up slightly until they’re pushing up your jaw, forcing your head up.

You try to take in the room as your position changes, but your gaze halts at the view in front of you. Across the room is a glass wall. You stare back at yourself in the one-way glass as your vision clears up. Whether it be fear or denial, you almost want to beg the hand to let you go, to let your chin fall back against your chest, so that you don’t have to look.

But, you were always a curious one.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness and take in the sight of the hand wrapped around your throat. It tightens just a little bit more, restricting your airway enough to make your brain feel fuzzy.

“You always did like to make me wait, pipsqueak.”

With that damning admission, your pulse rages against his fingers. Your eyes flick up to the reflection of the person, the world freezing around you.

A dead man stands behind you. His finger taps against your pulse as he smiles at you. Never losing eye contact, he leans down until his lips are grazing the shell of your right ear.

“Did you miss me?” Goosebumps raise all over your body.

“Caleb.” Your voice is raspy and the sounds get stuck in your throat, threatening to choke you.

“The one and only.” He presses a light kiss to your temple.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t explain how he’s standing in front of you. Your world as you know it is cracking and crashing around you, and he’s just there. Tears spring up faster than you can force them away. They pool in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision of the living ghost behind you.

Caleb steps back around, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he wipes the tears from your eyes. You flinch at how cold his hands are; the sensation shocking you. “Now, now, pips. I expected a big hug from you when I imagined this moment.”

His words betray his actions as he crouches in front of you, his hands tracing the skin around the restraints. He doesn’t move to release you from them. A laugh bubbles up and escapes your lips as you take in this foreign version of your best friend. Gone is the childish Caleb you knew so well. This man may look like him, but the energy around him is suffocating. Harsh lines decorate his face and his smile doesn’t reach his dim purple eyes.

“Hard to hug a dead man when you’re chained to a chair.”

His thumb digs into your wrist for a brief moment, the pain jolting up your arm. He shakes his head.

“I see you haven’t lost that attitude of yours, princess.” The pet name drips off his tongue condescendingly. “That’s okay. It’s to be expected since I’ve been gone for so long. There was no one around to work it out of you. But, I’m here now.”

“And how are you here, exactly?” You lean forward, sneering at the man. “Last I checked, you should be 6 feet under in Linkon Cemetery.”

“I know it’s all confusing now, and I don’t expect you to understand. Not yet. But, aren’t you happy? Your “big brother” is back.”

You spit in his face. His facade drops ever so slightly. Reaching up, his thumb wipes it off his cheekbone. With eyes never leaving yours, he licks the dribbling spit off his gloved appendage. A groan slips past his lips. The sight has butterflies blooming deep in your stomach.

“Gentle, pips. There’s more than one pair of eyes watching us right now.”

Your eyes dart to the camera mounted on the wall behind him, a red light blinking next to the lens. You gulp at the thought of others witnessing this moment, praying there is no audio. He has to hold back the grin from forming as he watches you frantically think of the Fleet watching you both. The cameras are only accessible by him, but you don’t need to know that. He loves the way it makes you fidget in the chair.

“Now, are you going to be a good girl?”

Eyes glaring daggers into his, his hands land on your thighs, squeezing the plump flesh. His touch is cold against your warm and clammy skin. The look in his eyes daring you to go against him, to act up, to defy. It’s dangerous, he’s dangerous.

His fingers move up, pushing the fabric of your skirt with it, all the while he watches you. He sees the way your pupils dilate, the way the pulse in your neck quickens. He feels your thighs twitch, moving to squeeze together, but his grip prevents you from denying him. All the while, the fabric of your panties grows damp at his roughness.

Higher now, the tips of his thumbs start to fall into the crevice between your thighs and hips, and he almost moans at the way your skin pillows around his hands. That’s not what does him in though. Before you can protest and ask him to move away, his thumbs graze the outskirts of lace frill. Lace that is wet and stuck to your skin. His head drops into your lap, his breath quickening.

“Fuck, pips.” He traces his fingers along the edge of the fabric as he pants into the side of your left thigh, nipping at the skin to prevent another moan from leaving his lips. You gasp at the sensations, your body trying to curl in on itself but the restraints prevent you. “You are my undoing.”

“Caleb.” The sound of his name whimpering out of those plush lips has his cock twitching in his slacks.

“What is it, my love?” His hot breath is torture against your trembling skin.

His fingers are still tracing the edges of your panties, back and forth and back and forth, never giving you what you need. Your pulse throbs heavily in your clit as you clench around nothing. You can feel yourself growing wetter at his ministrations and the thought is mortifying.

Yet, something about the way he looks both dominating yet pathetic with his head in your lap has you unraveling. Years of desires that were so tightly locked away come flooding to the surface and it feels dirty, sinful even. None of it matters anymore. No reasoning could stop this from happening… and maybe, this was always where you were meant to land.

Right in the palm of his hand.

His head tilts in your lap, his soft hair tickling you. Purple eyes stare up into yours, begging for the words to leave your mouth. Yet, the hint of darkness glinting behind it lets you know he won’t wait long. You're his for the taking.

You nod your head at him and he smirks.

“Ah-ah,” he scolds, nipping at your inner thigh harder this time, leaving a light bite mark. “Use your words.”

Rouge scatters across your cheeks, ears, and neck in shame and lust. Tilting your head to the side, averting your gaze, you whisper, “Please touch me.”

Fingers ghost over the top of your fabric, pressing gently into your mound, the fabric pushing into your folds. The feeling has your brain short circuiting. It’s still not enough.

“You have to be more specific, love. I’m already touching you.”

His face moves up higher, kissing a trail up your thighs until his nose reaches his finger, replacing it. His hands move up higher, grasping the panties resting on your hips and pulling them up higher, causing the fabric to dig in deeper. A pathetic moan ripples out your lips.

“Where do you want to be touched?” His nose moves, pushing into your throbbing clit.

“There. Please, Caleb.”

He wants to tease you more. He wants you tied to this chair, begging for his touch, tears streaming down your face from the edging and denial. He wants you to want him as desperately as he needs you. But, the sound of his name so needy on your tongue has him saving his plans for another day. Oh how easily he folds for you.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?” His tone is sarcastic, but he doesn’t deny you any longer.

Fabrics is pushed to the side and the feeling of his skin on yours has you twitching in the chair, your hands gripping the armrest. His tongue swipes through your folds, flicking your clit before diving into your pussy like a man starved. The sounds escaping your mouth are foreign to you, but so is the pleasure burning its way across your body.

Caleb is relentless in his pursuit for your orgasm. He alternates between lavishing your hole, moaning at the way your walls pathetically clench around him, and abusing your clit with bites and sucking. It’s all too much for you. The pressure building within you is lightning fast. You bite down on your lip to prevent the moans from escaping, but that angers Caleb.

One hand leaves your thigh and pulls your bottom lip out from between your teeth, replacing it with two fingers. He presses down on your tongue, your mouth opening with the force.

“Don’t,” is all he mutters against you before returning to his feast.

His other hand moves down until his index finger ghosts your entrance. He traces around and over it lightly, never truly giving you what you want. Meanwhile, the fingers in your mouth play with your tongue as you moan around them.

Suddenly, his index finger catches on your entrance and he slowly sinks into you. You bite down on his fingers, whimpering at the intrusion you desperately needed. He wanted to go slow with you. Truly, he did.

But the way you clench around him has him seeing stars. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, relishing in the way you accept him smoothly. He presses in until the palm of his hand rests against your clit. The sounds your pussy is making has him grinning ferally.

Lifting his head, he gazes at the glazed out look in your eyes. A look he’s seen only a few times before when he happened to check his monitors and you were fucking some other guy in your room. He’d almost stormed to your place that night to kill the man. He’d only been gone for a month and you’d given yourself to someone else. Your first time. The jealousy bubbles within him even now.

His hand suddenly starts rocking back and forth, his palm grinding harshly against your clit. The sensation has you tearing apart at the seams. Stars flicker in the corners of your eye as you feel yourself approaching the edge of a dangerous cliff. His name rambles off your tongue like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby girl.” His tone sounds mocking, but you can barely process that over the pleasure coursing through your body. “Cum on my hand.”

He’s resting on his heels now, watching you fall apart right before his eyes. Your knuckles are white against the armrest, your thighs twitching, and your mouth suckling on his fingers through broken moans. He curls his fingers up right as he sees you inhale, finger tips grazing a spot you’d never touched before. A spot no one had touched before.

A wave crashes through you, dragging you under, as an orgasm rips through you. Caleb doesn’t falter, working a third finger in at the same time you cum. The sensation has tears bubbling in your eyes, a sob escaping your lips. He works you through your orgasm flawlessly, while building up another one at the same time. It’s overwhelming.

Caleb removes his fingers from your mouth, trailing down to your neck, grasping it within his hands. Fingers press into the sides, your head feeling light at the restricted blood flow. Your eyes find him, trying to ground yourself in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers leave you right as you're about to cum again, the denial harsh. Before you can beg the colonel before you to continue, his fingers reach his lips. You watch silently as he sucks on his fingers, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight is obscene and filthy, and you’re enthralled.

Once he’s done sucking every last drop of you off his tongue, he stands up, towering over you. The grip on your throat moves to your cheeks, pushing them together. “Open up,” he demands.

Even if you wanted to defy him, his hands force your lips to part and your head to tilt up to his. He leans down until his face is above yours, eyes boring into yours as his mouth opens. Your cum and his spit gathers in his mouth before he spits it into yours.

“Swallow.” And, you do. Your tongue swipes across your lips to make sure you didn’t miss a drop before opening your mouth, proving to him that you’d followed his orders. His hand taps the side of your cheek. “What a good girl you are.”

Suddenly, there’s a beeping sound echoing in the room and the pressure around your wrists and ankles releases. You’re unchained. You could try to make a run for it, but you don’t want to. Not anymore. He’d only chase you, punish you. The thought is actually tempting. But, what if he didn’t? What if you ran and he let you? Would you ever see him again? You’d only just gotten him back and the thought of losing him for a second time is inconceivable.

Caleb watches your inner turmoil for a brief second, loving the way you look torn apart. In your moment of distraction, he lifts you up from the chair. Your hands wrap around his neck for balance as your world shifts around you. He turns around before seating himself on the chair, placing you right on top of his lap, your thighs on either side of his. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you down until you’re fully seated against the bulge in his slacks.

Your eyes whip to his his as you feel him twitching beneath you. His head rests against the back of the chair lazily, a smirk gracing his lips.

“I’m all yours, pipsqueak.” His fingers dig into the groove of your hips. “Aren’t you going to punish me?”

He moves your hips forward, grinding you down onto his cock. Biting down on his lip, he groans at the feeling of the wetness seeping into the fabric of his pants. Your hands rest on his shoulders to balance yourself, falling into the motions of grinding atop him.

You wanted to respond to him. You wanted to yell how angry and hurt you were at him, but your mind blanks out at the sensation of another orgasm building within you. Your head falls to his shoulder, your lips grazing the skin of his neck above his jacket collar. Sweet moans and gasps fall from your lips, warming his heart.

His hands move from your hips, which never falter in their dry humping, and grasp the bottom of your shirt. He peels it up from your body, his head nudging yours so you lift it. Once the fabric is free from your body he tosses it to the side, his hands immediately unclipping the bra and tearing it off you.

If angels were real, you had to be one and he could only pray that staring directly at your heavenliness wouldn’t kill him. He’d dedicate his life to you, bruise his knees in nightly worship at your feet, if it meant you’d stay here, right in his unworthy arms.

Gently, as if not to scare you, his hands ghost your skin. The feeling has your nipples pebbling and goosebumps raising all over. Gods, waiting this long to have you was his punishment.

His hands explore your body, fondling your boobs, gripping your hips, smacking your ass, as you greedily grind down on him, using him for your pleasure. You feel like teenagers in heat as you both explore each other.

But, it’s not enough, and you both soon realize that as your moans turn into frustrated whimpers as your orgasm rests just below the surface.

You sit up, your hips circling his lap, tears in your eyes and the tiniest bit of drool on the corner of your lips. Caleb wants to photograph you just like this: drunk from his touch on his lap. He nods at the way your eyes plead with him, his name babbling out of your lips.

One of his hands traces up to the back of your head and gently grips your hair in his grasp. The other moves to rest at the top of his zipper, his thumb presses against your clit as you move. You're greedy in the way you start to chase your pleasure against his hand now, ignoring his throbbing cock. Right as the tension is about to burst out of you, you’re lifted off his lap.

The energy wrapped around you has you feeling weightless as your head whips down to the man right below you, anger simmering in your blood. A tear drips from your eye and lands on the corner of his cheek, his tongue swipes it.

“You’ve always been so cute when you’re angry. But, you need to know your place, pips.”

“Put me down right this instant, Caleb.” Your voice sounds foreign to you, raspy and breathless.

Laughing at your pitiful excuse to demand him, he unzips his pants. Your eyes immediately dart to the movement, any more arguments dying on your lips. He palms himself over his boxers for a moment, relishing the hungry look in your eyes.

“What if I like you up there?” Suddenly there’s a bit of pressure against your clit and then you feel your panties tear away from your body, the fabric burning against your skin as it quickly rips. The cold air has you twitching above him, and he’s given a beautiful view of your dripping pussy.

Without breaking eye contact from your beautiful mound, he frees himself from his boxers, his dick standing against his stomach as his hand wraps around it. For as long as you’d lived together in the past, you’d never seen this part of him. He always made sure never to expose himself to you, no matter how many times he’d seen you naked over the years. It had bothered you on endless nights where you tried chasing your pleasure in between his sheets while he wasn’t home, inhaling his scent on his pillow, imagining his cock rubbing against your clit instead of your untrained fingers.

You’re enthralled with the veins that adorn his thick cock as they trace up to a pink tip that has you gulping. Could you fit him? Sure, you’d been with well-endowed men in the past but Caleb was a different breed. Where most men excel in either length or girth, he is blessed with both. Maybe even cursed, depending on how this goes.

His hand pumps up and down his shaft as he stares at your exposed pussy while you sit in your rambling thoughts. Tiny groans escape his lips as he clenches the base of his shaft, holding his pleasure at bay, his balls twitching. He can’t cum yet, not when he’d prepared you so well.

“Caleb.” Your breathy voice breaks him out of his daze, eyes darting to yours. “Put me down.”

The venom in your voice is gone, replaced with a sweetness that has his teeth rotting. He can’t ever say no to you at the end of the day, no matter how hard he tries. It’d always been this way. He could only resist and deny you for so long before you won in the end.

The energy around you shifts, bringing you down the few feet to meet his body, but not fully releasing you. The tip of his cock grazes against your folds. But, he did love to make sure you deserved your win, and you hadn’t yet.

Frustration burns across your body as Caleb toys with you, dragging his cock through your folds and rubbing against your clit. He repeats the motion a few times until you’re whimpering above him, your eyes burning holes into his skin. His cock catches on your entrance for a second, knocking the air out of your lungs at the feeling, before it slips out and through your folds. “Caleb,” you warn.

The colonel doesn’t even look up at you, he’s too mesmerized by how you’re dripping onto his cock, his hand rubbing your cum across the smooth skin of his shaft. Your warning falls on deaf ears as he catches his cock on your hole one more time, groaning at the way your entrance tries to clench onto him and drag him in, but you’re not close enough.

He needs your pussy weeping for me. He needs you crying for him.

It’s torture as he dangles you just out of his reach, building your orgasm up with the tip of his cock and sometimes his fingers when you beg. The edging and denial is overstimulating. The air in the room is suffocatingly hot. Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“I-” Your voice breaks into a moan when his fingers ghost over your clit. “I need you.”

There it is.

“Am I not giving you enough, my love?”

His cock settles at your entrance, this time not moving. The feeling has you writhing in his gravitational hold. You shake your head, words failing you as tears blur your vision. The frustration is painful.

“You’ve always been so greedy.” Your body starts to inch slowly down until the tip of his cock rests within, the feeling making you delirious as a moan rips through you.

“Always such a needy little brat.” His words are harsh and his evol raises you up until his cock is resting just at your entrance again.

Blood rushes through your ear as your walls clench around nothing yet again, the pulse in your clit threatening to tear you apart from the pain.

“Pushing me around all these years.” You sink down again, your breath stuttering, but he’s pulled you up again before you can even cherish the feeling of him. “Do you know how that has made me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out as a sob racks your body, tears spilling from your eyes. You want to rip your skin apart to rid yourself of this burning sensation. “Caleb, please.”

It’s not enough. Not yet.

“Please what, pipsqueak? Use your words. You’ve used them so well in the past to hurt me.” He sinks you down again, waiting this time to see if you will be punished or rewarded.

“Forgive me.” He tsks, almost pulling you off him before words begin rambling out of your mouth on a broken sob. “Fuck me. Please, just take me. Use me. I need it. Caleb. I’m sorry, please. Cal-”

Gravity rushes back through your body and suddenly your hips are flush to Caleb’s, his cock pushing through you with little resistance until he’s fully sheathed in your warmth. It takes the strength of gods to hold his orgasm back and not empty his cum into your deliriously hot pussy. The air is ripped from your lungs and you forget how to breathe as an orgasm rips through you at the pain and pleasure of his cock throbbing against your tight walls.

You almost lose consciousness at the absolute power of your orgasm. Lightning shoots across your body, zapping every nerve until you’ve turned to jello in his hold. Caleb’s hand rests on your abdomen, his thumb stroking over the bulge where his cock rests within you, filling you up more than you’d ever been in your life. The added pressure of his hand against your stomach has you keeling over, the air rushing back into your lungs right before you pass out.

Caleb waits for you to get used to him. He’s patient. He knows that you’re stretched thin. He knows that your body can take him, but that it’s not easy. He knows it in the way your pussy grips him like a vice, threatening to break him off at the base, yet pull him in at the same time.

When your breathing returns to normal is when he moves, grabbing your hips and grinding you against him at first. The movement has you circling on his cock, but you need more. Your hands grip his shoulders as you raise your head up to meet his eyes, and the look of him has your heart melting.

He’s looking at you as if you crafted the world with your bare hands and gave it to him. The purple of his eyes is almost gone and the smile on his lips is soft. He looks like the Caleb you know again. The soft Caleb who made sure you were taken care of and went to sleep happy every night. It has you returning the smile and his hips jolt up into you at the sight.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers before lifting you up by your hips, his cock slowly dragging out of your walls, the feeling making you dizzy. “I missed that smile.”

With that, Caleb’s restraint is gone. He drops you onto his cock once more, rutting up to meet your hips, his cock kissing your cervix. Moans rolls out of you like music to his as he fucks into with reckless abandon. You may be on top, but his tight grip controls every single movement.

His head falls into the crook of your neck, biting down hard when you clench around him as your third orgasm surprises the both of you. His tongue swipes against the mark, soothing the pain he’d caused. “Such a tight pussy, baby. All for me.”

“Yes, sir. All for you.”

Oh, the submission in your voice and body has him seeing stars. Somehow, his cock grows harder within you, the feeling causing you to whimper, looking at him with the most needy eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “Fuck me,” he whispers.

Grabbing your ass firmly with both hands, he stands up. You sink even deeper onto him with this new angle, your eyes rolling back as his cock presses harshly against your cervix and sits there. He turns you both around until you’re facing the chair. Lifting you off of him, you moan at the empty feeling as he slips out of you.

“Shhhh, be good for me.” He kisses you as one hand releases you to return with a sharp smack against your ass.

His hands move expertly as he turns you around in his hold until your back is against his chest, his cock slipping between your thighs. You tighten them until his cock is firmly cocooned between your plushy skin. His teeth bite into the shell of your ear as he retracts his hips, pulling himself free from your seductive hold as he places you on your knees in the chair.

“Grab the armrests, would you please baby?” He asks sweetly, his tongue swiping the inside of your ear, causing you to shiver.

You do as he asks, regaining your balance. You grip the metal of the chair, holding on as his hands rub down your arms. Caleb peppers across your neck and back, causing you to giggle at the sensation. You press back into him, your ass rubbing against his cock.

Click.

Cold metal snaps against your wrists, binding you back to the chair like before. You try to turn and look at the man behind you, angry that he’d lock you up as before, but his hand at your throat stops you. His fingers wrap around the collar you’d forgotten about.

“Can’t you just fuck me like a normal person.”

You’re mad again and he loves the way your eyebrows furrow.

“Bold of you to assume I’m normal, pips. I thought we established,” he whispers into your ear as his cock pushes into you from behind, your pussy resisting him a little with this new angle, “I am anything but that.”

His words end with a sharp thrust of his hips, his skin slapping against your ass. He doesn’t wait for you this time, his pace is relentless as he drives into you, chasing both his pleasure and yours. You lean forward from the movement, your chest pressed against the cold metal of the chair as he fucks into you.

All you can feel is the addicting feeling of him moving inside you, pressing against a spot that has you moaning his name with every thrust. He’s no more put together than you. Sweat drips down his face, his hair sticking to his skin as he watches the way his cock disappears into you and how your pussy holds onto him when he pulls out. It’s a sight he’s imagined countless times over the years, but experiencing it is otherworldly.

You're falling against the chair now, the arch in your back giving out as your strength fades. Caleb can’t have that. His hand at your throat moves to the back of your neck and grips the collar. He leans back, using every ounce of self-restraint to remove his body from your back. When he pulls the collar back towards him, you raise up, your back arching, moans choking at the pressure the collar has added on your throat. You can still breathe, he’s evol is holding the rest of your weight slightly up so the collar doesn’t choke you out.

“A normal person wouldn’t fuck you like this.”

He’s thrusting into you again. With every push in, he pulls the collar tighter, making your body meet him. His free hand slaps your ass before rubbing the red mark away. You yelp at the pain, and relish the delicious way he soothes it.

“But, you wouldn’t want to be fucked normally.”

Your mind is in the clouds as his presence surrounds you: his scent, his body, his evol, his touch, everything. You aren’t sure where you end, and he begins as he rhythmically fucks into you. Every few moments, he slows down, making sure you can truly feel him.

“None of those other boys could make you cum.” He spits out the words angrily, his hand spanking you once more before smoothing your skin. “Do you know how hard I had to hold myself back so I didn’t barge into your room and finish the job myself?”

You should be embarrassed that he knows such things, should be terrified of how he even knows that, but his fingers find your clit and your sobbing at the overwhelming sensation of Caleb.

“You should’ve done it.” Your words are barely comprehensible over the sound of skin slapping against each other and your moans within this room, but he hears you all the same.

His hand leaves the collar and wraps around your throat, bringing himself flush against your back as he ruts shallowly into you, his orgasm quickly approaching.

“Yeah? You would’ve liked that, brat? Have your best friend clean up those assholes’ mess and replace it with his own?”

Your head falls against his shoulder, your lips kissing the skin behind his ear as you moan at the thought of him doing that all those years ago.

“They didn’t deserve to cum in this pussy. They weren’t worthy of you.” His fingers tighten and your head grows light at the pressure of his hand at your throat and clit. “That’s okay though. I’ll wash you clean of their filth. I’ll make sure no one touches you ever again.”

You’re at his mercy as he skillfully fucks in and out of you, his fingers rubbing delicious circles around your clit. There’d never been another time in your life where you’d felt this much pleasure and you fall into its embrace willingly. As your breath quickens and becomes choppy as your orgasm approaches, Caleb whispers filthy praises into your ear before grabbing your chin and tilting your head towards him.

You open your eyes briefly to look at how absolutely drunk off you he looks. You stretch up, your hands pulling at the restraints, and kiss him. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated as you both moan into the other, tongue and teeth battling for dominance when they can. His hips stutter, losing rhythm and you know he’s close. So are you with his hand between your thighs.

“Can I?” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know what he wants.

“Yes.” Your consent rips away whatever restraint he thought he had left.

All he can think of is filling your pretty pussy up with his cum until your stomach is full and bloated with it, with him. He’ll fill you up nice and good and make sure you don’t waste a drop. After today, he’ll make sure you leave the house, when he lets you, with his cum dampening your panties. He needs you full of him.

His fingers work you into your next orgasm smoothly, that it’s arrival has you melting into his hold. Warmth spreads across your body in waves as his orgasm rips through him like an earthquake. His hand moves away from your clit, sparing it from oversensitivity for today, and further down until it’s cupped around your mound, his dick slotted between his fingers.

The extra feeling of his hand around his dick and your cream pooling around his fingers and base of his cock has his eyes rolling back. His cum floods into you in thick bursts, the hot fluid covering your wall as his head falls onto your shoulder.

He’s moaning your name like it’s a prayer as he rides out his orgasm slowly, relishing the way your walls try to milk more out of him. If he could, he’d stay seated here forever, with you in his arms and wrapped around his cock. But, the Fleet will need this room at some point and the thought of such trivial humans seeing you like this has him seething.

The restraints around your wrists release you and one of your arms raises up to hug Caleb’s head and pull him closer into you. He peppers your eyes and cheek with soft kisses, cleaning your face of sweat and tears, as he pulls out of you. The feeling is awkward as the cum rushes to drip out of you.

Caleb’s fingers join back together once he’s fully out of you and he cups you tightly, making sure not a drop spills out. He grins against your neck as he nuzzles into it, proud of the way your pussy is pulsing against his hand.

“Can’t have you wasting my cum after you worked so hard for it, now can we?” His tone is mocking, but he kisses you softly nonetheless.

A group of cadets walk past the door, their voices filling the empty room, and Caleb can’t help loving the way you tense up, scared to be caught by such runts. Your pulse quickens under his lips, and he kisses it to soothe you.

“Let’s get you home so I can clean you up, okay?” His eyes travel across your torn panties and dirty clothes on the ground, before he hands you his jacket. Your fingertips touch as you take the jacket from him, and he grabs your wrist. His head leans down to brush his lips across the top of your hand before letting go. “Put that on, Princess. I don’t want anyone seeing you like that. That’s only for my eyes.”

Caleb’s wink has you shoving his shoulder before wrapping yourself up in his large jacket. Once closed, it fully covers you up and Caleb can’t help the way his cock hardens at the way you look in his colonel coat. He sweeps you up into his arm bridal style before his cock comes up with other ideas.

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingertips messing with the short hairs at his nape.

“Who's taking me home? The Colonel or my best friend?” You try to ask teasingly but the worry and sadness seeps into your tone.

His gaze softens as a regretful smile graces his handsome face.

“Hopefully, just Caleb.”

You don’t say anything further. Not now. The moment is too raw, emotions too high. For now, you want to relish in his warmth and devotion, everything else can be worried about tomorrow. Today, you have the love of your life back and that’s enough.

He’s enough.

#love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb #caleb x mc #caleb lads #colonel caleb #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #lads smut #lnds #lnds caleb #pure filth

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julietsbody · 1 year ago

Text

lace garters

words : 3,903

tags : 18+!!! mdni! escorts , sex work , reader ! sex worker , vaginal sex , finger fucking , finger sucking , porn with feelings , brothels , oral sex , save a horse ride a whattt

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!! ( divider by siren4u & gif by drewstarkrs )

billy was a virgin, surprisingly, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and the quick fucks from the escorts never enticed him much. many offered, when he would stop quick at towns for a simple beer or to take care of things— he would typically get stopped by the escorts dressed in their gorgeous silks, tight corsets, and sleeves that fall off their shoulders so easily it has your fingers itching with desire to fix it. it would make even the most sane man turn mad, and somehow billy never allowed himself to fall for it.

not until now, an escort stops him before he walks in a bar, “how old are you, dear?”

“19, ‘bout to turn 20,” his voice is smooth and sweet, southern drawl sweeping out with ease.

the girl hums out, tipping out of the way to allow his eyes to another girl standing far behind her, you, “you’re too young for me, dear, you should talk to her. she can show you a good time.”

typically billy would say no, offer a few coins for their efforts and simply walk into the bar like nobody had offered. but something was different when his eyes fell on you, you weren’t like the other escorts, quick to talk to the men and get some money for the events that take within the confines of the motel walls. you were rather looking off in the distance, your position more reserved rather than comfortable. it had him wanting to know more.

to be fair, billy was bored these days, all he did was travel and go from town to town, never leaving a mark on those behind. other than his wanted posters, which by the way, had an awful drawing on it. how the hell was he ever supposed to get a girlfriend with drawings like that made about him? each step is slow, calculated, as he moves over to you. he notices that mid way, your attention seems forced away from him.

are you afraid of him? he tips his head in your peripheral, easily looming over you, “darling.”

your eyes snap to him almost immediately, widening as if you didn’t think it would truly be him, yet you mumble out a, “honey.”

“lady over there told me to talk to you,” his head tips up, blue eyes piercing into you, even through the deepest of the night.

“i don’t want trouble,” you finally turn to him, the smell of musk and gunsmoke filling your nose as he bites through the toothpick in his mouth, “i hear you’re wanted.”

“wanted, but not trouble,” he corrects, smirk tugging at his right lip, “you don’t gotta tell anyone.”

“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” your voice is so sweet, it nearly has him doubling over. you’re teasing him, clearly, but billy has never backed down to a challenge once in his life, he can bet on that.

his eyebrow twitches upright slightly, “how much for thirty minutes, beautiful?”

“you can satisfy me in thirty minutes?” you tease, smile widening at your own joke.

his head cocks to the side, and he can’t help the way he licks his lips, cockiness coursing through his veins, “i probably could in ten.”

you can’t help the way your flesh feels like rubber over molten, cheeks flaring to a new maroon that you hadn’t expected. your eyes dare to match his, the lust unsheathed in the teal of his eyes, “thirty will be just a few coins.”

his hand moves to your jaw, tipping your head up further to look at him with ease, now you have no choice of looking away, “you don’t think i can in ten?”

“i doubt it,” your skin is hot underneath his touch, despite your bold demeanor.

“we’ll see.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the motel carried the same smell as it always did, the mix of mustiness, smoke from cigars, and whiskey. billy’s gut churned as you led him to the room that you always rented, surely, he was cocky at first— then he began to worry if he would even be good enough. he was a virgin, after all, and he’s sure you’d been with mostly experienced men. he doesn’t say anything once the door opens, seemingly every worry dissipates as you look back at him with a different look, your lashes flutter over your eyes with ease, the look is more seductive, siren like.

if you were a siren, consider him the sailors in those tales, lost in the tides and addicted to the song that oozed out your vocals.

he allows you to guide him to the bed, sitting him down on the thin, firm mattress with your hands lingering on his shoulders, “what would you like me to do?”

“i’d like for you,” he trails off, eyes tracing down your body, “to get on your knees.”

your hands leave his shoulders as you ever so slowly kneel down, every movement is well thought out, calculated, your body flowing in the most seductive ways. despite your lowered body, your eyes still remained up at him, the sudden doe look in your eyes making his legs spread ever so slightly. his hand is gentle when it touches your cheek again, pinky lining underneath your jawline as his thumb threatens against your lips.

it’s dangerous, the way you look at him, like your gun is being drawn to him with your finger teasing the trigger.

“and?” you add, his thumb teasing your now open lips. he tried not to flinch when your mouth encased his thumb, the warmth wetness of your mouth enveloping the skin. he finds himself unable to speak, unable to wonder whatever he wants— he wants to be stuck in this moment forever, it was greater than any other treasure he had come across. you were so good at your job, it made him want to know the lengths of your skills.

“suck me off,” he finally speaks, gentle to remove his thumb from your mouth.

it was a statement that you were used to, the firm tone, the expectation to get to it immediately— yet you are somehow surprised when it comes from him, it’s less firm, not like a demand but rather an offer, and there wasn’t a feeling of being rushed. for a man who seemingly had no time for women, he surely had a way to talk to them, to be gentler with them, unlike the other men. it was always cowboys who had the better ways of treating women, respectful with every word, or touch. his eyes are heavy on you, the curtains of your eyelashes blinking up to him, your lips tinted a sweet rouge due to a patted on lipstick, and he finds himself pushing his thumb across your lips, smudging the burgundy ever so slightly.

your hands smooth over the fabric of his pants, fingertips teasing the leather of his belt which accompanied his gun holster as you palmed him through his slacks. the touch of the leather was rich, sturdy and every loop was clean cut, rather than loose and falling apart like many belts you had undone before. you hear him groan as your hand gently pushes against his clothed cock, his back stiffening ever so slightly as a chill runs up it.

he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as you undo his belt, your fingertips threateningly close to his gun holster as you pull the leather from the metal to loosen it. a chuckle vibrates from his chest, voice lower than usual, “careful, princess.”

he lifts his hips as you tug down his pants, boxers following soon after to slip down to his ankles with ease. a hiss escapes him as soon as his hard dick is released to the cold air, with the opposing blow of your warm air on his tip. he was already so hard, as if he had been aching for a day like this. his hand moves to wrap around his base, hips scooting closer ever so slightly.

“open,” his voice is husky, yet velvety, like the thorn of a rose to the petals.

you’re quick to allow your jaw to fall slack, tongue smoothing out past the burgundy that coats your lips, as if you expected his next command. he taps his tip against your tongue, biting back the groan that thunders inside his every limb at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle. he allows you to take the lead, your tongue following the underside of his dick, memorizing each vein. when you reach his tip, you press a few sloppy kisses to it that has his breathing roughen, allowing you to open your mouth once more and take his length inside.

he sucks in a deep breath, a hoarse groan escaping past his lips when he exhales, allowing his teeth clench on the thin wooden toothpick that still remained in his mouth. his head tips back when you hollow your cheeks only mere seconds into sucking him off, his hat slipping off his head and falling onto the plush of the bedsheets.

his breath becomes ragged with the more you bob your head, allowing the tip to reach the back of your mouth, to the throat. his free hand moves to pass through your hairline, gripping at the beginning of your hair, even through your updo, loosening the tightening of the strands. the muscle in his arms flex underneath his short-sleeved button up, veins popping out every time you reach the base.

“good girl,” he breathes out, the whimper that vibrates around his cock making his release come quicker than expected, hand bunching up your hair as he has to move you back, off his dick to stop his orgasm. he heaves, noticing the way strips of saliva connect your mouth to his dick. he moves his hand from your hair down to your lips, watching the way your mouth instinctively opens then closes around his fingers, sucking them in with pure ease.

he allows you to wet them with your saliva until he pulls them out and mumbles a soft, “come.”

he helps you up onto his lap, the metal of his gun is a cooling sensation on his heated skin as he moves back, reaching under to toss his gun elsewhere. he had his guard down now, despite the large bounties on his head, he was too focused on you, and giving you the pleasure that you deserved. as you straddle him, his fingers dared to touch the bottom of your dress, threatening to raise, “may i?”

your eyes are tantalizing when they meet his, like the threatens of the deepest lust lie within them, and billy is willing to dive in, “you may.”

his hair is messy now, like he never took off that damn hat, and when he did— he didn’t bother to fix the hair underneath.

every movement is careful, meant to be more meaningful than a quick fuck, he raises your skirt until his eyes catch on to a white lace garter that’s propped around your upper thigh. so sweet, the purposeful placement of it all, it’s like a prize for whoever gets to raise your skirt. as you sit on his lap, your arms rest on his shoulders, a hand threatening the skin on the back of his neck as his hands move back around your waist, through the silk of the corset to the strings that hold it together on the back. his eyes are stuck onto you as his fingers begin to tug at the tie of the strings, they were in a harsh knot, but billy always knew his way around things.

kissing clients was typically a line many of the women wouldn’t dare to cross, sometimes not even you, but the way his eyes kept tipping down to your lips had you threateningly close to the now faded line. as the laces of your corset loosen, your head tips down to where your lips barely brush him, you can smell the mint already before even getting a chance. your lips move to close around the toothpick that he kept in his mouth, moving to spit it out and he was quick to chase your lips. as soon as you had spit out the toothpick, his lips finally pressed against yours, allowing your freshly manicured hands to curl through his brunette hair.

the fresh smell of your rose and jasmine was quick to his nose as he inhaled you up close, tongue teasing against your lower lip ever so carefully. there was a certain thirst that billy found himself feeling as he moves to spread your mouth open with his own, allowing your tongues to both clash, the mix of spit and remnants of mint and a cigarette becoming prominent to the taste. he wanted to drink every word from your lips, to suck in your siren song like his life depended on it.

when your hips bucked up against him, needy to feel a form of friction, it had encouraged him to finally free you from the confines of your corset. your lips part when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down to your jaw, throughout until he meets your neck, the softness of his kisses making it feel as though doves were flying through the confines of your body. when his lips begin to move to suck on the delicate skin, you hiss, “dear, dear, you can’t leave marks.”

“your rules or brothel rules?” he murmurs against your skin, moving to toss away your corset onto the floor.

“brothel rules,” you hush out, and you feel his lips curl onto your neck.

“then ‘m gonna leave as many marks as i want,” he falls back into your skin, lips taking in the skin between his teeth as he moved to mark you as his own. the desire to have a prostitute as your own was a dangerous game, but billy had been a part of many dangerous games before, and now he was pulling all his money in with the unluckiest of cards— yet he still finds himself with the pride of feeling he will win. his lips pause at one of the pulse points on your neck, noticing how your heat beat quickens, and flutters, was this typical?

he wasn’t sure, but he finds himself praying it’s a good thing. he chuckles as your hands are desperate to unbutton his shirt, pushing each wooden button through the loops with ease, you had done this a million times before, this is the only time your heart is thumping in your chest when you do, though. he moves his hand down to take a hold of one of your wrists, “easy, girl, easy.”

“you said ten minutes,” you remind him, smile dripping on your lips.

“mm, i want longer than that,” he helps you unbutton the last few before taking off his shirt, noticing how your eyes trail down his figure.

“just sayin’ that because you can’t make me cum,” you break into a soft laugh against him, and he can’t help the way a small smile curves his lips as he takes off the dress that you were wearing. your body is alike to the statues you could only dream of seeing in those beautiful stories about gods and women who ruled. women who were worshipped, even as billy knew you for mere minutes, he found himself wanting to kneel at your altar, to worship the ground you walk on. to make you cum would mean more than he imagined at first, he wanted to be that man, to pleasure you in ways others haven’t.

his fingers slip underneath the hem of your panties, immediately exposed to the wetness underneath as it coats his fingers, “can’t make you cum yet you’re so wet for me, hm?”

you bite your lip, allowing your hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelopes your every thought almost immediately. though billy wasn’t quite sure about what exactly to do, he had heard the other cowboys speak of this, and he hoped it delivered as much pleasure as they said when he dips a finger inside of you. you’re loose around him, wet, yet sucking him in so easily. he’s quick to add another, finding his rhythm almost immediately and getting cocky with it. he dares to let his thumb tease the edges of your clit, as if he didn’t know it was there and he was merely looking for somewhere to place it.

he notices the way your nails dig in to his scalp, biting your tongue so hard that crimson may bleed from it with ease.

billy had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, and yet none have reacted the ways in which you do. they were quick to show how they react, every emotion not blanketed behind a curtain of embarrassment but now, despite it being your job to over exaggerate the pleasure, you found yourself shy to make noise. he moves to allow another finger to push inside of you, the pink velvet of your insides encasing his fingers with ease. he hears you gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. his thumb moves to your clit again, and that’s when your grip becomes lethal, biting your lip no longer becoming a guard for your moans.

“please,” you mumble out, whimpering.

“please what, princess?” you’re putty in his hands, and he’s kneading you with ease.

“i.. i need you,” you moan out, to be saying this to a wanted man, one who has killed, and committed theft, as well as escaped from prison— it was something you swore to never do. yet you were having sex with him and his touch felt so gentle it was as if it never happened, how could a man so dangerous be so kind? you feel a vein pulse from his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes following yours as he moves his hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to move in between his lips and the taste of you to savor his tastebuds.

your pupils dilate at the sight of him tasting you, skin warming before you can even realize that you’re moving to take his fingers out, replacing them with your tongue as your mouth presses against his again. his hand falls on your waist, other hand guiding his dick to your cunt as he deepens the kiss to feel you moan against his mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, each movement a hunger of it’s own but yours falls submissive as soon as his dick slides into you with ease. your velvet is tighter around him than he expected, and he feels the vibrations of your whines against his tongue, mumbling a small, “you’re so big—“ against his lips.

once you reach his base, you pull away from his lips, a mere string of saliva connecting you both like a lifeline.

now you have the lead to take, your lips connecting with his neck to leave marks on him, you wonder how the other cowboys will react as your hips start swaying on his dick, riding him with ease. will they laugh at him for all the prominent hickeys? there’s no way he could hide it, you’ve heard billy had girlfriends all around in many different towns and parts of the state, what if he went back to them and they saw all the marks? it would trace back to you, you’re sure of it, but something about that fills you with a sense of pride rather than fear. you’ve always adored the outlaws, even though you were raised to be a good christian woman, a good girl. the outlaws were always the sweet talkers, as you were told from the other girls at the brothel. you were told stories about how well they treated the women, their touch being better than most the regulars, their words so dirty you’d only dream of being told it until you had finally heard it.

now you found yourself in love with the idea of trouble, as you wrap yourself in the silks of his touch and the pleasure he gave you. his head tilts back to allow you more access to the free canvas of his neck, his hand raises, then immediately smacks onto the flesh of your ass. the slap tore a cry from your throat, into the skin that coats his neck, and a plain redness forms around the mark of his hand, branding you.

somehow, this was more intimate than your previous affairs, even despite the roughness of the sex. it felt like a wild play of ballet, an opera you would only dream of seeing, the gracefulness of each movement and the sweetness that drips like honey off each sound, even the sounds of skin slapping as you ride him. you taste the bitterness of his cologne as you reach the sides of his neck, sucking the pale skin with a need to create marks that last. he’s fascinated by your every movement, if this truly was a ballet, he would find himself in the crowd, watching the dancer move with such purity even during such a lewd act.

you felt yourself curl as your orgasm builds again, and it seems he is too in the way his hips begin to rock. every movement feels like being coated in molasses, trying to swim through it, the orgasms scorching through your inner thighs to your core until it wracks your body, hitting you harder than it had any other time. you don’t know what it was about him, but you were quick to flutter around him, and that had him pulling out, stroking himself for mere seconds until white stripes fall in messy streaks across your skin.

he pulls you closer when your lips move so your head tilts onto his shoulder, both of your guys’ chests heaving as if you had just been working out, as if you were running towards danger and felt the warmth of it’s embrace reel you in. it was billy’s arms, his eyes closing for a mere second before they open again, “thought i couldn’t make you cum.”

you hate the way you smile so easily at anything he says, the way you melt into his touch, the way even though you were merely a one night stand it felt like you wanted this to be an eternity, you wanted him to be a regular.

“mm, i faked it,” you say with a smile, so clearly a lie.

you move so he slips out of you, your cunt clamping around nothing as it missed the feeling of him inside of you. soon, you reassure yourself as you stand, convinced he will be returning. poor, poor girl, you were just another victim of the sweet talkers with pretty faces. it worsens as your legs become jelly, and he’s quick to stand, hands fastening to your waist and holding it to keep you balanced. his chuckle turns to a laugh, a deep, hearty laugh, “you sure, doll?”

you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, somehow your lipstick remained and it kept the mark staining his cheek as you left your kiss there. then you moved, taking your clothes and putting them on, “goodnight, billy.”

#billy the kid #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid smut #billy the kid fanfiction #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #smut #coriolanus smut

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monster-disaster · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, I love your writing so much! ♥️

Can I request a male orc x chubby fem reader? I was thinking about bondage and discipline. The plot is up to you but I wanted it to be something related to that. Like she's his timid and clumsly employee and he's a strict boss who gets amused by it because this is a reason to teach her some good manners while working for him.

I love the idea! I hope you will enjoy it! :)

boss!orc x curvy!reader Warnings: dom/sub, spanking, spice

His broad smile is covered by his hand as he leans on the wooden surface of his desk. It's well-organized and clean. His shoulders are wider than the backrest of his chair, but he fits in it perfectly. The screen of his laptop illuminates the depth of his brown eyes as he follows you with his gaze. The tinted glass walls of his office give a perfect view of your desk. Unlike his, your workspace is a mess of papers, coffee cups, and sticky notes. That's why you wander back and forth between your desk and his office door for the fourth time, always searching for something.

You are a mess. But damn. You are a cute one.

He shouldn't think about you this way. He shouldn't think about you at all. And especially not when he is at home with his hard dick in his hand. But what else can he do? Your whole being screams and begs for dominance and guidance. It seems like to him, you desperately need someone to make rules you can follow and punish you if you break those. You need control. And who else could give that to you other than him?

The white blouse on you is a cheap one. Probably that's why the orc can see through it when the yellow lights of the lamps reach you just the right way. You wear a matching bra, and he can barely tear his eyes away from the soft rolls of your sides when you turn. His attention wanders lower. A light snarl forms on his lips at the sight. Your dark jeans are tight and hug your round ass perfectly. Your thick thighs rub together as you walk, and he can't help but imagine them around his head as he eats you out, gripping onto your flesh.

He is already hard when you finally reach his office. A few soft knocks echo in the silence. The documents he asked for are hugged to your chest. "Come in," he says. His voice is loud and husky. You are flushed and out of breath. It looks pretty on you. He is sure he could do much more to make you lose your breath, though. "The papers you wanted," you tell him, lifting the stack in your arms. You are still at the door, lifting your weight from one leg onto the other. "I wanted them ten minutes ago." You stare at the floor so intensely that you don't notice the amusement dancing in his eyes despite his rough voice. "I'm sorry," you reply. Your voice is timid, and for a second, the orc feels sorry for you. You are still new and not used to the way everything works in his business. And you are a good employee despite your lack of organization skills and occasional clumsiness. You work hard and learn quickly with the right motivation, and you always stay after working hours without a complaint when he needs your help.

But still. You could do better. Your boss is sure of it.

"Why are you late again?" He asks, even though he knows your answer already. You gulp. Your arm around the documents tightens. "I didn't find them." He hums, leaning back on his chair. He radiates dominance and authority. The black fabric of his suit stretches around his arms as he links them together in front of his chest. "And why is that?" He asks you, letting his gaze wander to your desk. When you notice his attention turning away from you, your eyes widen. He saw you the whole time. "I'm sorry," you breathe out. "Close the door behind you, Y/N," he says. "And come closer." You do as he says, stepping into the office further after pulling the door shut behind you. "I said closer, Y/N," he says. "And put those down." You put down the documents on his desk, keeping your gaze down. "Look at me."

When you finally look him in the eye, he is reminded of why he chose you in the first place. You are beautiful, for sure, but it was your determination that he liked enough to hire you. After working in a factory for years, you wanted something else, and you were ready to fight for the change.

"What did I say about keeping your space clean?" He asks after a few seconds. There is a heavy, disapproving sigh in his voice that makes your lips curl downward with shame. "I did," you tell him. "It just… it got too much, and before I knew it…" "It happens because you let it," he says. "If you take care of your things immediately, they don't become a mess." "I know." "Come here," the orc says, pointing at the small space between his legs after he turns away from his desk.

You shouldn't. It's too close. It's too intimate.

But your legs move before you can say no.

Even though he is sitting, his eyes are at the same level as yours. "Good girl," he praises you. "See? You can do what I say." His words send shivers down your spine straight between your legs. "But you know I have to punish you, don't you?" Your eyes are wide as you look at him. Your lips feel dry as you try to say something, but nothing comes out. "It's important to do your job as quickly as you can. What if I needed the papers immediately? What if I needed them for a meeting? How would it look if I couldn't do my job because you can't find what I need?" Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him, afraid he is firing you. "Don't cry, sweet girl," he hums, grabbing your hands to squeeze them softly. He is so much bigger than you. "I still want you here because I know you can do much better. But I can't let it slide, can I?" You shake your head, but it's not enough for him. "Speak, Y/N." "No, you can't." "Good girls." His praises again. Your tights clench, and something flutters in your stomach. "I want you to pull down your jeans to your knees."

For a long moment, you forget how to breathe. Your boss wants what?

The man watches your reaction like a hawk. Maybe it was a wrong idea. Maybe you will run out of his office to report him.

But damn, he can't make himself to save the situation and his reputation.

"You heard me, Y/N," he says with forced confidence. "You broke my rules, and you have to get punished." Your gaze snaps to the closed door, and his muscles tense to stop you, to do something before he loses his business.

But you surprise him again.

"What if somebody comes in?" You ask timidly. A slow smile appears on his face. His tusks dig into his upper lip. "Nobody will disturb us, sweetheart." After a deep breath, you nod and unbutton your pants. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and excitement. You can barely believe what is happening. And you are okay with everything.

Your boss is a handsome orc. You noticed his sharp jawline and wide nose from the moment you introduced yourself at your job interview. He was definitely not who you imagined with his thick, braided hair and broad body. Even the modern office and the expensive suit couldn't hide the primal dominance shimmering under his dark green skin.

"Good girl," he says with approval. His dark gaze follows the curve of your wide hips and the line of your panties between your legs. "Lean over the desk. Ass out." Your whole body trembles as you do as he says. His desk is cold and hard under your elbows and stomach. And you are sure your head is ready to explode when you register the fact that he has a perfect view of your ass. You want to reach back to pull down your blouse as much as you can, but you have a feeling he wouldn't be happy about it.

And you are right.

The orc's erection uncomfortably presses against the inside of his underwear at the sight of you like this. Your back is in a slight arch as you press your bottom out as he asked. Your white panties stretch across your ass, still leaving a handful of your cheeks bare. His palms burn with the need to touch you.

"Tell me why you get punished, Y/N," he breaks the silence when he finally finds his voice. The words almost come out as a low growl. "Because I was late," you tell him. Your voice is timid and quiet. He can see your muscles tense and relax as you wait for what he will do. "Why were you late?" "Because of the mess on my table." "That's right," he nods. "You are a smart girl, Y/N. And what did I tell you about keeping your space clean?" "That I shouldn't let my work pile up into a mess. I should put away everything as soon as I can." "Good girl," he hums. Your whole body jerks up when you feel his hand on your bottom. He is soft and careful, exploring your flesh while his other hand goes to the middle of your back to keep you in place. The green color of his hand fits perfectly to the shade of your skin. "I didn't say you can move," he says. "I'm sorry." "It's okay, Y/N," he hums, still caressing you. "I will tell you what I will do, okay?" You hum in agreement. "I want your words, Y/N," he says. "When I tell you something or ask something, I want you to answer with words." "Okay," you force the words out of your tightened throat. Your nerves are raw and tense as you lean on his desk, half-naked. Fear and anticipation stretch in your belly. "Good girl." The world starts to spin around you. "I want you to stay like this while I spank you, alright?"

ALRIGHT?!

"Okay." "I give you ten since I think this is your first time, am I right?" "Yes." "Good. I will give you the first five with your panties on, but I will take it off for the next five, okay?" You gulp. "Okay." "I would like you to add sir every time you speak to me, okay, love?" "Yes, sir." His hand on your ass is warm and almost comforting. He can't get enough of the feel of you. You are soft and much more than a handful. "And if you change your mind or it's too much, I want you to say red, okay?" "Okay." A light slap on your ass makes you jump and squeak with surprise. "Okay, what?" He asks. His voice is stern while he waits to correct yourself. "Okay, sir," you reply hurriedly. "Good. Now tell me, what did I say before?" "If I change my mind or if it gets too painful, I say red." "You are a smart girl, Y/N," he says. "And I'm proud of everything you did since you were here, but you have to take care of your messiness." "Yes, sir."

Even though it comes as no surprise, you still can't contain your reaction when his large hand lands on your ass again with much more strength than the first time. Your whole body tenses and bounces at the slap, breaking a high whine out of your chest. "Count, Y/N." "One, sir," you tell him tightly. "Good girl." You barely hear the end of his words because of the next smack on your cheek. Your panties do nothing to protect you from his hand. "Two," you breathe out. And three. And four. "Five, sir," you groan with tightly closed eyes. Every fiber of your body is buzzing with something unfamiliar. Your ass burns and tears gather in your eyes, but you still throb between your legs. With every small movement you make, your clit rubs against the white, soaked fabric of your underwear. "You are doing so good, Y/N," he says after the fifth slap. He goes back to caressing your bullied cheeks again while talking to you comfortingly. "Can you continue? Or do you want to stop?" You know this is the right time to get out of here, but you are too deep. Stopping now doesn't even occur in your mind. "I want to continue, sir." "My brave girl," he hums.

And he is really proud of you. You take everything he gives you like a champ. Your whimpers and moans drive him crazy, and the way your ass shakes after every slap is enough to make a man wild.

He feels like a kid in a candy store when his fingers slip under your panties to pull down the fabric to your jeans around your knees. His eyes barely have enough time to register the sight when you reach back with both hands to hide yourself.

"None of that," he grunts, grabbing your wrists to keep them between his thick fingers, pinned to your waist. The new position forces your back to arch some more, pushing your ass out in front of his hungry eyes. The fact that you can't even move anymore should make you afraid, but the only thing you feel is the hot, heavy arousal that burns through your body. "It's a punishment, no?" He asks, and your eyelids immediately fall shut because of the embarrassment that surges through your veins. You know what he is talking about. "Sir…" "But it seems like you enjoy it too much," he grins darkly. His free hand slips down from your ass between your legs. He barely touches your soaked slit, but it's enough to send a shock through your already tense body. "Sir," you beg. "Please! I-" "Are we done with your punishment?" He asks sternly. His rough fingertips are still sliding up on down over your pussy, rubbing your clit and almost reaching your empty hole. "No, sir," you moan, letting your head hit the desk under you. "Then be a good girl and stop begging for a reward you didn't earn." His words almost make you cry. You can feel your wetness making a mess on your inner thighs, and your pussy aches even more than your burning bottom. "Yes, sir," you croak.

The orc behind you have to force himself to leave your pussy and go back to your ass. He grabs a handful of your flesh, letting his blunt nails dig into your heated skin. He promises himself he will lick your stretchmarks later, but now…

"Six," you jump. Your breathing is heavy, and your lips taste salty because of the tears running down your cheeks. Seven. Eight. "Nine," you cry. "Please, sir. I-please!" He loves you like this. A mess of arousal and begging. Your musky scent fills his nostrils. His cock twitches with every deep breath he takes. "The last one, Y/N," he says. "One more, and you are done." Your bottom is on fire when his hand lands on your ass again. The smack is loud and clear, followed by the sound of your voice escaping your lips. "Ten, sir," you sob.

"Come here, baby," he coos softly, helping you up from the table and sitting you down on his lap. You hiss at the painful feeling when your sensitive skin meets with his pants. You want to stand up immediately, but he stops you. "It's part of your punishment," he says, holding onto your hips. He feels you up, enjoying your every curve. "How do you feel?" He speaks up again when you settle down on his thigh. "Why are you crying? Was it too much?" You shake your head, letting him swipe off your tears with his thumb. "I'm fine, sir." "But?" He asks. "I'm… I-" You can't say it. It's almost comical. Your boss spanked you barely a minute ago, and you can't make yourself admit the state of your pussy. "Are you horny?" He asks helpfully. You nod. "Show me." Your eyes widen at his request. Your arm is still around his neck to keep your balance. "Spread your legs, sweetheart," he says. Your first reaction is to close your legs even tighter, but after a moment, you open up your thighs, letting him see your wet heat as it makes a mess on his pants. "Oh," you gasp, wanting to stand up again, but he doesn't let you go this time either. "No," he says. "Did I tell you to move?" "No, sir," you breathe out.

For a second, you thought about arguing with him. You are too heavy, and you will ruin his clothes, but honestly? You have your own problems. Like the constant ache and throb between your legs as your blood sears through your system in a hurry. The orc under you is a big guy; you have no doubt about holding your weight easily, and if he wants you to make a mess on his pants? Well, it's his decision too.

When his free hand that doesn't hold your waist slips up on your thighs, your legs open automatically. A shiver runs through your pent-up body as his fingertips run through your folds, gathering your wetness before slipping it into his mouth. Your lips open breathlessly as you watch him taste you. The low rumble of his chest vibrates in your bones and nerves.

"Please," you gasp. Your arm around his neck tightens as if you could force him. "Sir-" "Do you want to cum?" The orc asks, and when you vehemently nod, a slow smirk pulls on his lips. The curve is crooked because of his tusks. "Do you think you earned it?" He teases. You nod again. You really hope so. His eyes wander to your desk on the other side of the glass wall. It's still messy with papers and cups. Your bag is dropped on the floor, and your coat is ready to fall off the back of the chair. His fingers are still on your heat, teasing and prodding but avoiding giving you the pleasure you crave so much. The muscles of your thighs shake as you force yourself to stay put. You want nothing more than to grind your burning pussy on his thick fingers. The feel of his erection pressing against your bare thigh gives you a good idea of what he hides under his pants.

"I tell you what," he breaks the silence after a few seconds. His dark eyes glint with amusement as he looks at you. "If at the end of the day, your desk will be clean, I will give you what you want." "What?" You gasp, panicked. No, you need it now. You can't go through the day with the ache between your legs that drives you insane. And you don't even have the energy to think about your still burning ass. He lifts one of his thick brows in question. "Do you have a problem with it, sweetheart?" You know his question means nothing. If you say the wrong thing, you will get nothing. "No, sir," you exhale. "Good," he hums, kissing the side of your head with a soft squeeze on your hips. "Are you ready to continue the day?" After another shaky breath, you nod. "Yes, sir." "Good girl."

#sweet asks #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster smut #orc romance #orc x reader #terat0philliac #orc boyfriend #orc smut

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the-kr8tor · 1 month ago

Text

A Pearl

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Siren! Reader

Word count: 6.1k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing and siren traits), pirate AU, Siren AU, CW blood, TW death, CW eating human flesh, CW injury, CW food mentions, CW alcohol mention, Pirate captain! Hobie, a touch of hurt/comfort, Fluff!

Requested by @brokeaesthetic — Hello, this is my first time sending a request to you. Hopefully this is a good one to request for my first time. Okay, hear me out Sea clay & Epsom salt in a heart-shaped bottle❣️. Okay, so reader is a siren and Hobie is a pirate. And for many years reader has lured sailors, pirates and fishermen to a watery grave. But one day, when a pirate ship sails into her territory, she prepares herself about to lure them in until she sees Hobie and she's immediately infatuated. She stalks the ship for a couple days before hobie notices. Like something falls overboard, and she throws it back up. He thinks She probably wants something so she he throws down something shiny for her to keep. But she takes that as flirting(she has a huge crush now). So when one day the ship is attacked and Hobie falls overboard, she saves him. And then he develops feelings blah blah blah. I actually wanna draw this😭😭

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Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Your siren song echoes throughout the fog-covered sea. Together with your kind, you lure seafarers into their watery graves with your angelic voice that pushes them into a haze until their bodies splash overboard. With each tone you sang, more bodies hit the cold depths below. As the fog dissipates, so is your cover. Diving below before the survivors catch wind of what transpired, you swim towards the nearest drowning sailor.

Bubbles rise up from his lips, and you swim faster towards your meal. Another siren comes your way, and you have to hiss and bare your sharp teeth at her so you'd get your food. As she tries to fight back with her own growl, you smack her away with your tail, fighting for what's yours. With a yelp from the other siren, you don't waste time sinking your teeth into their fleshy neck.

Warm crimson flows from their skin, body thrashing against your own but your sharp nails dig further and further into their body as you eat your fill. Suddenly, their eyes turn the shade of seafoam, and his body is still. You open your maw and you bite into him.

This has been your life ever since your kind was forced to flee into the deep waters of the sea. Food is scarce, fish and birds shy away from the small rocky islands you've called home so you're forced to eat naive sailors rather than starve.

As you leave the cold waters and into dry land, your tail ebbs away to make way for a pair of legs. Shaking off the salty water, you head into your cave, hands wiping away all the blood and guts from your lips. Your home is small, cozy and away from the others. You keep tiny trinkets picked up from the waves, some you've taken from unlucky sailors. The wind chime you've made yourself that's filled to the brim with shiny human things twinkle in the night. The sound helps you sleep, the various knick knacks are the only things that keeps you going. It's survival of the fittest out in the open ocean, especially when you're being hunted down to extinction.

As you lay your head to sleep, you dream of better things where you don't have to hide amidst the rocks and the salty waves.

A loud rambunctious commotion wakes you up in the middle of the day. Their loud cheering can be heard from far away out into the sea. With bleary eyes, you blink at the odd ship, its red sails earning a curious tilt from your head.

You're still full from your last meal, there's no fog to hide you if you so desire to lure them. And surely you can't go back to sleep now that you're fully entranced by the hooting and hollering out in day break. Usually seafarers are quiet around these parts, only the eerie songs about the lingering death hidden beneath the waves are sung on deck can be heard at any hour of the day.

So with a curious raise of your brow, you head back into the sea. It's against better judgement, and you're in danger of getting caught or worse if you're ever found, but if you're careful enough, you'll find out more about humans than anyone in your kind has ever known about. Maybe you'll learn their tongue too.

Racing against the tides, you make it to their ship in quick time. You raise your head above water, enough to take a peek and listen in on their conversation.

“I told you our captain can do it!” An excited voice exclaims. “Three fucking cheers for the crimson spider!”

A roaring cheer echoes out, and it has you more curious than ever at who this captain could be. You spot the anchor dangling just above the water, so with a determined huff, and with curiosity fueling you, you head towards it to climb the ropes holding it up.

Your tail soon turns into a pair of legs, and you climb faster and quieter up on the rough rope. Finally making it above, just below the deck and still hidden from everyone's view, you see a whole crew of pirates dancing and drinking on the deck. Their laughter warms your chest, and their jolly music has you smiling at their human celebration. Whatever it may be.

“C’mon, lads, it was nothin' special.” Someone says, the crew surrounds him, all grinning at the man.

“Nothing special?!” The one with a sloshing cup full of wine says. “You blasted the fucking admiral to smithereens!”

“Ned's right, Hobie, they're going to need a bloody shovel just to scrape him off the floor.” Another happily says, clasping what you surmise is the titular captain. “If it weren't for you, James and I would've died. Not to mention the new crew managing to not piss themselves while getting us all out.” The raven haired woman smiles, nudging him and toasting her cup against his own. “You did good, cap’n.”

“Right, stop inflatin’ my ego.” Hobie, you think that's the captain's name, shakes his head with a smile. He's handsome you think, hands painted with ink that reminds you of sea life, and a face that looks chiseled by the goddess of the sea herself. You've never seen a pirate not quite like him. His smile single handedly brightens up the already merry ship, and instead of toning down the festivities, it loudly continues on. “We still have shit to do!”

“No we don't!” A blonde girl exclaims as she dances with another crew member as music plays.

A bout of laughter follows, and Hobie surrenders and joins in on the party after giving the sea a glance over. He's probably on the lookout for danger while everyone is too busy partying. He's not just handsome too, but also smart and practical as he secretly tosses the wine overboard to remain sober while everyone else drinks their fill.

You grow ever more curious at the captain. His hair stands out, beautiful wicks all tied together in a ponytail to keep the wind from messing it up. His sleeves are rolled up as he navigates the wheel, dozens of ink drawn on his arms, each having different designs that your otherworldly eyes have never seen before. And his eyes, his brown eyes are aglow with happiness, as if he's at his peak in his seafaring life. He doesn't gloat or bask in the compliments, rather, it seems to motivate him more to do better for his crew; unlike the other captains you've seen so far. He truly cares for them like they're his family, they could be as he looks at them all with fondness.

Morning soon dips into the afternoon, orange hues kissing the pleasant blue of the sea. The party is long gone, they've retreated back into their cabins, probably snoring away all the wine they've drunk. Hobie's alone on deck, save for a few pirates snoring on the floors while clutching at wine bottles and even their blunderbuss.

He looks like he's genuinely enjoying the quietness, letting the sea sing to him its primordial song. His hands relax against the wheel, eyes glittering like the water below. Sighing, you admire the captain beneath the orange glow and how it illuminates his handsome features.

You daydream about what life could be for you if you were a pirate sailing the seven seas. Would you even be good at it? Would you find precious treasures on your adventures? And would the captain praise you for your heroics just like the crew have done for him?

A loud clattering of something metallic takes you back to reality. A rolling coin heads your way, threatening to fall into the depths. Hobie follows right behind, boots thumping as quietly as he can but frantic enough to get the coin before it falls.

Your eyes widen, immediately plunging down into the water before he could spot you dangling on the anchor. As you splash down, the coin drops into the sea, its gilded metal glimmering in the water.

“Shit.” You hear his muffled curse.

Without thinking, you scoop up the coin before it plunges down deeper. Admiring the simple thing, you wonder what's so special about it to have the captain run after it in haste. You've seen a hundred of these, and you still have no idea why humans fight to the death just for it. You seem to not think things through as you rise above the water and throw it back on deck. If it was so special to him, you'd rather have it be back in his hands than on your own.

“The fuck?” His shock is evident in his voice. As you hear the familiar footsteps, you duck back inside the water to hide and then you see his face peek from above. His eyes scan the water, finding nothing out of the ordinary. “I thought I heard somethin’”

You can't help but giggle at his confused expression. Bubbles rise up from your smiling lips, and Hobie knits his brow at the weird occurrence.

With curiosity, he throws the coin back into the water and watches it plop down. You catch it underwater, looking up at him as he anticipates for it to jump back up on its own.

He waits and waits, but after a full minute, he leaves the side of the ship. You smile, preparing to throw it back to the deck. But before you could leap, he comes back to take another look, as if he could catch it moving mid air.

You laugh, hands clasped over your lips. He scratches the back of his head, and blinks the tiredness away.

“I'm goin’ bloody bonkers out ‘ere.” He says, going back to the upper deck to steer the ship once again.

“B–Bonkers.” You repeat with your own voice, giggling to yourself at the word. “Bonkers!” Your tail swooshes happily, coin grasped tightly in your palms.

With a teasing look above, watching the ship as it sails, you decide to throw the coin back on to the ship. This time though, you don't hold back. Swimming deeper to gain momentum, you quickly swim back up and leap into the air, and toss the coin right on the highest deck. It hits him right on his head.

His startled scream and the crew's more terrified yells was worth the effort of doing that. A string of curses erupt throughout the whole ship as they wake up one another with their earth shaking screams.

Hobie races to the bannister, but you're already long gone and swimming back to your tiny island, laughing as you swim.

—

Night comes and you're still asleep because of this morning's activities. A startling boom wakes you up, followed by yelling and the crackling of fire. You know the smell well, a mixture of blood and gunpowder floating in the salty sea.

You look outside of your home, finding the same red sails burning and crashing down into the water. Your heart plunges down, and you've got only one person in mind— Hobie. Without sparing another second, you swim as fast as you could towards the fighting. You expertly dodge corals, seaweeds that threaten to entangle your tail and sea life that parts for you. It's further than you thought, but you continue on with hope in mind.

The second you get there, you see fellow sirens gathering and taking chunks out of the ones that have fallen deep enough in the water. There's no saving the ones who are long gone, so you desperately search under the heat of the fire and wreckage for the familiar face.

While you swim around, you see a small dinghy rowing a few ways away from the fight. A single oil lamp guiding them in the dark. As you look closer, you find that it's a handful of Hobie's own crew, and they're fighting a couple of sirens who are trying to grab hold of them to pull them down into the dark depths. You race over to their side, not to go help pick them apart one by one, but to hiss and fight your kind.

With a show of your teeth and a few scratches along their scaly arms, they scramble away, leaving the crew behind. Looking back at them, you find that they're already staring at you with wide eyes. But you don't care as you search each of their faces for the captain, leaping over to the side of the boat as it sways side by side. When you don't find him, hopelessness clings to you like seaweed.

“Ho–Hobie?” You manage to let out with few resistance from your throat. Their faces can't be painted as they look at you with a mix of awe and fear. “Hobie!” Your yell startles them more. But it's effective as the same blonde you saw earlier points back towards the ship where you can briefly see his silhouette still on the deck. “Thank!” Swimming away, you leave the puzzled crew members behind.

Swimming with all your might towards the blaze, your arms are raised in front of your face to protect you against the blaze and the bodies floating around. you leap up into the sinking ship without sparing another minute, legs carrying you towards him the second your feet hit the slippery wood.

Hobie's fighting a much bigger man than him. Both evenly matched as swords clash amidst the flames, and the moon bears witness to it all.

Just as you get closer to them, the man strikes Hobie's side with a dagger that was hidden underneath his sleeve, drawing blood from the captain.

“No!” Your guttural yell takes the assailant's attention, giving you enough time to pounce on him and rip his face with your teeth.

His screams fill the night, and as he falls harshly into the floor of the sinking ship, you quickly make your way towards Hobie's side.

“Wha–who?” He gasps for breath, red staining the floor underneath him.

You point at yourself, “I…will help.” You manage to find the right words to convey your feelings.

“Help?”

“Yes,” grabbing him, you effortlessly carry him over your shoulders. “You will live.” Turning around to look for his crew members, your eyes hone in on the small boat getting farther and farther away. If you tried to swim there with him in tow and him weighing you down, he wouldn't make it. So in a last minute decision, you dive into the water towards your small island.

—

Hobie groans in his sleep, and your hands smell of herbs. You haven't concocted something like this in years, but your memory still serves you right as his wound is healing well. He's still unconscious, but at least he's alive.

None of his crew has come to take him home, so you kept him safe from the other sirens, kept him warm and hydrated by simply wetting his lips with fresh water from a river further into the island. It's been a few days since the fight, and his breathing is much better, and everytime you place your ear by his heart, it beats normally. You might not be human, but you've lived long enough to know about their anatomy. Well, you've eaten their anatomy.

“I…” your brows knit in frustration from not finding the right words. You've been practicing lately so when he wakes up, you can explain yourself to him. “...I eat.” That sounds wrong. “No, I don't eat…you.” You smile after you think that you've translated it correctly. “Yes, no eat.”

Patting his arm gently, you test if you could wake him up. You're growing quite impatient. With a sigh and not even a stir from the pirate captain, you go back to shore to bask in the water. The night is calm and there's no fog or other ships abound, so you sit and wait and watch as the tiny crabs burrow themselves in the sand. The sky stretches before you, stars twinkling beside the moon as you reach up with your hand to look at them between your fingers.

A groan echoes out in the cave, and as you stand up, you come face to face with the captain you've grown fond of.

Hobie's eyes widen at the sight of you. Your scales glow iridescent light from how the moon shines upon you. The makeshift clothes you wear that consist of shells, fishing nets, cloth from broken sails that sticks to you like wet paper, and rope tying it all together has his eyes squirming away to look at your face instead. As if looking at the face of a goddess is way better for his poor heart.

“Hello.” You enunciate.

He doesn't know what to say.

You take his reaction as fear. “Oh no, I will not eat.” Taking a step closer, you expect for him to flinch away but he doesn't. “No eating captain.” Smiling, you're proud of yourself for managing the words.

“Why? Do I not taste good?” He jokes, one that flies over your head. “‘m a bit offended by that, love.”

You slow blink at him. “Love?”

“I think that wasn't very funny either. Sorry.” Hobie chuckles nervously, “why did you help me?”

“Oh I know!” You come closer to him, hands clasped in front of you out of excitement. Pointing at his chest, your smile makes him smile, albeit nervous at how sharp your teeth are. “Bonkers!”

Hobie breaks into a bout of laughter. “You saved me because ‘m bonkers?”

You nod in quick succession. “Yes! And.” Inhaling, you gather all your strength to muster the correct word. “Pretty.” You remember that word from a sailor who once whispered it to you before you sank your teeth in him. “And!” You pat his pockets, he squirms away before you find what you were looking for within a half second. “This!” Showing him the coin, his face morphs into understanding.

“That was you?” You nod and He smiles softly, eyes darting from your face and at the waves as he rubs at his eyes. “And you think ‘m pretty?”

“Yes, and a good cap’n.” You mimic the exact words you heard his crew said to him.

“Now you're the one inflatin' my ego.” He shifts his weight, eyes meeting with your own. “I think you're pretty too.”

Smiling, you giddily bite your lower lip from the compliment. “Thank.”

Hobie chuckles, “you're good at this already, love.” He gestures towards his patched up wound. “And this. Thank you for the help.”

“Thank you!” You grin bigger, and he's slowly getting used to the rows of sharp teeth. *Slowly.

“Right, goddess, I have to build a raft to get to my crew.” He says and you're having a hard time deciphering his words. “Ah shit, you look even more adorable with that confused face.” His tone is laced with endearment.

“Thank you?”

“You're welcome.” He grasps at his injury as he wobbles further into the island.

“No,” you carefully take his hand, stopping him from going further. You're careful not to scratch him with your claws. “They will eat you.”

“Who's they?” As he looks towards the trees, he sees a dozen or so glowing eyes blinking at him. “Fuckin' hell.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” You mumble back.

Hobie side glances at you, lips curling into an unsure smile. “I'll think of something else to do then.” He walks back with you following close by. “For now at least.” Mumbling, he stretches his aching body from the prolonged idleness.

“Morning, they sleep.”

“It's safe in the mornin’?” You nod, a bit unsure but a nod nonetheless. “Alright,” he sighs, stomach grumbling. “Do you have food?”

“Only human.”

Hobie swears under his breath, not completely understanding whether you only have human food for him, or that the only food available is actually human. He has a long night ahead of him.

—

You have grown accustomed to the situation at hand. There's no rest for the wicked now that Hobie is in siren territory. You keep a close eye on them as they watch you with their glowing eyes at night, their appetite is insatiable even though they had their fill a few days ago because of the recent sea battle. Hobie's well enough to craft weapons for the two of you, so he made a spear that he whittled down, and a small dagger that he sharpened just for you. Your claws are the best weapons for you, but you still took it gladly. He made it especially for you so of course you'll keep it. No one has made you anything before, and you cherish it together with the trinkets you've collected over the years.

Days go by, more and more sirens leave you and Hobie alone in your tiny corner in the island as they've given up on hunting him down. You've proved how strong you are over the years of living alone. He's much better now that the wound you've relentlessly tended to has healed in record time. He keeps thanking you for it, but you can sense the melancholy in his eyes everytime he looks towards the sea. There's no sign of his crew coming to rescue him. You feel for him and his longing.

You and Hobie have some sort of schedule now, he picks fruits in the morning, then he teaches you human language in the afternoon after he gathers materials for the raft he's making. You've gotta hand it to the captain, he's quite good at surviving. You guess that he has done this before. And sure enough, when you asked him about it, he told you of a story that he was once stranded on an island, only surviving on fruits and crates of chocolate that had washed up on the shore. You wonder what that tastes like.

You're slowly liking the peace he brings to the island, there's no more petty squabbling between you and the rest of the sirens now that they've fully left the two of you. He's not liking the fruit and nut diet the island has an abundance for him though. Because of the lack of fish and birds that pass through the island, out of fear for the nature of the creatures that live there, other species avoid the place. He has to opt for a less filling meal everyday, it doesn't help much with energy as he needs it in building the raft. But he strives through it, chatting with you as if he's not trying to survive day by day. He even introduced you to fire and the warmth that it brings, not just the destruction you've seen it do.

You're carnivorous in nature, so one day, out of curiosity whilst he boils sea water to drink and roasting tree nuts over the fire, you asked if you could have one of the fruits he's holding onto.

“You can eat?” You point at the brown hairy fruit.

“Yes,” Hobie chuckles as you scooch over to him. Knee to knee as the campfire cackles through the night. The flames make the iridescent scales on your arms and legs sparkle. “It’s called coconut, and it's sweet.”

“No poison?” With the pad of your finger, you curiously touch the white part of it.

“No poison—” he starts to give it to you, only to realize something that might be crucial. “—Actually, it might be for you.” He moves the coconut away from you, worry etched in between his brows.

“Oh.” Your shoulders deflate.

“Sorry, I jus’ don't want my saviour dyin’ from a coconut.”

“I won't die, I'm strong like you.” You proudly say as you poke his chest.

Hobie smiles, the golden flames illuminating his handsome features. “I know you are, pretty. But you're afraid of it bein’ poison and there's probably a good reason for that.”

“Why?” You tilt your head, wide eyes blinking at him.

He can't help but think you're adorable, despite the sharp teeth and nails. “Species usually have a natural fear instinct of things that could kill ‘em.” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “What am I talkin' ‘bout? My mate Ned can explain it better for you, lovie.”

“Are you…” He waits patiently for you to continue. You're still getting used to human speech, but Hobie quickly found out that you're a quick learner. “...afraid of me?” You ask in a small voice, a stark contrast to how you sing your deadly song.

Hobie shakes his head with a gentle smile, palm patting your forearm briefly. “I used to, not anymore.” You've proven your friendliness to him more than once, he knows you're good too.

You feel like the boulder stuck in your throat is gone just from his reassurance. “Thank you, Hobie.” His smile grows wider at how much you've improved with your Language in such a short time. You clear your throat, waking up from a haze when you stared too long at his eyes. “Is Ned a friend?”

“Yeah, you'd love him. He's smart just like you.” Hobie looks into the fire sadly.

“Can you… tell me? About your friends?”

“You want to get to know the crew?” He stares at you fondly, the same look he had towards his crew back then. You nod with a smile, you're all ears. “Alright then.”

He tells you stories of life out in the sea and on land. The places he has been, the people he met and lost. And of course stories about his crew members and how they fought well, what their jobs are on the ship and what they dream of. With each word he utters about them, his face blooms into a more joyous one. But your own smile fades as the realization that he would leave your little island one day— And you in turn. Your heart aches at the thought you'll be left alone again.

Sometimes you wish that you don't understand humans as well as you do for this to hurt less.

—

Days fly by, turning into weeks as you two fall into a rhythm on the island. Each day that passes, Hobie's inevitable departure gets closer and closer, and you're already dreading the day he'll row away from you and the life he built there on the island. Your speech has gotten a lot better than before thanks to Hobie's teaching. In between the busy days and quiet nights, the two of you make time to just be yourselves. No lessons, no building the raft, just laughing at nonsense that Hobie has told you, or telling him stories of your time under the sea. The things you've seen in the depths always have him on the edge of his seat.

He even surprised you one day with a tiny display shelf to place all your collected knick knacks in. The way you jumped up to embrace him almost had him falling down into the waters. And in turn, you made him a necklace made from beads and seashells you've found, he never takes it off since then.

The two of you found affection for the other. A friendship that transcends despite the differences.

Morning comes once again, and the waves come to visit the little island you call home. You feel energized, finally having slept well without waking up in the middle of the night. After taking care of the unconscious captain, and fighting fellow sirens, this was the first time you've actually slept through the night. You're used to waking up to the moon, but with Hobie being with you in your cave, you've also taken to sleeping at night and waking up at the same hours as him. Sure you're missing out on sailors, but there's always scraps left for you in the morning with it floating in the water, small scraps, but food nonetheless. Yet, you're still starving.

Cracking one eye open, you see the empty spot next to you. Jumping out of bed, you worry that Hobie got eaten in the middle of the night, the feeling subsides when you see him weave ropes on the sandy beach.

“Mornin’ pretty.”

“Morning.” Your voice cracks with sleep. “Have you eaten?”

“I have,” he smiles, gesturing at the pile of coconuts he left on the half finished raft. “I didn't see you hunt yesterday. You okay?”

You shake your head without hiding your true feelings. “Starving.”

Hobie can practically feel your weakening form tremble from where he sat. “I can try again with the fish—”

Stepping closer, your irises have grown into slits, teeth bared in front of him. “There's no fish, Hobie.”

Nodding, his breath gets stuck in his throat as you get closer and closer to him. His natural instincts tell him to run. “I think I saw a bird fly over an hour ago, maybe I can—”

Your sudden sobs stun him in place. Cries echoing around the island as you hide your tearful eyes away from him. All your worries collapse on you, add the fact that you haven't eaten in days is a recipe for disaster.

“Shit—” he slowly steps closer, trepidation in each footstep upon the sand. “I don't know, love, maybe I can set up a trap in the water.” With an arm reaching towards you, you quickly step back in a hurry.

“Don't!” You yell, sniffing and wiping away at your tears. “I might eat you.”

Hobie chuckles, tensed shoulders relaxing and trying to reassure you with a single smile. It doesn't work when you frown deeper. “Right,” he walks closer to you, but you walk backwards and into the side of the cave. Now caged in as he cups each of your tear stained cheeks. “I know you won't eat me, love.” His thumb brushes along your tears, wiping it away as you look at him through your sticky lashes. “‘sides, you haven't eaten in days, if you wanted to eat me you would've done it days ago.” Smiling, he tilts his head. “Seriously, I think you don't find me appetisin’”

You sniff, eyes downturned only for him to duck to meet with your eyes. “I'm sorry for crying, I'm just hungry.” Gently laying your head against his clavicle, he chuckles and welcomes your warmth with open arms. “I'm sorry for eating people too.”

“Don’t be, they probably deserved it.” He pats your back while the other cradles the back of your head. “You can have a nibble on my arm—”

You smack his chest lovingly, giggling against his skin. “No.”

“You sure?” Hobie laughs atop your head. “Maybe I can make some sort of sauce to pair with me.”

Chuckling, you embrace him tighter. You don't know when you'll be able to hug him again so you take your time in squeezing him. “I'll survive, don't worry.”

He hums, getting a whiff of sea salt as he presses his nose on your hair. “I don't doubt that, love.”

Eyes closed, you remember the fruits and nuts on the island, maybe if you try it, it might satiate your hunger. You know your kind’s diet didn't always consist of human flesh, but that was before your time. So maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't hurt to give it a nibble.

When he went out to gather more wood for the makeshift raft, you grab a handful of nuts and a coconut from his stash. You sit cross legged inside the cave, heart thudding in your chest. Eyeing your herbs that you placed right next to you just in case you start bleeding out of your eyes, you take a deep inhale and immediately carve out a part with your nail and take a bite out of the fleshy part of the coconut.

Chewing, you let the sweetness spread on your tongue. You don't feel any different than before, no tingling sensation or blood dripping from every orifice. So you swallow down and wait for a minute.

Sitting there frozen, you feel fine. With a bout of loud laughter, you start eating the rest of Hobie's food, waiting a few seconds in between to test if it has any effects on you. The next thing you know, you've eaten your fill. Coconut juice is left on your lips and hands, the shell from the nuts are spread all over the floor of the cave and your burp echoes inside the place. Chuckling, you hear the sound of clattering wood right in the entrance of the cave.

“What—!?” Hobie quickly makes his way towards you, panic settling in his bones as he opens your mouth with his fingers. “Did you eat it? Love, you need to vomit it out!” He's considering shoving his hand in your mouth.

Your garbled words have him thinking that you're choking. “Fuck no!” His fear gets to him as he hugs you from behind and squeezes you in quick succession. He doesn't know siren anatomy, but maybe it's not so different with his own. So with determination, he tries to dislodge whatever you’ve eaten. “Shit– fuck!”

“I'm alright!” You let out instead of the food he was trying to squeeze out of you. Twisting around, you pat his cheek, giggling with amusement. “See?” Spreading your arms, you show off your still-alive self.

He heaves, palm placed atop his heart. “You're fine?”

Nodding happily, he finally lets out a sigh of relief. He feels like he's the one who's about to collapse. You guess you can stop eating human flesh now, maybe you should tell the others about your findings.

Hobie lays his forehead on your shoulder, hands placed on your hips as he levels his breathing. You pat his back, cradling him and letting out a laugh with every sigh he lets out.

“There there, captain.” You teasingly say. He could only groan in reply.

—

The day has come for him to leave. It's earlier than you thought it would be, you hoped that he could stay for a week or two more, but with the sight of a ship with the familiar red sail floating a few miles away, it has Hobie preparing for the short trip.

You help him with the final preparations, tying the last rope around the wooden planks, and securing the bundle of coconuts on the raft. Your heart weighs heavy, but you can't keep him away from where he's supposed to be.

The sun shines brightly above, but you don't feel its warmth against your skin.

Holding the dagger he gave you atop your chest, you watch him push the raft from the beach closer to the shore. Your lips wobble as he grins wider at the ship from afar.

“They're waitin’ for me, I knew it.” He turns towards you, and you hide your sorrow with a forced smile. “Love.”

“Keep safe, captain.” You manage to say without a broken sob. “Stay away from here, you might not be…” you inhale shakily, “...so lucky next time.”

“Come away with me.”

His hand reaches towards you as the waves lap on the beach. You stare at his stretched hand, tracing the scars along it with your tearful eyes. He whispers your name softly, beckoning you closer.

You hug the dagger closer to your chest. “They’ll hurt me.” His hand grasps gently at your chin, raising your face to meet with his eyes. “Just like how I've hurt people.”

“You told me you saved ‘em. And you saved me.” He shakes his head, eyes softly looking into your own. “I won't let them hurt you, I won't let anyone hurt you.”

“I'm different, Hobie. Not human enough.”

“You're human enough for me, love.” Leaning closer, he nudges his forehead against yours briefly. “Come away with me, let me show you the world.”

Your eyes close as he moves closer, lips brushing nervously atop your own until you make a move. His lips taste of fruits, sweet and gentle on your own lips. You're careful of the sharpness of your teeth, but he doesn't mind as he kisses you like it's the last time he'll ever taste you. It might as well be if you decide to stay. It'll break his heart, but if that's what you want, he'll give it to you. If you want the world, he'll put it on a silver platter just for you.

You've captivated him without your siren song, but he's more than ready to dive into the depths if you so will it.

Leaning away, you open your eyes to his shining ones. “Will you have me as I am?”

Hobie grins and kisses each of your cheeks until you're smiling. He nods, “with everythin’ I have.”

With one final look at your home where your collections of human things lay, you leave it all for the pirate you have in your arms. Hopefully you'll see more in your adventures.

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teencopandthesourwolf · 4 months ago

Text

WOLF BOY

when ao3 goes down, we write tumblr fic (edited version now on ao3 HERE lol)

i used the 15/11/24 @sterekdrabbles challenge for this. the prompt words were GREEN, REACH and SCATTER. i'm also tagging @sterekdrabblesgonelong as it's around 1K words and therefore definitely a drabble gone long lol.

it's a spark!stiles slash derek whump sort of affair, just so you know what you're reading xp

The dagger is almost within his reach—so very nearly grabbable.

Other than being eight years old in a hospital room with the smell of rotting flowers clinging to the back of his throat, Stiles doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more than this.

Again, Derek hacks out, “Just run, Stiles!”

Again, Stiles answers no—only this time, it's not with his voice but a yellow-green vine of pure light that extends from his fingertips as he pleads with each beat of his heart for the universe to help him, the tendrils stretching, stretching, then victoriously winding themselves around the handle of the blade.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, now with his actual voice, and then the vine of his will is pulling the knife flush into his grip.

He looks up at the hunter, their face a billboard of surprise, before a shriek rips itself from her belly at the very same time Derek roars from where he's tethered and bound, the wolfsbane-laced chains melting further into his flesh as he tries in vain to once again break free.

Then the evil bastard is flinging herself at Stiles—and straight into the dagger aimed at her solar plexus that his light sends sailing across the cave, plunging it deep into her breast.

It might not be bullseye, but it does the trick.

As she drops to the dusty ground like a discarded ragdoll, the other two hunters' heads snap like whiplash to where Stiles is sprawled, a look of pure terror marring their faces.

The cowardly fuckers drop their weapons and scatter, leaving Stiles and Derek alone—other than the dead woman at their feet—in the large cave they'd dragged Derek into a few hours ago.

Derek's wrung out, and beaten down, but alive.

At once, Stiles scrambles to his feet to get over to where the ʼwolf is chained up, almost falling back down again when his probably sprained ankle gives way beneath him.

“Stop fucking hurting yourself,” Derek hisses, and for once in Stiles's insane life he wishes he could gnash his teeth and roar in response, and it have an effect that would be anything other than ridiculous.

“Oh my god,” he protests instead. “I've just saved your offensively pretty ass with my new spark's apparently awesome Gio-Ju-ju, a-hole, so how ʼbout we be a little less sourwolf and a lot more gratefulwolf to ol’Stilesy boy here, hmm?” he sasses, finding the key to the padlock that's bolted to Derek's chains on the flat rock where his flashlight got dropped when confiscated by one of the hunters.

Stiles feels petulant, and justified in that petulance as he discards the now unlocked padlock. Then he feels a little wrong-footed when Derek quietly mumbles, “Thank you,” because the guy sounds both in a considerable amount of pain and genuinely grateful to Stiles.

Stiles sighs and kneels down to start prizing the chains away from Derek's red-raw, still-smoking skin, the ʼwolf's forever-stoic face giving away nothing of the hurt he's obviously suffering at the cruel hands of the aconite still desperately trying to seep its way into his body.

“You don't have to do that for me, you know,” Stiles says carefully, hinting at Derek's display of endurance.

Derek's eyes flicker from mid-space to Stiles's face, and Stiles suddenly notices that their heads are actually dizzyingly close.

He swallows, and the sound of it echoes around the cave as if mocking him.

The second he peels away the last link in the chain attached to Derek's skin, and before Derek can push him away, Stiles brings a hand to Derek's throat to feel for his pulse.

When determined fingers find it, Derek's face does a thing that Stiles hasn't seen it do before; it's this combination of incredulous and vulnerable, and is so unprecedented, and so beautiful, that Stiles sort of wants to cry about it.

“You can hear mine,” he superfluously reminds Derek, before saying what he really wants to. “It's not fair I don't get to know—that you're alive, I mean. Like, I know I can see it but… The tactile reassurance? That's, uh, you know, kind of nice, too.”

Man, he spends way too much time with werewolves.

Then, when he licks at his dry lips and Derek's pulse quickens under his fingertips, Stiles is so much more than simply placated.

Taking a steadying breath, he feels a million trillion miles away from anything even remotely resembling steady.

He studies Derek's face some more for confirmation of his suspicion, and finds something akin to bashful swimming amid the swirls of those gorgeous seafoam eyes.

Derek likes him back?

Stiles sinks his teeth into his bottom lip; Derek's pulse starts to race.

Amazingly, it seems Stiles isn't alone in the want he feels deep in his gut, and as it grows and spreads to his extremities, his fingers and toes now tingling with it, he reckons he's maybe beaten-up and bleeding out and half-braindead enough to have the balls to actually do something about it.

It must be biological, he thinks as he licks at his lips again, that his body somehow knows exactly what to do to hopefully get Derek to do exactly what Stiles wants him to—lick Stiles' lips for him, that is—without him making an actual fully-formed decision on the matter.

Although as soon as he's thinking that, the decision to kiss Derek is unequivocally made—even if it's going to get him shoved into the dirt for trying.

He's about to lean in when one of Derek's already beginning-to-heal hands stops him by bracing his shoulder.

“I can smell your pain, Stiles,” he says. “Let me help.”

Stiles tries not to smile as he lies through his teeth. “Hurts here, the most,” he murmurs, touching two fingers from the hand not at Derek's pulse to his bruised, bloody lips. He then curls the other hand further around the werewolf's neck, to hold on.

Derek starts to pant, and Stiles has to hold in a whine.

The werewolf sounds absolutely wrecked when he asks, “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me by wrapping your hand around my throat?”

Stiles's smile then brakes free and is wry as his wit as he answers, “I've been working hard to find out how to woo you for months now, big guy. What do you think?”

And when Derek lunges to crush Stiles's mouth with his own, teasing Stiles' lips apart with his hot, hot tongue and nipping at them with blunted canines, Stiles reckons he knows what it must feel like to howl.

edited version now on ao3 HERE if you'd like to drop me a comment xp

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #wolf boy #spark!stiles #derek whump #teen wolf fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #queer fic #queer writer #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Note

ok so given that the oscars just happened, imagine a joel x actress!reader. before everything went to shit joel was a normal human being who loved watching movies and like any basic person had a celebrity crush. fast forward and the world has gone to shit and joel and ellie (and maybe tommy too) go on a patrol that goes wrong and get saved by miss “i just smashed a guys head in with my oscar” or something like that, just a fluff and fun imagine that isnt gonna break my heart in a million pieces like last nights episode

oh my god, your mindddddd - I love this idea :)

Big Fan

Joel Miller x actress!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

Joel recognizes her right away. After all, she starred in his favorite movie of all time.

warnings | 18+ a little angst, nothing wild, this is fluff through and through

Read part two!

.......................

“Are you–”

“I am.”

“You were in–”

“I was.”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Alright, somebody better start speaking in full sentences, because I have no clue what the hell is going on.” Joel huffs, glancing at Ellie who's looking at him like he’s gone crazy, her gun still cocked at the woman in front of them.

“What? You don’t recognize her, kid? I just showed you Curtis and Viper.” Ellie’s brow furrows, but then she looks back at the woman and her eyes finally widen in recognition.

“Holy shit.” The woman laughs, eyes still focused on the barrel of Ellie’s gun.

“That’s not usually the movie people recognize me from. But I suppose it was my big break.” Joel nudges Ellie, muttering for her to put her “damn gun away, jesus christ,” and she quickly tucks it back in her belt.

He’s trying to not be weird right now, they did just kill five clickers together, but he’s finding it hard not to lose his cool over the woman who had been a silly crush of his since he first saw that cheap action movie as a teenager. He knows she did much better films afterward, remembers hovering behind the couch one night while Sarah was watching one of those awards shows, lingering just a bit longer when he saw her giving an acceptance speech with a blinding smile in a dress that probably cost more than his house. She’s certainly less elegant-looking now, but even after twenty years in a world like this, he can’t help the quick kick of his heart at actually meeting this woman in the flesh.

He clears his throat, also trying to clear his mind.

“Are you alone?” She sighs, wiping the blade of her knife on her jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“I wasn’t, and then I was. We were headed toward a settlement we heard about, I think a bit further north from here?” Joel keeps his expression steady, but can feel Ellie glancing at him. Movie star or not, he knows they have to be careful about who finds out about Jackson. But apparently, this woman isn’t just pretty, and she seems to pick up on the heavy pause after what she said.

“Do you two know about the place I’m talking about? Are we close?” Joel, sighs, looking at Ellie before making a decision that Tommy is probably going to smack him for later.

“We, um– we’re from there, actually. If you’re talking about where I think you’re talking about.” She huffs out a laugh, and offers them that megawatt smile Joel remembers seeing on his TV screen. Ellie, meanwhile, scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at Joel.

“No shit. Do you think you have room for one more?” Joel’s eyes dart once more to Ellie, just seeing the subtle shake of her head, but he chooses to ignore it. How could he say no to the woman who had, embarrassingly, been one of his first wet dreams?

“You’ll have to talk with my brother, but I’m sure you’ll be welcome to stay on.” Megawatt, megawatt, megawatt. He reckons that smile could melt steel beams.

…

“Joel, what the fuck–”

“Ellie–”

“No, what are you thinking? If not Tommy, Maria’s gonna be so pissed she’ll probably cut your balls off.” He shushes the girl, glancing ahead at the woman hiking further in front of them.

“Look, she’s all alone– hardly a threat– and she’s looking for somewhere to stay–” She scoffs.

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the way your eyeballs practically popped out of your head just looking at her?” He grumbles, hand tightening around the strap of his rifle.

“You just mind your own business, alright? I’ll take care of it.” Ellie huffs, starting to trudge further ahead of him, but not before muttering out “whatever you say, fanboy.” Joel is stunned still by her words.

“Where the hell did you get that word from?” She turns on her heel, walking backwards for a beat as she smirks at him.

“One of those old magazines. Pretty sure she was on the front page if you wanna borrow it.” Before he can get a word in edgewise, she’s already turning back around and continuing their hike back to Jackson.

…

“Holy shit. Joel, look who it is!” Joel grunts, nudging Tommy out of his starstruck stupor.

“Yeah, I know. Just hiked five miles with her.” Tommy laughs, slapping him on the back before grinning at her.

“It’s real nice to meet you. You know, Joel here had your poster on his bedroom wall–” The nudge he gives his brother this time is a little less friendly, causing Tommy to grumble and rub his arm. She, however, takes it in stride, laughing lightly as she shifts in her boots.

“I’m flattered, really. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes go wide.

“I can’t believe you just said my name. This is crazy–”

“Tommy.” Joel cuts his brother off with a hard look before he embarrasses himself anymore. He clears his throat, seeming to get a hold of himself as Joel continues.

“She had been traveling with a group, looking for this place. She’s the only one left though. Was hoping to join the town.” Tommy grins again, glancing between her and Joel.

“Well, I’m sure we can make that happen. I think Joel would kill me if I didn’t let–” He squeezes Tommy’s shoulder hard, willing him to shut his mouth.

“That little house next to ours is still empty. Why don’t we set her up there?” Tommy’s smile at his brother’s words is all too smug for Joel’s taste, but he still nods, turning his attention back to her.

“If that’s alright with you, ma’am. I’ll let the folks know to turn the gas and electric back on for that place.” She smiles brightly at that.

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much. I owe you all big time.” Tommy snorts.

“I’m pretty sure you can pay Joel back with an autograph, he’d probably cre—“ Joel’s heard enough, resorting to kicking Tommy in the ankle to shut him up. Ellie huffs from where she’s watching their pathetic display.

“Alright, well if you two freaks are done making fools of yourselves, I’ll show her over to that house.”

…

When Joel gets home, the first thing he does is look at that DVD. He had found it a week or two ago on a patrol shift, left in a hollowed-out RV. Ellie was less than impressed and Maria refused to show it at movie night because it’s so gory, but he held onto it anyways. He can still remember going to see it in the theater with Tommy, both of them too young to get in if not for their friend working the ticket booth. He flips the case over in his hands, and sure enough, there she is on the back cover, looking impossibly beautiful while firing a machine gun. What’s not to like, right?

He’s broken out of his revelry by the sound of the front door opening, and soon enough, Ellie is stomping up the stairs to come looking for him. When she finds him in his bedroom, sitting on the end of his bed, she glances at the DVD he’s holding, a grin spreading over her face.

“Just like you remember, huh, old man?” He grumbles, getting up to set the movie back on the bookshelf before turning back to Ellie.

“She settling in alright?” She hums, nodding lightly.

“Yep, made a beeline for a shower. Told me to thank you. I told her you’d be coming around for your autograph later.” His face crumples in indignation while Ellie lets out a cackle.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But in all seriousness, I think she’s interested– in you– which pains me to even say, but, I figure you deserve to know that the woman of your pubescent dreams was asking questions about you.” Joel’s jaw goes slack, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“She– she was asking about me?” Ellie nods around a smirk.

“Mmhmm. And I told her you’re a grumpy old bum who doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” He huffs, but she laughs again.

“Sorry, kidding again. I didn’t tell her much. Just that you’ll be around. But if I were you, I’d “be around” sooner rather than later, before the rest of Jackson gets a piece of her. Snatch her up before there’s sweeter bait to bite down on, you know?” He thinks briefly that he needs to see just what sort of magazines this kid is reading, because he can’t quite believe what’s coming out of her mouth. He grumbles, shaking his head at her antics.

“There ain’t gonna be any snatching going on. Just mind your–” She huffs, already walking out of his room.

“Mind my business, yeah, yeah, I know. But think about what I said, old man. Better cast your line quick for this one. My guess is you weren’t the only one who had her poster in your bedroom back before.”

He’s not letting that kid read magazines anymore.

…

When he steps out on his porch later in the afternoon, fully intent on what Ellie has affectionately started calling his “adult nap time,” he’s interrupted by someone calling his name. He catches sight of her sitting on the porch of the little house next door, waving and smiling at him like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey, neighbor.” He tentatively waves back, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy her as she motions for him to join her. He sighs, rather stiffly walking over to her porch and joining her on the bench seat, keeping a very respectable distance between them. Clickers, raiders, general imminent danger, he can handle. Pretty lady? That’s touchy. Pretty lady who he imagined marrying as a teenager? Just put him out of his misery already. He knows it’s ridiculous, that none of that matters now. She’s just as worn and weathered as the rest of them by this crumbled world. But that smile she keeps flashing him might just bring him to his knees.

“I wanted to thank you– for bringing me along. I was, uh, starting to lose hope back there a little bit.” He nods, glancing at her.

“No need for thanks. Just the right thing to do in this world. I’m sorry– about your group. I don’t know what happened, but that couldn’t have been easy being out there on your own.” She shrugs, waving off his sentiment.

“It was barely a group to begin with. Just some folks who happened to get out of the San Francisco QZ together.” His brain is quickly trying to knit together the movie star he remembers from the past and this woman who sits before him now, an obvious edge to her.

“Were you in California? Back when everything…” She nods, her face set in a grim look.

“LA, where else? Now that was a nightmare. I bet the only worse place to be when everything went down was New York. Bodies everywhere. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She lets out a humorless laugh before glancing at him.

“That movie you like so much? I remember when I got the role, I had no idea how I was gonna pull it off. Grizzled heroine with a dark past and a penchant for violence. I was nothing like her. But now, I feel a whole lot more like her and a whole lot less like me.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I dumped that on you.” Joel is quick to shake his head, leaning over his thighs to catch her gaze.

“No, no. I get it– in my own way, I guess. The world changed and– we had to change with it.” That coaxes a crooked smile out of her as she looks at him. A simple silence descends between them as they share quiet smiles. She finally giggles, scrunching her nose at him.

“That girl– Ellie? I think she said something about you wanting an autograph?” Joel can feel the hot blush creeping up his neck as his face goes slack. She just splits out in a laugh, tipping her head back in delight.

“I’m sorry, I’m kidding. But, you know, what I went by, what people still call me, that isn’t my real name.” Joel’s eyebrows quirk up and she sighs, shaking her head.

“Just a stage name. I don’t really mind people calling me that, but can I tell you my real name?” He can feel the smile tugging at his mouth as he nods. Before he knows what she’s doing, she’s taking his hand into her lap, slowly tracing out her name with her finger across his palm. An autograph, of sorts. He’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits, just barely stringing together her name as she finishes. He murmurs it lowly and she offers him her brightest smile yet, still holding his hand lightly in her own.

“And you’re Joel, right?” He’s only a little embarrassed by how quickly he nods.

“Mmhmm. Miller– Joel Miller, yep.” She lets out a breathy laugh, now clasping his hand in a firm shake.

“It’s nice to really meet you, Joel Miller.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #request

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whore4abby · 1 year ago

Text

cookies 2; dbf!abby anderson

part 1

warnings; older!abby, smut - fingering (r!recieving), masturbating (reader), mdni

wc; 1.5k

secrets and side-eyes;

she’s your dad’s best friend for fucks sake, you shouldn't be feeling this way about a woman 20 years older than you, but yet here you are silently pining after her and avoiding her like the damn plague that you’re desperate not to catch. staying cooped up in your room with the lame excuse of ‘homework’ whenever she came over to watch a game with your dad. catching glimpses of her as you leave the safe confinements of your bedroom and sneak down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, your heart almost stopping and you eyes widening immediately when she makes eye contact, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face, showing her delight in making you flustered.

abby looks up at you and raises an eyebrow as she sees you walk into the living room, ”hey, honey~” she says casually, but there’s an undertone of something more in her voice. she leans forward and places her elbows on her knees, her blown-out eyes trail down your body hungrily. a hint of a cocky smirk curls at the corner of her lips. the sexual tension between you two is extremely evident and you can’t help but squirm a little under her gaze as her eyes linger on you for a little too long.

“hey…abby….” you try and speak as nonchalantly as possible, but the words seem to snag in your throat as she’s practically undressing you with her eyes, probably thinking about bending you over the nearest counter and fucking you dumb until you can’t walk straight.

“come and watch a movie with us…” your dad doesn’t seem to notice abby staring and smiles happily. he’s sitting in his trusty old, leather la-z-boy recliner, leaving you no other choice but to sit next to abby on the tiny beige two seater sofa. fuck that. you have better things to do than to endure some mind-numbingly shitty movie for the rest of the night.

“dad i would love to, but…i got stuff to work on…” you sigh softly in frustration, talking in a mildly exasperated tone as you're absolutely insistent on not sitting next to abby. but you truly would rather work on a bullshit project than sit beside her for two hours.

“cmon, kiddo….i hardly spend time with you anymore.” your dad looks at you with a hint of sadness showing on his face and you can’t help but feel a wave of guilt. because its true, being so busy with college and the relentless studying and countless assignments doesn't leave you much time to spend with him these days.

“ugh…fine…”your shoulders slump in defeat and you pout as you walk over to sit beside abby. you squeeze in next to her, her thick thighs pressing into yours as she manspreads even further, obviously getting a kick out of this.

you instinctively reach for a nearby fuzzy blanket to cover up your bare thighs, mentally cursing yourself for wearing such small pyjama shorts in front of her. abby notices you trying to cover up your legs and a smug, knowing smile spreads across her lips, she crosses her arms and leans back into the couch, pushing her knees out even further and bumping them into your legs which only heightens the ongoing tension between the both of you.

you catch onto her act but don’t acknowledge her subtle clues at all, choosing to continue watching the television quietly. after a little while you can feel the weight of her gaze on you again and you turn your head slightly to look at her curiously from the corner of your eye and see her staring at you intently, almost as if she’s studying you somehow.

you turn your head fully and your eyes lock with hers but you don't say anything as your father is still in the room and it makes things unbearably awkward. but despite the growing tension, abby doesn't give a single fuck that he's sitting right there as she slips her hand under the blanket and traces an intricate pattern with her fingertips across the flesh of your thighs.

“you're so naughty… letting me touch you like this while your daddy's in the room~” she whispers into your ear as she slips her hand beneath your soft cotton shorts. you’re thankful for your dad being utterly engrossed in the movie and the booming sound effects making it impossible for anyone but you to hear her words but you still feel so embarrassed of the way your body is reacting to her lewd touch.

the crotch of your shorts is practically sopping wet by the time she gets her hands to where you need her most. she smirks when she feels that you aren't wearing any panties, this new revelation seeming to amuse her. she ever so slightly brushes the pad of her middle finger across your clit, making you bite your lip harshly to stop yourself from making any noise.

she continues to tease you, rubbing tiny circles over your clit before dragging her fingers down through your folds to thrust into your soaked slit, before dragging them back out, evoking a gasp from you.

this back and forth continues for what feels like forever until you're so wet its almost dripping down your thighs and you have to resist the urge to start bucking your hips up into her. the movie quickly comes to an end and she reluctantly drags her hand out of your shorts and rests it back on her own leg. her fingers are still shiny with your slick, glistening in the dim light, your eyes widen as she subtly puts them in her mouth to suck them clean with an air of pride.

you quickly spring up from your seat as soon as the credits start rolling, “i’m really tired, i’m sorry…” you lie, adding in a faux yawn to hopefully fool your dad into letting you leave. your father looks over at you and nods, “of course, you should go to bed. i’ll see you in the morning.” you smile and say your goodnights to both your dad and abby before retreating back up the stairs. the stickiness on your inner thighs reminding you of the feeling of abby’s hand on your cunt just mere minutes ago.

you quickly close your bedroom door behind you, relishing in the silence and security. the room is cozy, decorated with soft colors, from the lavender walls, to the soft white sheets on your comfy bed with plushies and various stuffed animals sitting neatly against the fluffy throw pillows.

you walk over to your bed and collapse down onto it, the lingering wetness of your shorts pressing against your throbbing pussy. you close your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down, but it's no use. your body is still hot and trembling from all the excitement that abby had brought upon you. and as much as you try to ignore it, that familiar ache between your thighs keeps growing stronger and harder to ignore by the minute, leaving you helplessly longing for a release.

you hand drifts down into your shorts to slowly touch yourself, the memories of what happened earlier still floating around in your mind. your shaky fingers glide over your pussy, still soaked from all the attention abby gave you. barely audible moans leave your lips as you rub through your delicate folds before mimicking the rhythmic movements of abby’s fingers on your clit. your mind is filled with nothing but dirty thoughts about abby and it makes it harder to resist your orgasm.

your breathing becomes ragged and your hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more of the delicious friction that’s pushing you over the edge. your fingers start to move faster, frantically rubbing across your swollen clit and it isn't long before you're cumming, covering your mouth to muffle your whimpers and desperately refraining from crying out her name.

thinking only of the lingering and vivid memory of abby's fingers inside you and how good they stretched you out as you bite your lip and come down from your high, still feeling so aroused but so ashamed at the same time. you feel like such a pervert for thinking about abby this way but she seems so comfortable in this new situationship that’s unfolded between the two of you and it's as if all the existing boundaries been completely erased since that odd afternoon in the kitchen.

you get into bed with a strange sense of guilt lingering over you as you close your eyes tightly, as if trying to forget about everything that happened between the two of you. you lay there staring at the ceiling for a while, the experiences with abby feeling so surreal almost dream-like, and you’re not even quite sure how to process it all.

all you know for sure is that this changes everything between the two of you and it exceeds way beyond a fleeting infatuation or a silly crush on your end.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader

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gravid-transluna · 9 months ago

Text

Two Birthdays: Part Three

words: 1533

content: clothing birth, birth denial, fpreg

Mari rose from Noemi’s lap. Her tortured spasming belly hung so low at this point that even when she raised herself from the toilet seat Mari still couldn’t see her pussy, just the creases where her extreme underbelly sank into the flesh of her hips, and the tiny white string of her bikini bottom wrapping them, dragged by the heavy downward sag. Noemi was already trying to push again, nothing else in her mind except the baby now coming out of her. Legs planted wide, firmly squatted. It didn’t seem like she could even straighten up at this point, so heavy and low with the head. She grunted loudly, frantic in her efforts to pull her bikini bottom down her thighs and alleviate the immense pressure in her bottom. Sweat poured from her slick skin. She was obviously in the final stages of labor, and like she had been twenty-one years ago, she was consumed by the need to birth her baby.

Mari stood, watching in the sticky panties she’d just masturbated herself hard in, pussy still convulsing. She could see the light red teeth marks ringing Noemi’s areola. She had marked her. Noemi was hers. And yet, she wasn’t paying any mind to the girl who had suckled her to orgasm. Her only focus was pushing her baby out into her bikini, and once she did that she would become a mother again. Mari felt insecure, possessive. Would things return to the way they had been before? Noemi never noticing her, never giving her the attention she had craved. Suddenly, Mari reached for Noemi’s fingers at the hem of her bikini.

“Ms. Noemi.” Her voice was a firm reprimand. “I thought you wanted me to help you. I can’t help you if you push your baby out right now.”

Noemi could barely talk at this point. “Have—to—PUSH.” Mari still felt that awe, seeing such an articulate, modest woman reduced to animalistic instinct. She groaned, bearing down more, and her groan tightened as the baby was driven deeper into her bottom.

Mari circled her, tracing her fingers lightly from Noemi’s contraction-wracked torpedo belly to her curving bent back. Standing behind her now, she took Noemi’s delicate wrists in her hands and moved them away from the bikini bottom. Then she bent to see Noemi’s squatted thighs and bottom, and between her cheeks the wetted white bikini was beginning to tent outward. Mari gently rolled the bikini down to Noemi’s widespread knees. The pregnancy pussy she had just seen hours ago was now unrecognizably swollen and bulged with a startlingly huge head, yet her lips had barely parted. Mari wasn’t even sure if Noemi could birth something so big. Between Noemi’s thighs she could see her brown hanging belly harden again, the contractions now relentless, forcing Noemi into constant pushing.

As she watched, Noemi’s pussy bulged more and reddened. Her lips slowly began to part, distending—until Mari clapped her hand over the head. Noemi’s hot pussy strained against her palm, but Mari didn’t permit the head to progress any further. She heard Noemi’s strangled sob of frustration.

“It’s okay,” Mari cooed. “If you can’t hold it in, I can for you.”

Gently, she slipped the bikini bottom back up Noemi’s thighs and pulled it firmly over her hips, wedging the baby tight in her pussy. It yielded a little, but certainly not enough for Noemi to deliver the head. Noemi gasped at the feeling of the fabric against her sensitive, tender opening.

Mari then redid Noemi’s top, tying it in the back.

“There,” she appraised Noemi, trembling and gasping, filled completely with her baby. “I think you’re ready to go back out. People are probably getting suspicious of us.”

“Okay,” Noemi closed her eyes. “Just a little longer.”

“That’s it, Ms. Noemi!” Mari’s eyes lit up. “Hold it in for me.”

It was evening now. A lot of people had deserted, and those who stayed were trashed, too inebriated to notice Mari step out with Noemi in tow. They didn’t notice that Noemi only walked in a squatted position now, knees bent, legs far apart. They didn’t notice the sweat beading her forehead, or the flush of her cheeks. They didn’t notice her hanging belly, constantly constricting with contractions and hard unceasing pushes. And they certainly didn’t notice the conspicuous bulge straining her bikini bottom, dripping fluids from between her thighs.

Nobody assumed such a composed woman would be bent under the thumb of a girl twenty years younger than her, crowning into her bikini right there at the poolside.

Noemi staggered to a wicker pool chair, and slowly lowered herself with Mari’s help, only to yelp and cringe away when her bulged bottom made contact with the seat.

“Here—“ Mari said. “Try to sit back instead.”

Noemi sat with her back arched, legs open to the poolside, so that the head rested in her pussy without being crammed between her and the chair. She was already pushing, her knuckles white, gripping the arm rests so hard, Mari thought they might snap in her grasp. Her toes curled. Liquid pattered the deck beneath the chair, a puddle spreading under her. The head parted her more. She seemed unable to spread her legs wide enough, grunting and pushing and stretching. Even when she paused, it no longer slid back in, kept her lips taut and spread.

She pushed. The head no longer moved. The fabric trapped it snugly. She pushed again. Hard. Nothing. She pushed and pushed, caught in endless contractions and pushes. Mari heard her name panted, again and again, as she circled the head over the fabric with light fingers. Satisfaction stirred her.

Noemi was hers.

Finally, Noemi clambered heavily from her seat. She dropped into a deep squat on the deck and threw her head back, interrupting her silent pushes with a strained moan as she bore down once again, pained for leverage, obeying her instinctual need for a position change despite her unyielding clothes. Mari heard her joints pop; her forty-something body was at its limit.

It was time. They both sensed it.

Mari leaned in. Her breath shivered Noemi’s ear. “Are you ready, Noemi?” she whispered, forgoing the “Ms” title for the first time.

Noemi nodded. Once.

Mari paused. “Are you sure?”

Noemi nodded vigorously as she heaved with another push.

“Come on, then.”

The party was over. Nobody was left except for Noemi’s daughter, who had been laying passed out in a reclining chair since noon.

The pool water was cool on Mari’s skin as she waded down the steps. She discarded her bikini as she went, and the cold pricked up her bare nipples. Noemi breathed a deep sigh as she waded in herself. The water enveloped her thighs, her heavy submerging belly, and finally her splayed breasts as she sank. Mari swam up behind her and hugged her around the circumference of her gravid belly. She pressed herself to the curve of Noemi’s back, naked skin touching as they drifted for a second. Only a second, though. Soon it was over and Noemi was placing her head back, into Mari’s shoulder, and pushing. Mari’s hands traveled to Noemi’s bikini bottom and—

“Push for me,” she breathed, and pulled it down.

Noemi shouted loudly and groaned her baby into Mari’s hand. Her vaginal lips stretched, forming an angry fervent oval around the massive head. She groaned, forceful in her efforts. Her thighs gaped open in the water. Her pussy was a slick, round, red circle now, straining and slipping around the head. Her groans were almost inhuman, overwhelmed with need and desire and basic instinct. Mari felt the head inch out with Noemi’s powerful pushes, and admired its size and width. This was coming from Noemi, coming through her, creaking her aged bones and spreading her in a way she hadn’t been since her youth.

Her belly raised and then dropped with a final push, the drawn muscles of her uterus convulsing, and she shrieked. The head reached its widest point. Eyes, nose, ears, she opened around each feature. For a moment her lips whitened, pale around the head. Then a pop, a burst, a release. Noemi shuddered. Her legs jerked in the water and opaque amniotic fluids spilled from her.

“Uggghhh.”

“You did it,” Mari said. She marveled at Noemi’s motherly drive as she caressed the head hanging from Noemi’s pussy. “Just the shoulders now.”

“Ohhhh,” Noemi brought her hand between her legs, holding Mari’s as they both cupped the head. “My baby,” she panted. “My baby….”

“Let’s meet her together,” Mari whispered.

Noemi arched in the pool, belly and breasts and upturned nipples raising above the water. With a sweet, quiet groan, she gave birth into Mari’s waiting hands.

Noemi sat beside the pool on the reclining chair, her stomach sagging in her lap, ruined by a dark linea nigra. Her short hair plastered her forehead. Her attention was on the baby suckling at her milky breast. She looked up when Mari trotted to her with spare towels, and smiled tiredly.

Mari leaned down and wrapped her in the towel, and kissed her on the cheek.

“So,” Noemi said. “How do we tell my other daughter?”

#fpreg #clothing birth #birth denial #labor kink #birth kink #pregnant kink #dom/sub dynamics #fxf smut

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daydreaming-in-letters · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! Is it possible you could do one shot about Andrew x reader having an intimate moment and him sharing his favorite poetry with her while they’re relaxing? Something sweet and fluffy (could possibly turn into something steamy totally up to you)

Please, please, please, send me more pictures, writing these ficlets is giving me life.

I kept this one fluffy. Enjoy!

The unhurried caress of gentle fingers slowly pulled you from your light slumber. You had not moved an inch in the time you had been gone, your head still resting against his chest, the steady drum of his heartbeat right next to your ear. The rest of your body lay safely secured between his legs, a blanket draped across the both of you to keep your joined heat close.

It seemed he also had not moved an inch, probably not to wake you, and the thought warmed your heart. You did not dare to stir in his arms either, afraid he might stop the absent-minded movement of his fingers in your hair. But your own body chose to betray you, the lure of his warm form underneath your own too tempting. And so you let your hand glide along his stomach and chest before it slid down to his side where it squeezed the pliable flesh affectionately.

“Welcome back, love,” he whispered, his lips finding the crown of your head in a tender kiss mere seconds later.

“Still deep in the Heaney, hm?” you deduced as, from the corner of your eye, you spotted the book that was sitting in his other hand. As it had been ever since the two of you had cuddled up on the sofa together.

He hummed in affirmation, the guttural sound rolling through his chest and spreading onto your drowsy form, as if you had needed to be soothed further. As if that was even possible.

“Will you read to me?”

There was no chance you could have seen the blissful smile on his face without moving, but you could hear it, loud and clear, in the fervent, “Yeah!” that followed your request promptly. He was always so happy to share his beloved poetry with you and you basked in his enthusiasm, his melodic voice and passionate recital. It was heaven.

But as his hand left its destined spot on your head to turn the pages, you almost regretted asking. An agonised whine broke from your lips upon the loss of contact and he could not help but chuckle at your antics, making his attempt to shush you not nearly half earnest.

“Sh, love, focus now. This is a beaut.”

“I can’t!” you protested. “Not as long as your hand is not back where it belongs.”

You knew he was shaking his head in amusement, still his fingers catered to your needs immediately and it was only then that you felt yourself relax against him again, ready to hang on every little word he would grace your ears with.

“Scaffolding, by Seamus Heaney,” he began, the heat of his breath wafting through your hair, and you were home.

“Masons, when they start upon a building, Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won't slip at busy points, Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job’s done Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seems to be Old bridges breaking between you and me

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall Confident that we have built our wall.”

He paused for a moment to let the words sink in, but it did not take long for his enthusiasm to break loose.

“Isn’t that a lovely one?”

“It’s beautiful,” you confessed, feeling compelled to lift your head and glance up at him. The most genuine, heartwarming smile awaited you and his happiness about your approval was everything. How on earth you deserved this man was absolutely beyond you, but who were you to question his choice? All you really could do was enjoy every single moment the two of you were granted together. He must have thought the same, even if he did not tell you so. It was evident, written all over his face. In the softness of his eyes, the placid smile upon his lips, in the touch of his hand as it ever so gently cupped your cheek, the book lying abandoned somewhere on top of the blanket now.

“Come here,” he whispered, but he did not wait until you moved, his head already leaning down, eager to meet you halfway. Still, when his lips finally touched yours, there was no hurry in their movement. You had all the time in the world. And hidden within his sweet taste on your tongue, there was a truth so plain and yet so absolute, that whatever storms there were to come, the two of you had built your wall.

#hozier #hozier x reader #hozier x you #request

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zwolfgames · 8 months ago

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Platonic Yandere Baldurs Gate 3 x teen reader (Drabble)

(Just a quick idea i might flesh out a bit more in the future. Just take it as a oneshot at the moment. Reader is about 13-14 ish. For Gale's ever dying annoyance you'll be a sorcerer. I like to imagine the reader as a thiefling cuz theyre cool, but whatever you want goes as it isnt described anywhere.)

Warnings: None.

"Why... is there a child here?"

You heard the gith woman speak to mostly no-one as you had encountered her on this burning mess of a mindflayer ship.

You wonder that yourself. Why take you? Just a little teen with no real significance? Surely there's better candidates for the mindflayers to infest...

"I can hear you, you know?" You sigh and walk closer to the unknown woman.

Sure Githyanki people were known to mercilessly slay anything that even resembled an obstacle.. But seeing as you're having the same problem... and she also looks lost... you'd take this one chance.

"Don't speak to me." The woman hisses. Her armor glints in the light of an explosion out of the ships' window.

You shrug and walk past her. Moving trough the choatic halls of this fleshlike vehicle. The scurrying brains on the floor weren't a pleasant sight... but you've seen worse.

All you really had on you were the clothes you were abducted with, your long stick from the woods that you used to practise your magic and a dagger because your mother had advised you to carry one...

But against otherwordly foes... this aresenal looked a bit bleak...

You soon noticed the woman following you silently. Why? You didn't know. Probably because of the aforementioned fact that she also didn't have a clue what to do here.

"So what's your name?" You spoke curiously. Not that scared of the gith anymore now that her shining blade remained sheathed.

"I said to not speak to me, tshk." The gith woman sneered.

"Just curious." You respond with your hands in a surrendering motion.

But you get it, she's cautios. You'd be too if you met some kid on a mindflayer ship. They're not exactly common. It's safe of her to assume you're a ploy.

"My name's Y/N." You just mention for the hell of it. Might aswell die being known.

"... Lae'zel..." Ah... there's the name you wished for.

"Exotic.." You nod in acknowledgement. Probably not the best thing to say at the moment, but for some reason you felt calm. Something in your head was making you think so, atleast.

You and Lae'zel traveled a bit further down the halls of the Nautiloid. Passing by corpses of people with missing brains... yuck. A little chest here.. a little chest there. Your mother would be happy with some extra gold...

"You're a little thief, are you?" Lae'zel spat in distaste.

"Providing for the family, ma'am." You salute jokingly.

Lae'zel looks slightly startled by either your actions or your words. Keeping closer to you as the noises of fighting became louder.

In the end, you and Lae'zel had aquired a new compagnion, a lady named Shadowheart had been freed from one of the mindflayer cocoons. How did you open it, you may ask? Well you just cast Knock. It really took the intrigue off of the buttons next to the pod.. But it made everything easier.

This Shadowheart person was very secretive... immediately throwing hostile statements at Lae'zel, wich the gith returned. You supposed this is what your mother meant by girls infighting?

But all in all, they might despise eachother and glare at you as if you ate their left arm.... they still helped.

Lae'zel had instructed you all to go to the control room, apparently she's felled these ships together with her Githyanki squadrons before. Wich is cool, but you wouldn't say that considering Shadowheart might want you dead if you admit any liking for a gith.

What met you at the control panel was a big fight... well for your standards, that is. You were used to stray magic monsters or stealing goblins...

An infernal general of the hells... well not really on your preffered list of foes....

Luckily you had your two capable compagnions. Shadowheart blasted that guy with continous holy blasts, while Lae'zel just rammed a greatsword trough his fiery armor.

Cool, fighting is... cool. Atleast your spells were used for more then washing the dishes at home now.

After taking over the ship, it just fully crashed, you felt the air whip in your hair and cut into your skin as you fell down along with the debree of the Nautiloid.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart were nowhere in sight... so you tightly closed your eyes, bracing for impact... Wow... you'd be so lucky if you knew feather falling right now... bummer that you didn't.

The impact didn't come. You felt light for just a moment before you just passed out onto a wet patch of sand.

Well... not dead.. yet.

"Hey... wake up.."

Something... or considering their ability to talk, someone nudged your shoulder.

You blinked your tired eyes open. Sclera feeling dry and burned from the amount of ash on the crashed ship.

A drow stood above you. Wich is... very strange, where were you? They don't live on the surface... do they?

"How has a true soul landed themselves here? You look too pathetic for our majesty." The drow woman sneers in disgust. You know... the amount of woman hating on you was getting a bit disturbing.

"A true.. soul?" You spoke hoarsley. Throat parched from all the fire, along with being passed out here for gods know how long..

"Oh you are such an imbecile asswell. It does no good to have a putulent child as a true soul... I ought to end your suffering myself." The woman growled. Wow, just when you were about to say she had the same hairstyle as your mom-

Wow!- a sword next to your head. Yikes!

The drow still glared. Not yet having sliced your head in two due to a sound further down the beach. Sandy footsteps coming closer.

With a scowl she retreated into the wreckage of the nautiloid. Hiding from whoever was walking this way. You sat up with a groan in response. Holding your thumping head.It was no other then Shadowheart that found you. Somewhat looking relieved to see a familiar face, yet that annoyance still persisted.

"You've made it. Good. You're a bit too young to die." The black haired half-elf spoke and pulled you up.

"You almost make it sound like you care.." You cough out some dust after your teasing remark.

"Well we survived together. I'll take it as a sign that we better stick together." Shadowheart sigh and crosses her arms over her plated chest. You wonder how her eyeshadow hasn't melted off.

"You think Lae'zel made it too?" You ask a bit hesitantly, not wanting to get a death glare again.

"Im sure she did, gith are ruthless." Shadowheart scoffs and leads you further from your place on the beach. Moving on to a forest, wich you really didn't mind. You've basically been raised in the woods. Its a wonder that you didn't turn out as a druid.

"Help! A mindflayer, right here! Help me!"

Some pathetic call came from between the wreckage. Well... if you see one then it's too late? No?

Shadowheart seemed to think the same... Wich sucked, because that meant you'd have to be the better person here and see.

With a sigh of reluctance you walked towards the voice. Being carefull of the burning wreckage around you.

You ended up on a dune overseeing the beach, looking down you saw the man thats been screaming for help into the sky as if the gods would come get him.

"Are you blind? There's not even a tentacle in sight!" You yell down at him. You see the white haired elf jump and look up at you and Shadowheart.

"It was right here! I swear, come down and look!" The posh sounding man urges.

"You think were stupid. You're littarly holding a dagger!" You shout back.

"So are you! You irritating child!" The pale elf shouts back. You glare at him and he glares at you.

"So what's your real problem?" You scowl in annoyance.

"... Well fine, I don't know what to do from here, I dont even know how I survived-" The man points at the crash site. "-this."

"Would you like to join our 'we don't know what to do from here and we don't even know how we survived' club?" You grin in amusement. Shadowheart gives you a dissaproving wack on the arm and the man doesn't look happy by your mocking.

Two beats later he sighs. "Fine... untill I find a way back..."

"So what's your name? I'm Y/N and this is... actually I'll let her decide if she wants to tell or not." You nod.

"Shadowheart." The woman growls out in annoyance at your irritating behavior.

"Astarion.." The pale elf nods. Making his way up to you two.

So that made three... or if you found Lae'zel... four.

Before you could even scream for your Githyankee acquaintance, another problem stood in your way.

The very obvious portal with a hand trough it.. yelling 'help! A little help!'.

Well... maybe if it added a please?

"I can sense you there! A little help, please!" Ah.. there was the please.

This hand didn't look cursed... so it should be fine right?

"Let's not? Mhh? Who knows, maybe it's a mindflayer." Astarion advices with some smug purr.

"Well he said please, didn't your mom teach you any manners?" You huff with a roll of your (e/c) eyes. The elf froze at the sentence and Shadowheart just looked annoyed that you were once again helping someone when you didn't have time.

You huff and take the hand. Pulling at it in vain as this portal remains steadfast in holding this person on the other side.

"You can do it, just keep pulling, my friend."

The male voice called out. You set your feet properly into the dirt around you and pull with your while back put into it. As the mans purple sleeve shows due to you pulling him out, you decide to grab that instead, making your way down his arm.

Shadowheart can't seem to look at your struggle anymore and helps tug.

Together the bearded man comes crashing out of the portal.

He stands up and dusts his robes off.

"Hello, I'm Gale of Waterdeep, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance- Why are you a child?" The man stops his speech to once again asses that you are in fact a kid. Well, you prefer teen, as the number ten isn't in the didgits of your age for nothing. But sure yea, let's all keep bullying the kid.

"Well one day I was born, and from there on I began to age-" You start snidely. The man- Gale, stops you from your useless banter.

"I know how aging works... But why are you involved with... this all?" He asks in concern.

"Oh so you're genuinely a minor? I just assumed you were on the short side." Astarion notes randomly. Putting a hand over his heart as a theatric pose.

"I'm here because I also got abducted by mindflayers, there's nothing more to it. Do you want to join us in in walking around aimlessly or do we stick you back trough the portal?" You look up at Gale with a raised brow.

"Right, walking around aimlessly it is..." The bearded man sighs and takes your hand. Whatever his reasons, he seems the most startled by seeing a minor waltz around all this mindflayer stuff.

Your aquired band of misfits manage to locate Lae'zel, who had just broken out of a cage. Not looking too happy too see the growing group.

After a round of names and insults, she informed everyone... well... really just you because somehow everyone else seemed to know it all already, that you've all been infected by mindflayer tadpoles. Yuck, the last thing you wanted was tentacles on your face, what would your mother think!

Gale reassured you that that wouldn't happen and that- just like Lae'zel said- we were going to find a cure..

Or try. Whatever came first. Really.

So you set foot into the forest, hoping to find a hint of civilization to find the nearest healer. Lae'zel had been captured by patrolling thieflings.. so there must be something around here.

And you were all right. You had ended up at the emerald grove. Quickly getting pulled into their problems with the local druids and the refugees... Some Halsin guy was missing, apparently he was very important.. And he was in some goblin camp... full of goblin cultists? You were really glad Gale was writing this down because your attention span didn't make it trough this.

Wandering around the Emerald Grove had landed you an audience with the resident folk hero, the Blade of Frontiers! Wich was actually the coolest thing up ti'll now. Your mother used to tell you stories of what this man did at your age, saving a village from evil cultists, his many good deeds.

The legends true name was Wyll... wich was cool too. The darker skinned human quickly offered your group to take you over, so they could continue their journey without the worry of a teen. You were surpised when Shadowheart protested. Astarion didn't seem glad with the possibility of your absence either.

You were confused, Lae'zel was confused and Wyll himself was probably the most baffled.

He seemed to just assume you must be someones family here and offered to come with if you helped him find a demon he had to slaughter.

Yea ok, seems fair. Anything for the Blade of Frontiers.

Events went faster now, you had a bigger group, they were all quite choatic, not matching eachothers morals or ways.

Astarion was teaching you the art of pickpocketing while you all explored the grove for more information on the lost druid Halsin.

Gale was discouraging you from listening to the elf. Trying to teach you new spells instead, even trough his annoyance of your sorcerer ways. How could you learn magic without a book! What do you mean you just accidently set your treehouse on fire when you were four?!

Wyll seemed to find you quite amusing, seeing you snark back at these intimidating adults (Lae'zel) and observing how a child from a city outside of Baldurs Gate dealt with all the information.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel were still going about their mutual hatred. Why them two?

You don't know.

Goth vs frog, the neverending battle.

No matter, however. As you all found this 'demon' Wyll was after. Turned out its some nice thiefling named Karlach.

The votes on what to do were varying. Wyll didn't want to kill a non hell-being.Lae'zel told him just to get the pact over with, same for Astarion.Gale and Shadowheart were for the cancelation of this execution. Both for very diffrent reasons.

But due to Wyll being as good as you imagined him, he didn't kill the woman. Great, since she's the first one that had a positive reaction to meeting you.

Karlach saw her more carefree years in you... Just some dumb kid fighting things and messing with ploys that didn't concern you.

Thats how it all started... Karlach. The barbarian had begun the urges in your group to not let this kid they got saddled up with to get corrupted.

Everything's so bad already. They can save one thing, no?

Your first night camping with the bunch was quite fun. You helped Gale with cooking, your mother taught you well after all. The wizard was shocked as he hadn't expected a child out of everyone here to be the only one to help.

Fine enough, you made dinner.

And love goes trough the stomach, or so the saying goes. With a hoard of hungry stomachs fed, the appreciation towards 'random kid were stuck with' really picked up.

You wouldn't make it long without them getting attached. Too bad you tought you were going on a fun adventure. This isn't just some fun little thing...

Welcome to your new found family <3

Don't really know what compelled me to write this, I just miss bg3 because I'm on a road trip 😔. But if anyone's interested, I'd surely answers asks about this... thingy? Hope you kinda enjoyed atleast. Adios.

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rafeyswrd · 8 months ago

Text

a quiet place . day one.

sweetheart pogue!reader x best friends!brother rafe cameron.

SUMMARY: all you wanted was to spend a day work free. a tragic expectation really, when the screeching and dreadful screams sounded through the island. and after painful trudges and sour wounds, it didn’t take long to figure out that all you needed to do was stay quiet — and simultaneously take care of a terrified and overly scared cameron.

WARNINGS. teeny mention of reader being shorter than rafe. wounds. blood. violence. gore. mean!reader ( she’s scared okay 😞 ) . mention of mental & physical health issues. mentions of puking. insinuations of death. panicked rafe (?). probably unrealistic cat behavior. think that’s it!

WC. 1.8k

A/N. i don’t know if this writing style pleases anyone because a) first time writing in a while so maybe some mistakes, b) english is my second language, c) since i’m not used to writing from the second pov. please lmk if there’s anything to work on! since i catch myself writing unnecessary details many times lols

leave feedback please!! any interactions / reblogs are highly appreciated, i’d love to see where to continue with this ^_^

It was everywhere.

Blood. It was seeping through the drains embedded into the ground, a crimson layer running and carpeting the dirty tar roads. Your breath was irregular, hands clutching onto the sides of your shorts as you came face to face with the under mechanics of a car.

Screaming filled your ears, screams so agonising and dread filled it caused a rise of bile to race up and down your throat. And in a weak attempt to lessen the striking fear residing within, you scooted further beneath the car, watching from afar with hooded eyes as large claws dug into the floor with each heavy step it took.

“Help ME,” a man’s groans escaped him as he crawled near your feet, tugging at them harshly, “Please, help me!”

You let out a choked sob, his nails digging painfully into your ankles. No matter how lowly you plead, how creakingly you whisper for the man’s pleas to come to a halt, your begging fell to deaf ears, utterly ignored. And it was not until the man’s hands loosened on your foot, his body dragged by a creature so baring it knocked your breath out, did you finally throw your head back in relief.

The dirt and broken glass beneath you pierced the back of your shoulders, your chest rises and falls erratically as you scoot further away, only to realise the numbing planted in your ankles. Biting your lips, you pushed your body further up, feeling a tear slice through your muscles. As tears rolled down your swollen cheeks, your body glimpsed itself into sunlight once more.

Yet even then you could not let the louder sobs break free, not when the area was still crowded with ache laced yelling, not when you saw your flesh torn apart near your feet.

Your brows furrowed, watching in bittersweet anguish as she appeared.

Nona.

Your sweet cat Nona, who tiptoed around the glass to curl up near your hands, sniffing it before running the opposite direction. You look around, pushing your body up slowly as you limp near a wall, watching as she sneaks herself into a dark corner etched between two run-down buildings.

You trudged through, leaving a trail of blood behind you and you slid down behind a trash can, a lone tear cascading across your reddened face. Leaning up, you nibble firmly at your lips to prevent a fearful scream from leaving you at the sight of your damaged, flesh torn ankles and look around in distress when you take notice of your cat missing once more.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Nona was smart.

Being deaf did not prevent her from being the sweet support cat you were given at 14. She was a smart cat. Knowing what you needed, when you needed it – because sometimes your brain struggled to pick up signals of distress, sometimes it let you suffer until your hands seized and legs gave out.

And sweet Nona always knew how to take care of you.

So, as she trudged through the small town, she took a stop near a choking man lying on the edge of a lake. Water spurted from his swollen lips as he violently shook. Nona softly jumped on his chest, one, two, three times before his choking came to a sudden halt.

Rafe’s body shot up, breathing heavily as he pushed the rest of his body off the running water.

His face was wet -- tears or the water he was unsure of, but as he clenched his bloodied shirt, torn from the sides, he frantically glanced at the heavy weight planted on his chest. Rafe, for the first time that day, felt a sense of comfort wash over his battered body. The cat he loathed to see every time you would bring it over, sprawled in front.

It was an ugly thing in his opinion.

Furless, purely wrinkling pink skin and an unfortunate short tail. One of her eyes was crossed, and an ear was cut in half from God knows what.

He hated it, it made his skin crawl whenever he would sneakily watch you cuddled up with it on Sarah’s bed after a sleepover. But now, as he recognized the bright pink tag across her neck and the curled snarl that was directed towards him, Rafe allowed himself to gently pet Nona.

He glared when she pushed his hand away, standing before him, blinking once, and twice, before walking away.

Normally, reluctance would follow his senses but as he stared longer at the cat’s figure; your face painted his memory, hope flourishing within his chest, and he gulped at the thought of you all alone – or dead. He shook his head, gripping his head as his lips wobbled, you had to be okay. You just had to be. Even if it was just for his own sake.

1 minute turned to 5 and 5 soon turned to 12, until Rafe found himself standing 2 feet away from your agitated body. You were shaking, one leg bent as the other seemed to bleed through wrapped, white fabric that was ripped from the ruffles of your shirt. It had been the first time he’d seen you look so tired, so worn out and miserable and so out of your usual sunshine element; your smile lines disappearing with the deep downwards tug of your lips. It stung him, only slightly.

From the corner of your eyes, you sensed a figure watching over you, and you stilled. With gradual movements, you turned around, and a small smile drew itself upon your lips. Nona ran towards you, rubbing her head on your wounded foot, allowing you to grin.

Rafe watched intensely, eagerly moving near you and wincing when he saw you flinch; finally catching sight of his appearance. You clenched your jaw, gripping the garbage bin with force and limping yourself up. Clutching Nona in one hand and leaning on the trash with another, you straightened yourself enough to look at him with narrowed eyes, only to push past his shoulder and limp away. Mouthing a meek “go away.”

Though no matter how far you walked (attempted to), how far you tried to distance yourself from the Cameron boy, you eventually felt the heat of his body hit your back, causing you to trip forward and his lanky figure following you shortly.

Nona dropped to sit by your foot as your nails gripped onto a stone wall, a tear slipping as a crack emitted from your injured foot. Rafe’s rough hands found your waist, gripping you upwards with panicked eyes.

“I’m sor-” His pupils widened when your sweaty palms gripped at his chin, roughly pulling him forward before placing it on his lips.

Your stare was wide and filled with worry, swiftly glancing around with a frightened gulp. Rafe furrowed his brows, following your line of vision despite the bleak grip you have on his face. It was raining.

You tilted your head, the thought finally processed. Rafe’s distressed tone didn’t cause commotion, not a batted eye; and you tested the waters – “you need to leave.”

Rafe shook his head, “explain what’s going on,” his voice cracked, and despite the clench of his jaw or pursing lips you could tell he was beyond terrified. “Y/N/N you need to tell me-”

“Shh!” Your breath was rugged, and you shut your eyes momentarily before whispering, “Rafe, the survival ship that will take you away is on the other side of the island. I am not going to help you; I am looking for my family.”

Despite your erratic movements vigorously pointing to the street behind him, he stood firm before you. “N-no! You don’t get it, Y/N I-”

“Shut up,” your lips were swollen from how hard you bit them, glaring at Rafe, “Rafe. Please leave. They depart in less than 3 hours; I-I am not your stopping point for any sort of survival!” You were sure your face was red, though your anger came to a cut when his eyes welled up, and you can tell it took everything within him to prevent a tear from slipping by.

His upper body shook, “’m scared, okay.” He managed to grit out. “Just-just explain to me,” he sniffed, watching your hesitant gaze before adding, “please.”

You pouted, sighing next. Giving in despite every atom built up inside of you telling you not to.

Shaking your head, you licked your lips and stepped closer – a tactic you were sure lacked any intimidation points from how tall he stood. “Fine.” Shaking your head, you looked at him with a frown – unsure whether his emotions were a play of manipulation on your fragile state. “You cannot make any noise, you understand?”

He nodded, eye twitching and fists clenched. Rafe trembled with every inhale and exhale, observing you with hooded eyes, and he took in the sight of you — really took in how you looked, and the deep furrow of his brows relaxed ever so slightly. “I understand.” He spat out.

Actions that you wilfully decided to ignore, you didn’t care how hard it was for him to listen to you, or how manic he appeared; the last thing you needed was to take care of a man who ignored any help his way.

“I am going to my home Rafe; this is your last chance to leave.” Your whispers were getting dull, and breathing heavier, mixing with the rain taps surrounding you. Both of you were beyond wet, shivering and shaking intensely beneath the water drops.

He gulped and stared at you for an eerie minute before nodding once more, “okay.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, turning your aching body around, refusing to acknowledge his gaze – to which you do not want to decipher.

The train of thoughts had not paused once, reeling against the walls of your mind roughly. Rafe was beyond saving. He was an arrogant boy who had never taken your presence into accountability until he was forced to. A boy who made your friends lives hell, a boy whose father was the murderer of a man you cared for dearly.

You were unsure if Rafe would have ever helped you if your emotions were as brittle as his own, if you were coke crazed and panicked as he was, and you did not want to think much of it, knowing if you did, you’d quickly come to regret your decision.

TAGLIST. @hewwokitti @ihe4rttwd @haruvalentine4321 @ficslutt @kiiyomei @venomwh0re

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

Note

omg okay so today is like 4/20 so like dealer!polymarauders or dealer!remus getting super high with reader and ending up getting the muchies so they like eat reader out or fuck <33

my brain is so clouded w this thought i cannot argh

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

The lesson you're learning tonight is that someone has to make sure the snack stash is properly stocked before anyone lights up. Only an hour into your smoke session, James had gotten the munchies, and you'd found only a dust patch where your collection of chips and candies had once been. You all reeked of weed, so sneaking off to the kitchens was a no-go.

James is a bright man, and he'd improvised. The remnants of his meal are still smeared over his chin, your release glistening against his skin, barely visible as he towers over you.

Your head is resting on the edge of his bed, Sirius and Remus's shoulders supporting your thighs as they huddle between them. They're feasting on James's leftovers, tongues eagerly lapping up any slick James had left behind after making you cum. They're desperate to lick up any new gushes that the swirling, suction-like motion of their tongues induce, and you're sure one single glance at the way they're devouring your cunt would make you cum on the spot.

Unfortunately, or very fortunately, you can't see them, because James's hips are in the way. He's standing right at the edge of his bed, straddling your face as his cock slides down your throat. After all, you've got the munchies too.

The position you're in will strain your muscles, you're sure of it, but you couldn't stop if you tried. Your hips buck into Remus and Sirius's faces, dragging your clit up to their noses as they groan gruffly into your cunt. Remus chases the sensitive bud, but Sirius stays below, tongue lapping just above your ass at the slick and spit that are beginning to drip down the curve of your flesh.

When Remus purses his lips around your clit, suckling lazily at the bundle of nerves, James strokes your cheek, wiping a gag-induced tear off of your skin.

Your hips jerk again and Sirius bites your thigh, "Stay still, pet."

"She can't help it," James drawls, rolling his hips further towards your face, cock stuffed that much more into your mouth, "Poor thing probably can't even breathe with my dick down her throat."

"She's wet," Remus gushes, tongue dipping once more below your clit to mesh with Sirius's as the two men drool into your cunt, "God, fuckin'- dripping, she's staining Sirius's pants."

"Nah," The man shakes his head, and he doesn't have to glance down at the wet spot on his jeans to know it's not your drool, "Came in m'pants, Moony. Couldn't help it, s'too good."

Remus reaches over to fit his hand over the stain, squeezing experimentally at Sirius's still-present bulge. The man lets out a groan and mashes his face into your cunt as a response, tongue driving you crazy as it presses into your cunt. Remus chuckles, turning his attention to Sirius and giving the man more room to devour your cunt, "Pants off, Pads, m'gettin' a new craving."

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

Note

luxe, hear this anon out. rin with a crybaby type of reader who cries when they feel too good. just imagine him unlocking the fact realizing that he gets turned on by their crying when they're sputtering and choking on his cock <33

apologies if im a bit deranged about this

- jellyfish anon

okay I cannot express how sexy this request is. I NEED him in a way that undoes centuries worth of feminism I fear :( also apologies I'm not that best at writing BJs but I hope u like! (slightly inspired by scream vi)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, praise, slut used once, alcohol mention, reader has long hair/hair long enough to do a makeshift ponytail ♡

words: 1.9k

“You shou— talk to ‘im—” your friend slurs, giggling as you help her sit down on your couch. You laugh a little as she falls from your grip and spreads out comfortably on the sofa beneath her. “Look, he’s looking!” she yells a little too loudly and points.

You shush her, carefully moving her hand to her lap before looking to where she had been pointing. Your neighbour had been looking from his window into yours for a little bit, smirking a little when he finally notices you looking back. He’s doing dishes in the sink, and it gives you the idea to get your friend some water.

“He’s been giving you fuck me eyes f-for weeks! Every time I come over he’s always—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t point and make it so obvious, babe.” you laugh, handing a glass full of water to her. “He’s just being friendly. Besides, I’m not really ready to date or anything yet. I’m just having fun hanging out with my bestie.” you tease her, nudging her with your elbow.

She pouts, eyes filling with water before she hugs you. She’s always been an emotional drunk, and soon enough she’s confessing how much she adores you and what a perfect best friend you are.

“Do you have any snacks? Wan’ some chocolate.” she tells you. You shake your head. “Ugh. Ooooh! You should go ask hot guy if he has any!” she suggests, kicking her feet and giggling all the while.

You look elsewhere. In the direction of hot guy. But he’s not at the window anymore. He’s probably in bed, it is pretty late. You hadn’t expected to be getting home after midnight from your cousins wedding given that you aren’t really that close. But bringing your best friend as a plus one extended the time you spent there.

There was an open bar.

“I’ll go to the store. What kind of chocolate do you want?” you ask.

“Surprise me.” she smiles. “Thaaaaank youuuuuu~!” she speaks in a sing-song voice.

“Don’t burn my apartment down while I’m gone.” you warn her, pretending to scowl at her before you laugh at yourself. She nods, eyes fluttering closed as her body sinks further and further into the couch.

You grab your keys and head out of the front door. If you were smart, you would have ordered dessert. There’s no way you should be leaving the safety of your apartment so late and stepping out into the city. But it’s just around the corner, that’s what you’re telling yourself. Nothing bad can happen to you if you just hurry.

As you reach the bottom floor, you recognise the man standing by the mailboxes near the entrance to your apartment building. He hasn’t noticed you, though, and why would he? He’s occupied sifting through the letters in his hands. You take a shallow breath, mentally preparing yourself for the dangers of going outside.

He raises his head as he smells your perfume when you walk by.

You gasp, feeling his hand dig into the flesh of your upper arm before he pulls you closer to him. It’s hard to even figure out what your thoughts are as you feel your back connect with rows of metal mailboxes. And before you can greet him, his lips are on yours.

You smile into the kiss, a hand cups your face as he presses his body a little harder into yours. He smiles back when he hears a soft little moan escape you at the feeling of being trapped against him. A sound from a higher floor frightens you, you turn your head and move away from him.

“Sorry, I thought my friend might be—”

“Hey,” he grabs your wrist and makes you face him. “You’re too ashamed being seen with me?” he smiles a little, teasing you. You smile back, shaking your head in protest.

“No it’s not that!” you tell him. “I better get going, though. She’s drunk and wants some chocolate.”

“You’re not going out on your own.” he speaks. It’s commanding, his voice filled with care and concern and it makes you weak at the knees. “Do you know that you can order snacks?”

“Uh, no, I've never heard of that.” you roll your eyes and speak sarcastically, earning a laugh from him.

“Maybe you should come upstairs with me, and I’ll show you how to do it.” he tells you, approaching you again. Your voice gets trapped in your throat as he looks down at you, and you find yourself nodding before even thinking about your answer. He smiles, though, kissing you deeply at your response. A sweet sort of praise for delivering an answer he’s happy to hear.

He takes your hand, guiding you up to his apartment.

“Done.” he smiles, putting his phone down on the counter. “I ordered pizza and your friend’s chocolate.”

“Perfect, thank you, Rin.” you thank him, “It’ll probably be a while… what shall we do in the meantime?”

“You know…” he starts, closing the gap between you. “I’ve really missed you all day.”

“Yeah? Ah—!” your voice gets caught in your throat as you feel him pick you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he carries you. You’ve missed him, too. You’ve never put a label on whatever this is. But as far as you’re concerned, it’s just fun. It’s easy. And it’s good.

He is good.

He sits on the couch with you straddling him. A little groan leaves his lips as yours stray to kiss down the column of his neck. His hips roll up, the outline of his cock rubs into your wanting core. His eyes are glued to you as your kisses descend his body, and he curses himself for not throwing away his sweater before picking you up.

It doesn’t matter though, not when you’re resting between his knees with your hands pawing at his cock. Your eyes are full, wanton whimpers filling every breath you take as you do all you can to quickly undo his belt.

“Can I give you head, baby?” you ask, helping remove his cock from the confines of his jeans. He nods, eagerly, his fingers stroking your scalp through your hair as encouragement.

You’re salivating when his dick is revealed in all of its perfect glory. Flushed pink and pretty and throbbing with lust. An unyielding desire to feel your mouth around it. You lick at the oozing pearlescent pre gathering at his slit. The moan he emits at the feeling rushes straight to your cunt. Your hand flies under your dress and beneath your sopping panties, Rin’s cheeks fill with a pink tint at the sight. He hadn’t expected you to touch yourself, his ego climbs heights he hadn’t thought possible at your overzealous act.

“Baby, please… please suck my cock.” he begs. You nod, mewling as you sink your mouth entirely onto him. “F-uck. Good girl, such a good girl.” he groans. You feel his hand cup your face, angling your vision so that your watery eyes are focused on him. He sees the pleasure building in you as you stare back at him.

Your little fingers aren’t enough to satiate the burning need pulsating at your core. But seeing Rin’s facial expressions are more than enough to keep you motivated. You want to make him proud. You want to make him cum. You take his cock entirely down your throat, and pride fills your body when he throws his head back.

He looks down at you, and he bites at his lower lip as you suck and choke around his length, tears spilling over your lash line as you take him more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you like this?” he asks, and you nod without hesitation. He thrusts his hips and fucks into your face until you’re choking on him. His hand grips into your hair and forms a makeshift ponytail as he continues to pound into your mouth like you’re his own personal fuck toy. He pulls you away reluctantly, giving you a chance to breathe. Though that isn’t why he did it. He wants to hear how good you feel. He wants to study the tears welling at your eyes. “You’re such a cute slut for me… cryin’ for my cock? Fucking adorable.” he grins.

You sob, unable to stop yourself. You rest your hands on his thighs as you sniffle, allowing him the time to really enjoy how pathetic and desperate you are.

“Love making you feel good…” you speak, shyly. “I—”

You don’t get the chance to speak anymore when he forces you back down on his cock. His eyes are heavy and filled with lust as he carries on rutting his hips into your face. You can’t stop yourself from twirling your fingers through his dark pubes. It’s the only thing keeping you grounded in reality as the feeling of his cock entirely takes over every synapse in your brain.

It’s unrelenting. He can’t stop himself as the tears continue to fall. Fat tears rolling without end down your hollowed cheeks. He batters his length into your drooling mouth, a mixture of spit and pre rolling down your chin and coating his balls as he repeatedly slams himself in and out. His thick length clogs your airways with each thrust. He can’t believe the pretty, lewd noises leaving you as you do your best to take him. The sputtering doesn’t cease, and knowing he’s so big that you can’t help but gag is making him mad with lust.

He holds your head with both of his large hands, keeping you in place as he fucks his length down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, baby. Take it, ‘m cumming.” he warns you, a loud grunt following as ropes of tangy white cream spurt down your throat before you can barely get a taste. You show him your empty mouth, and he kisses your forehead in response. You hear your phone buzz, your head turning to acknowledge the sound. But he pulls you back, lifting you onto his lap before standing up with you in his hold. “I got carried away.” he kisses your lips.

“No it’s okay, I had fun.” you smile, kissing him back.

“You make me fucking crazy. Crying like that, over my cock? You’re so sweet.” he tells you, kissing you again. “Have you always been such a cry baby? I like it, a lot.” he whispers before kissing lovingly along your neck. You roll your eyes, kissing him and giggling against his lips. Before you can answer you hear your phone buzz again,

“Sorry, I should check that.” you tell him. He sets you down and tucks his cock back into his underwear and jeans. You smile when you feel him hug you from behind, kissing him before checking your texts.

Bestie 💖: are u still at the shop? hot boy has a gf :( i can see him getting a blowy through the window Bestie 💖: ugh they look so cute i hate her, i rly thought he liked you!!

Your blood runs cold as you feel the vibration of another text coming through. Rin smiles, tucking his head into your neck to offer a calming kiss while you read your texts together.

Bestie 💖: OH MY GOD YOU BITCH! IT’S YOU! YOU FUCKING BITCH!

You reluctantly look up, and Rin does the same. You see your best friend standing by the window with a shocked expression on her face. She holds her phone up and takes quick picture as you and Rin wave at her through the window. You look down to see a notification from her, the picture is now available for your whole Snapchat group chat to see.

“I gotta remember to close my blinds at night.” he laughs.

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