#piv critical | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bi-writes · 28 days ago

Text

anatomy of us (1) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

we cannot change who we are at our core.

type: limited series, part 1 (6.4k) in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

Whenever she woke up marked the last day of the rest of your life. One moment, the world inside of your head was unnervingly quiet. The next, someone else was there, whispering in the dark, taking over.

You aren't proud of her. No, you hate her. There is no one you hate more, you don't think, because she lets the direction of the fucking wind distract her from what really matters. She paints her environment in a soft, glazed picture, and she tries to hold up her canvas and convince you that her reality is real. But then you blink, and you get flashes of how dull the sky really is and the dirt that stains your shoes, and you know that she's just a liar.

A controlling, desperate thief.

When you heard her voice for the first time, you begged your reflection in the mirror to just kill you already.

If you were an alpha, maybe you could've just drawn away into yourself and lived a quiet life in the middle of nowhere. If you were a beta, perhaps the weight of nothing would've given you a little more freedom to do the things you wanted to do.

But no. You're an omega. Nature's servant. A natural follower. Destined for nothing except to open your legs and say, "yes, alpha, all for you," because if you are anything but complacent, you're unwanted and a waste of your very being.

Your eyes stung when you took your first little pill. They rattled in different colors in a little orange bottle, and it felt like sand as it dissolved under your tongue. Even though it makes you sick, you take them anyways. Even though the pills change colors and shape and efficacy because you buy them from someone different every time, you take them because it makes your omega shut the fuck up finally.

You bury her. And you won't let her out.

The truth of it is that you're only fighting yourself. Your omega, she is you, isn't she? She's a part of you, she makes up your very genetic makeup, and to hate her is to hate yourself. But nature is cruel–it gave you years of freedom. Years to know what life was like without her, when she was dormant, asleep, just waiting for you to finally wake up.

Then your very self locked the cage. Your fingers claw at the bars, but it's no use. It's your very own punishment. So in turn, you bury her, too, silencing her cries, quieting what she wants most in the world, because it isn't fair, fuck you, you whiny bitch.

She's a pathetic puppy; and you are more than happy to step on her fucking neck.

Your aim is off today. The sound is muffled through the earphones you wear, but they've never thrown off your balance before. When you lean over the railing and squint at the target papers towards the back, you can see the bullet holes just a few inches off center.

You're never off-center.

"Getting rusty on me, Kit?"

You turn around, setting the gun down, and you smile wide when you see a familiar face. You pull the headphones off, putting them aside before making your way towards her.

Kate Laswell is surprised when you throw your arms around her and hug her tight. She smells good; she smells like chocolate, dark chocolate, something bittersweet. She's got that edge to it that they all do, something a little heady and all-encompassing, but she's the only alpha that you've ever found comfort being near. You see her nose scrunch a little when she embraces you back.

You must stink like synthetics. You care, only because you hate to make her nose sting this way. It's never been meant for her. At times, you thought maybe you could do a little convincing; maybe if you batted your lashes enough, she’d take pity on you, hide you away in some CIA shack with her deep on a Montana farm and play house. You’d cook, and she’d protect, and you’d be perfect little alpha and omega until the end of your days.

But Kate doesn’t like baggage. Not even the sweet kind, and especially not the kind that makes it even more difficult to make the hard decisions.

Kate isn’t a soldier. She makes choices based on the greater good, the lesser evil. She doesn’t get to be selfish. She doesn’t have that luxury.

When you pull away, she looks down at you strangely. She looks tired. Her dark hair is in a mess of a braid tucked under a cap, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her attempt of a smile emphasizes the lines around her eyes. You open your mouth to tell her something, but she shakes her head.

"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.

"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.

"We need to talk. C'mon."

You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it into your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.

"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't–"

"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next. Her face makes you anxious, and the scent in the car that changes puts you on edge.

"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"

Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.

"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not really CIA. You don't give me orders."

"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."

Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.

Program. UK. Field assignment. Mate. All the keywords to make your stomach curl and your autonomy shrink in front of your very eyes.

"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. You soften your voice, and you let your omega drip syrup into it. You want to see her eyes dilate–you want to make her protectiveness kick in just enough that she might just appease you. It’s desperate, and you know it’s wrong, but you do it anyways, you have to. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised–"

"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply. She pities you, that much you can tell. She looks pained, but it doesn’t matter how pained she might feel because it isn’t happening to her. It’s happening to you, and she put you on that base so that it wouldn’t happen to you, and she tricked you into getting into this car, and now it’s her–

"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."

You promised me. You gave me your word.

"I can't–"

But the CIA can’t be trusted for shit.

"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. Appease. Beg. Bare your neck. Give her what she really craves. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to–"

Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.

"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."

"But you'll do this instead?"

"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. It aches. Despite you never leaning towards her, it is still an alpha turning their nose up at you, and the thing inside of you cries at the feeling; she begs you to do more, but you swallow her down, fingers itching for another pill just so you can really squash her singing. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."

"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. You scrunch your face at her touch. Her hands are cold, and they do not welcome you. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"

"It's mercy," she whispers. Her thumbs stroke your cheeks in soft circles. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there, and I can’t take you with me. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head preening. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. You’re panicking, and maybe she’s trying to help, but you hate her. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."

"Please..."

"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."

You rip yourself away from her, curling into yourself as you scoot away from her as far as possible. You press yourself against the door, tucking your knees into your chest. Whatever passes by outside is a blur, and your brain doesn’t register any of it. The only thing in your head is betrayal, traitor, those sick, stupid bastard alphas, all of them–

"Fuck your promises," you whimper, and when she reaches out for you again, you flinch, burying your face into your hands.

Kate is a liar. She never keeps her promises; that’s her job, it is what she does. The CIA is nothing if they aren’t incredible liars–it’s what they’re known for, and Kate takes to it like a fish to water. As far as you are concerned, she lured you in with bait, and now she's shut the door on a trap. It is lined with padding, soft, delicate, but it still holds you back, it still keeps you still and stagnant and forever chained to an existence that you detest more than anything. She used you; it was in her best interest to keep an omega under her thumb, to do with you as she pleased when she needed one, and you suppose once you are taken, she will find another to do the same with. She will give another desperate one like you false hope, and when she needs another omega to keep someone else complacent and willing, she will offer them up with her signature on paper–just like that.

She tries to touch your hand before you board the plane. She tries to meet your eyes, get your attention, anything. You cower when she reaches out, and when she steps backwards, you walk on.

You never look behind yourself. Not even when you sit, and not even as the ramp closes shut.

Fighting is futile when you are who you are. It's unexpected. It's frowned upon. You are made up of something that is intended to be docile, to be big-eyed and soft. If you were a dog, they would want you to roll over and bare your belly and forget how to do anything but obey, but that is not the kind of thing that you ever wanted to be, even when you were small, even before you knew what you really were.

You hate what you are. You medicate yourself to the point of being incoherent, you bare your teeth and aggravate the submissive nature you inherit to deter any kind of match. You make yourself undesirable, not just in your physical nature but in the very essence of yourself.

You want to start over, as something else, or you want to never have been at all. You hate this place, you want them to cast you out, you want to be left to your own devices because dying alone and unwanted is better than submission; it;s better than the imprisonment that your kind subjects themselves to, willing or not.

It sickens you. You watch your own kind fall to their knees, close their mouths, and allow their very being to disappear just to make another satiated. Happy. Their entire lives, reduced to being someone else's waiting hand, someone else's property. It's sad, it's pathetic, it rocks you to the very center of yourself, and you demand more of it, you reject this life and the voice in your head that fights with you every single day of it.

She hates you, too, your omega. She claws at your insides and begs for something to drink, but you dry her out. You don't allow her to even breach the surface of the wasteland you've suffocated her with. She is naïve; she doesn't know what is good for her, she doesn't know that you are saving her from a life of constant torture. She screams for you to let her out, but you take another pill and force her back into the dark.

Or at least you did. You haven't taken a pill in days. They won't let you, even when you asked, even when you began to beg. You promised to be good if they just appeased you. You promised to be quiet if they just slipped it under your tongue, even if they injected it into your very veins, anything, just please, please, I don't want to–

Everything is surreal. You feel like you're seeing everything in color. What used to be dull and uninteresting now sparkles in your very eyes, it glows under the sun. Everything is sharper and less blurry. Sounds are clearer. You can hear the wind more loudly in your ears and feel it under the soles of your shoes. But what dizzies you the most is your sense of smell.

Everything before had been so bland. You have been under the effects of suppressors for so long that you don't think food has ever smelled so bad and so good (eggs make you gag now, and the crisps they give you make your mouth water).

They keep you confined in a small room. You are not allowed in the presence of any alphas; you can smell them passing by the door, but whenever the stink of one of them lingers, there's loud voices, lots of heavy boots. A beta comes to collect you to do a daily workout and to shower, and then you are back in your room, your meals delivered on a tight schedule (and the food, after a few days of your tray being barely picked at, gets so much better–it's better quality than you've seen on any military base, and when you asked, all they said was "lieutenant's orders").

Today is different. Today, along with your breakfast, a large black hoodie is folded underneath the tray that they leave on the end of your bed. You set the food aside, picking up the hoodie, and when you unravel it, you spread it out, gawking at the size of it. Whoever this hoodie belongs to is more bear, more beast, than human. An enormous thing, but when you pick it up, you immediately pick up on its strong scent.

You press the front of it to your nose. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sink into the bed a little as you take a deep breath of it. Warm, but gritty, like charcoal. Cigarettes. Military-issue soap. Clean. Eucalyptus. Fire. Something with depth, something with teeth. You don't realize what's happening to you until it's too late.

Alpha. It smells undoubtedly like alpha, and you're certain by the size of it that it belongs to one. You nuzzle your face into it a little, instinctively, and you don't even register your omega knocking, peering through the door that's been cracked open for her.

She squeals with delight. She's getting dizzy, drunk, and you feel a soft noise in your chest bubble as she pets the back of your mind, keening at the introduction of it. She’s giggling. You can feel her tugging at your insides, whispering in your ear–See? I told you. I told you that you’d like it.

They smell strong. They smell capable. They smell pure.

When you put the hoodie down, your legs are pressed together, shaking from how hard your thighs are squeezed. When you relax, you refrain from the need to touch yourself, but you failed before you even started. You can feel how wet you are; your panties must be soaked, and you feel yourself pulsing with some sort of distinct urge to give in, give in, give in.

It's unnerving, the lack of control you have. Your omega has always been a few feet underwater, but she's breaching the surface now, her lips gasping for air.

You try to push her back.

Stay down.

When the clock strikes for dinner, you aren't surprised by the knock. But you are surprised that when the door opens, there isn't a beta in uniform holding your tray. Instead, you cover your nose a little, blinking harshly as a large man comes into the room. He's got a strange beard and a floppy hat, and when he smiles, he reminds you of a teddy bear. You can tell just by his physique what he is, but his eyes are kinder than you're used to.

You will yourself not to trust them. You trusted kind eyes before, and now you’re locked in a prison of your own making.

"'ello," he introduces himself, holding out his hand. "'m Captain John Price. 's nice to meet you."

You glare at him, not saying a word. When he figures you won't shake his hand, he just nods. He lets his hand drop, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest, and he rests at ease.

"I've come to collect you," he says lowly. "It's time."

You pick up your tray of food from behind you and hurl it towards him. He ducks just in time, moving one shoulder backwards as the metal hits the wall behind him and clatters to the floor in a splattered mess. John shakes his head a little, scratching the back of his neck, and he clicks his tongue. You’re unnerved and a little pissed off when a hint of a grin flickers over his face.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes. "Yeah...you'll do."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's go," John snaps. "Won't ask again."

When he reaches for you, you swipe the fork from the bed, stepping close and sticking the little prongs up against his chin. You aren’t satisfied until you can feel his scratchy beard against it, piercing the skin just enough.

"If you touch me, I'll shove this right up your chin through your goddamn nose," you threaten, and John’s nostrils flare, his hands going up flat beside his head.

"Easy," he murmurs, and you feel like he’s talking to a skittish mare. "Just need to guide you, that's all."

"Well, I don't want to go anywhere."

"If you don't do this, I have to send you back," John explains. "And Kate made it very clear that is supposed to be my last resort. And you don't want to go back."

"Anything is better than this," you hiss, and he narrows his eyes.

"Not this. What they do to unruly omegas..." He leans forward, snarling a little. "Ones like you. Ones that bite. And scratch. They don't deal with them. They'll sedate you and use you as training practice. And while Kate might have a heart big enough to keep you outta that place, I don't have it. So get your arse moving. Now."

You put your hand down, dropping the fork, letting it clatter to the floor. He grips you by the collar of your shirt, urging you forward, and all the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as he gets dangerously close to scruffing you. It's enough of a threat that you immediately relax, your own body betraying your emotions as it tries to make itself smaller. To appease. To submit.

"This can't wait any longer," John mutters. "Has to happen today."

Your lip trembles.

"What has to happen today?" You ask.

"You're meeting your mate," he says. You know that was the answer, but you had to ask it anyways. You think of the hoodie you received all those hours ago. The smell of him, complete intoxication. "Simon."

Simon.

"Sounds like an asshole," you snap, irritated, and John chuckles a little.

"Mmm. He is. You'll adore 'im."

You flinch at the flickering fluorescent lights as he leads you down a narrow hallway. When you pass other soldiers, John puts you in front of him, glaring and baring his teeth a little. You're confused by this sudden display of aggression on your behalf, but when you spot the looks in others’ eyes, you're grateful for it nonetheless.

You know your scent is strong; piercing the walls around you, displaying your displeasure, discomfort, fear so plainly. It's an awful thing to not be able to hide how you feel, to not feel like you have any control over how you present to others, but you have no practice masking any of it. You have been drowning your omega for so long that you didn't realize the strength of her building up behind the synthetic walls you had built. She's livid, angry, permeating the spaces in your mind that you thought were solid and now are broken and hollow inside.

You stop in front of an unmarked door. John looks over you, eyeing the jacket you wear.

"Take tha' off," he says lowly. You frown, stepping back, but he nods again. "Take it off. You'll get it back, just give it to me."

You shrug your jacket off gently, handing it to him. John holds out his hand for yours, and when you cautiously give it to him, he rubs the fabric against your wrists to soak it in your scent before disappearing behind the door. You wait outside, pressing your ear to the metal, but you hear nothing but low mumbles. You do hear a heavy gait, big feet moving around that don't belong to Captain Price, and you close your eyes as you try and see if you can hear his voice.

You don't.

The door is opened just slightly, John cocking his head to the side.

"He wants to see you."

You raise a brow.

"Your mutt?" You ask smartly, and John scoffs a little, kicking the door open wide finally. Behind it, you can see a small little office situated. Dozens of file cabinets, a stained wooden desk, a peeling leather chair. There are papers everywhere, a disorganized mess and walls filled with medals, plaques, letters, pictures of faceless men. And standing beside the desk, towering over it with his head nearly hitting the ceiling is a bear.

A fucking bear.

He's so tall. Over six feet of hulking man, big shoulders taking up too much space. You can tell just by looking at him that he has to duck his head and move his body sideways to get through the doorway you're standing in. He has big hands and thick thighs, and your lips part when you realize his thigh holster has been released as much as possible just to still fit snugly around him. He's wearing dark jeans and a thick black hoodie, and he looks even bigger with a strapped tact vest that holds numerous little gadgets, weapons (fuck, he looks like he can kill you with the pencil laying haphazard beside him).

You can't see his face. He covers it with a mask, a snug covering tucked under his hoodie with the plastic front plate of a skull sewn to its front. He's holding your jacket in one hand, the other clenched in a tight fist as you step through the door.

"Is this your dog, Captain?" You ask finally. Simon doesn't speak. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you, taking in the way you look from the tips of your combat boots all the way up over your head. His gaze lingers on your middle, the wideness of your hips and the curve of your body.

John crosses his arms over his chest.

"Suppose so," John shrugs, rolling his eyes a little. You blink, finally making eye contact with Simon. His eyes are dark and beady. He's intense, just as his scent had been. Your omega warms your throat and screams in your ear.

Grab him. Latch onto him. Don’t let him go. Do you see him? Look at him–

"Does it bark?" You wonder, glaring. Simon unclenches his fist, rolling his fingers out a little. They twitch beside his leg. His face twitches a little, too, you can see the mask move just slightly.

"When he wants to."

"Does it bite?"

John snorts. "Mmm. Afraid so." He opens the door behind him. "Don't kill each other. If I don't see her for supper, Simon, I'll hold you to it."

When you are alone, Simon still remains silent. He hasn't moved from his spot by the desk, still in a strange staring contest with you as you stand there trying to read him. Like Kate, he's impossible; this time, you don't even have the luxury of looking over his face, although you suspect even without the mask, he must have mastered some kind of expression of nothingness. He seems like the kind of brute to give nothing away. Not even his displeasure.

"Hope you're good on a leash," you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest. "I like to go on walks."

His face moves under the mask again. Finally, he moves. He unravels your jacket in his hand, holding it open for you to put on again. You eye him strangely before coming closer to fit your arms into it.

When you turn your back to him, you realize how much of his shadow you're tucked under. When he drops the fabric back on your shoulders, you still as he leans over one side of you, bending. Without thinking, your head tilts to the side, giving him more space into the side of your neck. You do it without even thinking. Your omega bleeds through you, and you feel her warmth everywhere now, making you move, but you let her this time.

Your scent gland pulses there under your ear. He can see it, hear it practically, rushing like the blood in his ears. You close your eyes when you feel him come closer, the cotton of his mask just barely grazing your neck as he takes a deep breath.

The growl he lets out shakes you to your core. Your pupils get blown wide at the sound, and your head flops back slow, exposing more of your neck. He uses the opportunity to bend just that much more, until the front of his mask is pressed against the gland, and he can breathe you in, right at the source.

He's snarling under the mask. You can hear his teeth knock together, his tongue wetting his lips. You shiver, leaning into him, your hand raising up to caress the back of his neck as he nuzzles his nose there, taking another deep breath. You step back enough that he presses up against you from behind. You can feel his pelvis right against your ass, and you arch your back just enough to fit him right where he belongs. A gloved hand catches you at your waist, and you put your free hand on the desk in front of you until his cock is right there between your ass.

Your omega is panting. She's clawing, right there at the edge, fighting against quicksand as she's desperate to meet him. The feeling of him, the scent of him so close, it's an aphrodisiac, potent, suffocating. Something warm is wrapping around you, sliding along your skin, tickling your toes. It's between your thighs, in your mouth, wetting your tongue. You're not sure what this feeling is, but it's thrilling.

He's purring. Big, rumbling sounds coming from deep in his chest. More animal than man as his tongue comes out under the mask, and you can feel him lick a nice stripe over the raised, warm skin under your ear. Your omega is being pulled to the forefront. She’s like a magnet to him. The closer he gets, the stronger she bites into you. Your mouth drops open when his hand falls between your thighs, gripping onto you and pulling you up against him in one, slow grind. You can feel the length of him, fucking enormous, and you’re leaking into your cargos as his fingers squeeze the fat of your thigh.

"Fuck–okay!" You pull away abruptly, turning to face him. You put your hands on his chest and push him back a little. He doesn’t move at your touch, but your voice startles him enough that he moves his hands up and away from you. He straightens up, blinking away the haze in his eyes, and you swallow hard. "T-Too much..."

He huffs, moving forward to bury his face into your neck again, but you step back, putting a hand on his chest firmer this time. You have stepped out of the cloud that surrounds him, but you can still taste it, and it’s pulling you back, and you’re losing control.

"Simon," you say his name gently, and he stops, his face scrunching a little under the mask before he stands back up again. "If I have to be your mate...we need to set some boundaries." He blinks, saying nothing. "Like...a-asking for permission."

You can tell by the way his mask twitches that he doesn't usually ask for permission. He wants, and he receives.

Typical.

“What?” You ask, scoffing. “You don’t talk?”

He doesn’t move. You crane your neck to look up at him a little better, and you smooth your hands lower on his chest. You can’t help but appreciate what you feel. He’s wearing a tactical vest, but you can still feel the deep breaths he’s taking, the strong, fatty muscle under your palms. He is the epitome of sheer strength and undeniable ability. Your omega draws your hands back up his chest, over his pecs that pull taut, and they wind up around his neck as you stand up on your toes and lean into the curve of his jaw. You put your nose to it, barely. Simon moves his hands down, cupping you under your ass and picking up your weight with not even a grunt until you can press your face deep into him.

Fuck, it’s like a drug. It’s addictive. His scent impales you. He smells like war. Like chaos and smoke, and your mouth starts to water as you keep breathing him in. You pull back just enough, blinking up at him. You look a little dizzy and intoxicated, and he squeezes your ass to hold you steady as he puts you back onto your feet.

“Uhm…” You sniffle a little, holding onto him. Your hands curl around his shoulders, and you keep yourself upright like this. “I didn’t wanna be here. I don’t…I don’t want this. I never did.” You blink away tears, but he sees them when you draw your eyes back up to his. “T-They made me. It hurts.”

“Wot hurts?”

His voice scares you when you finally hear it. Your lip shakes, and when you blink again, your tears fall down your face. Simon snarls when he sees them, reaching up with hands too rough and wiping them off your face, but they keep coming.

“I’ve never been o-off my meds–” You gasp, and your breaths start to come in panicked and too fast. “Everything hurts. T-The lights are too bright, everything hurts my nose, the sheets are too itchy, and I-I can’t breathe–”

Simon moves away from you immediately. He closes a fist and pounds the lightswitch, and only the yellow glow of the lamp on his desk illuminates the room. You curl into yourself, hugging your own arms, and Simon comes back to stand in front of you, narrowing his eyes.

“I did not want you either.”

“That’s just grand, this is perfect,” you hiccup, and Simon grunts.

“But I have orders.”

“You act like your Captain is just debriefing you for a fucking mission,” You snap, glaring at him. “I’m a fucking person. I know your kind may not see us that way, but I am. I’m not a mission. I’m not something for you to win or to conquer, you fucking asshole!”

When you raise a hand to hit him, he catches your wrist before it lands. He squeezes just enough to hold you at arm’s length, and you lean forward and spit on him instead. It wets the mouth of his mask, and he nearly loses himself as his eyes flash with something dark. He looks away from you for a moment to collect himself. When he turns back, he uses his other hand to cup the back of your head, silencing you.

“You listen ‘ere, omega–” The way he says your title makes the fight in you shrink. Your omega squeaks, ducking her head, that bubble of submission pilling in your throat as he holds you so close to your naked scent gland. “Dunno wot anyone told you, but I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” He ducks his head, pulling you closer, and you freeze when he presses his masked mouth at the base of your pulsing scent gland. It wafts into his nose, dilating his pupils, and he snarls. “And when you inevitably lose control of yourself–you already fuckin’ are, you reek of it–I’m goin’ to sink my teeth right ‘ere, and then it won’t fuckin’ matter ‘ow you feel.”

Your eyes blur with angry tears. You gasp, your breaths hitching, and Simon seems to feed off of your fear, your misery. If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you imagine he’d be licking your tears for a chance to taste your sadness. The worst part of it all is that your omega adores it. She’s been aching for so long for this kind of authority. For that edge to tickle her right under her chin where she likes it. The whiff of alpha that she’s getting is driving her out of control, and you don’t know how make her quiet down. She’s so loud in your head, banging against the walls–give it to him, give it to him, give it to him.

“You’re a fucking monster,” you whisper, glaring up at him. It’s no use–you will never scare him. Simon is what scares other alphas into submission. In one paw, he could crush your windpipe if he wanted to, with just a squeeze. Simon hums, and you imagine him smiling under that mask, some kind of vicious grin that you would love to smack off of him.

“Tha’s right, swee’eart,” Simon mutters. “I am. ‘n now you belong t’me. Everything that you are–” He smooths his hand down your neck. You seize when his hand slides over the curve of your waist until it cups under your ass and forces you up against him. “‘s mine. Your omega–’s mine. Your mouth–mine. Your arse–mine. That cunt that’s going to take my knot like a good little omega should–mine. So y’r gonna get y’r things, and y’r gonna move them into my quarters, and then we’re gonna go get supper, and y’r gonna shut y’r fuckin’ mouth.”

“I hate you. You’re the biggest son of a bitch I have ever met in my entire life, you are exactly the kind of asshole I knew you would be, you are no different than I thought. You’re a terrible, awful, horrible–”

“I can smell you,” Simon snaps. “Don’t try to be fuckin’ smart with me, I can smell how wet your cunt is, so why don’t you just be a good girl and do as I say?”

You bare your teeth a little, and Simon sticks a gloved thumb into your mouth. Without thinking, you relax. You suck it into your mouth and sigh, and Simon rubs his thumb against your tongue, shutting you up nice and well. He traces your teeth with it, and you start to cry. You cry because you don’t know why you can’t fight. Your grip his forearm, but your nails won’t dig. Your feet are planted to the ground, and you can’t move. Your mouth sucks, and he pushes, and you’re frozen here.

He knows what to do. Doesn’t he taste so good?

He seems to like your teary eyes. The big, fat tears. His eyes crinkle, and you know he’s smiling, and you wish you could rip that expression off his face, but all that stares back at you is death. Simon growls, and every bit of resistance in you fails. Slow, like molasses, your knees buckle, and he catches you. He pets your mouth, and when he leans in and presses his mouth to your ear, all you can do is cry.

“That’s it. Good kitty.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon

4K notes · View notes

taeslarityy · 5 months ago

Text

outage ༄ joel miller one shot (18+)

-> pairing: no-outbreak joel miller au x female curvy reader

-> word count: 4.3k

-> summary: after a citywide power outage, you're left to deal with the scorching texas heat. until, the well-respected neighborhood dilf — joel miller — lends you a more than generous hand.

-> warnings/tags: sarah is 10/11 so joel had her a bit older, power outage, texas heat, yes this is a warning because its not a joke, reader has a cat!!!, age gap (reader is 24, joel is late 40s), curvy/mid/plus size reader, brief fatphobia, reader has self-image/parent issues + is a lonely gal, fluff, SMUT (18+), unprotected piv, creampie, oral + fingering (f!recieving), squirting, body worship, brief ass play, daddy kink, big ole tits, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, a bit of belly bulge, cockwarming, pet names galore (darlin, sweetheart, baby, _ girl), joel has a huge dick (not canon!)

-> a/n: hi hi! i have been so anxious to begin writing again and currently have some wips that i am just not confident with. so when i saw the lovely @hellishjoel post her #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i was positive i wanted to join in! such a pleasure to be involved in this — thank you kylee for creating such a fun way for this community to get involved! as a curvier woman, i wanted reader to reflect that. because... joel miller is a handsy mf and loves to just grab himself some wide hips, thick thighs and phat tits <3 but ofc, this is can be for various body types. please please please, leave your thoughts and even constructive criticism! <3 DILF NEIGHBOR JOEL, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

You release a groan of annoyance as the visual of your TV, coffee table lamp and humming of the refrigerator all flicker off into silence. The frills on your throw-blanket settle, as the ceiling fan no longer produces the small gusts of wind that have caused you to be rather chilly on this hot, humid and rainy summer night.

When you made the courageous decision of moving across the country for a new teaching opportunity in Austin — you were never informed on the true brutality summertime unleashed onto Texas residents. More-so, you really had nothing to do but be caged up in the comfortable AC of your home. You’ve been here for roughly 14 months and the only "friends" you’ve made have been the 28 fourth graders you had the pleasure of teaching last school year. Tragic.

Your coworkers, did not handle your arrival pleasantly. Young, beautiful, freshly-educated and determined. That’s what your grandmother referred to you as when you called her sobbing after your first week. Informing her that the seasoned teachers won’t even bat an eye at you, and when they do it’s a look of disgust. Whispering amongst one another. Like you were in middle school again, trying to befriend the popular girls.

“I was foolish to think things could be different for me down here, so stupid of me.”

“Now listen to me, you are the most intelligent woman I know. More than anyone in this family. Bullies like that, it stems from an unknown jealousy and overbearing insecurity. Don’t let a few sour grapes ruin this outstanding career for you. Your students adore you already, and so do I. Just continue to be yourself and if that isn’t enough for them, so be it.”

Your grandmother always knew how to make you feel better. She had been instilling your own sense of confidence since you were a little girl. The only adult in your life to do so. If only her words were enough. Your coworkers just never let up. After overhearing them gossip about you during lunch break, you gave up your attempts indefinitely.

“She really thinks she deserves a place here?”

“Look at her back rolls in that shirt…”

“She really needs to put that sandwich down.”

“Why is she so quiet? It’s freaky, honestly. No wonder she’s always alone.”

You’re not a stranger to being alone. You practically have been your entire life. Your parents never really bothered to form a genuine relationship with you, always so focused on your younger sister. She was the prettier, thinner, more impressive version of you. You have only had one best friend throughout your long 24 years on this earth. She was smarter than you and moved away from the timid small town you shared in Northern Maine, choosing an out-of-state university. So, being alone was a familiarity. You have made peace with it. But being lonely — that’s a whole other ball-park.

The booming thwack of thunder startles you from your thoughts. Your sweet calico boy leaps from your warm lap and scurries under the dining table — tail puffed in fear. “Milo... it’s okay,” you whisper. He just gleams at you with his jet-black saucer eyes. Even you don’t believe your own words. You are not used to storms like this, and you didn’t really prepare. You read some articles online about stocking up: having plently of batteries, candles, non-perishable foods. Yet, you didn’t do any of that.

Rubbing away the moisture from your damp upper lip — the heat inside your home already becoming unbearable. Deciding on a whim, you can head to a nearby hotel for the night. Unsure how long you will be without power and don’t wish to succumb yourself or your cat to the searing temperatures of the night.

The rain has slowed down, as you feel the soft patter on your umbrella. Throwing your purse and water bottle in the front seat, you begin to dread unpacking all this stuff when you get to the hotel. Bags, cat litter, cage — scrutinizing yourself mentally and deciding you better fucking prepare for the next storm.

“Where ya headin’ sweetheart?”

Your heart jumps at the deep smooth Southern voice that fills your thoughts at night. When your hands would find their way in between your quivering legs. Throughout the day. Pretty much all the time.

Joel Miller is the only person in this town that has ever filled the lonely void you can never seem to fill. When you moved to the quiet suburban street, he was the first to come greet you as you struggled to pull your mattress out of the U-Haul. Immediately lending a hand, and proceeding to lug all of your remaining boxes, furniture, miscellaneous items into your new home.

“Pretty lady like you, shouldn’t have to lift a single finger.” He remarked when you you blushed and assured him you could handle the rest, not wanting to be a burden. Even though the sweat dripping down your back was apparent and 5 minutes prior you had no idea how you’d be able to unpack the remainder of the truck. He then assured you — there was no way in hell you were being a burden. Words that were a rarity.

Later that afternoon, he invited you for dinner at his home. You met his lovely daughter, Sarah. Where everyone learned that you were her new school teacher. What were the odds?

Following that, seeing Joel was frequent. From parent-teacher conferences, backyard barbecues for the neighborhood, or even small intimate dinners with Sarah at each others homes. Sarah would even spend the night at yours on occasion. When Joel had a late night at the construction site, or when she just needed some girl time. You adored that little girl, and vice versa.

You also adored the fuck out of Joel.

So when you looked up at his porch, finding him in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants.. your throat went dry. His tanned skin gleamed softly from the street light — little speckled freckles adorned his waist in various spots. And that darkish grey hair on his chest and fat of his lower tummy that flowed underneath his pants. Your brain fuzzy at the thought of your face pressed against it as you swallow his cock.

But you were not a fool. Joel would never express an attraction towards you. A man like that? He deserved the perfect woman.

“Darlin’?” He speaks again, a bit louder. Disturbing your wandering thoughts.

“I- I was gonna head to a hotel for the night, my house is too hot already. And I don’t want Milo to be uncomfortable.”

Joel’s eyes wander down your body as you explain — the plush jiggle of your tits in that small tank. Nearly spilling out. Slightly damp from the rain or humidity. The chub of your tummy spills slightly from your leggings. A sight that makes his cock swell unbearingly. An act that occurs more often than not when he sees you or even thinks of you for the countless minutes of his day.

“No way. Not gonna let ya drive in this weather. Plus, most hotels nearby are gonna be overbooked. I got the generator up n’ working, got the spare room too. Your stayin’ over.”

“No! No, Joel. I can’t.”

“N’ why not?” His hands have found his way to his hips, popping a knee out and giving you that classic dad glare. Not angry, but confused as to why you’re even protesting when he’s already decided.

“I don’t want to intrude and I have Milo. You and Sarah are allergic.”

“Sarah left yesterday to stay with her mom in California for the rest of the summer. Besides, Milo loves me. I can handle a runny nose as long as I know the two of ya are safe.”

To this, your stomach nearly flips inward on itself. You’ve never been alone with Joel in his home. Not for this long. The few times you’ve come over to help him with dinner before Sarah got home from soccer practice, have always been excruciating. Staring at him without worry. Watching his muscles flex through his t-shirts. Big hands chopping vegetables and plating food. His hand lightly touching your waist when scooting by.

There’s no possible way you can survive a night in Joel’s home.

But, he’s already grabbing his umbrella and walking over to you. He grabs your stuff from the car and tells you to go grab Milo. So, you do.

Joel slips on a t-shirt after he put your stuff in the spare room, disappointedly enough. You nearly told him to keep it off, but held your tongue. You made yourself comfortable at the island barstool as you typed up some early lesson plans, Milo at your feet.

He patters over to Joel who is now leaning against the counter, brushing against his leg. He then leaps onto the granite and purrs against Joel’s arm.

“Psst! Milo get do-“ you beg, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“S’ okay, sweetheart. He’s not botherin’ me,” Joel attempts to settle your nerves. Petting Milo’s soft fur and scratching under his chin, that special spot all cats love. “Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” He nods towards the coffee he’s brewing.

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” You beam at him. Joel’s heart skips a beat every time your cheeks puff up ever so slightly when you smile at him. It’s something he swears is the most endearing thing about you. Of course, he’s only ever shared that with his daughter. Who begs her father to just take her favorite teacher on a date already.

Joel grabs some sugar and oat milk from the fridge, your favorite. He learned from the few breakfasts you guys had shared. A bit of sugar and a nice gulp of milk softens the dark roast color in the mug, he slides it over to you as he grabs his plain black coffee.

“You remembered!” You giggle slightly at the Number 1 Dad title that adorns the mug, taking a sip. You moan at the taste, exactly how you like it.

“Of course I did, darlin’.” You almost hate how easily those pet names roll of his tongue. You summed it up as his southern hospitality, figured he calls any woman those special names. “So, you ready for this new school year?”

An icky feeling settles in your stomach. The thought of returning to the painful and toxic work environment you can only escape when you’re with your students.

“Not without my Sarah girl,” you swiftly change the subject towards the one person he can talk hours about.

He smiles proudly at her name.

“Ya know, she still all mad that you wouldn’t flunk her so she could have another year with ya.” Both your laughs quickly fill the empty house.

“Well, even if I tried to, that girl is too smart for her own good. She should skip a grade in my opinion.” You state, and you’re truthful at that. Sarah Miller is as intelligent as she is quick-witted.

“Yeah, she gets it from me.” At that you roll your eyes playfully. Typing something up before closing your computer and taking another sip of coffee. “Although I love boastin’ over her, I guess I meant are you excited to go back? They treat ya good there?”

Joel watches the color drain from your soft skin. Realizing he touched somewhere that might be too personal. Too raw. “M’ sorry sweetheart, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- no uh, you’re fine. Um, honestly? No. I’m not excited. The staff there aren’t exactly the kindest bunch.” You confess, slight unease crawling over you.

Joel’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Mind blank on how the kindest soul he knows, could be surrounded by complete opposite. “Whatcha mean?”

You sigh letting the anxiousness settle a bit before speaking again, “they hate me. I don’t even know why, really? I have tried my hardest to get them to accept me but nothing seems to work. Whether it’s jabs at my appearance, teaching style, they’re never satisfied.” Your eyes are burning slightly, haven’t confessed this burden you constantly carry to anyone. “If it wasn’t for your daughter and my class, and… you.. well, I think I wouldn’t have made it through. I try to be strong, I try to be everything that people expect from me but it’s just so hard, Joel.” At that, the fat tears begin to stream down your face.

Joel was frozen in shock. Or maybe anger. Protectiveness. He wanted to hurt the people who made you feel like this. The least deserving of any pain. He sets his mug down and snatches you in his embrace. Holding your head with his hand, stroking your back with the other. He lets you sob almost uncontrollably into his firm chest.

“I just hate being so alone.” You whisper, clutching onto him. You can’t even be embarrassed anymore, you’re so overthrown by his scent, his comfort. Comfort you’ve not felt in so so long.

Joel kisses your temple softly, "promise you're not alone, sweet girl." He nudges your head to look up at his own sorrowful expression. His thumb running over your full lips, a bit swollen from your teeth biting down on them in an attempt to muffle your sobs. "So beautiful." He murmurs as he leans down to place a kiss on your left cheek, his lips skim over yours before he places another on your right.

Joel just barely hears the whimper from the back of your throat when that feather light skim happened. He leans back half an inch, staring into your glossy eyes. "Tell me not to, and I'll let you go upstairs and get some rest. Tell me, sweetheart."

It feels like a whole minute passes by. The soft patter of the rain, the smell of coffee beans from each others breath, the same slow breathing that overwhelms the little space between you both.

Desperation.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, "don't let me go upstairs, Joel."

Joel smashes his mouth into yours, his guttural groan flying into your soft whimpers. The softness Joel expressed a moment ago is long gone. This kiss is messy, teeth-clanking, tongue inside your mouth. Like he wants to devour you from the outside in. He releases your lip with a pop.

He threads his thick fingers through the base of your hair and yanks it back gently, tongue on your neck. Biting the skin there. "You're so soft, baby. Just need me to mark ya up, is that right?"

You nod as hard as you can despite his harsh grip on your locks.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl. Let me know what you're thinkin'."

"Everything you do is okay. I want more. I need it all. Please."

"Oh baby, cm'ere," he wraps your lavish thighs around his waist and hoists you into his arms. Easily. Like you're just the most delicate thing he's ever held.

As he walks to his bedroom, you smile into his neck. Arms wrapped over his shoulders, hand rubbing ever so softly at his greying curls. You bite at the skin under his ear and he gives your ass a huge squeeze. Groaning at how his big hands barely hold all the meat there. He couldn't wait to touch and gnaw at this body he loved.

At the foot of his bed, he taps your leg as if telling you to get down. You stand in front of his massive overbearing figure, staring up at him lustfully. You grab the bottom of your compression tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your unsupported chest. Your heavy tits fall a bit.

"My god," Joel falls to his knees in front of you, face nearly level with your pebbled nipples. Both his hands grab a fistful of each, rolling them in his palm. Your sweet noises fill the room and he swears he might've just came in his pajama pants right there. He takes his teeth and bite at the fat above your leggings, licking and sucking at a sensitive part of you. Literally and figuratively.

Joel abandons your chest to yank your leggings and panties down in one move, coming face-to-face with your prickly oozing pussy. He can't restrain himself much longer, spinning you around he pushes you down into his mattress.

He spreads your ass open with both hands, the chub of your lips open ever so slightly as the slick between them strings together.

"Perfect cunt." That's when you feel the chill of liquid spat right onto your puckered hole, dripping down to your clit. He leans in, tongue catching the tangy mixture of your slick and his saliva, right on your throbbing clit.

You screech into the sheets, so turned on from his actions. As he licks up to dip his tongue into your hole, one hand that's holding you open sneaks up your back, to your neck and yanks your head up.

"Nu-uh, let me hear you, baby girl." He demands as he pauses to throw his shirt off as fast as possible — not wanting to leave your cunt for too long without the warmth of his mouth.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt as it clenches and unclenches under his tongue, his beard prickling at your skin. Like he wants your scent all over him for as long as possible.

"Ohh daddy, more more," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have him as deep as possible.

Joel stops as he processes your choice of title. "What was that, darlin'?"

You freeze at his serious tone. Just now realizing what you've called the man. "Oh my god, I'm s-" Joel grabs your wrist and pins it against your lower back — thick middle and ring finger hooking into you with no warning. Your wetness aiding in the rapid slide of them.

He spits on your puckered hole again and abandons your wrist to land a harsh smack against your ass.

"Only dirty girls say that word, baby. Are you daddy's dirty girl?" He edges you on as he spanks you again on the opposite side. Hard. Unsparing. A side of Joel you've never seen. And oh, does it make you feel that coil tightening within you.

"Mmmm yes yes 'm your dirty girl, daddy!" You groan loudly, eyes swelling with fresh tears. But not tears of pain from earlier, pleasure.

Joel's fingers fuck into you harder, thumb now rubbing at your clit as he leans forward to prod his tongue at your asshole. "Cum for me, my nasty sweet girl. Drench my face. Let me taste you even more." He halts his fingers knuckle deep, hooked inside your cunt as he presses into that spot on repeat. Like he's stroking it out of you.

That's all it takes for you to silently scream as you squirt all over his lower beard covered face and your thick inner thighs, that nearly squish his head from how hard you're coming. Joel just keeps himself situated, never letting up. Allowing you to completely let go and rut back into him, telling him you need more.

"Thaaat's it, my good fuckin' girl.” He praises as he kisses your cunt and ass, he leans over your face capturing your lips in a kiss so messy and depraved. “Open that mouth.” Spitting roughly onto your tongue with a groan as you taste your sweetness that he knows he will forever be addicted to. No chance of recovery.

He ruts his thick bulge into your ass as you whine needly.

"Really want you to fuck my face, now." You beg, hand reaching down to grope him through his loose pjs.

"Mmmmm," he murmurs as his hips keep rutting into you. "Tonight is about you, baby. M' gonna stuff your tight cunt so fuckin' deep you'll feel it in your throat, don't worry." And with that promise, he releases himself, throbbing cock slapping against his lower tummy. You flip onto your back just to see it and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

You always knew it was huge just from perception, but god. It's thicker than your wrist, and looks like it would prod into your cervix. Painful even. Joel senses the worry on your face as he pushes your legs back against your chest. Admiring the way your stomach folds into itself, soft roll after roll. And the thickness of your inner thighs lays heavy. He just wants to get down and feast on you again but he might die if he doesn't feel you wrapped around him.

"You're in charge here, sweetheart. Understood?" He explains as he rubs his fat cock head up and down your swollen slit — notching on your opening with every downward stroke.

You nod slowly, peeking down at the monster between your legs once more. He squeezes your ankle, subtly reminding you to vocalize.

"Yes daddy, I understand."

"Good." And with that, he pushes into your fluttering hole. Your eyes roll back immediately, head thumping onto the soft duvet. He pushes in deeper, barely halfway in and he sees your feet and eyes scrunch a bit. It almost feels like he could rip you apart. Maybe it's because you haven't been fucked in a hot minute — or maybe it's just that Joel is so fucking hung. More than any guy you've slept with.

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart.” He soothes you, as soon as he sees your chest fall — he slams the rest of the way in. Hips flush with the back of your thighs. Cock fully sheathed in your warm soaked cunt. Heavy brimming balls pressed against your little puckered hole. “You feel so damn good. Dripping for me.” Joel’s eyes close at the feeling of you hugging him so tight. He suddenly forgets the feeling of any other woman he’s pleased. Utterly devoted to you from here on out.

When he pulls out all the way to his fat tip — it notches on your opening. Like he has to put in that extra effort to fully remove himself from you. But he doesn’t, and starts fucking into you fully. Never half way, never pulling completely out.. but always making sure he reaches the end of you.

“Da- daddy oh, harder please.” You plead, squeezing his forearm at the overwhelming feel of him nudging your cervix with every thrust.

That confirmation of pleasure is all Joel needs to push your legs back even more — ankles by your head — and began a brutal relentless pace. Grabbing a fistful of your jiggling tit and messy hair, he pulls your head up so you can watch how he ruins you for anyone else.

“Ya see that, see how swollen your gettin’ already?” Joel questions as he holds your head perfectly to observe the slight lifted pudge on your tummy. Paired with the way his coarse hair rubs against your swelled clit — it’s a drool worthy sight.

“Cus’ your so big, Joel.” You sigh, eyes fluttering from the primal force he’s using on your body.

A smug grin flicks across his face at the view. Mind consumed by the most perfect woman. Eyebrows turning inward, the little lines between them deepening as you try to comprehend all the emotions in this moment. Removing his hand from your head, he finds your clit and swipes it upward. Over and over. Leaning down, he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as humanely possible. Tongue flicking the pebbled area, coercing your orgasm from you. “Cum with me, baby.” His muffled command shoots straight to your filled core.

As he feels you spasm around his thickness, he stills balls deep. “There it is, baby…” Spilling his cum inside your warmth. Plugging you, keeping you full of him. Joel relaxes his body against yours, finding your mouth to kiss you gently. Sweaty foreheads against one another. Joel goes to push off of you, his comforting body heat about to be ripped away.

"No! Wanna feel you longer, please."

Your protest makes Joel's heart surge. "Of course, sweet girl." Wrapping his large arms around you, he flips you both so that your soft plush body lays above him. The new angle makes his spent cock nudge a bit deeper, you both moan at the faint squelch of his cum overflowing your cunt. "You're so perfect," he mutters.

Smiling into his full chest, you leave a swift kiss. "So are you. Thank you for this. For.. everything."

Joel's hands finds your back as he begins gentle strokes onto your supple skin, his head resting atop your own. "Thank you, darlin'. I want you to understand something, you might just be the finest thing that ever happened to Sarah and I. Y'know, she didn't really want to see her mom. Never had the best relationship with her. She just wanted to spend the remainder of the summer havin' ya over everyday to swim and all. That girl admires you more than anyone."

Eyes foggy, you shift to gaze up at him. "And what does her father think?"

Joel pauses briefly, rich brown orbs beaming into yours. "Think she's damn right. She didn't want me to tell you this, but she left so I could have some alone time with you — take ya out. Scolded me sayin' by the time she's back, we better be together." He laughs at the thought, you join him. Picturing that 4'9 ball of fire lecturing her father on the rules of dating.

"So, you're asking me out Miller?" You question with a heavy hopeful heart.

"Should've done it forever ago, darlin'." He confesses, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

And with that, you place your head back onto the warm chest of the man you've craved your entire life. Realizing, ever since that day where he first greeted you with that sultry gentleman voice — you were never truly alone.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

3K notes · View notes

2024skin · 2 years ago

Text

literally who are any of you people to decide that one decision is "the right decision" for every woman. If you go into a discussion assuming that You alone know what is the best path to a happy, healthy life for Everybody in the world then that is hubris. Everybody talks like they are so smart and have all the answers to everything and whenever someone disagrees with you then they are sensitive and antifeminist. At the end of the day yall have nothing of value to say and get your panties in a twist over anyone expressing an opinion that you disagree with and it's so obnoxious

#It's okay I'm just unfollowing people about it tonight #I'm tired of feeling like my dash is a sorority like sometimes people can disagree with you. You don't always need #To assert your opinions as the most logical and the most feminist. In fact insisting that people who disagree are less feminist than you #Is quite unconvincing to everybody who doesn't base their opinions around having a specific identity on the internet #The way I've seen people talk about having children tonight is incredibly ignorant of women's lived experiences #and it removes all complexity of women and motherhood and focuses entirely on a specific type of woman who is married to a man #Like literally it reminds me of the way men talk about female biology as if it exists solely to serve and please men #Like I can name real live women who had babies against the will of the men who gave them sperm #And you're living in another dimension if you think women are rewarded for being single moms.#Women are Never rewarded for taking any action without permission from a man and giving birth is not an exception #But somehow wanting to have a kid in Any context is bad and antifeminist but really what these women are criticizing is heterosexual #Relationships and calling it antinatalism. And then getting mad when we talk about the cons of antinatalism #Even though we said absolutely nothing about heterosexual relationships one way or the other #???#Like literally I see nobody ever except for homophobes defend het relationships or get mad when people criticize them #But antinatalism is not synonymous with anti piv or anti het partnerships #So its kind of ridiculous to see multiple people make a false comparison between the two concepts in less than an hour

1 note · View note

dieletztepanzerhexe · 12 days ago

Text

It seems to me that it could be possible to safely engage in ethical h*teros*xuality as long as you don't live with him, are independent, have your own money and are in no way financially dependent on him, maintain your own social circle and separate friends, don't clean up after him, don't marry him and do not get p******t. He's there to provide you with companionship, entertainment and intimacy. But breaking any of this rules results in being very susceptible to fall into dangerous teritory

#ethical heterosexuality #moje #piv negative #piv critical #anti marriage

4 notes · View notes

punkshort · 8 days ago

Text

Evergreen | Chapter Four: Depression

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: With some comforting words from Sarah and Daniel, you and Joel work things out.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, grief, soft!joel, smut (18+ MDNI), oral f!receiving, lil size kink, unprotected piv sex, feelings, therapy

WC: 8.3K

Series Masterlist

Daniel's office was always the hardest room to spend any amount of time in since his death, but the hurt compounded even more when you were reminded of the first time you kissed Joel on the green couch in the corner.

You weren't even sure what you were doing. The idea of moving out of town wasn't concrete, per se, but you still found yourself packing up Daniel's office. What started simple enough with taping up open boxes of books turned into almost two hours of scrutinizing every single item in his desk. Business cards, scribbled notes, old bills, and a few pictures of the two of you filled his junk drawer. Half used pens, a calculator, an old pair of glasses and the medal his university granted him when he went back to give a commencement speech three years prior filled another. But what ultimately drew your attention was a yellow legal pad shoved underneath his laptop. Pages and pages and pages of notes filled a decent chunk of it. From what you could tell, it was an outline for the next book he was in the middle of writing, the very same manuscript you had given to Ellie. Most of it didn't make sense to you, but you read it anyway. Your fingertips traced over his familiar, elegant handwriting. It was one of the things you loved about Daniel when you first met. He didn't have terrible chicken scratch like most men you knew. He took his time when he wrote. He savored every letter. Each word was a beautiful mix of print and cursive that was so uniquely him.

Your eyes grew a little misty as you admired each page of notes, but you weren't sad. On the contrary, you felt happy. You felt connected to him again, if only just for a brief few minutes. But when you got to the last page, what you read stole your breath and destroyed the resolve you managed to build up.

To the love of my life. My better half. My biggest fan and toughest critic.

I can't wait to marry you, my love. I look forward to lazy Sunday mornings with your homemade waffles and my terrible coffee for the rest of our lives. You deserve the world. Someone to worship at your feet and be there for you when you're feeling weak. I've got no idea why you've chosen me, but every day I wake up eternally grateful you did. Just know you will make me happy until my dying breath, and I hope I am able to do the same for you.

The only thing I ever want in this life is to see you happy.

Tears streamed down your face. You had to shove the pad of paper away before drops fell on the page and ruined Daniel's last message to you. Swiveling around, you opened a few drawers until you found a box of tissues, then you buried your face in your hands and wept. Wept for the life you could have had with Daniel and for the one you foolishly threw away with Joel. Shockingly, his words managed to ease the guilt that had settled heavy in your chest for the past week. While he had been talking about himself being the one to make you happy in his dedication, you knew Daniel. He wasn't a selfish man. He was caring and sweet and kind. And he wouldn't want you to be miserable and lonely for the rest of your life. He truly was always happy whenever you were happy.

Joel was like that, too. He was so different from Daniel in many ways, but at their core, they were the same. They were soft and trusting and loving. They cared so deeply for you and wanted to make you happy. Both were so gentle and careful with you, patient and funny. It was no wonder you found yourself drawn to Joel in the first place.

Your doorbell chimed unexpectedly downstairs, followed by an urgent rap on the door. You frowned and snatched up a new tissue so you could dab at your cheeks while you made your way down the steps. Glancing out the window on the bottom stair, you saw a small, unfamiliar sedan in your driveway. You hesitated for just a moment with your hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering who it could be. Not many people stopped by your house. The paranoid part of you wondered if it was a reporter, the trauma from being harassed after Daniel's passing still living somewhere deep inside. But then a young girl's voice drifted through from the other side, startling you.

"Hey, please open up. It's Sarah," she said, then paused before adding, "Joel's daughter."

You shakily unlocked the door and swung it open. She appeared slightly disheveled, like she was in a hurry. Or maybe you were just reading her energy because she certainly came off rushed.

"Is everything okay?" you asked her. Visions of Joel at a job site pinned under some heavy beams flashed through your mind, an unexpected knee jerk reaction that was no doubt trauma from the car accident with Daniel.

"Yeah, everything's fine - sorry," she said immediately when she realized how it must have looked to show up at your door out of the blue. "I was hoping we could talk. Do you have a minute?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah," you said, glancing over your shoulder before opening your door wider for her. "Come on in."

You watched her slide off her sneakers and you closed the door before pointing towards the kitchen.

"Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have-"

"No, thank you. I don't think I have a ton of time, actually," she said, worrying her lower lip as she glanced out the front window towards your driveway.

"Well, alright. Here, have a seat," you replied, ushering her into the sitting room. She sunk down onto your sofa and you paused for a moment before choosing to sit in the soft leather chair across from her. Sarah's hands fidgeted in her lap as her eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail of the old Victorian home before letting her gaze linger on a few framed photos of you and Daniel on the mantle.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, tearing her eyes away to look at you. "I'm so fucking sorry. I was rude and I had no right to treat you the way I did. I know it's not an excuse but I was just... surprised. I guess when I thought my dad was ready to move on, he would have dated someone closer to his age." Sarah took a steadying breath while you remained silent, stunned by her sudden outburst. "Then I realized it wasn't really about the age thing. I don't think it would have mattered who he dated. It was just... weird, I guess."

Sarah shamefully stared down at her fingers tangled in her lap, waiting for you to wrap your head around her apology.

"Uh, wow. Well... thank you. That means a lot to me," you told her with a soft sniffle. "Your dad always spoke so much about you, it felt like I knew you, in a way. After everything the two of you had been through, I don't blame you one bit."

She risked a glance up at you, eyes all wide and watery.

"Really? Just like that?"

You smiled and nodded.

"Of course. I'm not going to hold it against you," you shrugged. "We weren't really trying to keep it a secret from you, just so you know. It was more like we were taking it slow and seeing where things went." Your eyes drifted to a photo of you and Daniel on the wall and your chest tightened. "It wasn't - it was hard for us both."

Sarah followed your gaze and felt the guilt creep back up.

"I know. My dad told me about your fiancé. I'm so sorry," she said, turning to look at you. "I loved his books. He was so creative. Like, the worlds he built up were so incredible and beautiful. He was one of my favorite authors." Then she remembered the gift you had given Joel and she added, "Thank you for those books. The ones you gave my dad. They're absolutely stunning and I promise to take good care of them, I know those are rare editions."

Your face lit up. "You're welcome. He would have wanted someone like you to have them. He was so appreciative of his readers for giving him a platform to live his dream."

"He sounded like a really great guy," she said sympathetically.

"He was," you replied softly. "After the accident, I could hardly get out of bed for weeks. I thought my life was over. I know how dramatic that sounds but I never thought I'd be able to move on, until-"

You cut yourself off, but Sarah knew what you were going to say. She inched forward on the couch with her eyebrows knit together.

"Could you please give him another chance?" she pleaded. "I don't want to see him lonely. I don't want you to be lonely. And, shit... you were getting him to actually exercise and eat vegetables!"

You laughed and shook your head.

"I didn't ask him to do that."

"But he was doing it because of you," she protested. "I've been trying to get him to eat better for years and he knows you a few weeks and suddenly he's chopping up peppers for dinner. It's definitely you."

You felt your cheeks warm as you let your eyes wander aimlessly around the room, surrounded by the memories of your first true love while sitting across from the extension of your second.

"Okay. I'll give him a call," you relented. When your eyes found hers again, she was looking out your window.

"I don't think that's necessary," she said, standing up. The corner of her mouth twitched and when you heard a car door slam in your driveway, you jumped up from your chair. You had barely made it three steps before you heard Joel rapping loudly on your front door.

"Ugh, Dad, you're filthy," Sarah scolded when she swung open the door with a frown.

"What're you doin' here?" he asked, wild eyes glancing over her shoulder. "Where's-"

He stopped short when you stepped into view behind her, giving him a shy wave. Sarah shifted to the side with a sly smile, eyes darting back and forth between you and Joel. Neither of you spoke. There was so much to say but you had no idea how to start. Then your gaze drifted down his frame, taking in his dusty jeans, boots, and black work tshirt. Memories of the day you visited him at work for lunch flashed through your mind and you swallowed tightly.

"O-okay," Sarah said, slowly drawing the word out when she bent over to slide her sneakers back on. "My work is done here. I'll leave you to it."

Joel blinked and tore his eyes away from you to look at his daughter, who was in the process of squeezing past him.

"What'dya mean?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to clear the air. Rest is up to you, old man," she teased, poking him in the shoulder. She gave you a friendly wave goodbye before skipping down the porch steps and back towards her car.

Joel's head swiveled back and forth between you and his daughter, still confused and trying to figure out what to do but when Sarah backed out of your driveway and disappeared down the street with a playful honk of her horn, his choice was made.

He turned back to look at you. Now that Sarah was gone and the initial bewilderment wore off, Joel's nerves began to make his heart thump faster and sweat collect under his collar.

"Do you, um," you glanced into your home over your shoulder before meeting his eye again. "Would you like to come inside?"

"Yes," he replied far too eagerly, making you smile when you held the door open for him. He toed off his boots and cringed. "Sorry for the mess. Was just gettin' home from work and found them two stirrin' shit up so I just raced on over."

"That's alright, I don't mi- wait, two?"

Joel nodded and followed you into your kitchen.

"Ellie came by lookin' for me 'n found Sarah," he explained, delicately sitting down at the kitchen table and praying he didn't leave a trail of dust behind him. The thought of sullying your beautiful home, the place where you found peace, irked him.

"Ellie?" you repeated, voice laced with surprise as you scooped coffee grounds into the filter. "Why did Ellie stop by?"

"To tell me you're skippin' town," he replied bluntly.

Your finger froze on the button of the coffee maker. Shit.

"That's not entirely true," you replied feebly. You turned around, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed protectively over your chest. Fuck, why did he have to look so good? Sitting there in your kitchen after a long day at work watching you mill around had your mind wandering, wondering what it would be like to have him come home to you just like that every single day.

"It was something I was considering," you continued. "My parents have been hounding me to move back home."

"Thought you wanted to stay in Texas," he said softly. You watched his finger anxiously dig into the side of your table.

"I did. I mean, I do. It's just..." you trailed off and looked around the room. Your throat grew tight when you said, "I can't live in this house anymore, Joel. I love it, but... I don't - I can't-"

Tears welled up in your eyes. You cast your gaze down to the floor, not noticing when Joel stood up and crossed the room until you smelled the familiar scent of sawdust and peppermint right in front of you.

You didn't even allow yourself to think. You just stepped forward, burying your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you let the tears silently fall while he held you close, murmuring into your hair that you were going to be alright.

"Don't go," he whispered when your tears had slowed and the coffee pot pinged, alerting you it was finished brewing. Your fingers tightly gripped at his shirt.

"Joel-"

"Please," he begged, pulling back just far enough so you could see the vulnerability etched across his face. "I'm sorry I didn't make you stay that night. I'm sorry I didn't run after you. When I met you, you took me by surprise, darlin', and I'm way outta my area of expertise here, but I-"

Your mouth crashed against his, silencing him with your answer. In an instant, his hands flew up to cup your face, cradling you gently, carefully, yet you still felt his strength wrapping itself around you like a blanket.

"Sweetheart," Joel gasped, pulling away from your kiss but still pressing his forehead against yours, unwilling to let you go. "I don't think I can survive losin' someone again," he told you selfishly, voice trembling as your fingers fanned across his cheek. Fresh tears stung your eyes as your lips found the underside of his jaw and he sighed, dropping his arms to wrap around you tightly.

You weren't sure exactly what it was, but something shifted. Maybe it had been enough to hear from Sarah directly that she was okay with you and her dad being together. Maybe it was the note you found in Daniel's desk. Maybe it was the beautiful reminder that so many people cared enough about you to drop what they were doing to fight for you to stay in their lives. Whatever it was, it had you feeling at finally peace after losing Daniel. The heaviness in your chest was replaced with warmth and hope. It made you believe it was okay to move on and let go.

Your hand that was pressed against his cheek fell to his chest and slowly trailed down his stomach until you felt the cool metal of his belt buckle against your fingertips. Beneath your lips, you felt his neck muscles tense and his pulse skyrocket.

"Wh-what're you doin'?" Joel murmured. His throat bobbed when your fingers hooked around the buckle, pinky slowly sliding the leather from the clasp.

"Do you want me to stop?" you whispered. You opened your eyes to gaze up at him, lips hovering over a red mark you had left just above his collarbone. His skin tasted salty from his dried sweat after working hard all day and it had your mind going a little fuzzy.

Joel shook his head and closed his eyes. You took it as your invitation to continue leaving kisses down the column of his throat while your hand resumed its work on his belt.

"I didn't get a chance to clean up," he rasped when his belt opened loose around his hips. He felt his hands begin to tremble from the nerves and anticipation, so he took a deep breath.

"That's okay. I like you like this," you mumbled. You began to tug on his shirt, pulling the hem from his pants. You were working with urgency, fearful that your guilt might pop up out of nowhere and ruin the moment.

Joel chuckled, pushing his own insecurities aside when he felt your palms slide across his too-soft stomach.

"Why the hell would you like me filthy from a job site all day?" he found himself asking, more so to just calm his nerves a bit as you continued to blindly explore his upper half underneath his shirt.

You nipped playfully at his skin before you said, "Because it's a reminder of how hard you work. And how much you deserve to be taken care of," you explained, pushing him so he began to walk backwards out of your kitchen.

Joel's breath caught in his throat. Unknowingly, you had said the very words he longed to hear and it sent a rush of blood between his legs. He hadn't been taken care of by anybody in so long that he almost forgot what it felt like to have someone else help carry the burden of his daily responsibilities. Someone else to lean on when he felt weak and someone else to turn to when he wanted to share in his happiness.

"You- you sure 'bout this?" he stammered when his heels knocked into the bottom step. You pulled away and grabbed his hand. With a firm nod, you began to lead him up the stairs, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

On the way to your bedroom, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. His face was flushed, hair dusty and unkempt. His shirt looked messier than usual after you had been tugging on it and he cringed when he noticed the hole at the collar he must have missed earlier that morning when he was getting ready. But even with all that, he still felt giddy. He had a smile stretched so wide it practically hurt his cheeks. And although he looked a mess, his pants half undone with his cock already straining against the denim, he didn't feel foolish or out of place. He felt like a teenager sneaking up to a girl's room while her parents slept. He felt excited and happy and hopeful not only for what was waiting for him in your bedroom, but for what the future held. And just like that, any remaining reservations about his age or physique disappeared when he crossed the threshold into your bedroom for the first time.

His eyes bounced eagerly around the room in the few moments he had before you tugged him down to your level, pressing your mouth feverishly against his while you worked to undo your own pants. The first thing he had noticed was your room was very you. Girly colors and light furniture decorated every square inch. The paintings on the walls were of flowers and some inspirational quote he didn't have time to read. Your bed had a canopy. Sheer white curtains were tied to your headboard and it made him smile when he thought of you waking up every morning in such a beautiful room.

He would find out later you had completely redecorated after Daniel passed away. Top to bottom, new paint and furniture. It made sense. You didn't want to be haunted by your past, turn to look at something he built or picked out. Didn't want to think about the intimate moments you had with him and never would again every time you went to sleep.

Joel didn't have much to even consider any of that in the moment because you had fallen back onto your bed, jeans abandoned on the floor while sweetly reaching out for him to join you.

"Christ," he muttered, unable to stop his eyes from flickering down your body and over your bare legs before pausing on the lacy panties hugging your hips.

Ten years. It had been ten fucking years since he had sex. And you were so goddamn beautiful and perfect, spread out for him with your chest heaving and lust filling your eyes as you waited for him to snap out of it and come join you.

His gaze met yours and something unspoken passed between you. You both had your respective baggage and you each knew it, yet you trusted one another with the most sensitive pieces of your souls. And that had to mean something. That had to mean what you had was special.

He bent forward, fists pressing into the mattress on either side of you, and began to pepper kisses up your legs. He could hear your breath grow heavy the closer he got to the apex of your thighs and it made him smile to hear someone so perfect as you become so affected by his touch. He had hardly done anything and already you were wiggling and offering him soft little moans when you felt his exhale fan over your clothed sex.

There was no way he was going to last. Ten years. He wasn't even sure he still remembered his old moves. Even if he did, he wanted you so badly he probably wouldn't have enough time before he came.

But there was one thing he did remember how to do, and if his memory served him well, he was pretty damn good at it.

"Can I take these off, honey?" he asked with his fingers looped around the sides of your panties. His voice came out deeper than he expected, making a shiver shoot down your spine.

"Mhmm," was all you could manage, then you squeezed your legs together and lifted your hips, giving him what he needed to gently pull your underwear down your legs then tossed them onto the floor.

He inhaled sharply when your legs fell open, revealing the wetness that had already collected, all slick and shiny and just for him.

"Goddamn, you're perfect," he said breathlessly. His hands spread wide over your soft thighs, moving slowly to curve around and hold you open. When his knees hit the carpeted floor and he settled his shoulders between your legs, he heard your breath quicken. His cock twitched, still stuck in the restricting confines of his jeans, when he saw a fresh drip of arousal roll through your slit, and he couldn't hold back. He lunged forward, tongue curling to catch it with a groan, not even registering the surprised noise you made. His eyes fluttered closed as he went back for more, lips suctioning around your folds and tongue diving inside for another taste.

"O-oh my god, Joel," you moaned, fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets. His chest swelled with pride, your broken voice only serving to encourage him further.

Your mind went blissfully blank as he expertly dragged his tongue up and down, collecting every drop of your arousal and swallowing it eagerly. His jaw worked steadily, widening his mouth with each messy kiss against your cunt. Every flick of his tongue was deliberate, every suck of his lips exquisite. He had you trembling under his grasp in a matter of minutes, completely forgetting that it had been a long time since you had last been touched, as well.

When your hands grabbed roughly at his hair, he grunted but never faltered. The slight pain prickling his scalp from the sharp tugs on his greying curls kept him focused and in the moment. It made him pay attention to every sound and thrust of your hips, memorizing what made you come undone. But when his tongue was flooded with another wave of arousal, all thick and sweet and musky, it had his head swimming and his own hips bucking pathetically against the side of your bed.

He forgot how much he fucking loved this. How enjoyable it was to have a gorgeous woman become a writhing mess from his mouth. To hear his name like a song inbetween heavy gasps of air. To run his tongue over the softest and warmest place imaginable. To hear the high pitched whines when he finally scraped his teeth over that swollen bud he always saved for last.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out when his lips wrapped around your clit. "Fuck! Joel- ohmygod - Joel... please d-don't stop, please..." you begged, his cock swelling painfully in his jeans at the sound. He groaned loudly in response, refusing to remove his mouth even for a second. You tasted too good and sounded even better, he just couldn't get enough.

You were chanting curses mixed with his name, hips rocking against his face in rhythm with every swirl of his tongue around your clit. Under his fingers, your thighs tensed and he smiled to himself before he scraped his teeth gently over your bundle of nerves once again.

His timing was perfect. You shouted his name, voice raspy and broken. Your legs clamped around his head when you came with one more wave of slick coating his tongue. He lapped at your center like an animal, groaning and licking and sucking until you couldn't handle it any more. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, pulled him off you with a gasp, too sensitive to allow him to continue.

"You got a dirty mouth, baby," he teased with a wet, crooked grin. You laughed, face and neck covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"That's rich, considering what you just did with your mouth."

Joel chuckled as he finished undoing his jeans. He let them rest on the floor next to yours, no longer caring how dirty his clothes were, but he found himself hesitating for just a moment when his fingers found the hem of his shirt. You might have noticed, he couldn't be sure, because you sat up on your knees, inching forward til you were at the edge of the bed. Your hands replaced his and you slowly raised his shirt over his head, eyes instantly falling to take him in.

Running and eating better had made his middle a little less soft, but he still had twenty years on you and his body simply wasn't what it used to be. He worried for weeks what you would think of him but as it turned out, you didn't even give him a chance to wonder when you finally laid eyes on him.

"So handsome," you murmured, running your palms over his broad shoulders and down his pecs. That insecure part of himself normally wouldn't have believed you, but when he saw the heady look in your eye, all doubt was erased from his mind.

"Your turn," he said, fingers plucking at your tshirt. He wanted to get the attention off him but he also desperately wanted to see the rest of you.

You lifted your arms above your head so he could peel your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him. He might have been rusty, but he certainly remembered how to remove a bra, doing it with lightning fast speed that had you giggling until his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, melting your laugh into a moan.

Joel flattened his tongue over the hardening bud, his mouth warm against the soft skin of your breast. Your breath stuttered and your fingers flew up to grab onto his shoulders when the tip of his tongue flicked against your nipple before biting and sucking at your soft flesh.

"Perfect," he groaned before releasing your breast just to give the same attention to the other. Your head tipped back, a wrecked moan shuddering through you under his attentive care. "You're so perfect, baby," he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss between your breasts, right over your heart.

Your cheeks flared with heat at his compliment but you took it in stride. Swallowing tightly, you leaned back out of his hold, crawling backwards up the bed and grinning when Joel followed like a moth to a flame.

Hovering over you, his eyes danced over your now bare body with a look of awe. His obvious appreciation and adoration made you feel like a goddess, which was fitting considering he had just been on his knees for you.

"I'm the luckiest man in the world, y'know that?" he whispered while one rough hand brushed lovingly over your stomach and down your hip. You ignored his question, instead focusing on pushing down the band of his boxers, the final barrier between you both. When he kicked them off, his gaze still pinned to your body, your jaw dropped in surprise.

You had never been one to really care much about size when it came to men, your only concern was that they knew how to use it. But when you saw Joel's thick, heavy cock bobbing between you as he shifted his weight, all you could think about was how delicious that stretch would feel when he first entered you.

"Looks like I'm the lucky one," you joked. His eyes found yours again and you saw his cheeks flush with a bashful shake of his head. "It's true," you insisted when he settled onto his elbows. You tried to ignore his cock prodding at your stomach so you could tell him sincerely, "I think we're both lucky."

He smiled wide at that, his eyes squinting and causing the creases next to them to deepen. You smiled back, tracing one of the wrinkles with your fingertip before pushing his hair back behind his ear. Then you curled your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down the rest of the way so you could press your mouth against his.

His tongue dipped slowly into your mouth, giving you the faint taste of yourself while he lifted his hips ever so slightly to blindly line himself up with your entrance. With the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, he mumbled are you ready? into your lips, and you nodded.

Joel tried to kiss you again at the same time he pushed inside you, but your head immediately tipped back with a sharp gasp, so instead he placed sweet kisses against your throat while slowly feeding you his cock, inch by inch, until finally bottoming out with a rough groan.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped, hot breath fanning across your even hotter skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to move. "Y'feel so good. Shit - so fuckin'..."

He couldn't even finish his thought. The way you fit around him so perfectly had him spiraling. You were so tight, so velvety soft and warm that he was fearful if he moved, he would come embarrassingly fast. Fortunately, it seemed you needed some time to adjust, as well. Your breath was shallow and fast, fingers digging harshly into his skin as you desperately tried to ground yourself.

"God, Joel..." you finally moaned, the sound causing goosebumps to flash across his arms. "You're so... fucking big," you added breathlessly. Joel felt his cock twitch and you gasped.

"Can't talk like that, baby."

"I can't help it," you whined, wiggling underneath him as your body slowly became used to his girth. "You feel so good, I feel so full-"

Joel cut you off, crashing his mouth hungrily against yours. You made a little surprised noise in the back of your throat then moaned into his mouth when his hips drew back slowly. You almost complained, almost begged him for more but then he sunk back inside you, stretching your walls and bringing tears to your eyes. He made it a few minutes, slowly rolling his hips, cock splitting you open while searching for that spot he knew would make you scream, but another sign of his age cropped up at the worst time, making him wince and stall mid thrust.

"What's wrong?" you panted, immediately sensing his discomfort.

Joel grunted and let his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. "My goddamn back-"

"Lay down," you commanded, pushing him by the shoulders. He frowned and leaned up to look at you.

"I'll do all the work," you told him sweetly, pecking at his lips before giving him another push, but he didn't budge.

"Sweetheart-"

"I said I was going to take care of you, didn't I?" you challenged with a quirked eyebrow. "And so far, you're the one taking care of me."

He smirked and rolled his eyes but did as you asked, pulling out of you and earning a huff from you both.

Joel didn't love the idea of not being able to give you what you needed. He didn't want you to work for anything. He wanted to take care of you as much as you wanted to take care of him. But when you straddled his lap and positioned yourself to sink down on his cock, the sight alone made him forget all about the somewhat humiliating disturbance because you looked so goddamn gorgeous fucking yourself on top of him.

"Oh, shit, honey, look at you," he sighed. You whimpered, fingers digging into his chest for leverage as you bounced up and down on his lap. His hands found your waist, helping you move and steady yourself as you chased your high. "Yeah, that's it. Take what you want. Take it," he said through clenched teeth. Your breasts bounced and swayed, taunting him just out reach, but the visual made him pulse inside you, already dangerously close to his climax.

"Fuck, you're so deep," you moaned. Joel's eyes slid shut, trying his best to stave off his orgasm. He racked his brain to remember what made you fall apart for him before, but he could hardly think straight. The tension was pulling tight in his stomach each time to dropped yourself down on his cock. His skin tingled hearing every breathy moan tumble from your lips, all because of him.

And it was all too much.

"Touch yourself," he grunted, fingers digging harder into your waist. "C'mon, baby, touch yourself f'me. Can't -" He groaned when you started to roll your hips, your soaked cunt gripping him beautifully. "Can't last much longer," he finally was able to say.

You did as you were told, two fingers pressing desperately against your clit as you continued to ride him. Your face was slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head once you found a rhythm you liked. You looked absolutely breathtaking like that, spread out and full of him with your face contorted in pleasure. He had never seen you like that before. It was filthy and raw and desperate.

"Goddamnit," Joel growled, lifting his hips to match your pace. Each time he buried himself deep inside you, he let out a harsh grunt. The intensity and desperation was sending you both quickly over the edge. "I'm gonna come, darlin', 'm sorry," he murmured.

"Please," you begged, fingers working fast over your clit. You inhaled sharply and your movements stuttered. "Please come for me, Joel," you whispered with your eyes closed.

When he felt that familiar heat licking its way up his spine, he went to pull you off his lap, but your thighs clenched around him, keeping you in place.

"It- it's o-okay," you stammered. He had no time to ask you to elaborate. With a loud groan he finally let go, pumping you full of his spend. His orgasm was so intense, he swore his vision blacked out for a second. He blinked rapidly until you appeared before him again, just in time to watch you come on his cock with a strangled moan.

"That's it," he cooed, fighting for air like he had just run a fucking marathon. Your eyebrows pinched together and your mouth hung open as you ground down on his lap, riding out your high. When your cunt clenched around him, he felt one last burst of release paint your walls, the sheer force from the last several minutes making him lightheaded.

Your arms began to shake and a moment later, you collapsed onto his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh. He could feel your heart racing with his while you held each other, gasping for air until you each calmed down and your breathing returned to normal.

"I got a, uh," you began, breaking the silence with your hoarse voice. You pointed weakly towards your stomach. "A- a thing. An implant."

"Oh," he whispered, "good. Okay."

His arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you against his sweaty chest. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing in deep while you planted lazy kisses against his collarbone. He was still inside you but he could feel himself beginning to finally soften, so he gently rolled you onto your side while simultaneously slipping out of your clutch with a hiss.

He couldn't help himself. He glanced down and spotted the pearly trail of his seed leaking from between your legs and it sparked something inside of him.

"I made a mess of you, sweetheart," he murmured, voice gravelly with desire as he continued to stare. You followed his gaze down and grinned.

"Guess we're both dirty now," you teased. He chuckled and rolled on top of you, lips latching onto your throat. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this needy. High school? Maybe in his very early twenties? All he knew was he wanted you in every way imaginable. He felt like a man on the verge of death in the middle of the desert who stumbled across an oasis.

"Joel," you moaned when his hand dropped to cup your breast and his cock, by some goddamn miracle, began to slowly stiffen once again.

"Hmm?"

"I - I need a break," you admitted sheepishly, fingers combing gently through his hair. "And maybe a shower."

He grinned and stopped running the pad of his thumb over your nipple so he could lean up on his elbows to look at you.

"Want some company with that shower?"

You giggled and nodded. "But nothing funny! This is a business shower, okay?"

"Business shower?" he repeated with his dark eyes sparkling. He was so happy he could burst.

"Yes. A business shower. Nothing ... sexy," you said with a wave of your hand. You gave his shoulder a shove and he rolled off you long enough for you to wiggle out from underneath him, heading in the direction of your bathroom. His eyes immediately locked on your naked body and he flung himself out of bed, back pain long forgotten.

"Ain't possible to not have a sexy shower if you're in there," he joked as he followed you. You glanced at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Smooth."

You only made it ten minutes into your business shower before you caved. But with your front pressed against the cool tile wall and Joel's cock sliding effortlessly back inside you, you were having trouble remembering why you ever cared in the first place.

"You look a lot happier than the last time I saw you," Ryan said when you sat down on the soft leather couch across from him. You smiled and placed your purse next to you.

"A lot's changed since then."

"Yeah? Let's hear it," he urged, clicking his pen and scribbling something at the top of his legal pad.

"Well, for starters I'm not moving."

He grinned. "That's fantastic news. What's changed?"

You felt your cheeks warm up when you said, "I worked things out with that guy I was seeing."

"Wonderful! And you mentioned his... daughter, I believe? Had an issue with her father dating?" Ryan questioned while writing some notes on the paper.

"She surprised me and stopped by my house. She apologized for what happened and insisted she wants her dad to be happy," you explained, still finding it difficult to believe just two weeks later. "But I am going to sell my house. I need to move somewhere new. Some place that's all mine. I keep seeing Daniel everywhere I turn and I think it's been making it difficult to move on."

Ryan raised his eyebrows and set down his pen. "Good for you. That shows incredible growth and promise to be able to recognize when something is holding you back. That decision couldn't have been easy, either. You should be proud of yourself," he said warmly, making you smile.

"It wasn't easy, you're right. But it's for the best. My... boyfriend, I guess?" you said, the word sounding strange on your tongue. "Sorry. I'm not used to that. He's in construction and knows some people. It's an old house. Daniel and I put a lot of work into it and it would break my heart if it fell into the wrong hands. Joel - sorry, Joel's my boyfriend," you said, shifting your weight on the couch. "He's going to ask around and see if anyone he trusts can find a buyer for the house."

"It sounds like Joel is a great guy."

You smiled and nodded excitedly. "We met at group, actually."

Ryan's face broke out into a huge grin and he clapped his hands together. "What a beautiful coincidence. Two people with the same wound meeting and working to heal one another. That's so powerful," he said before picking his pen back up.

"It's still early but... it feels right. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be," you admitted.

"Easy in what way?"

You pursed your lips and began to fiddle with your bracelet.

"Easy in that I didn't feel... guilty when we, you know..." you trailed off, praying Ryan didn't make you finish your sentence.

"When you were intimate together?" he offered, putting a pretty little bow on the filthy things you and Joel had been doing for the past couple weeks.

"Yes."

You paused and cleared your throat before forcing yourself to meet Ryan's eye.

"I thought I would compare them, or, like, I don't know," you rambled nervously, "maybe I wouldn't like it because it wasn't what I was used to or something."

"And you didn't?"

You shook your head, feeling the tip of your nose sting when tears began to crop up in your eyes.

"And I thought... I always thought it would feel like a betrayal. Like I was cheating on Daniel. But it didn't," you said, blinking away your tears.

"And it shouldn't," Ryan said gently, setting his pen back down to give you his full attention. "I didn't know Daniel but I'm sure he wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life alone and unhappy."

"No, he wouldn't," you agreed, then smiled to yourself when you added, "I think he would have really liked Joel."

"I'll bet he would, too," Ryan said. He flipped open another page on his legal pad and read something before asking, "And how are the legal issues going?"

Your face fell a little bit and you shrugged.

"My lawyer thinks he'll have things wrapped up soon but it just breaks my heart that it came to this. They were always so kind to me when Daniel was alive, I never expected them to be so... selfish and cruel."

"Not to make excuses for them, but people process trauma and grief in very different ways. Unfortunately, it can bring out the worst in people, but perhaps with time, you'll be able to mend that relationship if that was something you wished to do," Ryan said with a sympathetic smile.

You nodded silently and fiddled with the zipper on your purse. Ryan had gotten used to the way you processed information after only two sessions and knew you were ruminating, so he patiently gave you the time you needed to collect your thoughts.

"My parents were upset when I told them I wasn't moving back to Portland."

Ryan remained quiet, giving you the space you needed to speak.

"They think I'm crazy for 'shacking up' with a guy who is old enough to have gone to school with my dad," you explained. "Said I'm making a big mistake and I'm emotionally distraught."

Ryan's eyebrows pinched together. "Do you think you're emotionally distraught?"

"No," you replied. "I'm the best I've felt since Daniel passed away."

"And Joel? Is he in a good place for a relationship?"

"I think so," you sighed. "He lost his wife ten years ago. He's had more time to process his grief but this is the first relationship he's had since she passed, same as me."

"Well then, sounds to me like you are both doing just fine," he said warmly. "Parents always tend to think they know what's best for their children, no matter how old they are. And I'm sure their hearts are in the right place. But they don't see you every day, do they? They don't witness the progress and growth you've made. They certainly don't see how happy you are together. Perhaps with time, they will accept your decisions, but for now I think it's best to reinforce your boundaries and remind them of how well you are doing if the topic gets brought up again."

"Thanks. It's just tough to hear sometimes," you said solemnly. You pursed your lips together and tried not to dwell too much on your mother's negative reaction to your news, the wound still too fresh, but it ultimately only made you happier that you found Joel. He was such a strong and supportive presence in your life, despite the chaos, and you were always so grateful for him.

"Alright, let's switch gears," Ryan suggested when he sensed your sullen mood. "Where are you looking to move? Is the plan to move in with Joel?"

You laughed and shook your head. "That's a little too soon, I think," you said. "I'm looking to rent a small house. I found a few not too far from his neighborhood, though. We're going to check them out together this weekend."

"That's great," Ryan said as he scribbled down a few more notes. "And the job hunt? Last we spoke, you mentioned you had been looking for work but weren't getting much traction."

"Yeah, that hasn't been going great. But I've been toying with this idea, and I know it sounds crazy-"

Ryan laughed. "I'm sure it's not."

"Well... Joel and I were talking. He asked me what I really liked to do and what my dream job would be, and the first thing I thought of was cooking. I absolutely love cooking and baking."

"So you want to open a restaurant?" he guessed.

"No, not quite. Actually, I was thinking of a food truck."

You braced yourself for Ryan's strong opinion, expecting him to tell you it was a terrible idea and that the profits would be minimal, but instead he just smiled wide and sat back in his chair.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Really?" you asked, eyes sparkling. He nodded.

"I think it suits you very well. And it sounds like fun. I say if you have the means and motivation, do it. Hell, I'll be your first customer."

You laughed, feeling your chest lighten a bit when you received his approval. You had been so used to your family or Daniel's judging every little decision you made that it came as a great relief to hear someone besides Joel be so supportive.

"Well, it's just a baby of an idea. Maybe once the legal stuff is settled and don't have to worry about that anymore, I'll look into it more seriously."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Ryan said before standing up. You glanced at the clock, surprised your hour was already up, and began to collect your things. Admittedly when you started therapy, you weren't sure how much you would get out of it. But in the two short sessions you had with Ryan, you realized how nice it was to have a neutral third party shed some light on your problems without feeling judged.

"Same time next week?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Hoping you'll come back with some good news about a house."

"Me, too," you said with a smile. Ryan walked you back out to the lobby and wished you a good rest of the day. You gave him a quick wave before stepping back outside and took a deep, calming breath.

The seasons were beginning to change, you could smell it. The air wasn't as humid and the breeze was just a little sharper.

You welcomed it, hopeful that the shift into autumn would usher in a new and exciting chapter of your life.

A/N: apologies if I've used the term 'business shower' before. I feel like I have in other fics but I can't be sure.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #comfort Joel #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #the last of us au #joel miller au #joel miller angst #Joel miller grief #the last of us angst #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #evergreen fic #joel miller smut

421 notes · View notes

megamindsecretlair · 1 month ago

Text

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for.

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries?

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex?

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit.

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time?

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate.

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan.

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors.

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent.

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner.

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad.

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief.

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend?

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it.

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest.

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice.

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not?

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes.

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit.

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body.

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy.

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you.

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing.

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun.

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks.

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic?

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off.

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut.

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath.

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed.

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box.

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick.

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia.

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits.

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies.

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire.

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out.

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said.

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said.

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?”

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips.

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes.

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said.

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser?

It was impossible. Hopeless.

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn?

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release?

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said.

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body.

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro.

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again.

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question.

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said.

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man.

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute.

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall.

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell.

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them.

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands.

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal.

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it?

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent.

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas.

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside.

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with.

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face.

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring.

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered.

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 3

Taglist: You guys, ya'll gon make me cry with this taglist! Thank you!

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

597 notes · View notes

creamedpied · 4 months ago

Text

“ lean onto me ”

pairing : gojo x f!reader

word count : 833

tags/warnings : noncon, aphrodisiac, piv, creampie, baby trapping, oral (f! receiving), he calls you “love”, gojo mayhaps afraid of abandonment, terrible writing at 3am, no beta we ball

synopsis : why can’t you just forget about the world and rely onto him? he’ll make sure you won’t have to think about anything but his cock.

likes, reblogs and comments/constructive criticism are always appreciated <3 happy reading !!

gojo was the definition of “perfect boyfriend”. He always respected your boundaries, understood your choices, and supported you. so why did you try to leave him?

all he ever wanted was you to be dependent on him, need him. he wanted his presence to be as important as oxygen, his absence to be the equivalent as death to you.

so where did it all go wrong? he made sure to play all the right cards. asking to take a break because of work-stress? utter bullshit. you shouldn’t have to even care about such issues since he should be your first priority.

he sure was sick and tired of playing the good guy. if you wanted to leave him, shouldn’t he atleast show you how much he wanted you to stay?

your body was on fire, every touch of his was like gasoline- igniting into bigger flames.

what was in that pill he made you swallow?

“n- no!” you whimpered, your fingers interlocking into his white hair as he enjoyed his “dinner” between your thighs. with your hands tied together, resistance was futile.

you could feel him, feel his tongue, his breath, everything. you mewled at every contact he made with your pussy, when he circled around your entrance, when his tongue swirled against your clit, when he slurped and licked your fluid up.

you tried your hardest to push his head away from in between your thighs, but to no avail, you were just far too weak. he invited himself further in and pushed your thighs open wider, while shoving his face deeper into you.

“stop it ..!” you squealed, feeling his tongue entering you. he hummed in response, making you squeeze on him at the sudden vibration. you could tell he was savoring this, his “meal”. your core was on fire, you could feel yourself getting close, and he knew that too.

he was always kind to you, didn’t do anything you didn’t like, and listened to what you wanted. you couldn’t comprehend how someone like him could immediately turn 180 on you.

he stopped before you could climax, leaving you hanging. your hips unconsciously scooting towards him when you no longer felt him. he grinned at the sight of you being needy, no matter how much you plead for him to stop, it was evident you were enjoying it too.

he licked his 2 fingers and plunged them into you, curling them and repeating the same motion over and over again. your inner walls clenched around his finger as his pace quickened. the constant fiery of pleasure built up within you and with on final thrust, you came on his fingers and spasming uncontrollably.

your body was already exhausted, trembling. your hole twitching as his finger left. “why’d you try to leave, love? just stay by me..” he mumbles

the bulge in his pants was obvious. He could feel his cock throbbing and cramping inside his pants, and when taking it out, the tip shone with precum.

he placed his hands on your hips and positioned it directly at the entrance, teasing you by sliding it up and down. you whimper, grinding against his dick. your body was in heat, although you already had an orgasm, it still yearned for more. he was pleased by your involuntary begging, the moment he thrusted it into you, you let out a squeal and tightened around his cock, perfectly shaping into his size.

he slowly pulled his cock out, letting you feel every inch and immediately slamming it back in, your body jolting at his sudden movements. his cock constantly hitting the entrance of your womb that was desperately sucking down on his cock for his seed.

the room was filled with the wet slaps of your pussy being fucked and the sounds of your moans ounced off the walls.

“your pussy is so tight,” he groaned, “everytime time i pull away,” his thrusts getting rougher and harder, “your pussy clamps tighter onto my dick like it wants my child. ”

he grabbed your waist towards him, ensuring that there were no spot in your pussy that his cock hadn’t reached- you let out a whine of pleasure as

“i’m not on the pill-” you cried out as he mercilessly ravished your insides, “please don’t come inside-”

you heard him let out a chuckle, his hips not taking a single second to break the rhythm, “don’t worry about trivial problems. just take this as a safety measure to ensure you won’t ever think of leaving me again.” and with a final thrust, he coated your inner walls with his semen, filling you up. your womb happily opening itself to receive it and your walls clamping on his dick, trying to wring all of the remaining cum out.

“now all you have in your mind is us, right love? don’t ever try to leave me again.” he says as he snuggles beside you, not pulling out to ensure you're fully inseminated and impregnated with his child.

now you’ll finally lean onto him.

598 notes · View notes

kurokawaia · 4 months ago

Text

❛ HE'S A SOFTEY, REALLY ! ❜

Feitan Portor X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.9k+ |MDNI! | TW/CW; grumpy x sunshine troupe, you and fei are married >.< (sorry i just love him sm), x fem reader, soft sex, piv, pwp? pwop?, cervix kissing, oral -> female receiving, OOC warning

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) hmm, in celebration of hunter x hunter returning, can I have some soft feitan smut? female afab reader one shot :3 thank you - @ofrolysdogs

m.list | hxh m.list

People always say how heartless and inhuman your husband is, but you never saw that. Feitan was such an irascible man, yet always so gentle and patient with you. Won't criticize or put you down for all those little things you do.

Members of the phantom troupe, namely Bonolenov, Phinks, and Franklin, always give you a shocked or concerned glance whenever you walk in. It is only because you're such a bright, oblivious woman and Feitan is the exact opposite that they think you are in danger somehow, maybe Feitan has you contained against your will.

But it wasn't like that at all. Fei was always so sweet and nice to you. Sometimes he does get really rough when having sex, but you don't mind, you like it! And sometimes he is super soft with you too, like for instance right now.

You're lying underneath Feitan, your legs strewn over his shoulders, head arched back on the plush pillow. Feitan said something about positioning a smaller pillow beneath your hips would elevate comfort- and sure enough it did. His constant attention was to your pleasure and comfort.

"Fei," you mumble as his nose nudges against your clit.

"What's wrong?" he asks, catching the whimpering in your voice when he barely touched the most sensitive part of you.

You shift under Feitan's grasp on your thighs, arching your back slightly towards his face for more of his touch.

"It's all right, Angel," Feitan soothes, pecking soft and light kisses on your stomach.

You quiver from the simple actions, waiting for the moment when he will use his tongue and fingers.

"I know, Fei," you said, lacing your fingers into his dark hair.

Feitan moves down again to the most sensitive area of yours, your dripping vagina. "Let me know if I'm hurting you."

As you spoke, a quivering breath came out of your lips, and you assured him, "Fei, you never hurt me."

You cry out softly as he kisses your clit, thighs squeezing his head. You lean backward, trying to retreat from the overwhelming sensation, but Feitan does not let you go.

You cry out, 'Fei'.

"I understand, Angel," Feitan soothes. "I am here to say if it is too much."

God was being so gentle with you that it felt like you'd shatter with a single touch. His grip on your thighs slackened, a real sense that you could pull away if you wanted to. Yet he treasured it as you were so small compared to him and underneath him that he was afraid to break you.

Again, Feitan's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.

"You okay?" he asks before licking a long stripe up your folds, and you moan, your back arching, and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in.

You whimpered in response, trying to gather all the scattered thoughts in your mind. "Yeah, 'm am, Fei."

He loves you so much that it hurts, and your reaction makes his heart sing. His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while a moan escapes from you. Your thighs constrict onto his head because of the constriction he's causing, and as you grind down onto his face, a moan reverberates through your clit. Your lips were littered with chanting of his name, and he was reveling every second in it.

"F-feels s' good," you whine, tears spring in your lash line, he was making you feel so good.

"You're okay?" Feitan asks.

At the feeling of a finger push past your closing walls, you furiously nod your head, your eyes expand and you cry with pleasure. It felt so amazing that you never want it to end, even though you thought you would break because he was so big.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Feitan was slow with his pace, curling his fingers every time he entered your cunt along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit.

"Good, you being so good," moaned Feitan against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress. This was about your pleasure, not his—.

A moan arouses from you, and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

His movements quicker, needier, as you yell his name through your broken letters, and the one hold he had on your leg tightens. The coil in your stomach tightened and your fingers wrapped around his locks to halt his movements and make him sigh deeper into your folds.

The groans only drove you over the edge, and as he pressed his tongue firmly against your clit, a muffled scream escaped your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face clear.

He slowly drew his fingers out of your drenched pussy, and his cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.

"Are you okay, Angel?" he asks concerned, pecking away the tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks and to the side of your face.

You hum in pleased satisfaction as he peppers gentle and soothing kisses on your face. "I'm fine, dear," you respond.

"You did so good," Feitan praises.

You let out a tired sigh, your body aching but Fietan wasn't done yet. A trail of kisses were left all over your neck and you gasped when feeling a hot, throbbing tip at your soaked entrance. "Fei!" you moan out, overstimulated.

"I here, I got you," he reassures, a groan slipping past his mouth.

Feitan drags his length out; a breathless sigh emits from your mouth into his own, a look of relief crossing your features as you think the two of you were done. Then, in one swift motion, your head was thrown back in overstimulation and a moan strung from your mouth as his cock slides right back into your wet walls.

Feitan manages to slip out of your walls and gently flips your body onto it's stomach, your eyes were wide with surprise, not expecting a sudden change of position once again. You could feel him lift your hips and place a soft and fluffy pillow under your lower abdomen before letting your body rest fully down on it.

You then felt Feitan's mass press down against your back, and you huffed out softly at the sudden weight. His abs were flush against your back, hands gripping the backs of your own, pressing them into the bed. Feitan's breath tickled your ear as you wiggled your head at the warm sensation, core getting wetter, trying to squirm away from the imposing hold he had on you.

Feitan's hands moved in slow motion, readjusting to hold one of his hands over both of you above your head, careful not to tangle hair within the movement. A contented sigh escapes your mouth as Feitan raises his body ever so slightly, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance that is filled with his cum from previous rounds.

Then a heavy, throbbing tip pressed against your clit, and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't since Feitan knew your body more than you did yourself-he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.

You held your breath when Feitan sunk his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A moan left both of your mouths the moment Feitan's length nudges the deepest spot within you.

"So good, doing good," Feitan moans, relishing in the way your walls clench him, how could he not want to cum inside, you feel so good.

The hot and heavy kisses trailed down from your ear, down to the dip of your neck to shoulder, and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Feitan rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth as his thick length scrapes across all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.

Feitan spreads his legs apart, knees bent, so any move from you would guarantee closing the gap between them as he places you underneath him, where your beautiful body is still dwarfed by the frame. As expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.

His motions quickened, his cock thrusting deeper inside your needy hole as strained moans and whines escaped your throat. Feitan panted in your ear, an odd deep groan slipping past his lips now and then-the sounds that made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Feitan was filling you to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft gummy spot inside my cunt that made me scream out in completion. "I know, my love," he breathed, making you break out into a moan and sigh as your body shook with your pleasure.

Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Feitan's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. You sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "B-but. Too much, Feitan. Slow down, too much."

Feitan gently shooshed you, cooing you. "It okay, I here."

The moans repeated in your voice while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had this instinctive urge to press yourself against his length, but you couldn't-heavy he was, too heavy for you to move against him-and you were hopeless, utterly, as his thrusts became faster and faster.

"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling. "So big, you feel so big, Feitan."

Your body had shaken beneath him and the grip he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held onto now, then the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped itself around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight hold, but the power in it lifted your head from the futon as you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. Feitan hunched over you, pulling you closer to him and connected your mouth in a sloppy wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallowed your moans. "Taking me so deep," Feitan groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.

"Makin' you feel so good, ain't I?" Feitan groaned, head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as we watched your fall apart and tremble from his dick, broken moans slipping past your plump lips.

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine hard, his cum spilling inside me, causing me to moan into his kiss. You feel more of his cum spill into your fertile womb, painting your insides white. You could almost feel your stomach bulging from how much you had of your man inside you.

Feitan slipped his softening length out and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt, watching with a slight frown as the cum fell from your cunt.

"Fei," you huff.

"Fine, I give you break," he replies reluctantly, peppering soft kisses over your face

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | hxh m.list

#feitan x y/n #feitan porter x reader #feitan x you #feitan fluff #feitan x reader #feitan smut #hxh x fem reader #hxh x reader smut #hxh x you #hxh smut #hxh x reader

457 notes · View notes

almostempty · 4 months ago

Text

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh)

AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 4: The more you suffer

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe.

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice.

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question.

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling.

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes.

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :)

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no.

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not.

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response.

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease.

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door.

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy.

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud.

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging.

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible.

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new.

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right?

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type.

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach.

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees.

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance.

“Good.”

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship.

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor.

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter.

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes.

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire.

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious?

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks.

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really?

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date?

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy.

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here.

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look.

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different.

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center.

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly.

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes!

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot.

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost.

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt.

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed.

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight.

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.”

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public.

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade.

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor.

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.”

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans.

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air.

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on.

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide.

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off.

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot.

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you.

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far.

“Here?” you ask him softly.

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress.

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you. He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?”

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure.

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release.

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again.

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours.

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right.

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin.

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off.

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.”

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free.

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you.

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks.

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle.

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out.

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks.

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue.

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.”

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth.

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter.

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause.

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess.

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?”

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out.

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door.

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text.

Joel: Miss me?

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something.

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark.

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley.

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.”

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home.

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space.

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off.

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you–

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare.

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now.

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him.

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls.

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin.

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?”

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose?

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?”

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed?

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him.

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed.

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.”

A tremor runs through your body.

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in.

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons.

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you.

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear.

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.”

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway.

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers.

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel.

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw.

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic.

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street.

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up.

“What did you just say, Joel?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you.

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?”

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you.

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.”

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.”

“Baby–”

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud.

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention.

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?”

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue.

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?”

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore.

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin.

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?”

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid.

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel.

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle.

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides.

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos.

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you.

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side.

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?”

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face.

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–”

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions.

“Followed us?” you’re curious.

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words.

“An ex?”

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.”

“So he is dangerous?”

“No.” Only to my self-respect.

“You want me to take care of him?”

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.”

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time?

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood.

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet.

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing.

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman?

Your face wrinkles in confusion.

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number.

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.”

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod.

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.”

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does.

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave.

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress.

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?”

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes.

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.”

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard.

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin.

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you.

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically.

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks.

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse.

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer.

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?”

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away.

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts.

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t.

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead.

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder.

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you.

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation.

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath.

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t.

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap.

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself.

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head.

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works.

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more.

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.”

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you.

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men?

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt.

Oh.

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more.

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.”

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity.

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.”

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face.

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot.

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders.

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out.

“Make me yours,” you incite.

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed. He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath.

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck.

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both.

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up.

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets.

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing.

if you'd like to be on a taglist please let me know !

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #fuckboy joel #dave york #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou smut #pedro pascal smut

501 notes · View notes

deedeeznoots · 7 months ago

Text

The Deep Woods

➺ Update: If you enjoy this story, please feel free to also read some extra headcanons that delve into your life with Sukuna in the woods during the story as well as after the story takes place!

➺ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, Fem!Reader

➺ Word Count: 9.6k

➺ Genre: Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff

➺ Content: Fairy Tale!AU, True Form!Sukuna, Princess!Reader, MDNI, Arranged Marriage (not to Sukuna), Abusive Family (not super heavy though just average royal family bullshit), Swearing, Double Packed Sukuna, Oral (M!Recieving), Teasing, Begging, PiV, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Stomach Mouth used so Oral (Fem!Recieving), Reader Stabs Someone

➺ A/N: This is the perfect time to confess that the reason I started watching JJK was because of all the Disney Princess ships that were going around and I'm not ashamed at all, those ships were unironically cute.

➺ Synopsis: Far beyond the kingdom walls in the darkest parts of the forest, there’s said to be a monstrous beast with two faces and four arms. As the only princess in the kingdom, you ignore these rumors and explore among the trees anyways. Unfortunately, it seems curiosity got the best of you, and you come face to face with this exact beast. Though… after meeting him, you begin to question who the true monsters of the kingdom actually are.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Your footsteps can be heard echoing throughout the castle walls as you walk on the decorated marble floor. You take a moment to take in your surroundings. Beautiful pieces of art and architecture surround you as you walk through the place you call home. Despite living in the castle your whole life, you always found something new when you walked around. This time, you notice the tiny angels at the top of the pillars, seemingly staring down at you. Were those always there? You thought. It didn’t matter, but it was interesting to take note of. You had to take note of these things if you didn’t want to go insane. It was a good thing the castle was so large and had all of these tiny details, otherwise you would have put up more of a fight to leave than you already do. Sometimes though, you just wished your company wasn’t so terrible.

Taking a deep breath, you open the heavy doors leading to the dinner room. There, you’re met with two awfully familiar faces.

“Father… Mother…” you say softly, bowing as you enter the room.

“You’re late” your mother curtly states. You look down half-apologetically, “I’m sorry” you mumble.

She isn’t finished. “Your hair is disheveled as well, did you think this was the proper way to greet us?”. Of course, you haven’t seen either of your parents for the entire day, and during the small window of time when you did see each other, it’s surrounded with criticism. If it wasn’t your hair, it was your clothing, and if not that, it was the way you walked or talked. You’d be more angry about it if you weren’t so used to it. Nowadays, you simply pull up a chair at the comically large dining table where your family sat and quietly eat your food. Your father–the King– would follow suit. Either looking down at his food, or around the castle, or speaking with your mother. He did everything but look you in the eyes. In some ways he was worse than your mother. At least your mother criticized things in your control. Yet, your father’s distaste of you seemed to stem from nothing more than the cardinal sin you committed of being a woman. Your parents have no other children, so it seemed that your very existence continued to be a reminder of their failures– no, your failure to bring an heir to the throne.

You finish eating your food, but it’s not over yet, because unlike previous dinners, you were on a mission this evening. Setting down your fork to grab their attention, you look at them both and ask “I’d like permission to go to the village”.

Both of your parents simply stood in silence before laughing. In fact, this was probably the happiest you’ve seen them. “Oh please, what could you possibly get from the village?” your mother questions you, still with a stupid smile on her face. Trying to hide your offense, you straighten your back “I’d just like to see what’s outside of this castle”.

Realizing you’re serious, your parents stop their laughs, and their faces contort into one of anger. “Don’t put such things in your head,” your mother says “There’s nothing outside of this castle that is of interest to you, a different Princess would already know that”. What she really means is a better Princess would know that. You already knew that they probably wouldn’t agree, but you were unable to stop yourself from wanting to put up a fight anyways. Irritated, you stood up from your chair “Please just– let me see what’s out there, one hour tops, and I’ll never ask again”.

In anger, your mother abruptly stood up as well and said “Absolutely not. Who knows what the people may do if they find a Princess near their filthy surroundings. Especially those peasant men who could–”

“You know what. Never mind” you begin to walk away, turning your back on your mother. She didn’t like this very much, “How dare you turn your back on the Queen! Come back here you damn woman” she yells out, but you’re already at the door. You push the door open and slam it closed behind you as you make it outside the dining room. There, you find your Lady in Waiting next to the door, listening into the conversation. Realizing that you caught her, she stood in stock. You simply looked at her before scoffing and turning away to go back to your room, and she scurried trying to follow behind you.

As you two are walking, she begins to speak up. “You know Princess, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t go outside” she takes a short breath, tired from having to chase after you. “There really isn’t anything in the village that would be of interest to a noblewoman such as yourself” she laughs, but you simply ignore her and keep moving, walking even faster this time, to her dismay. She wasn’t getting to you, but she kept trying anyway, “Also…I’ve heard about a beast roaming the forest near the village. The people say he’s almost 9 feet tall, and has four arms! Isn’t that terrifying?” Now that made you stop, and you turned around to look at her. Yes! She thought, had she gotten through to you?

“Don’t be stupid” is all you say before you make it to your room and abruptly close the door, leaving her outside.

In your room, you peek through the large window showing the outside world. There, you’re also able to see the forest that covers the perimeter of the Kingdom. A 9 foot tall beast huh? You thought, oh to be able to see that. Maybe it was stupid to wish for such a thing, but you would be willing to see anything so long as it was outside the castle. You weren’t blind to your privilege, of course it probably wasn’t going to be the stellar experience you expected, but at least you would know, that would be more than enough for you.

Still, it didn’t matter what you thought because you probably would be staying in this same castle every day for your entire life regardless of your thoughts about it. Turning back to look outside one last time, you walk to your bed and flop down, dozing off to sleep.

The morning rays of sun stir you awake and nearly blind you as you open your eyes. Somewhat groggy, you slowly get washed and dressed as you make your way to the garden for breakfast. The gardens were the closest to the outside world you could ever get, and as such they quickly became your favorite place to spend your day. You say hello to some of the gardeners as you make your way to the gazebo where your breakfast is already prepared. Your mouth waters as you see the combination of scones and fruit laid out for your breakfast. You get lost in thought as you eat, thinking about how you’ll spend your time for the day.

Your thoughts get disturbed when your Lady in Waiting comes to greet you. You look at her, about to apologize for your behavior last night when she begins to speak “Your Highness,” she lightly bows, “The King and Queen have asked to meet you after breakfast, they say it’s important”. As she raises her head, you ask her what it might be about. Your parents didn’t usually ask to meet with you outside of dinner. You thought for a moment, hopefully this wasn’t about what happened last night. When she tells you that she isn’t sure what the meeting is for, you simply nod and tell her you’ll be there soon.

Once she leaves, you finish up breakfast and make your way to the throne room. This was the place your parents spent most of their time, and where they held their endless gatherings and meetings. As such, you made it a point to avoid the place outside of times where they specifically ask for you such as this one.

When you make it inside the throne room, you walk to your parents and give them a bow “Your Majesties” you say, greeting them. Your parents don’t waste any time, and get right to the chase. “We have good news” your father starts. “You’re to be married” he says, gleeful, you on the other hand were anything but. Slowly standing up from your kneeling position, you utter a small “What?”, not fully comprehending what’s coming out of his mouth. “It really should have happened before” your mother begins, “You have been more than old enough for a long time” she scoffs. “Wait!” you yell out suddenly, “I’m not getting married” you say, mostly out of shock at the revelation.

Your mother sighs, not hiding her disappointment. “How many times do we have to say that it’s your royal duty to provide this family with an heir” she lectures. You simply look down. Damn it, you think, you really didn’t want to do this, but you suppose you had no choice, so you ask, “Who is it?”. This confuses your parents and they look to each other in confusion, so you clarify, “Who am I getting married to”. The fact that you have shown the signs of being willing (or at the very least, compliant), nearly makes your mother jump up with glee. Your father says “This young Prince in the neighboring Kingdom, his father has lots of good things to say–”

“What about you guys?” you ask. It wasn’t that you particularly trusted their judgment, but you trusted them more than some other King who most definitely had a conflict of interest, “What do you guys think of him?”. This makes your parents pause for a moment before your mother goes, “Well… we haven’t quite met him yet”.

Now, you weren’t very particular about who you were going to marry. You knew it was going to come eventually due to the nature of your family, but this made you angry. To not even know who they were marrying you off to? Have they truly stooped to this kind of stupidity? “So you don’t even know who he is and you want me to marry him?” you question, now somewhat aggressively.

“We can take care of all that later my dear–” your mother starts again, but you aren’t having any of it “No! Getting married to someone I don’t know is bad enough but someone you guys don’t even know? That’s just absurd!” you yell out, which makes your father angry. “What’s absurd is not having an heir to the throne!” he yells out, his voice booming throughout the throne room. “You are to be married to this man regardless of your personal feelings on the matter” he yells out again. You can’t look at him. You can’t look at either of them. Your brain is starting to hurt and you can’t do anything. So you take one last look at them before silently leaving the throne room.

Making it back to your bedroom, you spend the rest of the day looking out your window, watching as the sun sets and the moon shows its full glory. Thankfully, no one bothers you for the rest of the day, but you still have a pounding headache from the conversation. Various thoughts fill your head, from I can’t believe they would do this to I don’t think marriage would be that bad, right? All the way back to I shouldn’t even have to question whether it would be bad or not. You eventually decide that you need to clear your head and get some fresh air. Fresh air outside of this damn castle.

Looking out the window, your eyes focus on the forest ahead. The luscious green leaves sway from side to side as you look out at them, as if to call you towards them. Surely, it would be nice to walk through those woods.

What? No! That’s a stupid decision, you could get lost. Or worse, killed.

…

Well… dead people can’t get married off to strangers.

That thought in mind, you grab a cloak from your closet and open up your window. The cold breeze of the night hits your face as you look out toward the forest, toward freedom… at least for a little while, that is. The only issue that stands in your way is how to get down. Looking down at the ground from your window, you definitely wouldn’t be able to jump without dying or getting injured. Not liking either of those options, you look around your room for anything that might help when you eye a pile of blankets in the corner of your room. Perfect.

Man, these blankets are long as hell you think as you tie the pieces of fabric together. Once you finish, you securely tie one end to your bed frame and bring the other end out the window. The end of the makeshift rope hits the floor, and you have a mini celebration of your success.

Feet hitting the ground, you’re able to slip past the guards and make your way out of the castle walls. You aren’t scared, far from it. For the first time in your life, you’re free. You’re giddy for a while and that joy only grows as you get further and further away from the castle. You’re finally able to take a breath, even if only for a mere few hours in the night.

There are no lights in the forest, and you didn’t bring a candle with you, so you only had the full moon to guide you. This was alright though, and you bathed in the moonlight for a while, being at peace.

Your head is finally clear, and you’re able to stay in meditative thought as you walk through the woods.

Then, you hear a growl.

You snap out of your thoughts and turn to the direction where the growl was heard.

You hear another growl behind you.

Then another.

It’s a pack of wolves.

And they’re surrounding you.

You’re able to see their faces as they step into the moonlight out of the shadows. Their hungry eyes showing you that they do not intend to free you. The beasts give you no path of escape as they inch closer and closer to you. You had no other choice, you were going to be their dinner. Knowing your situation, you simply crouch down and close your eyes. Hopefully, it’ll be a quick death you think as you hear their excited growls and howls around you.

One of the wolves prepares to lunge at you, but just as it’s about to, another force tackles the animal.

“Huh?” you audibly say as you slowly open your eyes. When you look around yourself again, there are no more wolves to be seen, all of them taken away by a mysterious force. You are frozen in place. What in the world just happened?

You can’t think for long though, as you realize…You sense someone else’s presence.

You slowly turn around to find a large beast in the distance. No, that’s no beast, that’s a man. Except… Why does he have four arms?

You think back to your conversation with your Lady in Waiting the other day.

Shit.

He’s slowly inching toward you.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The better part of your brain knows to run, but you remain crouched and unmoving, frozen in fear. Eventually, he stands in front of you, looking down at your small form.

They say he’s 9 feet, huh? You weren’t fully sure if that was correct, but he definitely looked like it from the way he was hovering above you.

This feeling. It’s pure fear. You weren’t even this afraid when surrounded by the wolves, whom you were fully expecting to eat you. But this, you aren’t even able to breathe. Hell, you can’t breathe, you don’t know what’s come over you. He did save you, right? Maybe he isn’t so dangerous. Though, maybe he’s simply saving you for himself.

The clouds in the sky that were previously covering the moon now moved past, allowing the moonlight to shine on the man’s face, and you’re able to see four bright red eyes looking down at you.

Not knowing what else to say, you just scream out “P-Please! Please don’t hurt me!”. It was different with the wolves, they wouldn’t have stopped no matter what you said. With this though… Was he more man than beast? Maybe he understood language? You were going to take all your chances, so you continued begging for your life.

He seemed to have no reaction to your qualms, and simply slowly raised up his hand, getting ready to strike you. He took his time, as if you were so small that he didn’t even need to fully put in any effort to try to catch you. You didn’t give up, you continued to beg for your life until the last moment, hoping to get through to him. You kept on screaming. Kept on begging for your life until the very last moment when he swiftly brought his hand down to your face and–

You knocked out.

“Princess! Oh Dear– Princess!”

The voice of your Lady in Waiting wakes you up. Your head is throbbing with pain, and her frantic tone certainly wasn’t helping.

“Huh?” you groan, you feel the grass from under you, you’re in front of the castle. You begin to slowly remember the events of the night before. Right… you left the castle, but how’d you get back here?

You suddenly remember the wolves and that man that saved you. You begin to frantically look around. Did he bring you back?

Your Lady in Waiting makes it to you and begins to help you up. She decides to ask “Why are you on the floor?”. She’s picking the stray pieces of grass off of your hair and as you’re about to explain what happened, you realize how incriminating against you the story was. So, you simply tell her, “I’m not sure…”.

Thankfully, she doesn’t question you any further, and simply goes “Let’s go give you a bath” as she takes your hand and leads you inside the castle. You turn around for a moment and look toward the forest. What the hell happened?

The hot bath was more than needed to help clean off the dirt on your skin. The steam also helped to relax you as you organized your thoughts. You remember the four-armed man, and his bright red eyes. You think about how he saved you from death. You sounded ridiculous. Was that… a dream? You thought. No… it couldn’t be, it felt too real to merely be a dream. Though, if that was true, why did he save you from the wolves, and why did he bring you back to the castle? Ignoring all that, a man of that kind of build is something out of children’s books.

It was going to bug you for the rest of your days, you had to go back to find out what on Earth happened last night. It would just be a short trip to confirm, you remembered most of your steps from that night. Plus, it was broad daylight now, surely there would be no predators roaming around.

If anyone heard you, it would sound like you had a death wish. Hell, you probably did… but there was something calling you to go back to investigate that man, and you’d be damned if you didn’t listen.

Letting the water drip down your body as you leave the tub, you dry yourself off with a towel and pick out a dress. You went for something simple, as you needed to be able to move in case the worse happens and you get attacked by another animal. Or worse, if your new “friend” turned out to not be so friendly after all.

You’re able to sneak your way through the guards again, and it was actually much easier this time. Turns out, your parents were away from the castle, meaning not as many guards stuck around to keep watch.

“If I knew it was going to be this easy to leave, I would have snuck out before” You thought out loud in a quiet whisper.

You find your way back to the forest and try your best to follow the path you remember going on the night before. You walk for a while before you see something of interest.

Red blood stains paint the dirt coupled with scratch marks, no doubt from wolves. You look around your surroundings. While brighter now, they definitely looked familiar. There was no doubt, this was the place where your life nearly ended.

So it wasn’t a dream. In your heart you already knew that, of course, the extra confirmation definitely helped.

You think about your savior. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to look for him, right? You look around once again, as if he would be standing in the same spot. You start to walk down the path further into the forest. You should be able to run into him eventually, right? Wait, why were you even looking for him?

Against your better judgment, you call out to the stranger, “Um… excuse me sir but I just wanted to thank you for saving me last night”. Nothing. “If you can hear me please come out, I promise I mean peace”. Still nothing.

After what felt like walking for hours, you nearly give up and decide to cut your losses and go home. That is, until you see a stone figure in the distance. Looking closer, you realize it’s a well. Curious, you walk towards it. Your fingers touch the rough stone of the abandoned well, and you wonder about the last time it was used. You decide to sit for a while and ponder near the spot. You think again about your marriage, and slowly begin to accept the reality of the situation. Hopefully, in the best case scenario, the Prince isn’t so bad. Hell, you’d accept halfway bearable. At least now, you know that when times get rough you’re able to go to the forest to think.

You ponder a bit more and as you look down at the well, various things cross your mind. Whether they were good or bad, it didn’t matter to you. You were simply allowing your mind to roam wherever it saw fit. You were officially lost in thought. In fact, you were so lost in thought, that you didn’t even notice the giant form standing just behind you…

“Are you stupid?” You hear a gruff voice coming from behind you.

Shocked, you forget that you’re near a well and jump up, screaming whilst you flail your arms out. This causes you to lose your balance and you fall into the well, causing you to scream even louder. You brace for your fall but it never comes. Instead, you find yourself caught between four large arms.

“‘Tch, idiot” you hear, though you’re just glad that you’re alive. You’re brought back down to the glorious land, and you’re able to look up at the man in front of you. Looking at him, you see the obvious signs of your previous savior. The iconic four arms and four bright red eyes. Though, now that he’s in broad daylight, you notice some more things. Like the markings on his arms, his slicked back pink hair and a large mouth directly where his stomach is. Forget about children’s books, this man was unequivocally a monster. Though, you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he looked despite this. A stoic expression painted his face, despite showing clear annoyance toward your antics. Yes, handsome was the word to describe him.

“Don’t stare. It’s weird” he says.

Then again, maybe you simply haven’t met many men.

You’re about to respond with a comment of your own, when you feel a sharp sting on your leg. Wincing, you look down and you see blood trickling down your thigh. You must have gotten scratched while falling down the well.

“Ow…” you say quietly, lifting up your dress. The man heard your pains, but didn’t pay it much mind. Rolling his eyes, he simply turned around to another side of the woods and said “You’ll live”.

“Wait!” you reach out, grabbing at his clothes. This annoyed the man and he attempted to pull your hand away, you don’t budge though. “It hurts!” you yell out at him. He continues to try to get your hand off of him, and he yells out, “Not my problem!”. Finally, he’s free from your hand and pushes you away, causing you to fall backwards. “Owww…” you say, again. Today was certainly not your lucky day.

He’s about to walk away from you when he turns around for a second. Looking at you, he saw your pathetic display, covered in dirt, crouching down afraid to touch your minor cut. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. Groaning, he walks toward you and picks you up, easily carrying you over his shoulder. “Hey what are you–”

“Quiet.” he says, “Don’t make me regret this, brat”. You do as he says. You weren’t afraid of him anymore. How could you be? If he wanted to kill you, he had several chances to do so. Hell, there were multiple instances when nature nearly did the job for him. So you decide to trust him as he carries you through an unknown part of the forest.

He places you down inside an open cave. Based on the various items around, you assume it’s where he lives. You look around and see makeshift weapons and pieces of cloth sprawled about in the area. It definitely could be better, but it was pretty good for someone who lived in the wild.

You see him as he takes one of the clean pieces of cloth and pats it on your leg. It stung like hell every time he padded the white cloth onto your skin, but he didn’t seem to care much about your tiny reactions. After a bit you both settle into a quiet, almost intimate feeling as he caresses your thigh, trying to clean the blood off your leg. You were used to getting taken care of, but this, this felt different.

You take your chance to speak. “Thank you, again…” you say.

He doesn’t say anything back, only muttering a soft “Whatever” to himself as he continues patting the area.

You continue to try to initiate small talk, saying things like “So… this is your house, how nice” and “The woods are lovely aren’t they?”. This doesn’t earn much of a reaction from him, and it seems that the small smidge of a reaction that you do see, is one of annoyance. You decide to give up, but not before asking him one more question.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

He stops for a bit, hesitating, and you assume that he won’t answer, when he says “Ryomen”.

Pleasantly surprised that he actually answered you, you excitedly ask “Ryomen what?” with a smile.

He gives a short groan in annoyance and mumbles “Ryomen Sukuna” as he rolls his eyes, still trying to focus on padding down your wound. You no longer mind the pain, instead you’re happy that you’re able to get him to open up.

“That’s a nice name” you compliment him, and he just gives a low hum in response.

He finishes patching you up and begins to walk away as he stands, “You’re a big girl, now scram” he tries to be intimidating, though it no longer works on you. You thank him profusely and it seems to do nothing but make him more annoyed as he focuses on anything else but you.

“Oh I have one more question!” you say as you stand up from your spot.

“‘Course you do…” he says, you take this as an invitation to keep talking, and you ask him the one question that’s been bugging your mind, “How did you know I lived in the castle?”

He simply looked at you and gave you a blank stare and said, “You’re asking me that when you go out dressed like… that? It’s obvious”. He looks you up and down as he says the words, causing you to look down at your choice of wear. Oh yeah… of course, you couldn’t hide it if you tried. Though, it at least helped bring you home. Getting your answer, you simply walk away, not wanting to press him further.

His peace doesn’t last long, however, as you come back. Then, you come back again, and again, and again.

It started with you bringing a basket of food to him. Something simple, such as some fruits. “I wanted to give you this to thank you for all you’ve done” you said. When you offered him the basket he took the food and left, planning to leave you alone. He didn’t even say a word to you, let alone a thank you. Somewhat offended, you yelled out a “Wait!”, which caused him to turn around. “I thought… we would be eating together” you said, looking down at the floor.

He stopped for a moment before sitting down, grumbling as he took an apple and bit on it. Well… bit is an understatement, he absolutely ravaged the apple, leaving not even the core.

“You… you eat the core?” you ask him, genuinely concerned for what it might do to his health.

He just looked at you, chewing on a seed, and said “I don’t waste food” before going back to abusing the rest of the fruits on the basket, all while you stay content with your single bunch of grapes.

Outside of that short conversation, you two don’t speak to each other. When he finished eating, Sukuna got up and left, not even uttering a single goodbye. However, this was far from the last time you two spoke.

Every day, you brought him food from the castle. Every day, you insisted that he sit with you to eat it. You weren’t exactly sure why you did all this, maybe it was an excuse to get away from the castle, or maybe you were simply intrigued by the man you visited. You two hardly ever spoke at first, how could you? Sukuna hated your presence, not for any particular reason, he just wasn’t very fond of humans. However, he loved food more than he hated you, so he never complained and was never outright malicious.

One time though, after a few weeks of you two meeting, he snapped and said, “Stop coming here, brat”. You looked up at him, the bread you brought in hand, and gave him a simple “No”. This response caused him to growl under his teeth, but he didn’t push it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he started to enjoy being around you. It sucked being alone, and most people didn’t want to go near him. Plus, the small number of people who were brave enough to face him were in it to kill him, so he was willing to accept having you around, as simple minded as you were. Finishing the food, he got up as usual, except this time he said “You’re lucky this food is good”, before walking away.

That small interaction seemed to open the doors for you two to get closer. Eventually, you two began speaking as you ate. Mostly small talk, sometimes you’d touch on your arranged marriage, but it was a topic you wanted to avoid as much as possible. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind brushing over it.

Even after you two ate, you continued to speak to each other. Mostly walking around the forest, you would ask him about the various plants and wildlife. Something that he seemed highly knowledgeable about, always diligently explaining everything around the forest to you.

You two sometimes met at night as well. You would steal some food from dinner (something that allowed you to actually look forward to the occasion) and bring it for the two of you to have. While eating, you would look up at the stars together, basking in the light they give off.

“I can feel you staring at me” you say, looking at him through the side of your eye. He doesn’t let up, in fact, he grows more confident, turning his entire body around to face you. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice something about your face”. You turn around to face him, curious about what he might say. “I swear to God if you say something stupid I will personally poke one of your eyes out–”

“Your eyes shine more than the stars do,” he cuts you off. You look at him, his face is as calm as it usually is, he’s serious. You aren’t sure what to say, and you stutter around your words, until you hear a hearty laugh and Sukuna’s face scrunched up in a chuckle “Oh man– I can’t believe that corny ass line got you… you really do need to go outside more” he says as he laughs some more, crossing his four arms over his head. Your face is flushed and red from embarrassment and you tackle the man “Ryomen Sukuna!” you yell out, “That’s it, I’m poking your eyes out!”. Sukuna is able to fight you off with his superior strength, and when your embarrassment cools down, you’re able to have a bit of a laugh as well.

“Well lookie here…” Sukuna says, looking down at you as you struggle being tangled up between some long plants. “Ain’t this a sight to see… so early in the morning too” he chuckles. The food you brought him for the day now on the floor, you continue struggling before you yell out “Ryomen stop staring like a weirdo and come help me!”. He laughs again and goes “I don’t know… there’s no more food so I can just leave you here” he pretends to turn around to leave you. You know he isn’t being fully serious, but in frustration you swing around and begin yelling his name some more. “Okay fine, fine…” he says, as he cuts the plants with his nails “Waitwaitwaitwait—” is all you say before you fall to the floor. It wasn’t a huge fall, but it was enough to hurt. “Ow…” you say, your arms absorbing most of the fall, and thus, most of the pain. Sukuna keeps laughing, “Oops…Hahahaha” he smiles as you stare daggers at him.

You’re able to get up on your own and pat most of the dirt away. “You know man I’m not really in the mood today” you say as you try your best to look a little more proper. “Oh? What’s wrong?” he asks, still half-joking based on his tone. Still, you answer seriously “I’m meeting my husband today… my family’s holding some stupid party”. You say it like it isn’t a big deal, but Sukuna can read in your face that the thought seriously upsets you, so he lightens up a bit.

He pats you on the head with one of his hands and goes “Come on… it’s about time I give you some food, yeah? Let’s go hunting”. He begins running, slow enough for you to follow, but fast enough for you to have to catch up with him. You mindlessly follow him before going “Wait… hunting? Wait, I don't wanna– RYOMEN!”.

Ballroom music plays as you stand amongst the crowd of people, trying your best to keep up appearances. This was technically your engagement party, but with how far you and your future husband seem to be from each other, no one would be able to guess. That, and your “fiancé” flirting with every woman he could lay his eyes upon. Every woman but you, of course. You didn’t miss the way his face dropped the moment he laid his eyes on you. You didn’t mind this, as you weren’t too pleased with his appearance either. Still, the least he could do is suck it up and take it for the day the way you were expected to. Alas, it seems his favorite course of action for the night was to humiliate you by having a public display of his flirtation before you two are even married.

You try to use this to your advantage, “Look at him, mother…” you say to the woman standing next to you, she’s giving out her brightest and fakest smiles to all the guests “You can’t possibly expect me to marry him” you tell her. “You can and will…” your mother says through smiling teeth, she isn’t done though, she never is “If you took better care of yourself, maybe his behavior would be different” she drops her act for a moment, before going back to greeting guests.

You let out a sigh of sadness and anger, everything felt horrible. Suddenly, the dress you’re wearing is a tad too tight, the music feels a bit too loud, and there’s too many people. Your mother’s comments as she watches your future husband embarrass you doesn’t help either. You need to leave, and you need to leave fast. You somehow find a way to slip out of the party without many people noticing and try to make your way to the only place you felt safe– the forest.

You somehow make it to Sukuna’s resting spot despite the way you’re dressed. Your feet have blisters all over from your shoes but that doesn’t matter. You’re finally safe here…

Sukuna immediately notices you and is prepared with a joke, “Woah who let the–”

“Shut up” you cut him off. You knew his comments were mostly in pure fun, and you enjoyed them for the most part, but today was not one of those times.

Sukuna understood this, and simmered down. “Bad day?” he asks, though he already knew the answer.

Tears stinging your eyes, you simply look down at the floor and nod. Sukuna pats down a spot next to him and goes “Tell me about it”.

You take the invitation, and tell him all about your woes. The full story of your forced marriage, the pressure to have an heir, the humiliation you felt as you saw the man you were publicly marrying flirt with as many women as he could right in front of everyone. You were like a river on a broken dam.

Sukuna didn’t say anything until you were finished, and even once you were, all he said was “Man, what assholes”. It seemed like a mindless comment, but to hear someone else finally say it was enough for you. You two sat in silence for a while before Sukuna looked at you and went “You don’t deserve any of that, I’m sorry”. He was actually fully serious for once. You two locked eyes for a while, not saying a word. You took a while to study his face. You realized this while first meeting him, but it really hit you now. His ever calming facial expressions, the way his eyes looked at you, the way his hair was perfectly slicked back, it was without a doubt, he was devilishly handsome.

You kissed him. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was frustration from this terrible day and you weren’t thinking straight, or maybe, just maybe, it was something more. Sukuna seemed shocked from the sudden kiss, but he held no complaints as he kissed you back. Opening your mouth, both your tongues intertwined for some time… a long time, before both of you pulled back for air, with only the string of saliva connecting your two lips serving as proof of what you did.

Forget not thinking straight, this was the clearest your mind had been for a while. You reach your hand out toward his groin, he knew what you were trying to ask him… but still, you go “Please?” as you rub him through the thin cloth. He’s hard.

Thankfully, he keep you waiting, and he stood up as you got on your knees. Before he let you pull down his clothing though, he said “Don’t be too shocked at what you see, alright?”. You simply nod, not understanding what he meant at first. However, pulling down his thin robes, you came face to face with exactly what he meant as two, almost comically large, penises slap against your face. You stare at him wide-eyed for a moment before you fully digest what’s in front of you. It should’ve been obvious, really. He had twice as many of almost every feature on his body, why wouldn’t he have two cocks?

Fully composed now, you take your tongue and drag it across his bottom shaft, licking all the way up to the tip of his dick. You try your best to suck as far down as possible while also jerking off his top shaft to keep your attention at both. Sukuna seemed pretty happy with this treatment, as you hear various moans and groans from the man standing above you. You try your best to interchange your mouth between his two cocks, trying to find just the right spots for his pleasure. You’re able to get his cock even deeper down your throat with Sukuna’s help, as he brings his hand to your head and begins fucking your mouth.

“D-Damn… Hah… You learn this in the castle?” he laughs in between his moans. You glare up at him, though all you can really do is give him an angry groan with his dick stuffing your mouth. This doesn’t deter him however, as he feels your mouth’s vibrations throughout his cock. Still, he sees your angry face as you suck him off, so he smiles and says a small “Sorry… hehe” as he pulls your mouth off his dick.

You pant for a while, saliva coating both your face and his dicks. He lets you rest for a bit but not before bending you over. “There we go,” he says, as he rips the fabric of your dress from your body. You don’t care though, you didn’t care for anything else anymore, you just needed him inside of you and you needed it quick. He aligns his bottom cock with your pussy, but he doesn’t move. You try to move back, but he keeps your hips still to stop your movement. “R-Ryomen… what are you doing?” you ask, halfway begging for him to just put it in.

He chuckles for a bit before he tells you “I want you to beg for it” as he rubs his tip against your slick folds.

Right.

He might be horny right now, but he’s still the same asshole.

You play along, willing to basically do anything to get him inside you. You go “P-Please?” in the softest voice you could. This wasn’t satisfactory for Sukuna, however, as he slaps you ass and says “You can do better than that! Come on– try harder”.

You’re getting frustrated, and you had half a mind to force his dick inside yourself, but with his hands still on your hips, you just keep begging “Please please Ryomen, please put your dick inside of me…please pleas– ahh!”

He slammed his full length inside of you all at once, shocking you as your body tries to quickly get used to having him inside of you. “Ryomen! That was mean!” you squirm out, looking at him from behind you. He looked back at you and went “Shh… I’m sorry, it’s okay though, yeah?” he smiles softly as he begins to slowly thrust in and out of you. “It doesn’t hurt too bad, right?” he asks you, and you nod in approval, silently asking him to go faster. Almost as if he could read your mind, his thrusts get faster, and he goes “Yeah… Let’s go give those assholes the heir they want so bad, yeah?” he laughs as he abuses your pussy with his dick.

He flips you around after a while, and you’re able to face him as he fucks you. You looked down at where your genitals met and saw as the dick that wasn’t inside of you stood resting on top of your body, almost as a way to show how deep in you he was, as if you couldn’t already feel it. It also rubbed against your clit every so often as Sukuna continued thrusting. You began to jerk him off as he thrusted against you. In and out, in and out, you were in bliss, it felt perfect, it was absolutely perfect.

Perfect. That was the word Sukuna kept repeating as he kept fucking you, almost as if he wasn’t absolutely ruining you. No man was going to ever match him, you knew this just by feeling him. Still, he kept on going on about how perfect you were “You and this perfect fuckin’ pussy, hah, it’s going to be the end of me” he says as his thrusts get sloppier and faster. He’s close. It’s okay though, you were as well.

Both of your moans and skin slapping against skin are the only things that can be heard as you both came. Both of his cocks came simultaneously, with one spraying cum all over your body as the other coated your insides. You were unequivocally his now, but that was okay, everything was okay. You were too fucked out to care about anything anymore, the world seemed so small now that you felt this pleasure.

You're getting dizzy, and your vision slowly goes black as you pass out from exhaustion.

When you came to, you found yourself back in your room wearing a nightgown. You don’t recall ever coming back, so he must have brought you back on his own and changed you. You would have thought it was all a hazy wet dream, but looking at your night stand, you saw the little bit of ripped fabric from last night’s dress. Definitely not a dream.

“You’ve embarrassed us!” your mother’s yells boom throughout the throne room. Turns out, going missing at your own engagement party is a big no-no to a lot of people. Your mother goes on and on about how no one was able to find you, and how you seemed to vanish out of thin air. How guards looked everywhere throughout the castle to no avail until someone found you sleeping in your room.

“Thankfully…” your mother sighs, “The Prince is willing to give you another chance, and is still going to marry you”.

Your stomach boils with rage at this, they weren’t worried at all! They just cared about the marriage, once again. With all the might in your soul, you yell out a big “No!” toward your parents. This shocks the King and Queen, and the latter slowly walks toward you, going “No? What do you mean…no?”.

You stutter for a bit, before you go, in the bravest voice you could, “I…I’m not going to marry him”.

SLAP.

Your mother strikes you across your face before she turns around, almost as if she’s too disgusted to even look at you. As if you said something so treacherous. She doesn’t say anything, but calls for the guards. As they grab at your arms she goes, “Make sure she doesn’t leave the room, use any force necessary”. This makes your eyes go wide. The marriage was one thing, but not being able to leave was another. “Wait–Wait no…” you yell out, struggling against the guards “Stop! Mom! Stop them! Wai–”.

The doors slowly close in your face as you see your mother walk back to her throne. You continue to try to struggle against the guards to no avail, they throw you into your room and slam the door shut. You attempt to climb down the window but you see the guards posted out there as well. They must have realized what was going on you thought.

You begin to sob. Your first thoughts are of Sukuna. What’s going to happen now? You think back to all your memories of the past few months together, how you felt happy. It wasn’t the fake, saturated, happiness you were used to in the castle, it was real, and you might never get the chance to feel it again.

Weeks pass…though they feel more like years. You spend your days looking out the window toward the forest, you think of Ryomen and wonder how he must be. You think of your last day together, how you never even said goodbye. Every so often you see him in the distance, and you wave to each other, but even he notices the guards by your window, you see a faint sadness in his face. It was alright, these brief few seconds waving to each other was enough to keep you sane at least, and you needed it as your wedding day inched closer and closer.

On your wedding day, you saw yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful, wearing a gorgeous white dress and a tiara filled with what seems to be a thousand jewels. Though, it’s hard to truly look at yourself and not feel the least bit upset. The jewels… They looked like the stars. You remember the time you and Sukuna laid under those very same stars, and sadness once again paints your face.

You dreaded this day, but now that it actually came, you don’t feel many feelings toward it. You only feel numb as you try to dissociate as much as possible. You simply try your best to get the day over with, holding out hope that after the day is over, your restrictions are lowered and you’re able to sneak out into the forest again.

Making your way to the altar, you face your husband. He looks bored as ever, clearly wanting to do this as much as you did. You were okay with this, this means that he wouldn’t bother trying to find out your whereabouts if you suddenly disappeared in random spurts. As the marriage ceremony began, you zoned out. As they go through the traditions, you’re simply thinking about all the things you’d do if you’re finally freed. That is, until you hear the head guard interrupt the ceremony.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but my men and I have a special gift for the newly-wed royals…” as he says this, the gates open showing a group of guards, and they’re dragging… no.

“Behold! The four-armed beast! Can you all believe he was sitting right by the castle… how stupid of him to believe he wouldn’t be caught by our men”.

The audience gasps as Sukuna struggles against his chains, the two of you lock eyes. If he weren’t in such danger right now, you would run to him in an instant to hold him close, making sure to never let go.

Looking at the Prince, the guard asks “How does the future King feel about slaying this monstrous beast?”

Shit. Fuck.

You needed to think fast, you had to somehow stop this from happening. The Prince accepts the offer with a sinister smile, and he reaches for his sword as Sukuna continues to struggle. In your panic, you grab the sword of one of the guards and stab the Prince directly in the chest.

Blood trickling down his chest… he looks at you, no… he glares at you. Everyone stops for a moment in shock, as if this was the last thing any of them ever expected to happen. Suddenly, someone yells “TREASON!” pointing at you, and guards begin to surround you. Taking advantage of the messy situation, Sukuna is able to break free from his chains and run to grab you. Fighting off guards, you and Sukuna run as fast as possible to get away from the crowd.

You’re both somehow able to outrun the people, mostly thanks to Sukuna’s speed, but this doesn’t stop people from trying to chase you both. Looking behind you for a quick second, you see nothing but a crowd of people yelling with weapons. Wanting to get away at any cost, you followed Sukuna into the shadows of the forest.

Despite making it to the forest, you two continued running as fast as you could to the opposite direction from the kingdom. Thankfully, Sukuna’s stamina seemingly never runs out, and he’s able to run far. You two only stop after what feels like hundreds of miles, and you aren’t able to hear any people nor see any outline of the kingdom.

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from running, or if it’s the fact that you two haven’t seen each other for weeks, but the first thing you two do when you stop is make out. The two of you haven’t even uttered a single word to each other yet, but that didn’t matter right now. All you needed was his touch, for him to fully mark you as his.

He seamlessly ripped apart your wedding dress as he kissed you. The very same dress that served to show the ownership your future husband would have over you was now in pieces on the floor.

He carefully dropped both of you down on that same floor as you both continued locking lips. Taking his own clothes off, he wrapped your legs around his hips as he aligned one of his cocks with your needy pussy. Wordlessly, he began thrusting against you like a man starved, and perhaps he was starved. He thought he was never going to see you again, now that he had you, he had no intentions of letting go.

You still had your tiara on, though not for long. As with every thrust of his hips the tiara slowly slipped away. Eventually, it fell off with a loud clunk on the floor. This didn’t deter either of you, though, nothing could deter the two of you at this point.

You continued holding him tight while moaning and giving him sloppy kisses until at one point, you felt something wet rubbing against your clit. Confused, you look down and see his stomach mouth in its full glory, its long tongue flicking against your clit over and over, making a moaning mess out of you. You held Sukuna tighter, making sure to not abandon his other cock and kept jerking him off as he went in and out of you.

“I missed you” is the first thing he says to you in between the pants of exhaustion and pleasure. You moan at him to let him know you heard. Looking at your face, he notices tears coating the corners of your eyes. Still feeling him in your guts and your emotions all over the place, you try your best to choke out a sentence, “I— I thought you were going to die” you finally begin crying out, fully digesting the terrible situation you two were in just a few moments ago.

“Shh…” Sukuna coos, holding you tight “I looked for you at your window every day, you saw that, right?” He asked you, and you nodded, holding him even tighter.

“Every. Damn. Day” he says, thrusting in your pussy in between each word. “I couldn’t believe that fucker was going to be married to you” he scoffs, looking away for a moment before looking back at your face “Pissed me off”. Still lost in pleasure at the combination of his lower tongue and dick, you aren’t able to respond.

He doesn’t mind this though, as his thrusts simply get even faster and even more desperate. He’s close, and you were too. “You’re mine… only mine” he growls in your ear as he cums all over your body once again. You follow suit not far after, still the same mess you were before.

It was in this bliss that he said it, the words that you both already had at the tips of your tongues…

“I love you” Sukuna whispered into your ear. He whispered it so softly, in fact, that you might have missed it if you weren’t paying attention. You grab his face and cup his cheeks, looking at the gorgeous man in front of you, and with all the love in your heart, you say it back “I love you too”.

He let out a sigh of relief at your words, as if he almost didn’t expect you to say them, and touched your lips with his own once again. “You’re mine” he repeats, and you had no intention of proving him wrong.

The next few hours are spent with the two of you cuddling on the forest floor together and giving each other sloppy kisses. You knew in your heart at that moment, holding Sukuna’s large body against your own, that you had no intention of ever going back to that cold and lonely castle, and Sukuna wasn’t going to let you go either, with his four muscular arms holding you against him as you both laid on the floor.

Once you both cooled down, you looked down awkwardly at your naked body. Sukuna noticed and asked what was wrong. Looking down at your wedding dress, you go “Uhh… those were my only clothes”. Sukuna chuckles, and picked up a ripped up piece of fabric, tying it around you to make a new makeshift “dress”, “There ‘ya go, perfect” he pecks your lips as he gives you a toothy grin. You both simply laugh and you lean into his arm.

“Well… what do we do now?” Sukuna asks you, he was willing to do anything that you wanted. Hell, he’d run thousands more miles to the edge of the Earth for you if you really asked him to. You think for a moment, before going “Well I can’t go back now… I’m probably charged with treason.. Haha”, you say half-jokingly, though you most definitely would be dead if you went back.

So… the two just kept walking, camping out in different spots of the forest. Thankfully, Sukuna had great survival skills when it came to this, and you turned out to be a quick learner when it came to having to live in the wild.

Eventually, you two stumbled upon an old abandoned cottage, and were able to live there permanently after fixing it up a bit. At first, you two were worried at the prospect of people possibly coming around, but that fear disappeared as the days went on. You only had each other in these deep woods. Though, that was all either of you truly needed in this world.

He was a monster. Though, at this point… you were probably one too.

You never did find out what happened to your kingdom after you ran away. It no longer mattered though, as you were now finally free to live life on your own terms.

There were no more duties to attend to, no Kings and Queens to please, no marriage to be forced into, all that was left to do was live Happily Ever After.

–

A/N: I poured out my soul to this story so thank you so much for reading :,)

627 notes · View notes