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whocaresstillthelouvre · 18 days

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Birds Of A Feather

Rating: Teen Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 5,320 Summary: Your four hour flight home to Philadelphia turns into a 24 hour trip where you're marooned in the St. Louis airport thanks to a snowstorm. You and Joel Miller, the handsome man you just met on your flight, keep each other company. Warnings: fluff, like the amount of fluff inside of a 7 foot tall stuffed bear fluff, snow storm, pov switching, cinnamon rolls and apple juice, flight anxiety, comfort, kinda soulmate vibes, good dad joel, proud dad joel, sarah's in college, reader is an interior designer from philadelphia, the whole one bed in the hotel room trope as well, nothing bad happens to joel miller in this house, lying for a ticket.

A/N: This was written for @burntheedges' Roll A Trope Challenge. I received snowed in and thanks to the always lovely @maggiemayhemnj she helped me with suggesting snowed in at an airport. This is very very soft and cute, I hope you enjoy! ❄️💕

Masterlist

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Early morning flights are your favorite. The TSA line is usually short, coffee from the kiosk is fresh, the magazines in the newsstand are in order, and the airport is quiet in an early morning hush versus the roar of the afternoon crowds. You stop at the newsstand to pick up a magazine and a cinnamon roll before heading to your gate. You stuff your customary travel treats in your backpack looking forward to enjoying your newest Architectural Digest and sugar rush once you’re in the air.

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A deep throat clear grabs your attention while you watch the tarmac crew prepare the plane. A broad man stands before you in the aisle, clad in a flannel and faded gray shirt taking up most of the tight space. Instant panic bubbles inside when you realize this gorgeous man is who you have to share a tiny cubicle with for the next four hours.

“Hey, uh,” he stammers, a hand brushes the back of his neck in a nervous stance, “s’alright if I take the window? It’s… helpful to me.”

His voice is deep and husky with one of those famous Texas drawls, of course his voice is just as attractive as him.

“Not at all, I can take the aisle,” you say, awkwardly bending over to grab your bag.

The handsome stranger attempts to back up as much as he can yet your body still brushes against his, he tenses before moving into the row and sits down with a big huff; if you thought he took up a lot of room in the aisle, the room he takes up in the cramped business class seat is something else.

He adjusts his shoulders to try to give you more space and fails miserably. He lets out a grumbly sigh while attempting to find a more comfortable position. His arm bumps into yours before you angle your body towards the aisle, trying to give the large stranger more room. At least he smells just as good as he looks… mint, coffee and burnt wood. There’s way worse looking people to be packed in like sardines with.

The flight attendants walk the aisle and do their pre boarding steps, checking seat belts and doors before going into their safety spiel. Your seat neighbor shuffles nervously, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He’s a nervous flier, you can spot them a mile away.

“Why are you headed to Pennsylvania?” you ask, turning towards him trying to cut through his nervous tension.

“Oh, uh, to visit my daughter, she’s a freshman at UPenn. Wanted to spend the holidays with her,” he cracks a smile at the mention of his daughter. God, he’s handsome.

“That’s nice, it’s beautiful in Philly for the holidays. I’m from there, so if you need any tips on where to go and what to do, I can help.”

“Thanks,” his fingers still tap against his lap. “Guess you’re going back home then?”

“Yep, I just finished a job and I haven’t been home in a month, just hoping to beat the snow.”

“Here’s hoping… I’m Joel by the way,” he reaches his large hand out to shake yours. You grab his calloused and overworked hand then give him your name, he nods softly and repeats it. His deep voice echoes through your head, sending a shiver up your spine.

“It’s nice to meet you Joel, even if it’s in this cramped airplane cabin.”

“S’nice to meet you too,” he lets go of your hand, placing it back on his thigh, you notice that it’s no longer nervously tapping.

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

Joel lets out a big, deep sigh.

“Nervous flier?” you ask.

“You could say that,” he grumbles. “Never liked giving up control of my life to someone I don’t know.”

“I understand that, but this happens to millions of people a day, you only hear about the bad.”

“I get that,” he chuckles, quickly stopping as the plane begins to roll on the tarmac. “Still don’t have to like it.”

“Well, I fly all the time,” you reassure, “I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”

“Here’s hoping,” he sighs, sinking deeper into the seat.

You are the opposite of your seatmate, you love how the engines rumble as the plane picks up speed, the way your stomach drops when it lifts off the tarmac, the brief thud underneath when the wheels are tucked into the plane. Flying has never bothered you, it’s always been exciting and a means of getting to new adventures.

The plane speeds across the pavement preparing for liftoff, your stomach drops before the wheels leave the ground... Joel’s hand grasps yours. Golden, thick fingers cover your hand squeezing tightly. You turn to him and your heart breaks a little at the sight, his eyes are squeezed shut with his nostrils flaring as he puffs deep breaths out. There’s something so heartbreaking watching this large, strong man look so scared.

“Hey, you’re alright, it’s quick, very soon we’re going to be in the air and all we have to do is wait,” you try to sound as gentle and comforting as possible. It’s easy to take fearlessness for granted, especially when someone as large and seemingly intimidating as Joel looks so helpless.

He nods, his eyes still tightly closed before swallowing a thick gulp of air.

Your free hand reaches up and opens his air vent before angling yours toward him.

“Can you look at me Joel,” you whisper. His hand still clasps yours tightly. It hurts like hell, but you don’t mind; if it makes him feel better, he can clasp as hard as he needs.

His brown eyes open wide and focus on you.

“That’s good, Joel, can you take a deep breath for me? Iiiiiin and ooooout. Very good,” you encourage with a grin on your face holding his eye contact. “This is worth it, you’ll get to see your daughter, tell me her name and what she’s like.”

“H-her name’s Sarah, she’s uh, studying to be a doctor, sh-she’s way smarter than her old man, sh-she plays on the soccer team, got a scholarship for it ‘n everything, she loves music and going to too many damn concerts. She’s going to go deaf like me if she ain’t careful.”

“She sounds awesome,” you smile.

“She is, don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“What do you do for work?” you keep him talking, making sure to distract Joel’s anxiety.

“Contractor, I own a contracting service with my brother, we specialize in retail and office buildings.”

“Oh, that sounds like hard work, but it’s nice you get to work with your brother.”

“Could be better, could be worse,” he shrugs.

“Hey, I’m an interior designer, we’re both in similar fields. How many carpenter pencils do you have? I probably have three floating around in my purse right now.”

He chuckles, his face loses its tenseness, Joel doesn’t attempt to take his hand from yours, and you don’t move to do it either. You work with contractors all the time, you’ve never seen one as gorgeous as him.

“My daughter always tried to get me to let her use ‘em for school work because they were a different shape, kept on having to take them away from her.”

“She sounds tenacious.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muses.

Good afternoon passengers. This is your captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on Flight 86A. We are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour. We’re going to try to avoid the snow the best we can, we’ll keep you updated in case anything changes.

You’ve been entertaining Joel so much both of you didn’t notice you totally missed lift off and your ascent into the sky.

“Would you look at that? We’re in the air, you only have four hours until you get to see her.”

“Thanks for that,” he says, moving his hand from yours. “I feel ridiculous.”

“No need, I’m happy I could help,” you shake the tenseness out of your hand after the twenty minutes of being in Joel’s vice grip.

“You alright? Did I hurt you?” his eyes round in guilt under his furrowed eyebrows focus on your hand.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure. “You just have a strong grip. Must be all of that contractor business.”

He sends you a shy, crooked grin, “M’sorry.”

“I’ll survive, just like we’ll survive this flight together, Joel,” you wink.

He looks at you, his brown eyes turn darker and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “You’re quite someth–”

“May I offer you a drink?” the flight attendant interrupts. Worst fucking time.

You order an apple juice. Joel orders a black coffee.

“Apple juice?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a tradition I have. I always get a cinnamon roll and apple juice every time I fly in the morning. Tastes kinda like apple pie when they’re together.”

“Hm, I don’t know about that,” he scrunches his nose and shakes his head.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” you shrug before pulling the cinnamon roll out of your bag.

You ask for an extra cup when the attendant brings yours and Joel’s drinks before ripping off half of the cinnamon roll and handing it to him. “Here.”

“No, no, it’s yours.”

“Yeah, but I want to share,” you urge, “I got you a cup for apple juice too.”

“If you insist,” he obliges, taking the soft pastry.

Half of your juice is poured into the extra cup before you hand it to him and raise your cup up to cheers.

“To four hour flights and apple pie” you quip.

“Cheers,” he says, gently shaking his head with eyes lit resembling something akin to affection.

You both take a drink of the sweet juice before picking up the cinnamon roll and taking a bite.

“See?” you say, still chewing the sweet pastry.

“Mmf,” he shakes his head and swallows. “Not apple pie, but pretty damn good.” He wipes the errant crumbs off of his mustache, you wonder if his lips taste like cinnamon and apples.

“I’ll take pretty damn good,” you muse, picking up your magazine and settling into your seat.

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Joel glances towards you every chance he gets. He’s a realist, sometimes too much of one, he knows why he’s so calm during this flight– your comforting presence. He’s hated flying his whole life, his father never understood his fear, always telling him ‘I flew on planes bigger and louder than this all through the war, kid, buck up.’ Thanks dad, that’ll surely help the terrified eight year old crying and clutching to his mother. Sarah damn near broke his heart when she met him at the door excitedly waving the acceptance letter to a school 1,700 miles away. How could he crush his little girl’s dreams because her old man hates being in the sky? He got to bide his time, driving her in the moving truck to her new school, but now– with her first Christmas out of state and unable to fly home due to work– Joel was forced to step on the scary metal tube.

He could hardly believe his luck when the pretty girl gazing out the window ended up being his seatmate; the excitement over being so close to you helped shield a bit of his trepidation over his first solo flight and then he went on to embarrass himself. You didn’t shake your head or shun him, you accepted and supported him. He can still feel your soft hand wrapped in his and hear your gentle voice coaching him down from a panic attack. You’re a complete stranger, and yet you’ve shown him more kindness than he’s allowed himself to accept in years.

You adjust in your seat, your elbow brushes against his, little do you know he bunched up the sleeve of his flannel so he could feel the touch of your skin.

He doesn’t know why you affect him the way that you do, it’s only been a couple of hours in the sky next to you, but he’s already trying to think of a way to give you his phone number.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Captain Scott has informed us that we will be diverting to St. Louis due to the weather conditions at Philadelphia. We will be landing in approximately twenty minutes and will keep you advised about the continuation of this flight to our destination as information becomes available. We apologize for the inconvenience this may have caused. Thank you for your patience and understanding. We are aware that many of you have connecting flights departing Philadelphia. Our ground staff will work with you to confirm you on the next available flight to your destination. Thank you for your patience.

“Well, shit,” you sigh, placing your magazine down, rolling your neck and stretching your arms. “Had a feeling this might happen.”

“Shit indeed,” he sighs.

“How are you with landings, Joel?” you softly question. “Can I do anything for you?”

His heart skips, he hasn’t felt this feeling in years. Sure his little girl steals his heart every second of the day, but for a woman to make his heart race the way it is now making butterflies flutter through his stomach… that hasn’t happened in two decades.

“No, I should be okay, thank you,” he says, feeling a bit foolish.

“I’m here for you, okay?” The gentleness of your voice void of any judgment helps soothe his shame.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into St. Louis. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing, please be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened. Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining service items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants. Thank you.

His breathing turns rapid, he feels the phantom of fear rearing its ugly head 10,000 feet above the ground. He’s seen far too many videos of planes spurting flames and panicked passengers escaping down blown up slides. He remembers Captain Sulley and the miracle on the Hudson… that ain’t no miracle. Joel Miller is a realist, how about everyone almost died in the Hudson? He tries to breathe like that weird lady on TikTok Sarah showed him… make a square with every breath? Or make a line and then breathe? Christ, he can’t remember. His lips part to inhale more stale pressurized oxygen trying to calm his pulsating heart. This time your hand grabs his, he looks over at your face set soft with a reassuring smile, a wash of calm runs through him. You’re so beautiful.

“You’re alright Joel, I’m here with you,” you gently lilt.

He focuses on the soft back and forth of your fingers against him, centering himself and making the phantom back away. He loves the way your soft skin looks against his. Your nails are painted a light blue, it reminds him of the bright Texas morning sky.

The plane descends as you hold his eye contact with that same beautiful and assuring smile lighting up your face.

“We’re almost on the ground, you’re doing so good,” fear and veneration perform a duet in his heart making it pound against his chest.

The wheels hit the tarmac, he lets out a huge breath of relief. Your hand still holds his, even as he visibly relaxes. He watches the light blue of your nail polish swipe back and forth against the top of his hand.

Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to St. Louis. The local time is 9:45 AM. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight. We thank you for your patience, rest assured our staff is here to help you.

“Well, I know it’s not home, or Sarah… but we’ll make the best of it,” you say, pulling your bag out from underneath the seat. He loves how positive you are, he needs someone like you in his life.

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Three hours of being stuck in the airport have slowly ticked by, at least you have the company of your new travel partner. You check your weather app for the millionth time, no change at all… snow still falls all along the tri-state area.

“Anything?” he asks, looking up from his Sports Illustrated.

“No luck,” you shrug, “I’m starving.”

“Come on,” he points his head towards the restaurant near the gate, “my treat.”

You follow him, wondering why you feel so excited over this impromptu lunch date. You can’t deny your attraction to him, an inkling inside of you makes you believe Joel might feel the same. Yeah, you might be stuck in St. Louis, your return to your comfortable bed and bathtub postponed due to the falling snow, but at least you have your handsome flight partner with you.

The restaurant is nice, a typical Concourse B type place full of simple people enjoying a hot meal, simple menu, a simple design inspired by of all things– airplanes.

Joel asks for a table near the window, the hostess obliges, leading you to a table in a quiet section of the restaurant. He pulls the chair out for you, southern manners and all.

He takes a seat with a humph, mumbling how tight his back is from all of the damn sitting. You order a hot tea, he orders a coffee.

You’ve known him for a grand six hours and yet you’re going to remember this usually milquetoast adventure for a long, long time.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks, perusing the menu.

“Turkey sandwich and soup,” you answer, mouth already watering at the idea of your meal. “You?”

“Burger ‘n fries. I’m hungry though that half of a cinnamon roll sure did satisfy,” he sends you a barely perceptible wink.

“So, do you have any plans for you and your daughter?”

“She says she has an idea or two for us, she’s a planner, I’m just there to see her, this is the longest I’ve been away from her.” His voice drops, a slight hitch in his breath appears, you can feel the sadness radiating off of him. He must be such a good dad.

“Sounds rough,” you empathize, wishing you could recreate what happened on the plane and put your hand over his while telling him everything will be okay.

“Yeah, it’s been difficult, it’s just been me and her since forever. I know she’s happy and fulfilled, that's all I can ask for.”

You wonder where Sarah’s mom went, why it’s just the two of them, and most of all if he’s single. How can you be falling for this almost stranger and his big heart that sits below his broad, flannel covered chest?

“I moved far away for art school and it was the best decision I ever made. I'm so thankful for my parents letting me have that experience. You should be proud of her… and most of all you should be proud of you.”

He looks over the brim of his coffee mug, takes a drink, and places it down on the table before grabbing your hand.

“You’re so– I’ve never met anybody like you before,” he says, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.

The restaurant and airport disappear from your periphery, it’s only you and this man from Austin on the way to your hometown to see his daughter. This has never happened to you before… a spark of something you have no clue what to call shared between the two of you.

“I could say the same thing to y–,” you're interrupted by the waitress’s arrival, Joel’s hand retreats from yours; the physical and emotional connection between you and Joel is broken by your food being placed on the table.

“So, what’s the plan?” Joel asks as he grabs the Tabasco bottle and shakes a smattering of drops over his burger.

“No clue,” you sigh, “I wish I could take a nap. What did your daughter say when you told her?”

“Oh, she was fine, disappointed but she told me she’ll still get over a week with me once I get there,” he shakes his head, his face lifts with a doting grin. “She’s always the glass half full type.”

“And let me guess, you’re much more of a ‘the damn glass is half empty’ type?”

“Always.”

“Mm,” you nod, before taking a bite of your turkey sandwich.

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His heart beats harder against his chest as he watches you approach him from the ticket counter.

“Any new update?” he’s nervous, he hasn’t felt this nervous in years. He never realized how much he missed this type of emotional tension that pulls his back to stand straighter.

“The storm hasn’t let up, all airports in the area are on a ground stop, and now with the storm here, I think we’re screwed,” you close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. You look exhausted, spending all day in a packed airport has obviously taken its toll on you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, carry you to whatever destination you need to go to and never let go. He can’t believe he’s thinking like this, he doesn’t even know your favorite color or movie. “I’m sorry Joel.”

He hates watching your face drop, you’ve done nothing wrong. “Hey, none of that,” he takes a tentative step forward, he’s worried to overcross a line, but your sunken shoulders and defeated posture pushes him forward. He wraps his flannel clad arms around you, pulling you into a hug. Your body instantly molds to his, finding the perfect spot on his chest to rest your head against. A sweet and grateful sigh breathes out of you, radiating through his whole body.

“Looked like you needed this,” he says against your hair, breathing the feminine scent of you in. He hasn’t been this close to a woman like this in years. Sure he’s had some hookups here and there, but a real honest to goodness connection with someone after only half of a day spent together? Never happened. He feels lucky.

“I did, thank you,” you breathe out. He still holds you, making zero attempt to let go. You imagine to the average passerby you resemble a couple in love, standing in the airport terminal, holding each other.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, still holding you tight. “I think there’s a pretty good restaurant here.”

“I am, a real nice guy once took me to lunch there,” you pull away. “It’s my treat this time.”

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Joel stands at the ticket desk, it’s now his turn to see if there have been any changes. It’s been twelve hours of being marooned in this airport, you should feel more miserable at this point, but the constant support the two of you trade back and forth to each other has helped alleviate the ugliness of stress.

“Any luck?” you ask, perking up when he stands in front of you.

“Actually, yeah, they have a 9 AM flight to Philly tomorrow afternoon,” he says, tucking his ticket into his pocket. You can’t look him in the eyes, if you do you’re going to think about how much you’re going to miss him… this man you’ve only known for a grand total of twelve hours. “There’s two seats left… and I got one. The lady at the desk is waiting for my fiancee to go get her ticket.”

Your eyes widen at what he implies.

“Oh, ohhhhhh,” you grin. “Clever man.”

“Yeah, I need your help, since I’m a nervous flier and all…”

Your knees feel weak from the doting smile Joel gives you. “Thanks love,” you stretch and kiss his cheek before heading to the ticket counter.

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He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk over to the counter. He can still feel your lips against his cheek, there’s a foreign feeling in his heart. He’s already thinking about introducing you to Sarah, what the hell is this?

The airport worker laughs at something you say, of course they’re charmed by you, you’re such a sweet thing, like cinnamon rolls and apple juice.

You turn, a big smile lights your face when you walk back to him, waving your ticket in the air.

He chuckles out a nervous snicker when you skip over and wrap your arms around him.

“The agent pulled in a favor and got us a room at the hotel attached here, she said she has a softness for ‘lovebirds’ like us,” you pull away with a mischievous glint lighting your face. “Plus, she thinks my fiance is handsome.”

“Uh… okay,” he’s not sure what you’re implying, you’re far too special to him already for a one-night romp in a hotel room.

“No funny business Joel,” you wink as you grab your bag. He can’t believe how well you read him. “Now, let’s go get our luggage and check in.”

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You enter the keycard into the door thanking that lovely ticket agent for access to a comfortable bed. And it’s just as you feared… a bed… just one, singular bed that greets you in this average airport hotel room.

“I can take the chair,” Joel nervously says.

Part of you wishes he wouldn’t have offered.

“If you want, but the bed is big enough for both of us,” you shrug out of your jacket.

“S’okay, wouldn’t feel right.”

It’d feel just fine to you, but you don’t say anything, instead you open your luggage and fish out your toiletry bag and your pajamas.

“It’s almost midnight, I’m going to get my shower and get ready for bed.”

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His foot nervously taps against the carpet, goosebumps prickle along his arms when he hears your sigh reverberate against the shower tiles. Why is he so anxious? It feels like prom night all over again; he’s just a shy boy waiting for the beautiful girl to give him a sign, any sign, that she likes him. The last time he felt like this Sarah was born nine months later.

He grabs the TV remote trying to find a reprieve from his anxious thoughts, flipping it to the news. The anchor drones on about the great holiday snowstorm. In a way, he’s thankful for the blizzard– sure it means even more time in a flying panic tube, but at least he met you. He vows to not let any type of temptation get in the way of what feelings are developing between you two. No matter how much he thinks about your naked body in the shower and how good your body wash smells.

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You emerge from the bathroom, clean and fresh in your pajamas.

“Should’ve figured you’d be an Eagles fan,” he says, smirking at your oversized and faded sleep shirt.

“Let me guess, Cowboys fan?”

“Forever and always.”

“Oh, well, you’re my enemy now.”

He laughs, “I’m sure I am.”

You tuck yourself under the covers while Joel takes his shower, quickly falling asleep to the sounds of whatever generic late night host is cracking jokes on the TV.

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He quietly opens the bathroom door, the hotel room is bathed in the dim glow of the television. You're already fast asleep, cuddled under the white duvet, you look like an angel surrounded by clouds. Of course you're beautiful when you sleep. He tries not to stare too long, and yet he's planted in the threshold of the bedroom admiring you. He feels lucky at this moment, being able to watch someone as pretty as you slumber peacefully, while trying to silence the fact that tomorrow you both will go your separate ways. He doesn't want to say goodbye.

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A bassy groan and shuffle in the dark floats through the air waking you. The clock reads 1:45 AM. “There’s enough room in the bed for you, you know?”

“I know, just don’t want to overst– I’m still a stranger.”

“No, you’re my fiance, remember?” you shuffle the sheets on the other side of the bed down, “Joel, please, I insist.”

He sighs when he stands and makes his way to the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, you can feel heated tension radiating off his body, the strong specimen of all man lays insecurely next to you.

“Joel, relax,” you whisper before placing your hand on his chest feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

“I’m okay, I-I just– haven’t done something like this in so long.”

“What? Laid in bed next to someone you’ve known less than a day? I’ve actually never done this.”

A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest. “No, just haven’t met someone as real as you in a long time. Is it real?”

“It’s real,” you say, shuffling closer to him, replacing your hand with your head. He wraps his arm around you as you listen to the pitter patter of his heart. “Goodnight Joel,” you whisper, closing your exhausted eyes.

“G’night,” he purrs, you feel the ghost of his lips against your hair as you drift to sleep.

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He lays awake most of the night, too afraid to fall asleep and disturb your beautiful sleeping form. He wishes he could record the cute sounds that emit from you as you slumber and dream, he’d listen to them forever if he could. He can’t believe he’s thinking this way, what should’ve been a terrifying and lonely standard trip to see his daughter has turned into an adventure of a lifetime with a woman he’s already crazy for.

Sure, he’s shared a bed with others since Sarah’s mom, he’s had a couple of flings here and there, but he never allowed himself to cuddle or care for them. They were never good enough for him… or most importantly Sarah. He thinks Sarah would adore you.

The red digits on the alarm clock read 3:00 AM, he’s known you for a grand total of twenty hours. Meaning he only has about eight hours left, he’s already dreading saying goodbye.

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BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Your groggy eyes open, you move to silence the alarm but you quickly realize you’re trapped under a heavy weight. Joel. He groans against you, with his arms held tight around your stomach and his face nuzzled into your shoulder.

“Joel, it’s time to get up.”

He tenses against you and quickly unwraps your body from his hold.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly says, reaching across you to turn the alarm off.

“It’s okay,” you want to tell him you didn’t mind it all, that you haven’t slept that well in years, but you stay quiet.

“I’m just going to… get ready,” he stands, stretching and wiping his tired eyes. You try not to focus on the glimpse of his stomach remembering what it felt to have the soft swell of him against your back. “Don’t think I’ve slept that well in years.”

The bathroom door shuts as you flop back into bed, welcoming the fluttery feeling inside your body. “I feel the same way,” you confess to the empty hotel room.

❄️❄️❄️

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

“Well, we’re back to where we started, it’s been quite an adventure,” you smile.

“It has,” he clears his throat, reaches for your hand and sends you a soft smile. “I have ten days in Philadelphia, I was wondering if you have any good suggestions for a nice, romantic place to take someone I really like to?”

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subbmissivesuccubus · 9 months

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Bully Part 3

A/n: Happy new year/ New year's eve everyone! As promised, here is part 3. Thank you all for following and supporting me these last few months. Here's to a great year of smut ahead <3 <3 <3 I hope you enjoy your favorite pervy menaces <3

Disclaimer: Gojo X Geto X Fem!Reader. DUB-CON WARNING. READER ENJOYS WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HER BUT IT’S MESSY!!! Blackmail!!! Humiliation. Degradation. Free-use dynamics. Spankings. Public sex. Filming. Gojo gives a stranger permission to touch reader!!!

"Who knew the three of them were...well...like that." Utahime said, immediately gossiping once the taxi started to move. "I can't say I'm surprised though." Shoko said, "They're practically attached at the hip."

The girls and Nanami were sharing a cab to get back to their dorms, gossiping about what had happened during dinner. It was a fun night of drinks and banter, ended with their friend being kissed by Gojo and Geto. When asked about the nature of their relationship, the two men responded by saying they were…fuck buddies.

"She could do better." Utahime said, "I don't get why she's settling for those assholes."

Nanami looked out the window as he allowed the chatter to wash over him, not really paying attention. His mind couldn't help but go back to a week ago when he and Gojo were in class together, the only ones there and he noticed his lock screen...

"Gojo, what the fuck?" Nanami snarled as he looked at Gojo's phone, his screen flashing up as he received a message. There was a naked woman's photo set up as his lock screen, her face out of frame to accommodate her breasts and her spread legs and Nanami didn't want to even think about what was dripping out of them.

"Oh, my bad." Gojo said casually as he picked up his phone, "But she's hot right? She's my new fuck buddy~"

"Not interested." Nanami said, clicking his tongue in annoyance, "Just keep that shit to yourself. Why do you have that as your phone background?"

Before he got an answer, Geto and you walked into the room, asking them what they were talking about and when Gojo showed them the screen, Nanami noted your reaction. He didn't too much of it at the time, assuming your flustered and angered expression was over how vulgar Gojo was but now he wondered...

No. There's no way that was you, right?

Right?

~~~~~

"What the fuck was that?!" you screeched once Gojo closed the door of the taxi, smacking them both across the shoulders, "Why would you say shit like that?! Telling everyone we're fuck buddies- what will they think of me!?"

"It's the truth, right? Stop your bitching." Geto snarled on your left.

"Exactly. I'd rather you use your mouth for something else." Gojo said on your right, his fingers moving to tug at his pants, starting to undo his belt.

"Wh-What the fuck are you-" you sputtered, your eyes flickering over to the taxi driver who seemed to be paying you no mind but-

"Oh, don't worry about him. He works for my family." Gojo said, pulling his hard cock out of his pants before he tapped on the driver’s seat, "Hey, you don't mind if this whore sucks my cock back here, do you?"

You yelped at Gojo's words, face a bright red as you heard the taxi driver chuckle. "Enjoy yourself, boss." he said, not even looking back as he put up the divider, giving the three of them some privacy.

"There we go. Happy?" Gojo asked as he leaned back against the leather seat, his arm reaching up to grab you by the back of your head. You gasped as he gripped onto a handful of your hair and tugged harshly, his hold on your unrelenting as he started to pull your head down to his lap.

"Get to sucking."

~~~~~

Oh God.

You ran your hands through your hair, eyes wide as you went over what happened last night. You had hoped it was a dream but...it wasn't. You got fingered in the restaurant, got kissed in front of everybody by your bullies before said bullies announced that you were all fuck buddies.

They got you back to one of Gojo's penthouses, (the bastard so rich he had multiple houses he could just use whenever he wanted) and once you reached it, having sucked them both off in the taxi, they cleaned you up the best they could before the three of you passed out on the bed. You fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow, too drunk and loopy to do anything else.

Which is how you found yourself in between them, the two men still sleeping as you contemplated moving country and changing your identity.

To your right, Gojo groaned, his eyes pressing tightly as he fought away the need to wake up, moving from his back to his side and throwing an arm around you. You froze as he pressed himself close to you, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "Fuuuuck..." he cursed, frowning, "My head is killing me..."

"Don't make it our problem." Geto groaned, woken up by his own hangover and Gojo's whining. He looked over at you, taking your appearance in, looking quite delectable in Gojo's oversized t-shirt.

"Mmph- gimme those tits..." Geto said as he fisted the hem of your t-shirt before he pulled it up harshly, bunching it all underneath your chin. You gasped as he immediately leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue lapping at it a few times before he sealed his lips around it. A groan on content left his throat as he started suckling on you gently, truly using your boobs as stress relief for his hangover, the pressure at which he sucked your nipple increasing and decreasing at a slow pace.

"I-I hate you two." you said even as a hand came up to thread through Geto's hair, watching as he closed his eyes and suckled on you. It was honestly a bit soothing, feeling him suckle on you gently and not maul on your nipple the way they usually did. Gojo grunted as he too moved down your body and took your other breast into his mouth, sloppier than Geto but still suckling on you hard enough to make your toes curl.

"Oh God...people are going to think I’m a whore..." you lamented, tossing your head back and accepting your fate, fingers threading through their hair as they used your body. "It's accurate." Geto teased, giving your nipple a few kitten licks before going back to sucking. "Exactly. And who cares what they think." Gojo said, running his tongue over the plush of your breast, making your whole boob wet with his saliva, "You're our whore and that's all you'll be."

"Whatever." you said, not even having the energy to argue. You simply lied down, almost going back to sleep from the sensation of them gently nursing on you. But within five minutes, Gojo was bored.

"Come on, let's go take a shower." Gojo said, pushing himself up with a groan as he got off the bed, but not before grabbing your wrist. Geto growled as Gojo pulled at you, not appreciating being interrupted as he wrapped his arms around you and glared at his friend even as he continued to suckle.

"Don't look at me like that." Gojo said, sticking out his tongue, "You can take her after I play with her."

'Play with her' meant him taking you to the shower and running his hands all over your body like a pervert, squeezing your flesh and washing every nook and cranny as he ordered you to stay still. Sometimes he'd fuck you- other time's he'd simply jerk off and cum on you- always something new with Gojo.

Geto growled, making you shiver at the sensation around your sensitive bud before he pulled away with a pop, a hickey already forming on the fat of your breast.

"Let's all shower together." he said, sitting up as well, "We have a mission today and the principal will kill us if we're late."

Oh right. You were assigned a mission with these two menaces. And if it wasn't tough enough dealing with them before they started fucking you, you can only imagine the shit you're going to have to put up with now. You sighed as the two men grabbed you and lifted you off of the bed, taking the t-shirt off of you and smacking your ass before pushing you towards the bathroom for a very...thorough bath.

~~~~~

"What's with the face?" Geto asked, tapping his finger on his arm as he waited for Gojo to finish getting dressed, "Doesn't it fit?"

"This- I can't wear this! It’s too short!" you protested, tugging at the skirt...if you could even call it that. You were wearing the school uniform but instead of your usual pants, the boys had demanded you wear something else. A mini skirt. The skirt only reached your thighs, even the slightest movements threatening to flash your whole ass.

"Might as well give the curses something to ogle at before they die." Geto teased, looking you up and down, nodding his head in satisfaction.

"Fuck you! I'm not wearing this!" you said, pressing your legs together as you reached for your discarded pants. But before you could even touch the fabric, you felt a sharp pain on your behind, a slap so loud and hard that it made you yelp, the force pushing you face first onto the bed. You whipped your head around, face hot as Geto stood above you, pushing up the skirt a bit to marvel at the red handprint he left behind.

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to." he said as he pulled his phone out, pointing the camera at you and you couldn't stop him from taking a picture, "But it would be a shame if I accidentally sent this to the schools group chat~"

"...I'll wear it."

"Smart girl." Geto said with a laugh, the sound making your ears heat up in embarrassment. It made you shiver, thinking about all the material they had on you. Pictures, videos, text messages... they continued to torment you and it didn't seem like they'd get bored anytime soon.

And neither would you.

"Get on your knees and keep your face down." Geto ordered, still pointing his phone at you while he used the other hand to push the skirt up entirely, bunching it at your waist and exposing your panties, "Shake your hips. Grind that ass on me."

You gasped as you felt him move forward and press his crotch against your ass, his hardening cock obvious even through the fabric. He started to gently dry hump you, a somewhat bored expression on his face, like it was a chore to use your body to get off. He landed another sharp spank on your butt, reminding you that he was waiting for you to follow orders.

You bit your lower lip, fisting the bed-sheet tightly as you did as he asked, wiggling your hips and shaking your butt against Geto, gasping as you felt him grow harder against you. As you continued to shake, the door opened and Gojo walked in, dressed in his uniform as well.

He whistled as he watched the two of you, noting the redness of your ass cheeks. "Was she being naughty?" he asked, taking Geto's phone from him and continuing to film, giving his friend free reign to humiliate you easier. "She tried to be." Geto said, reeling his hand back and spanking a cheek one more time before he grabbed your hips tightly, "But you know how she is. It's easy to put her in her place."

You yelped as Geto started to thrust against you, pushing his clothed erection against your clothed cunt as he dry humped you, the flesh of your butt rippling against him as he fake fucked you. Somehow, this felt more embarrassing than if he actually stuffed his cock inside you- it was like he couldn't be bothered to put in the effort but still wanted some pleasure.

He humped you a few times before he called it, pushing your hips away from him and making you collapse on the bed, your knees giving out as you panted against the bedsheet, face red hot with shame. You barely processed Gojo coming behind you, sliding his hand up your waist before he whisked your panties off, tugging them off of your legs before throwing them to the side. You were about to spread your legs, assuming the man was either going to eat you out or fuck you but he simply gave your butt a pat before saying:

"Get up. We gotta go."

"Wh-huh?" you babbled, watching as Gojo grabbed your skirt and pulled it down over your butt, the fabric barely covering you. You pushed yourself off of the bed and stood up, ears flushed as you once again were made aware of just how short the miniskirt was. All it took was for one small movement for anyone to see your privates. "Th-then why did you-"

"You thought being spanked was your punishment?" Gojo asked, a smirk on his face as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, "Nah. You don't get to wear panties."

"No- You can't!" you protested, pressing your hand between your legs, trying to pretend like your cunt wasn't gushing.

"Principal is asking if we've left yet." Geto said, interrupting the conversation, "I could send him a picture of you over Gojo's knee, getting your ass spanked and explain exactly why we're running late. Shall we do that?"

"...Let's go."

Gojo’s driver from last night was picking the three of you up and to your horror but not surprise, Gojo ordered you to sit in the passenger’s seat. You could feel the driver’s eyes on you as you tried to get into the car without flashing him, all decency thrown out the window as you practically covered your bare pussy with your hand as you sat down beside the stranger.

"Did you see her pussy?" Gojo asked once he settled down in the back, Geto beside him.

"I'm afraid not, Sir. She was covering herself." The driver confessed, quite expressionless.

"How rude. Hey," Gojo said, getting your attention as he tugged at your ear, "Spread your legs. Let him see your cunt."

You jumped, your ears ringing at his command, jaw dropping to the floor at the shameful demand. You pussy was already wet- "I- that's- I can't do that!"

"Either you spread your legs or I rip that skirt off and toss you out of the car. Your choice."

With a gulp, you took a deep, shaky breath, your heart hammering in your ears before you slowly started spreading your legs. You heard the driver’s breath hitch as your skirt bunched up, completely exposing your puffy pussy to him. He even leaned forward a bit to get a good look at you, making you close your eyes shut so you wouldn't have to see it.

You pressed your mouth close tightly so they wouldn't hear you moan.

"What do you think? Good pussy, right?" you heard Gojo ask, the other two men also leaning forward to look at you like they weren't more than familiar with your body.

"She's beautiful," the driver responded, "so puffy and cute~"

"Why don't you touch her a bit?"

You gasped, back arching off the seat as you immediately felt a hand on your pussy. Your eyes snapped open, watching as the driver had indeed slid his hand between your legs and was touching you. A total stranger was rubbing your cunt!

"She's so wet~" the man teased, a smile on his face as his fingers glided between your folds, the slick sound of your wetness echoing through the car, "Oh, she feels amazing."

"Doesn't she? She's a perfect little fuck toy~" Gojo said, biting his lower lip as he watched you get touched by the driver, a twinge of possessiveness popping up as he eventually ordered him to stop. The man immediately listened, pulling his hand away from your pussy before licking his fingers off your juices, the action making you moan in embarrassment.

"You know where to take us, right?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Get to it. And you," Gojo said, kicking your seat and getting your attention, "Keep your legs spread, got it? Give him something to look at while he drives."

After the long and awkward car ride where you kept your legs spread the whole time, the three of you were dropped off at your location (but not before the driver got to cop another feel). It was an abandoned location, decrepit and having a strong vibe of curses. The cursed energy was so strong it made your skin crawl and your teeth chatter. But you knew you had nothing to worry about. Not only were you strong, but you also had the two idiots with you who were labelled the strongest sorcerers.

It was strange that the curses were not the things that were making you nervous. You tried not to think about how you were used as a toy. As a plaything. As something they can give other people permission to use as they pleased. You couldn’t believe that just seconds ago- a random stranger had their hands on your most private part.

You tried not to think about how much you loved it. "Lead the way." Geto said, giving your butt a pat before you started walking. You didn't need to look behind you to know that they were taking pictures of you, Gojo one time practically putting the camera between your legs and taking an upward shot.

"Stop- I'm trying to focus!" you complained, pulling down the skirt as best as you could which you knew barely did anything.

"You'll only focus once you stop worrying about your outfit. It's just us here, after all." Geto said, "So flash that pussy and find the curse."

"I don't see you two doing any work." you said, cheeks red as you glared at them, "Find the curses, why don't you."

"Nah." Gojo said, idly scrolling through his phone, his glasses reflecting the photos he just took of you.

"The fuck you mean, nah?"

"It's your job to find and defeat the curses today." Geto explained, giving you a sly smile, "Do a good job and we might put in a good word with Yaga. Our recommendation means something, you know."

"...you guys are never that nice." you said, smelling a scheme, "what do you want?"

"We don't want anything." Gojo said, "And as long as you do as you're told, of course. Now push that skirt up and show me your ass."

You huffed, quickly realizing what this mission was going to be.

But hey, if you get a promotion through this...then perhaps you can stick it out.

You gripped your skirt and pulled it up, not having to do much as your peach butt got exposed. The two men laughed and whistled, getting enjoyment and more blackmail material: many pictures of you, in uniform, at a location of curses, flashing your butt. And this was only the beginning.

As you started tracking down the curse, your senses were on high alert and you gradually forgot about the skirt, the shiver you felt as you got in contact with the thick cursed energy making you decide that you needed to focus on the task as hand. You blocked out the two of them following behind you and you blocked out the sensation of your skirt riding up enough for your lower half to be almost bare. When you sprinted up the stairs, feeling a curse nearby, your skirt rode up completely and you only pulled it down once you reached the top.

In front of you was a curse, not a special grade but not weak either. It was a large, disgusting looking thing, oozing power but you knew it was not as strong as you.

"I'm guessing the two of you aren't going to help?" you asked, getting ready as the curse spotted you. "Nope." they responded, Gojo's phone out and pointing at you, taking a video, "all yours."

You didn't have time to respond as the curse suddenly lunged at you, dragging its disgusting body with surprising speed as it gained to attack. You sprinted around it, your body swift and deadly, understanding the way the curse worked in a matter of seconds. You countered every move with your own, slowly weakening it before you exorcised it, the curse dissipating in the wind.

"That was pretty decent, even for you." Geto said once Gojo stopped recording, "you didn't even let the fact that your whole pussy is out stop you from doing the job. Well done."

You looked down and sure enough, from all the running and the dodging and the fighting, your skirt had ridden up once more and your cunt was totally out in the open. You blushed and you quickly pulled the skirt back down, your ears turning red from the embarrassment.

"Fuck. I'm horny now." Gojo muttered as he pocketed his phone, "Hey, hands on the wall- I'm gonna fuck you."

"Wh-" you sputtered, blushing heavily, "But we're busy!"

"Geto can deal with it. My balls come first. Pun intended."

The black haired man rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he said: "Fine. But I'm fucking her once I’m back so you better finish by then."

"No promises~"

Not caring about your response, Gojo walked upto you, gripping you by the back of your neck before he pushed you gently against the nearest wall, his other hand pulling your skirt up. Geto walked past the two of you, following the curse as he left you behind to get a pounding.

"Oh, you're so wet, you nasty bitch." Gojo snarked, grinning as he felt you up, his fingers sliding between your folds, "You loved walking around in this slutty little mini skirt, huh? Yeah, I know you loved it. Probably wanted us to fuck you this whole time."

"D-Don't flatter yourself!" you retorted, wincing as he pinched the plush of your butt before he changed your position a bit. "Mhmm. You're real fucking convincing. Now spread your legs. I want to fuck this nasty pussy."

Grabbing you by the hips, he made you bend forward, your palms against the wall and your ass presented to him. He continued to play with your pussy, two fingers easily sliding inside of you while his other hand got to work on his pants. He simply slid them down enough for his cock to pop out, hard, throbbing and leaking pre-cum from the red tip. He tapped it against your ass, staining your skin with his fluid before he took his finger out and pressed the tip against your cunt.

He didn't care for foreplay and he didn't care if you felt good. He was here to fuck and that's what he was going to do. And you were going to take it.

"Oh yeah, that's a good pussy~" he groaned as he started pushing inside of you, his cockhead popping into you easily from how wet and dripping you were. You hated to admit it but running and around and flashing your privates had gotten you hot and bothered, even if you were just exposing yourself to the two men who were more than familiar with your body.

You gasped as he continued to bully his cock inside you, eventually bottoming out and spreading your cunt so deliciously wide. His groans were audible through the empty hallways, both his hands now grasping your hips greedily. With a lick of his lips and no warning, the man started to thrust, starting off a bit slow. Your moans jumped with each thrust, your ass rippling against his hips each time he fucked his cock deep, deep inside you.

Despite the many times you've gotten thoroughly pounded by Gojo, you simply can't seem to get used to his size. His cock was deliciously long and thick and each thrust in had his leaking cockhead pressed up against your womb. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises on instinct, slick dripping down your legs and staining the floor.

"Fuuuuck- I'm addicted to this free use pussy!" Gojo growled as he not so gently smacked your ass, laughing at your squeal, "Bend you over and fuck you anytime- claim you as my personal whore. I fucking love it!"

“Shut the fuck u-u-upppp!” you squealed, his cock curving just right and bumping against your special spot, a rush of pleasure sparking through your spine. Gojo simply spanked you again before he used that hand to grab your hair, pulling at it roughly. You gasped as your head was pulled back, the pain of your hair being tugged at addicting.

“I felt your pussy tighten, bitch~” Gojo snarled with a smirk, “You love being bullied by us so much- it’s so pathetic and I love it.”

“You’re pathe- ohhh right there- right there!”

“Yeah? Here? Little bitch likes it when my cocks hits her right here?”

Gojo angled his hips so he hit your g-spot with every thrust forward, the clap of his hips against your butt practically echoing through the hallway. You couldn’t hold back your moans, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s leaving you as he pounded your cunt like a toy. You didn’t know how long the two of you were there for, fucking in the open, in the middle of the abandoned building. You were so focused on the pleasure that you didn’t notice the pressure of the curses suddenly disappear.

“Are you done yet? It’s my turn to cream her cunt.”

You groaned as Geto walked over to the two of you, wiping his mouth.

“I still got the taste of a curse on my tongue. I’d like to wash it down with her pussy.”

“Fuck- wait for a bit.” Gojo said, panting heavily, sweat marring his brow, “I’m almost done.”

“Nope. I’m not waiting.” Geto said, punching Gojo in the shoulder and ruining his rhythm, “Plus, there’s another curse that needs killing and I’m pretty sure it’s your turn.”

“You want- fuck-“ Gojo cursed, stilling inside you to give Geto a look, “You want me to fight a curse with a hardon?”

“Well, she fought one with her pussy out so I’m sure you can manage.”

Gojo sighed, rolling his eyes before he conceded, “Fine, fine. But you owe me one.”

“I do not. Now get going.” Gojo pulled out of you, the slick sound of it making your body shiver as his erect cock stood tall, covered in your juices. He tucked himself back in his pants the best he could, his dick still straining against his pants as he quickly walked away, a determined look in his eyes. He wanted to finish off this final curse as soon as he could so he could get back to destroying your pussy.

Before you could even blink, a bit dazed from the lack of pleasure, Geto was on his knees behind you, his hands gripping your asscheeks before he pulled them apart and surged forward. Blood rushed upto your cheeks so fast you felt dizzy as Geto stuffed his face between your cheeks. He groaned as he rubbed his face on you for a bit, enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh against him like a pervert before he stuck his tongue out and got to licking. He took a long, greedy lick from your clit all the way upto your asshole, teasing your rim before slightly sticking his tongue inside.

Your body shivered, little gasps leaving your mouth at his shameless actions, the man starting to eat you out like a messy meal. He clearly didn't care if you felt good, his movements sloppier than usual, and obviously just wanted a taste. But that didn't stop your body from responding to him, your hips subconsciously pushing out in a silent plea for more, your pussy dripping. He lapped up your juices, drinking you down with a groan as his hands continued to squeeze and pinch at your cheeks.

“Fucking- perfect.” He moaned against you, his words vibrating your clit and making your knees shake, “Just what I needed.”

With a final, toe-curling suck to your clit, he stood up, ordering you to turn around and face him as he started undoing his pants. Your back was pressed against the wall, Geto standing close enough for your chests to almost touch. “Take your top off. Get naked for me.” He groaned as he fished his dick out, giving it a few tugs as he eyed you down like you were a piece of meat. You gulped, heart beating fast in your chest as you hurriedly started to unbutton your blouse, trying to pretend like you weren’t eager.

If they knew just how needy you felt…

Geto suddenly grabbed you by the waist once your buttons were undone before he lifted you up like you weighed nothing. You yelped as he slammed you tightly against the wall, feeling his cock throb against your eager cunt as your legs wrapped around his waist. He grabbed onto the cup of your bra before pulling the right one down, exposing that nipple. He bent down and took it into his mouth, the man clearly having an obsession with your tits as he started suckling.

His eyelashes tickled your skin as he ran his tongue over your sensitive bud, giving it a few flicks with the tip before sealing his lips around it and giving it a toe-curling suck. As he suckled, his other hand slid down and grabbed his cock, tapping it a few times against your pussy before he slid in, the glide easy thanks to Gojo’s previous pounding.

“Ah- fuck-yes-“ you gasped out, unable to hold yourself back, briefly registering that all traces of curses had disappeared in an instant, Gojo having finished the job. It was only a matter of time before he rushes to the two of you, demanding to be back inside you.

This was what you were expected to do for them. Be a pair of spread legs for them to use whenever they want- to be fucked silly- to be bred- to be truly and utterly degraded. Maybe Gojo would make you suck his cock. Maybe the two of them would swap places. Or maybe they’d finally fuck your ass.

From the corner of your eye, your vision blurry thanks to the tears from how harshly Geto was pounding into you, you could see someone hurriedly walk towards you, unbuttoning his pants along the way and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh among your moans.

Today was going to be a long day.

~~~~~

#subby writes #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu geto #gojo x reader x geto #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru

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ketaundkrawall · 3 months

Text

Backstage ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein

Summary: Joost fucks you backstage.

Warnings: smut (18+!!), pwp (like literally), unprotected piv, oral (m!receiving), chocking, teasing (😈), softdom!Joost, gf!reader, sex in a backstage area, praise kink (blink and you’ll miss it), horny idiots and I hope that’s it, no use of Y/N, afab!reader

WC: 969ish

A/N: so this one is based on this request I got few days ago! Thank you for the req Nonnie :3!! I hope it lives up to what you imagined 🥹 and reqs are always open for you all my people ✨

18+ under the cut!

The air was heavy and warm, your skin layered with a coat of sweat as Joost pressed you against the wall of the backstage area. The concrete cooling your skin down as his hands roamed all over your body. Teeth clashing and heavy breathing the only audible sound in the small room. The soft tips of his fingers drawing circles on your hips, pulling you even closer to him.

Turning his head away and he looked you deep in the eyes. Oh those beautiful eyes. “I need you now.” He said, desperation coating his words.

An equally needy sound leaving your lips as he took your hand and pressed it firmly against his crotch, showing you just how much he needed you right now.

Your hands were quick to find his belt, opening it while falling on your knees in the process. Hooking your fingers through the loops of his jeans you pulled them down along with his boxers, freeing his throbbing erection. Your mouth watering at the sight in front of you.

Feeling a hand around your chin Joost made you look up at him. His hair was all messy, his cheeks flushed and eyes dark with lust. Definitely a sight for sore eyes. “Open your mouth for me.” He said, brushing his thumb over your lower lip.

Not breaking eye contact you opened your mouth, watching his every move, as he pushed his thumb into it. Closing your lips around it you twirled your tongue around his thumb, sucking slightly on it which earned you a deep moan from him.

Soon the finger was replaced with his dick. Watching you move your head and working his length into your mouth, Joost closed his eyes. Enjoying the feeling of the wet and warmth of it. He always loved when you got on your knees for him. As he looked down he could’ve come there and then. Your eyes were closed as your pretty little mouth swallowed him whole.

Feeling the familiar warmth spread across his lower abdomen he was quick to pull you off him, earning a whine from you. “Hey!”

Grabbing your arm he pulled you up and pushed towards a table that was standing in the middle of the room.

Your brain couldn’t really comprehend what happened next. Joost swiftly and in one motion emptied the table with one arm. Bottles and plastic cups clashing onto the floor making a mess. Bending you over he pulled your skirt up your hips.

Biting your lip to keep you from moaning his thumb brushed against the wet fabric of your tiny thong you decided to wear. “Are you gonna fuck me now or what?” You sneakily remarked, gaining you another slap on your ass, harder this time.

“Definitely will baby. Definitely will.” He mumbled. Pushing it down your legs, you shivered as the air hit your wet and dripping cunt. The feeling of Joosts fingers sliding up and down your wet slit made you hold onto the table harder. Knuckles turning white.

Grinning to himself he watched you writhe beneath him. Deciding not to tease you more, he wrapped his slick coated fingers around his dick, giving it a few strokes before teasing your entrance with the tip.

Whimpering you tried to push back for some friction. “Ah-ah.” Joost chuckled.

Another whine and god he loved when you let out those little noises, blood rushing straight to his cock.

Snapping his hips forward you practically screamed his name out of pleasure. His hips now flush against your ass. “P-please.” Your desperation was music to his ears. “Fuck me Joost.” And that was all he needed to hear. He grabbed you by your neck, pressing the side of your face against the table, fucking into you like a mad man.

Skin slapping against skin and shallow breaths filling the quiet room. “So good for me.” He moaned. “Taking my cock so well Schat (Baby). Feeling so perfect around me.”

You tried to say something but your brain was fogged. Only filled with cock and the feeling of his hand around your neck, chocking you oh so nicely.

It didn’t take long for the both of you to come closer to the edge. Joost could feel your pussy tighten around his cock, indicating him that you were close so he put two fingers on your clit rubbing it in tight circles. “Come on, I know you’re close.” He breathed out, feeling his own release building up in the pit of his stomach. “Cum on my cock baby.”

And with that you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your mind went blank as your orgasm washed over you, knees buckling. You were sure if Joost didn’t hold you up by your hips you’d fall right over.

Feeling you tighten around him his hips stuttered before stopping completely and emptying himself deep inside you.

It takes you a moment to come down to planet earth. Pulling out of you, you could feel a kiss being pressed to the back of your head. Feeling too fucked to get up, you just stayed in your place, hearing your boyfriend getting dressed again. The loss of contact making you whine softly.

Looking around the dressing room, Joost picked up a cloth to clean you up, being very gentle and soft. “Thank you.” He said, pulling your panties back and your skirt down before helping you stand back on your wobbly legs.

You chuckled. “No need to thank me next time just warn me before attacking me like a horny teen.” Leaning closer you pressed a kiss against his lips. “Let’s get back out there. Bet everyone’s wondering where you are.” And with that you both walked back out the room and right back into the crowded hall of the club Joost had just performed in minutes ago.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this little cutie and feel free to ask/request anything!!

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein smut #joost klein imagine #stand with joost #joostice #12 points to the netherlands

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frownyalfred · 1 month

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hot take obviously batman does drugs (dresses as a bat, also how else would he stay awake and functional during crises?) but do you think his kids do? fueled in part by my personal hope that Tim keeps a blunt in his utility belt

Are you really an heir/ward of a billionaire playboy if you don’t get caught with coke at least once as a civilian? Anything the kids have can probably just be explained away as building their cover stories.

But in all seriousness, I think Bruce has strict rules for sobriety on patrol and during major cases. And for school/college. What happens outside of those strict bounds is hard for him to completely control.

But god protect the dumbass batkid who shows up for patrol still a little crossfaded from the night before — you will see the Disappointed Bruce, not the angry one everyone thinks he’ll be. And that’s crushing.

#asks #anon #drugs tw #drugs mention #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfamily

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atinylittlepain · 2 years

Note

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

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

Big Fan

Joel Miller x actress!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

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

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

Read part two!

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

“Are you–”

“I am.”

“You were in–”

“I was.”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“Joel, what the fuck–”

“Ellie–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s not letting that kid read magazines anymore.

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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andersonfilms · 9 months

Text

# LETTING IN WHITE HEAT ✶ abby anderson!

❝ vision go black, blood, letting in white heat.❞ ft. brakence

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, f!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, labeling this as dubcon bc abby is mean but she’s sweet after, mean!abby, top!abby, bottom!reader, sub!ellie, loser coded!ellie, voyerisum, kinda mean rough sex, jealous!abby, slight nipple play, strap use r!recieving, abby has one filthy mouth, mommy kink, aftercare, abby is kinda really mean

her jealousy is soft at first, small ticks easily missed if you weren’t looking. the way her blue eyes would become cold like the atlantic, void of any warmth anytime another girl hugged you for a little too long, lingering touch your smooth arms, or the one time at a frat part this ellie chick your hair wrapped around a slender finger. she wouldn’t really react, besides pulling you closer to her, resting her chin on your shoulder, abby’s long fingers intertwined with yours. she knew you were gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see it, people were going to hit on you and it maybe it was annoying at times when abby just wanted you to herself, but she ignored them and just focused on you. but tonight? god, she couldn’t control it. she was failed miserably to keep her cool. it was happening right in front of her, and you weren’t dismissing ellie’s advances like you normally would. no. not at all. you were encouraging her by batting your long, luscious eyelashes at her emerald eyes. leaning away from abby and into her, letting your fingertips grazing the tattoo on her forearm as you giggle, fucking giggling, at a lame joke ellie was telling you. abby would deck her if you wouldn’t get upset about it. you’d forgive her, eventually, but abby knew some groveling would have to happen on her end. no, she wouldn’t have it this way. still, the situation nagged her in way she despised. apparently abby wasn’t giving you enough attention you had to seek it elsewhere and god, abby was going to make you regret it. baby let’s go somewhere more quiet, yeah? your little friend can even come, quietly she whispered in your ear.

it’s how you ended up in this position, getting fucked within an inch of you life, on all fours and your delicate fingers gripping the railing of the frame at the edge, headboard crashing against the wall the abby’s thrusts. lamely, ellie was fully clothed sitting in a velvet green chair placed next to the mirror, not like she could move. abby made sure of it. her brown leather belt bound ellie’s wrist so they laid flat in her lap, lust building up in her eyes as she took in the scene before her. abby’s pierced nipples on display, burly arms flexing as they gripped onto your ass, slapping every few thrusts, letting her meaty hands smooth over the sensitive area. all ellie wanted was to be in the mix, but abby would not let her. every grunt from abby’s lips made ellie’s dripping pussy clench. it wasn’t fucking fair, her keeping you like this, all to herself. the recoil of your ass and abby’s moans mixed together was enough to make ellie cum just from rubbing her thighs against each other, but the blonde’s filthy mouth only made matters worse, pushing her to the edge quicker than she would have liked. really, even expected.

“what you think she could fuck better than me, baby? is that why you were flirting with her? huh? what? too drunk on my cock you can’t fucking talk?” abby laughed before picking up her pace, a light mumble of mommy slipped past your whimpering lips, but it was loud enough for them both to hear. “that’s right, baby. mommy always has to punish you when you’re being a spoiled brat. what? you think she can fuck you like this? she’s half my size. couldn’t even pick you up even if she tried.”

ellie felt humiliated but she couldn’t stop herself from the pressure building up in the pit of her stomach. “c’mon ellie, i know you’re close. show me what a fucking loser you are and come for me. right now, baby. yeah, just like that. ruin those pretty boxers for me.” it doesn’t take anything else ellie to squirm in the chair, spurts of white, hot cum flooding her boxers, pretty eyes rolling into the back of her head as she slumped in the chair.

abby could fully focus on you now, all the attention she could give fully on you.she slipped her the strap out of your swollen, puffy pussy and made you ride her. intentionally, she wanted to punish ellie. she wanted her to see the pussy she would never have, gush over abby’s cock. your beefy girlfriend watched as you bounced on her cock, the swell of your tits bouncing rapidly as you fully sat on the girth. abby could feel the base nudge against her clit each time, her breaths becoming more erratic, watching her stupidly pretty girl chanting out mommy mommy mommy as her hips jerked sinfully. abby decided to help you, even if you didn’t deserve it.

she met you halfway, bucking her hips, meeting you with her strong thrusts as she bent her head down to suck on the perky bud. “mommy, fuck, please can i come?” but it seemed abby still had a bit of cruelness left in her. she released your nipple with a soft pop! she shoved her middle finger and ring finger into your mouth, before instructing you “suck.” abby chose to ignore you, but you obeyed. continuing to ride her cock as she made you practically gag on her long digits. when she felt like you had enough, she circled them on your clit. “you tell me, baby? do you deserve to cum?”

abby smirked as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to concentrate enough so you wouldn’t come without her permission. she’d only punish it for you later when the two of you were back at home. “i think….” abby slapped your ass with her free hand, letting her blunt fingernails digging into the delicate flesh. “you’ve been a bad girl tonight. haven’t you? what have i told you before? c’mon, let me hear it.”

“mommy only lets good girls cum.” between every word, abby delivers cruel thrusts to your cunt, making your pussy clench around her cock.

then abby was whispering in your ear, “but since we have an audience, i’ll just punish you at home, yeah?” she pauses, before she applies more pressure on your clit. “now, ride my cock like you mean it, baby.”

once your pace quicken, abby could feel the pressure build up, could feel her clit pulsating. she was close, but she needed you to cum first. need more than the air she breathed. god, she knew you were close too. you were slamming on her cock, chasing the high you could only get from abby and she knew exactly what you were craving. she removed her grip on your ass guiding you and wrapped it around your throat, applying just the amount of pressure you craved.

“yeah, is this what you needed? just needed mommy to choke you? i know, babygirl. are you going to cum for me? yeah, you are aren’t you? cum all over my cock. fuuuckkkkk, yes. yes. good girl, such a good girl for me.” you practically screamed out her name as you squirt everywhere, abby finds her release with you. abby’s thighs, yours, the sheets beneath you drenched in your sweet slick. and all ellie could do was watch as you collapse into abby’s body. your entire body shivering as you seeked comfort in your lovers’ arms. she watched as abby soothingly rubbed your back from the tip of you spine to your lower back. whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but ellie couldn’t hear them, intentional by the blonde for her not to. abby nearly crumbled as she watched abby take care of you, cleaning you up and assisting you with putting on your clothes. you sat on the edge of the bed, completely in a daze, waiting for abby.

once abby was dressed, she walked over to ellie, towering over her, sitting or standing didn’t really matter. with a mean grip, abby held ellie’s chin, applying enough pressure to get her almost bruise. “next time you flirt with my girl, it’ll be you getting fucked an inch within your life and unlike my beautiful baby, i’ll leave you alone like the dirty slut you are, unable to fucking walk, talk, move. got it?” abby left with you in her arms, but to ellie it sounded more like music to her ears.

pathetically, ellie watched as the couple walk out of the room, abby whispering in your ear as abby kissed your temple, shutting the door behind them. and then it dawned on her. she was still fucking tied up. fucking anderson.

an: yeah.......so this is a thing. hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it! god do i need a blonde girl to fucking rail me

#god im so horny!#ahh!#abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut

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stevie-petey · 8 months

Text

episode two: trick or treat, freak

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?” Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,” “It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.” “I…” You can’t. Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

Summary: you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight sexual harassment (billy corners reader and is gross), cursing, alcohol

Words: 7.9k

Before you swing in: hello ! new chapter, we've arrived at halloween !! i finally get to have a fun authors note comment: i crashed my car lol. i'm fine tho and i hope yall enjoy and like what ive done and changed a bit with this episode. i had fun coming up with costume ideas for the reader, i think the character fits her well :) and before i go: i start school next week, so updates will def be coming a bit slower after this. anyways, happy reading !

The Henderson house is pure chaos morning of Halloween.

Dustin is running around the house, screaming about how his costume has to be absolutely perfect and that if you don’t hurry up with the jack-o-lantern pancakes then he’s going to just leave without eating breakfast. Meanwhile your mother is running after him, straightening his suit and tidying his hair.

“The pancakes are almost done, my god.” You flip the last pancake, but in your rush the jack-o-lantern’s smile turns into more of a grimace, but hey, food is food. You quickly set Dustin’s plate down on the table and practically shove him into the seat.

“Eat.”

“But my proton blaster–”

“Is on the steps, I’ll grab it. Eat, I want pictures with you.” You kiss the top of your brother’s head and then run over to grab his costume’s prop.

“I’m thirteen now, I don’t need my sister doting on me–” Dustin complains, but then his eyes land on the mini Reese’s Pieces you’ve decorated his pancakes with and quickly changes his tone. “Oh! Candies! Yummy!”

You laugh at him and bring his backpack over. The Ghostbusters matching costume idea that boys have planned for today makes you want to just sweep them all into your arms and kiss their tiny little faces. They may be getting older with crushes and angsty feelings, but they’re still the same nerdy little boys you met when you were twelve.

Dustin wolfs down his pancakes and your mom prepares her camera. You woke up earlier than usual this morning specifically so that you could make Dustin’s annual Halloween pancakes and then take pictures of him with his costume on. As soon as he’s done eating, you and your mom whisk him towards the fireplace for pictures.

“Oh, I want to see those pearls!” Your mother squeals as she takes a million pictures of Dustin. When he smiles, she loses her mind. “Yeah! Lovely, I love it!”

You’re just as ecstatic as your mom. “Who you gonna call Dustin?”

“Ghostbusters!” He sings along, holding up his proton blaster with an even wider smile on his face.

It’s a happy morning.

Dustin puts on a show as he poses for your mom, and you even join in for some. Sure, you aren’t in costume, but who knows how many more mornings like these you have left? Dustin is getting older, all the boys are, so you plan on cherishing these mornings for as long as possible.

You and Dustin are giggling as you now stand back to back, him holding his blaster and you holding up finger guns, and your mom is taking multiple final pictures when Jonathan arrives. He knocks on the door before letting himself in. When he sees you and Dustin posing, he starts loudly belting the Ghostbusters song.

“God, bee. At least let my coffee kick in before you subject me to your horrible singing.” You playfully groan, grabbing your own backpack and pancakes to eat on the road.

Jonathan ignores your teasing and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Nice costume, bud.”

Dustin, seemingly still holding a grudge against the guy after your conversation from last night, slaps his hand away and glares at him. “Don’t mess up the hair.”

Your brother proceeds to stare Jonathan down, gives him an “I’m watching you” gesture, and then walks out the front door without any further words. You, Jonathan, and your mom all stand in the living room in varying states of emotions. You’re trying not to laugh at your brother’s antics, your mom is happily looking at the photos she took, and Jonathan is standing there in complete confusion.

“What was that about?” He asks you, slightly hurt by Dustin’s rebuff.

“Shhh,” you hand him a plate of pancakes and then walk towards the front door. “Let’s get to school, bee.”

–

At school, the mullet guy from yesterday finds you at your locker as soon as Jonathan has walked away. The two of you had been running behind schedule, so you’d told Jonathan to head to first period so at least he’d be on time while you tried to find your history textbook.

As you’re digging through your locker, the mullet guy stalks up behind you.

“I never got your name,” he says with a breathy voice, standing way too close behind you.

You straighten your back, but don’t turn around. You know that if you do, the guy will only get a kick out of having your face close to his. “You never asked.”

“So there’s some sass to you underneath all that sweetness.” His breath hits the back of your neck and you shiver, but in a way that makes you feel dirty and unclean.

“What do you want?” You ask the guy, your fingers wrapping around the textbook that you’ve finally found. If needed, you’re sure it’ll make a handy weapon. It’s only you and the guy in the hallway. Everyone else has holed up in class and you’re now regretting sending Jonathan away. You feel trapped, vulnerable, and you hate it.

Mullet man chuckles deeply, his voice reverberating against your back. “Nothing yet. Just thought I’d introduce myself to such a pretty face.”

You don’t say anything, your fingers only tighten around your textbook. If he gets any closer, you’ll swing.

Though you can’t see him, you can feel his eyes flicker to your textbook and he lets out another cruel laugh. “Loosen up, sweetheart, I won’t hurt ya.” You don’t move, and he seems to get another kick out of this. “My name is Billy. Remember that for me, alright?”

Finally Billy steps away from you and you slowly release all the tension that’s built up within you. You still don’t turn around, he hasn’t left yet, but your hands are shaking a bit and you feel unsteady.

“Would you do me a favor, Billy?” Your voice is steady, there’s no trace of the fear within you.

“I’m listening,” Billy is practically purring and you want to gag at how much his cockiness oozes around you.

You turn, now finally facing him, and slam your textbook against Billy’s chest. “Learn some fucking personal space.”

Billy’s only reaction is a smile, which only makes you more uncomfortable, but you refuse to show him this. Instead, you square your shoulders and walk towards your first class. You’ve dealt with assholes in the past; you’ve known Steve Harrington since you were twelve. But Billy is different.

You’re not sure if you want to find out just how different he is from Steve.

–

Another small highlight of your school year so far has been your study sessions in the library with Nancy resuming. The two of you had drifted apart this summer, you just rarely ever saw the girl in between your hectic work schedule and her dates with Steve, but from the first day of junior she’s helped you with your math equations and you’ve helped her with her english essays.

It’s a good trade off and you’ve enjoyed spending time with the girl. Unlike last year, Jonathan doesn’t join anymore. He can’t be too close with her now that she’s back with Steve. So, it’s just you and her for an hour every day during study hall. It’s nice, if you’re being honest.

Today though there’s something off with Nancy.

She’s been tapping her pencil on the table for the last few minutes. Right before you can politely ask her to stop, the tip of the pencil snaps in half. She sighs. “Shit,”

“There’s a sharpener over by the window,” you point towards the general direction. “Sharpen your pencil before these equations officially end my life.”

Nancy laughs, excusing herself and walks over to the sharpener.

You focus back on your homework, the equations swimming around in your brain. It’s not that you’re necessarily bad at math, but you’re no whiz at it either. You get lost in the practice problems, erasing and re-erasing frequently, and you don’t realize just how long Nancy has been gone until she returns. She sits down, and you’re about to make a horrible joke about how stupid it is to find x, when you notice how shaken Nancy looks.

“Woah, hey.” You set your pencil down and turn your attention to Nancy. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

Nancy looks towards one of the library’s private study rooms and you see Steve’s retreating figure. You gather that something’s happened between them, but it confuses you because they’ve been nothing but lovey dovey ever since they got back together. What could possibly cause strife between them?

“C’mon, you can talk to me. I’m known for my fantastic advice.” You probe again, and this time Nancy lets out a soft chuckle.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ve been stuck on question five for like, twenty minutes now. Any distractions are welcomed.”

Now Nancy lets out a genuine laugh and you find yourself laughing as well. The storminess behind her eyes from earlier has lessened, she looks more relaxed now. Once she’s done laughing, she takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning. “Steve and I have been having dinner with Barb’s parents.”

When Barb’s name leaves Nancy’s lips, you feel your stomach twist with guilt. Had you known this would be about Barb, you wouldn’t have pestered Nancy so much into speaking. You know how much she misses her best friend still, no one blames her.

“Well that sounds nice,” you try to comfort. “I’m sure they appreciate your company.”

Nancy bites her lip and looks away from you. “They wouldn’t if they knew Steve and I killed Barb.”

Shock washes over you. “Can I ask for some context?”

“Steve and I… When I forced Barb to come to his stupid party with me, we–we left her alone that night. By the pool…” Nancy’s voice cracks, and you grab her hand to encourage her to keep going. “We went upstairs to have sex, and Barb–she didn’t want me to leave her alone but I–I did and–”

You remember the photos Jonathan took last year, specifically the one where Barb had been sitting all by herself along the pool’s edge. Behind her had been a shadowy figure, a monster you soon would learn was from an alternate dimension with an intent to kill.

“You think Barb died because you left her alone to go have sex with Steve.” You finish for Nancy, her tears rendering her unable to say more.

She nods, looking away again as more tears stream down her face. You feel horrible for her, knowing first hand just how cruelly guilt can eat away at someone. Jonathan doesn’t know this, but you still think you’re the reason Will disappeared last year. You were the one who left him alone that night. If you had been there, if you had dropped him off at the Byers’ doorstep, you’re sure that he would’ve never ended up facing the horrors that he did.

As for Nancy, you understand everything she’s feeling and more. It isn’t fair how one simple choice, one moment of selfishness, can lead to such tragedy and pain.

Cautiously, you ask Nancy a question. “Does Steve know about the guilt you feel?”

“He knows, but he doesn’t understand.” Nancy’s voice laces with grief and bitterness. “He found me by the pencil sharpener. There was this girl, she looked so much like Barb and I just… I zoned out. I was stuck there, thinking about her, when he found me.”

“Did he notice you were upset?”

“Of course he noticed. He’s Steve, I could shed a single tear and he’d be all over me like I’m some baby.” Nancy scoffs, which makes you frown. You’re not sure what’s so wrong with that, having someone so attuned to your emotions because they love you that deeply.

You push aside your thoughts, however. “What happened, then?”

“We went into a study room and I snapped.” Nancy’s close to tears again. “I just… I want to tell Barb’s parents what really happened. They’re selling their house, Y/N. They’re selling their own home to afford this private detective who promised them he’d find out what happened to her. What–what kind of person would I be if I let my best friend’s parents go bankrupt for being worried about their only child?”

“Nancy…”

“And Steve, he just… He told me it was a bad idea, that–that our families could get hurt and all that bullshit, but what am I supposed to do? I’m trying to figure something out, to fix this, and Steve just wants to go to some stupid party and pretend everything is okay?” Nancy is almost shouting now, and you nervously look around to make sure you're not disturbing anyone. It’s still a library, after all.

Nancy takes a few seconds to collect herself, to steady her breathing and control her anger. You let her take all the time she needs, and when she seems calm enough, you speak. “I understand where you’re coming from and why you’re upset. What happened to Barb is despicable, but… Well, I also agree with Steve.”

“Y/N–”

“No, okay. Listen for a second,” you pause, trying to figure out exactly how to say what you’re thinking. “I think Steve means well, he doesn’t have a malicious bone in that silly body. The Halloween party can be a good thing for you if you let it, a way to destress. You have to move on, you have to allow yourself to move on.”

Nancy tries to argue some more but you continue. “I understand your guilt better than anyone else, I was the one who lost Will that night. But we all signed those contracts, Nancy. If we told anyone what really happened to Barb… It wouldn’t be fair to everyone who gets hurt, all our family members, because we broke a legal oath. You understand that, right?”

“I understand, but it’s not fucking fair.” Nancy’s eyes have a determination in them that startles you. You’ve always known that she was fierce, but seeing the edge in her eyes almost scares you. She’s angry, more than you’ve ever seen her before.

You sigh. “I know, I wish I could do more, but…”

Nancy nods, understanding that there’s not much else you guys can do. You hate to let her down like this, you know she needs to hear something else, to feel supported, but you don’t know what else to tell her.

Steve’s right in his own way, and so is Nancy.

“Can you at least come to the party tonight?” Nancy softly pleads. “It’s just, I’ll feel more comfortable with you there, like I’m less crazy… I mean, that is if you even want to come and–”

“Of course I’ll come, Nance.” You don’t even hesitate to promise her this, nor do you realize that you’ve just called her “Nance”. It slipped from your tongue naturally, as if solidifying your friendship with the girl. You hate parties and loud crowds, but if Nancy needs you there by her side, to hold her hand and remind her of how brave she is, then you’ll happily do so.

Nancy sinks into her seat, relieved. “Thank you, I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Nancy throws a piece of paper at you and you dodge it, throwing your pencil at her in retaliation. The two of you break out into a fit of giggles until the librarian eventually snaps at you guys and reminds you to be quiet.

You reluctantly get back to work, and as you’re writing down more complex equations, you notice that there’s still a far off look in Nancy’s eyes. You know that she’s still thinking about Barb, the guilt eating away at her, and you know that the topic is far from settled.

–

Halloween is in full swing the second Jonathan drops you off at home from school. There’s already kids milling around up and down your block in an assortment of costumes, all squealing with joy as they collect their candy.

“Meet you in two hours?” You ask Jonathan as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Yeah, but remember that I’m not wearing a costume.”

“C’mon, bee! It’s Halloween, where’s your holiday spirit?”

Jonathan groans. “Nag at me all you want, I’m not dressing up. I will, however, offer to be your arm candy.”

“That’s the spirit!” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek and run out of the car and straight into your house. You have two hours to wrap up goodie bags for the neighborhood kids and then get dressed in your costume. It’ll be a tight schedule, but luckily you’re off of work tonight.

It takes you about an hour to assort all your gift bags, separating the boys’ bags from the local kids’ bags, and before you know it you’ve successfully hand packaged goodie bags for an entire army. Once you’re done, you run to your room and throw on your costume. The dress slips over your head and settles gently over you.

You stand in front of your mirror and smile.

It’s perfect.

You’re going as Princess Buttercup tonight for Halloween. You read the Princess Bride around the end of summer and quickly fell in love with Buttercup. You’re not sure if you fell in love with the character because you read the book right after pushing Steve away, or because you saw yourself in Buttercup, but you came to adore her.

Buttercup may have been a bit ditzy, but she loved with everything within her, and with such a passion, that you couldn’t help but admire her. It was her love for others that ultimately drove the story further, and you think there’s something beautiful about that.

The red dress fits perfectly around you and you grab the gold chain that will serve as your belt. Once you’ve secured it around yourself, you place Buttercup’s golden circlet around your head. The costume had been pricier than you would’ve preferred, but as you stand in front of the mirror, you truly do feel like a princess.

Your bee necklace, a wonderful gift from Jonathan, catches light from your window and you smile, bringing your fingers up to the pendant. It’s the only jewelry you need.

“Y/N! Are you almost done? Will radioed that they’d be here soon.” Dustin pounds on your door.

You fling the door open. “I’m done, I just need to put on some makeup.”

Your brother makes a face as he walks into your room and plops himself down onto the beanbag. “You own makeup?”

“Yes, dear brother. I’d wear it more often if I had the time, but between herding you around and my school assignments, I can’t.” You dig through your makeup bag, opting for just mascara and a shimmery pearl eyeshadow. You’ll put on your lipstick in the car to save some time.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Jonathan, does it?”

You roll your eyes at Dustin. “No, believe it or not I can choose to do things without the influence of others.”

“Hmm, alright. Hurry up though, Mike had this awesome plan to hit up every house with the big candy bars and–”

“Dustin!” You throw a pillow at the boy, shutting him up. “Shush so I can focus.”

He grumbles but remains silent, now watching as you put your makeup on. It’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, so you’re slower than usual. Just as you’re finishing up your mascara, a car honks outside.

Dustin runs out the room and you quickly grab your lipstick and follow after him. You’re wearing your mother’s mary janes again and they pinch your feet as you run, but whatever. You feel pretty tonight, you’re somebody else for now, a princess free from any burdens and stress.

Jonathan is standing outside his car, waiting for you, and when you see him you practically fling yourself in his arms. “You dressed as Westley!”

He spins you around a bit, his plastic sword hitting against his leg. “You wanted me to wear a costume, right?”

You nod, inspecting his costume with glee. He looks amazing, dressed in Westley’s iconic all black attire, his sword by his side, and a mask tied loosely around his neck. To anyone else, Jonathan would look like a regular guy with an affinity for black, but to you, he was dressed as your knight in shining armor.

He’s the Westley to your Princess Buttercup.

Jonathan kisses your knuckles. “Well then, as you wish.”

His words are smooth velvet against your skin, they warm you as the late October air encases you. As you wish, words that became their own I love you within the book. A promise, similar to the one Jonathan made you last year in the passenger seat of his car, pinkies intertwined.

Something stirs within you, seeing Jonathan’s proud smirk on his face because he’s once again managed to surprise you, and the feeling is sickly sweet like syrup. It runs through you slowly, covering every inch of you, and you bask in it.

For now, he’s still yours.

“Can we go now? You guys are gross.” Dustin calls from the car, annoyed.

You and Jonathan spring apart in embarrassment. He laughs, rubs the back of his neck, and tells you, “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Why thank you,” you curtsy. “You look rather dashing yourself, good sir.”

“I wasn’t kidding. You look… you’re beautiful.” The sincerity in Jonathan’s voice cuts through you, it cuts through everything between you, and you can only smile.

“Thanks, bee.” You try to keep your voice playful, light and airy as always. “Now, open my door like the brave hero you’re dressed as.”

Jonathan opens your door with a bow, causing you to laugh. You’re sitting in the backseat with Dustin, Will is in the passenger seat, and once you’ve buckled up, Will spins around in his seat to talk to you as Jonathan starts the car.

“Do you think it’s lame that you and Jonathan trick-or-treat with us?

You blink. “What did I miss?”

“I think it’s kinda lame,” Dustin voices next to you, but he lets out a pained squeak after you’ve elbowed his ribs.

Jonathan turns onto the main road and scoffs at the boys. “You think we’re lame?”

“No, but…” Will sinks into his seat, and you watch as he begins to fiddle with the strap of his bag. He’s nervous. “It’s not like Nancy’s coming to watch over Mike, you know?”

Jonathan’s silent, and you catch his eye in the rear view mirror. You know what he’s thinking: Will has been having even more problems in school, he’s sick of being babied, and yet here you guys are, babying him.

You sigh. “Look, Will. We like trick-or-treating with you guys, we don’t go are your babysitters. We go because it’s fun and I get to enjoy free candy as a sixteen year old.”

Will looks out the window and doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said. You sigh again, knowing that nothing will appease him. He’s only allowed you to see a small portion of how much he’s struggled this year, but you can see his foundations crumbling.

How is he expected to adapt if you and everyone around him refuse to let him do so?

You catch Jonathan’s eye again in the rear view mirror and he seems to be thinking the same thing.

Mike and Lucas run out the Wheeler’s house as soon as you guys park in the driveway. Dustin immediately bolts out the door to greet them, obviously uncomfortable with all the tension, leaving you and Jonathan with Will.

Jonathan looks at you one last time and you nod your head in encouragement. He has to do this, he has to let Will grow on his own.

“Hey, listen.” Jonathan says, stopping Will from leaving. “If I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?”

Will’s face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.”

“9:30?”

You reach over and pat Will’s back. “Now you’re pushin’ it, buddy.”

“What Y/N said. Be back by 9:00.” Jonathan instructs, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

The brothers shake on it and you watch them with a smile. Jonathan hands Will one of Bob’s cameras and makes a poor Dracula joke and you love these boys so much. You wave goodbye to Will as he quickly gets out of the car and runs over to his friends. There’s a new skip in his step, he’s happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Alright,” you crawl over the passenger seat and plop yourself in rather ungracefully. “I’d say that went well.”

“We made the right choice, right?”

“I hope so.”

Jonathan sighs and watches the kids, who have now started hitting each other with their candy bags. You flip down the windscreen and use the small mirror in it to apply your lipstick. When Jonathan sees what you’re doing, he does a double take.

“Wait, are you putting on lipstick?”

“Mhm,” you knit your brows together, focused. “We’re going to a party.”

“We are?”

“Nancy begged me to come, and we just left the boys to go trick-or-treating on their own, so what else are we supposed to do tonight?”

“Nancy begged you to come–”

You finish your lipstick and flick Jonathan’s nose to shut him up. “Stop asking so many questions and just start the car, doofus.”

–

The Halloween party is in full swing by the time you and Jonathan arrive. There’s a bunch of drunk teens in an array of costumes, ranging from classic heroes to dumb movie references, and the music is so loud you could hear it while you were still five blocks away.

Jonathan parks the car and looks around wearily. “Are we really doing this?”

“Unfortunately I hate disappointing people, so yeah. We are.”

“One day your people pleasing needs will get you in trouble.”

“I will stab you with your plastic sword.”

“So sweet to me,” Jonathan quips, which you roll your eyes at.

As you’re walking to the front door, you hear a crowd chanting Billy’s name. You freeze, knowing it could only be that awful mullet guy from earlier, and quickly shove Jonathan inside the house.

“Who’s Billy?” He asks, confused.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, let’s try to find Nancy–”

“Nice costume.” A girl dressed in goth attire interrupts you, her eyes only on Jonathan.

Oh great. Another girl interested in Jonathan.

Jonathan looks between you and the girl. “Huh?”

“Nice costume. Going as a goth with a sword?”

“Actually,” you step in front of Jonathan now, forcing the girl to acknowledge your presence. “We’re matching. He’s Westley, I’m Princess Buttercup. Do you like it?”

The goth girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah, totally.” She steps past you and faces Jonathan again. “I’m Samantha.”

Jonathan is again looking between you and the girl, this time with even more fear and confusion on his face, and you almost want to laugh at him in pity. He’s never had a girl so blatantly hit on him, it’s almost hilarious if you ignore the fact that you’re in love with him.

You leave Jonathan to handle the situation himself, scanning the room for Nancy. When you finally spot her, your heart sinks. She’s dancing with Steve, who looks fucking criminally good in his costume. You’re not sure who he’s dressed as, but he puts his Raybans in his mouth and smirks at Nancy and suddenly you understand why so many girls whisper in the halls about his lips.

Nancy looks even better, her white blouse accentuating her beauty even more. She’s dancing with her arms around Steve and now you suddenly really want a drink. Seems like they’ve made up, then.

Right as you’re about to pull Jonathan away from that Samantha girl and call it quits for the night, defeated and pride wounded, you see Steve and Nancy begin to argue over by the punchbowl.

Shit.

You head towards them, shoving past hoards of people who seem to refuse to move. Nancy sees you approaching and only seems to become more upset. Her movement is unsteady, her eyes droopy and glossed over, and even before you walk up to her you know she’s heavily drunk. She’s in a tug of war with Steve and a cup. It’s clear he’s trying to cut off her alcohol intake.

“Hey, Nancy is everything okay–” Your words are cut off as punch splashes all over her white blouse.

Everyone around the couple gasps, and you wince at all the attention. Everyone stares between you, Steve, and Nancy. You quickly find some napkins and begin blotting at her blouse, trying to get as much of the punch out of it, but she drunkenly bats you away.

“Don’t need help,” she slurs, but you shush her.

“I got it, why don’t we go get some water?”

Steve steps in front of you now, aware of the fact that everyone is still staring, and says his first words to you in months. “She’s my girlfriend, I’ll take care of her. Just… just go, Y/N.”

He dismisses you with a wave and you feel hurt wash over you. He hadn’t even spared you a single glance, he just treated you like some annoying fly in his way. You watch, defeated, as Steve guides Nancy to a room and you’re left alone at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to in the first place.

How fun.

You crumble up one of the napkins in your hand and will away your anger. You don’t deserve to feel angry at Steve’s actions, you’re the one who was so dismissive of him in the first place. He’s just following along, doing what you’ve forced him to do.

As you’re lost in thought, Billy corners you in the kitchen.

“We meet again, sweetheart.” His breath reeks of alcohol and you cringe, the smell burning your nose.

“Didn’t I tell you to learn some goddamn personal space?”

Billy laughs dryly, stepping forward every time you take a step back. Too late, you realize what he’s doing. Before you can stop it, he has your back pressed against a nearby wall. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You look around, but everyone who had been in the kitchen earlier seems to have left or are far too drunk to realize what’s happening. Billy is peering over you and every part of you wants to run away, to cower. You’ve never been able to handle aggressive men well, no matter how much of a front you put on around Lonnie, you always trembled when he was near.

Billy is no different, and he sees your unease. “Aw, is the princess nervous?”

“I’m surprised Max taught you what a princess looks like.”

At the mention of Max’s name, Billy’s cocky grin slips. Confusion masks his face now, making him appear more human than obnoxiously handsome. “So you know my little sister?”

You try to shove past him, but Billy plants his feet down and places both arms against the wall, trapping you. He’s surrounded you, he wants a reaction out of you. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to steady your heartbeat and appear indifferent.

“I have my ways,” you shrug, but your heartbeat still pounds rapidly.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Pretty and intelligent. Why, look at you. I’m impressed, and yet I still don’t know your name.”

You try again to move, but Billy leans his head down and brings his lips to your ear to whisper, “I’ll beg for it, if you want me to.”

“Get off–” He’s too close. He’s too fucking close and his lips against your ear makes you want to throw up, you don’t like this and you feel so fucking pathetic being cornered by such an egotistical asshole.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll go.” There’s a smile in Billy’s voice, you can hear it without even having to look, and it enrages you. You fucking hate men like him.

“Just get the fuck off of me–” You’ve closed your eyes now as you shove harshly against his chest.

Suddenly there’s a thud, a loud “oomph”, and a collective gasp from onlookers at the party. Your hands meet the air, there’s now no one there to push against. Slowly, open your eyes. There, standing in front of you, is Steve holding a very angry Jonathan back while Billy is on the ground.

Jonathan yanks his arm free from Steve and stands over Billy, who is laying on the ground with yet another unnerving smile on his face. Your friend shakes his fist out, which you now see is red, Billy’s face showcases a matching mark. “She told you to get off of her.”

A silence falls over the crowd.

Billy slowly stands up, wipes himself off, and then takes a bow. “Not bad, loner boy.”

Jonathan tries to step closer to him, but Steve grabs his shirt and shakes his head. “He’s not worth it, man.”

“And what do you know about worth, Harrington?” Billy chuckles, now practically in Steve’s face. “Where’s that little girlfriend of yours? You should go ask her what she thinks you’re worth.”

Steve’s face hardens, but you can see dried tears in his eyes. Seeing him about to crumble, you step between the boys. “Enough.”

They look at you, but you ignore them and then wave to the crowd of people still watching. “Show’s over! Go back to drinking away your sorry fucking lives.”

Jonathan pulls you close to him. “Bug, are you okay? Did he hurt you? We need to go home, I’ll bake you brownies and we can just–”

Jonathan’s concerned rambling is enough to make you smile, albeit faintly. “I’m fine, bee.”

Billy observes the interaction, he notices how Steve’s eyes flicker between your interlocked hands with Jonathan and the way your hair frames your pretty face. He sees it all, and he understands exactly what’s happening here.

“Oh, Harrington.” Billy can’t wait to see what happens next. “You’re fucked.”

Steve watches as Billy leaves, confused by his words but too tired to think much of them. He’s had the worst fucking night of his life. His girlfriend just told him she doesn’t love him, then he came outside to see Billy pressing himself against you like some fucking creep. He hadn’t even gotten to help you, Jonathan had beaten him to it. All Steve could do was hold the guy back afterwards.

Now Jonathan is holding your hands and whispering comforting words to you and you’re dressed in Steve’s favorite color, your lips an even prettier red, you’re wearing a goddamn tiara on your head like the princess you truly are, and Steve’s had just about enough of tonight.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.” Steve tells you tiredly. He then turns to Jonathan. “Uh, Nance and I sorta… Can you just, give her a ride home? She doesn’t…”

Steve’s words catch in his throat and you grab his hand before you can stop yourself. “He’ll take her, won’t you, Jonathan?”

Jonathan stumbles over his words. “Sure, uh. Yeah, I can do that… What about you, though?”

You think about your conversation with Nancy earlier, how she seemed so upset with Steve, and how not even ten minutes ago they’d been fighting over by the punchbowl. There’s a hurt between them, one you think may be too big to patch up with just one conversation, but Jonathan doesn’t know all of this.

“I’ll drive Steve home.”

Both boys stare at you like you’re insane, and honestly? You can’t blame them.

You haven’t spoken to Steve in months, and Jonathan knows this better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Steve lowers his voice. “I haven’t had anything to drink, there’s no need–”

“Too bad. I’m taking you home. Jonathan, go find Nancy and make sure she gets back okay.”

Jonathan and Steve try to argue, but you yank Steve’s hand and make him come with you. It’s long past time the two of you had a talk, anyways.

–

When you exit the house, the weight of everything that’s just happened catches up to you. Your skin still feels raw, Billy’s presence lingering on you. Steve’s hand is warm in yours, but he isn’t holding on the way you secretly hoped he would. Jonathan’s confused and concerned eyes remain in the back of your mind, the image of him standing alone in the party makes you feel guilty.

But you have to do this. You’re tired of being a coward.

Steve is silent as he guides you to his car. He’s parked pretty far, which you hadn’t been expecting. “What, do you not get a special parking spot as King Steve?”

He ignores your attempt at a joke and instead drops your hand.

Okay. You deserved that.

When you get to his car, Steve throws you the keys and silently gets into the passenger seat. You inhale, willing this to end well, and get in the driver’s seat. You start the car and the engine warms your fingertips.

You start to drive.

Steve is looking out the window, and you’ve never seen him appear so small. He’s closed into himself, his shoulders are hunched and his carefree smile from earlier is gone.

“Not to make this awkward, but I kinda don’t know where you live.” You break the silence.

“Make a left up here.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight–”

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?”

Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,”

“It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.”

“I…” You can’t.

Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

You take a shaky breath. You knew this would be hard, but it still hurts more than you thought it would’ve. While you can’t tell Steve everything, you can offer him a half truth. It’s all you can afford, and it isn’t nearly half of what he deserves, but it’s all you can do. “I got scared.”

Your confession causes Steve to turn to you. “Scared?”

“Yeah, scared.”

“Gee, Y/N. That really explains a ton.”

You’re losing him again, so you offer him more. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. It’s just… I got scared, I’ve never been good at letting people in. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you just… You scared me.”

Steve is silent again, only mumbling a quiet, “Turn right after this light.”

“Look,” you push down your fear, you need him to hear you. “You came crashing into my life in such a violent way, and it became the best goddamn thing that happened to me. There you were, spending every day at my job just to talk to me. You asked me questions about myself and noticed things no one else had before and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

You look over at Steve and soften your voice, putting every ounce of your guilt and sincerity into your words. “I missed you.”

“Missed?” There’s something in Steve’s voice that you can’t quite decipher, it’s almost too delicate to examine.

“Miss. I miss you,” you correct, and it takes everything within you not to confess more. To tell him you miss how his eyes turn a warm toffee in the late afternoon light, that you miss his obsession with his mom’s banana bread and that you have a recipe at home that you never got to make for him. You almost tell him that even though you pulled yourself away, you can’t seem to separate him from you. He’s everywhere.

But what you can’t tell Steve, what would break you if he ever found out, is that you’ve come to love how he’s everywhere.

Steve is silent, and you swallow down your tears. It wasn’t enough, but at least you tried.

As you turn into his driveway, Steve finally speaks. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was for people to like me.”

“Steve…”

“And every time I think someone finally likes me, I’m wrong. They leave me. I mean, you left me without a fucking word, Nancy lied about loving me, and my bullshit friends at school have replaced me with Billy.”

Nancy lied about loving him?

Steve looks down at his hands, his eyelashes are wet with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.”

You throw yourself across the car’s console and wrap yourself around the boy. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Steve places one arm around you, then slowly he places his other, and for the first time in months you’re finally back in his arms. He’s surrounded in you again, and he never, ever wants to let you go.

“You won’t leave me again?”

Steve asks this so softly, as if too scared to bring the words into the light and risk them scaring you away. You tighten your arms around him and bury your nose into his neck, his cologne making your brain dizzy. “Never.

And it’s enough for now.

The pieces settle between you and Steve. Something clicks into place and you know that he feels it, too. He tightens his own arms around you, draws small circles against your back, and you stay like that for what feels like hours.

Eventually the two of you break apart and head into his house. He offers you something warm to drink, but you decline. It’s late, you should be heading home soon. You ask Steve where his phone is and then call Jonathan, telling him to come get you from Steve’s.

Jonathan doesn’t ask any questions, his own voice sounding off on the phone. You know that tomorrow you’ll have to explain to him what happened with Steve, and he’ll have to explain what’s happened with Nancy. But tonight, you both settle on ignoring the topic for now.

Steve waits with you downstairs for Jonathan.

“If we’re going to be friends again, then I demand my nickname.”

You look up at the boy and laugh. “What if I told you I still haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Steve bats his eyelashes at you and you shove him away with another laugh.

“Hm,” you think for a moment, reveling in the simplicity between you two again. “It’s lovely. That’s all I can say.”

Steve makes a face. “Lovely? That’s all I get?”

“Mhm.” You poke his face. “For now, please just trust that I’ll stay.”

Steve looks away for a moment, and you admire his lovely side profile, before he finally seems to settle on his thoughts. “Fine, but I expect some type of baked good every day from here on out.”

“Deal.” You raise your pinky and offer it to Steve, who smiles and shakes his head, but wraps his own pinky around yours.

Steve’s eyes are still red, from exhaustion and heartbreak, and yours are probably no better. You know there’s so much the two of you have to face tomorrow morning, to talk about and deal with. Nancy, Jonathan, Billy. But for now, Steve’s pinky is around yours and you couldn’t ask for a better end to your night.

It’s a start.

It’s all you could’ve asked for.

Jonathan arrives later and waits in the car, seeming to sense that you want some privacy as you say goodbye to Steve.

“That’s my ride.” You nudge him. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about the Nancy thing. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

“What–”

“We’re friends again and I nag all my friends about their emotions. You were spared last year, but this year? Buckle up, buddy.”

Steve lets out a tired laugh. “Do I have to sign another contract?”

“Nah, you just have to trust me.”

“I do.” He says, no ounce of hesitation.

You squeeze his hand. “Then that’s all I need. Goodnight, Steve. Get some rest.”

Steve nods and watches as you walk towards Jonathan’s car. He stays outside for a while, long after the car has faded in the distance. The cold air makes him shiver, but after everything that’s happened tonight, he welcomes it. His mind is spinning, he’s not sure if he feels more heartbreak or relief, but he decides he doesn’t care.

For now, he’s content.

Now that he has you in his life again, no matter what happens between him and Nancy, he knows he’ll get through it with you holding his hand.

–

The drive home is quiet. Both you and Jonathan seem to be lost in your own thoughts. When you get to your house, you simply tell your friend, “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow,”

Jonathan nods, his eyes as tired as yours. “Tomorrow.”

You walk inside your house and notice all the lights off. You’re home later than you originally planned, your mom must be asleep already. You kick off your shoes and sigh tiredly. Tonight has exhausted you.

However, you feel bad about skipping out on the boys, so you walk towards Dustin’s room and quietly knock on the door to apologize. After a few knocks, Dustin cracks his door open. “Yes?”

“Hey, just wanted to ask how tonight…” You notice Dustin’s stance, how he seems to almost be trying to block your view of something. “Is everything alright?”

Your brother quickly repositions himself. “Fine! Nothin’ to see here!”

He’s definitely acting suspicious.

“Open the door, show me what’s inside.”

You go to shove your way in, but Dustin scrambles and ends up shouting, “Will had another episode tonight!

“What?” You freeze.

Dustin lets out a breath of relief. He knew using Will’s episode would be a good distraction from what he has in his room. “Will, he had another episode. He’s fine, though… Just thought you should know.”

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Actually,” Dustin lets out a yawn. “I’m kinda tired. Ya know, trick-or-treating is hard work. Can we just call it a night and talk about it tomorrow?”

“I mean, I guess?” Your list of things you need to talk about tomorrow keeps growing.

“Sweet! Goodnight, Y/N!” And with that, Dustin slams his door in your face. He presses his back pressed against his door as he steadies his heartbeat. That was close, too close. After a couple seconds, he walks over to his turtle’s tank and greets Dart again. “Sorry buddy, had to get Y/N away. She’d freak if she found out about you.”

Dart lets out a small screech in response.

“Wonder how long I can keep this from her.”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hall for a moment, completely bewildered as to what’s just happened. It feels like you missed a few important details. There’s something happening, but you have no idea what.

You go to your room and make a plan. Tomorrow, you’ll order a code blue with Dustin and demand information. For now, all you can do is get ready for bed and hope that whatever he’s hiding, it isn’t as monumental as El had been.

Tonight, you go to bed thinking of Nancy and Steve, worried about them both.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #halloween ep ur forever iconic #and steves fit >>>#he was HOT

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angelwhisp3rs · 8 months

Text

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 obsession

Pairing: ID!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Training the rookies was a pain until he met her. His sweetest new obsession, he wouln't stop till he was buried deep inside her.

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap (not too much! i imagined leon being 37 and the reader being 23-25, so everyone is legal and consenting! Its not his age in ID but i use it only bc of the character background), p in v, eating out, riding, breeding kink, leon is obsessed!, a small housewife kink.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ on repeat: exo - obsession

Notes: Got too excited and posted without proofreading it! If i missed anything, please let me know so i can correct it! Also, when will tumblr make a pastel pink theme for the dashboard? I hate that everything we have is either a sad/gloomy hipster or raging gothic theme.

From all his years working at the D.S.O, Leon was stressed pretty much all the time, never catching a break, too exhausted. That showed on the increasing wrinkles forming from his frowns, and the occasional white hair that appeared on top of his head. In his non-existent breaks, he had another thing on his belt: training the new agents.

At first, it was a pain in the ass, watching those morons do the same mistake over and over, it really made Leon think it was getting too easy to be a D.S.O agent. Some repeated the same mistakes over and over again, and because of it, Leon frequently lost his patience, soon getting known as a hardass.

As time went by, he began losing hope for the future of the department, until she came through. Pretty body, voice as soothing as a canary and delicious lips that called for him. And the best thing was that she was better than all of these morons, throwing down even the experienced rookies.

Since Ada, Leon didn’t know what it was like to be this obsessed with a woman. He wanted to know her next step, have her by his side all the time, know how her soft skin feels underneath his rough fingertips. He dreamed of her, and caught himself checking her out more than he should. Chris always teased him in private, telling him “his star student is making him turn back to his twenties”. God, they had a small age gap, but thinking about it only made his cock throb. Maybe dealing with rookies made his mind turn him back to his twenties.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

As their “graduation” got closer in time, all the new agents began training more, but none were like her. She came in first and left after all of them, always using the training gym by herself the most she could. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Leon offered private training, becoming a private tutor to her.

Instead of making things easy, it just caused him to become even more addicted to her - he now knew her thoughts, her quirks and her perspectives. As they spent more and more time together, it was clear that she found him attractive too - he knew he was still successful with women, after all (even if he was more dumped than anything). Leon had cemented in his mind that he needed her, and now he just needed to find a way to approach her.

She will be all his.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

One of the nights, he had to spend in his office reading and filing boring documents, Leon heard a gentle knock on his door. “Come in” he simply answered, and to his surprise - and excitement, it was his little star. She entered his office, and her usual sparkly eyes were dull, the poor thing was too tired, working herself too much.

“What happened, rookie? You look exhausted. Working too much to bring me down?” Leon said with a smirk

“Ha, you wish, sir.” Oh, how that term made his pants tighten. “I just came for help, I don’t know. I’ve been focusing on sharpening my skills for the admission test, but I don’t know…” she said unsure

“Hey, don’t tell the rest, but you’re the only one that I would bet on getting in” he reassured her, standing up and taking a seat beside her in his couch “You’re too much in your head, agent”

“I know, I just can’t turn it off…” she whined, making Leon think how she would sound if he made her cum around his cock

That 's it. That was Leon’s chance to get his favorite student. He put a hand on her thigh, not too close to her precious cunt and said quietly to her “It’s alright, sweetheart… I can help you, if you want”

She knew where this was going, and it turned her on more than she thought. Feigning innocence, she pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, nodding “But… How, sir?” and looked at his lips

Leon smiled, caressing her jaw “let me fill your mind, rookie. Why don’t you sit at my desk, hm?”

She stood up and slowly went to his desk, sitting on it and letting her head fall to the side, as if to question him “what’s next?” with her body language. Leon follows her, standing between her legs and letting his hands caress the outer side of her thighs. His face lowers to her neck, his kisses and his stubble causing a warm sensation to run through her skin. A soft gasp left her lips, her hands caressing the back of his head.

Feeling him smirk against her skin, he kept placing slow and gentle kisses, adding some nibbles on the mix “That’s what my best student needs, right? A real man to touch her”

He lays her on his desk, pushing his papers aside, pulling her hips into his - his cock adding a nice weight to her sensitive wetness. He slowly pushed her shirt up, watching her beauty for a moment “You’re perfect, baby”. As he whispered the praise, her cheeks blushed more, a soft giggle leaving her lips. He finally kissed her lips and both were hungry for each other, to quench the thirst they had been accumulating after months.

Leon swiftly undoes her bra, not wasting any time and circling his tongue around her nipples, sucking and lightly nibbling it. Underneath him, her breath quickens, as she whines freely as he teased her. Trying to ease their ache, Leon grinds their centers together, his cock so hard that his zipper presses against his member.

Soon, he removed her pants, kissing as her skin showed - inch by inch. Again, his stubble creates goosebumps in her legs, as he worshiped her body - she deserved it, after all, he wanted to make her addicted to him and his taste. Watching her panties so drenched as they were glued to her pussy, he couldn't help but nuzzle into her bundle of nerves, causing a gentle jump on her. He kissed and licked the wet spot, as if trying to eat her up.

“F-fuck, please take them off, sir” she whined, not even realizing that she kept the term. Leon, deciding that he wasn’t in a teasing mood, guided the clothing down, letting his pretty star all spread on his desk - his to take, to tease, to fuck, to breed.

“Shit, baby girl, you are so wet for your teacher… you wanted me to take you, right? You wanted me to go crazy and drench my face with you. huh?” He teased her as he got on his knees, aligning his face against her cunt. She was so red, puffy and wet, not even the most delicious candy could compare to her.

His tongue tasted her at first with kitten licks, causing a loud moan to rip from her mouth. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t want anyone coming here and seeing you spread out like a needy slut, right?” at his comment, and as if teasing her, he finally sucked and rolled his tongue around her clit, letting his index finger circle her wet entrance. Almost as if she was distressed, she cupped her mouth with her hand, rolling her eyes back at the pleasure.

Pushing his finger forward, slowly, until he's entirely inside her, he kept eating her out with gusto, as if he was a starved man. Soon, what was one finger turned into two, her juices were flowing through his palm as he began to be more desperate for her - but he wouldn’t stop till she let him taste her entirely. “It feels good, doesn’t it, my doll? I’m the only man and only one for you, gonna make sure to keep this pussy satisfied till I die”.

His fingers and mouth worked more ferociously, pussy drunk wasn’t even close to describe how he was feeling.On the other end, she had tears in her eyes as one hand didn’t leave her mouth as the other one tugged his hair hard, making him moan against her drenched cunt. “S-sir, o-oh g-god…need to c-cum!” she pleased, looking down at him with glazed eyes.

“Do it, baby girl, give it to me” he ushered her, maintaining the pace till she finally coated his fingers, tongue and mouth with her essence. As her ‘little death’ came, she felt as if fireworks erupted inside her mind - none of her exams daring to creep up on her mind.

He praised and marked her thighs as she came down from her high. The girl pulled Leon into a passionate kiss, smiling in contentment, reaching cloud 9000. Pulling away, she whispered against his lips “Let me repay you, Leon. Wanna make you feel just as good”

“Not today, doll.” He whispered, sitting back in his chair and pulling his pants and underwear down, patting his lap “I know how to help you even further”, he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Like an excited bunny, she hopped off his desk and jumped into his lap, resuming her kisses on his mouth - casually descending into his jaw and neck, enjoying the pleased hums that he lets out. He palmed her ass and firmly grabbed it, giving some gentle smacks as she had his fun with him. To Leon, in all of his life, that was his happiest moment: having his pretty princess on his lap, all naked, hypnotized in kissing and feeling him up.

“Go ahead, baby, let me finally empty your mind and use you” he calmly ordered her, caressing her cheeks adoringly. Soon, she positioned herself and slowly sat down on his cock, rolling her eyes back and holding into his chair behind him.

“S-so b-big…” she moaned, her head falling into his shoulders as the girl swallowed all of him. She was so tight, wet and perfect, Leon almost came deep in her cunt just by her inserting him. His head got dizzy for a moment, his hold on her ass tightening, as he grunted and pressed his eyes closed.

Dedicatedly, she began jumping up and down on his cock, their skin slapping as the woman looked directly into his eyes. If anyone saw them at that moment, they would attest that both had heart in their eyes. her tits jumped up and down in front of him, making his tongue and fingers play with them as the couple lost their minds in pleasure.

“Good job, doll… jumping on my cock like the good girl you are… it’s all for you, always for you” he said rambling in pleasure, busying his mouth to tell her praises and roll her sensitive nipples on his tongue, as her cunt drenched his cock, causing a white ring at the base.

Holding tightly into the back of his chair, her hips worked even faster on him, making Leon moan more frequently in pleasure, slapping her ass, leaving behind his handprints on her pretty skin. His head falls back as he watches the goddess in front of him taking what's hers and milking his cock into her hungry pussy. He would make sure that she passed her admission check, so every end of shift he would breed her cunt, till she is finally all of his - the mother of his children, his pretty wife. But that’s a talk for later.

After some minutes pass, Leon takes over and thrusts from below, making her body turn into his own ragdoll, her moans flowing freely into his mouth. Some minutes passed, and both were on the brink of their orgasm, so close to reaching their true paradise “Will you let me fill you, doll? Make your womb so full of me, gonna make you get home with me drenching on your legs” he taunted her.

Not handling much more teasing, and his words serving as a catalyst to her peak, she nods and coats his cock with her sweet arousal, biting down on his shoulder to drown out her sounds. Her roughness and the new tight hold on his cock makes him spill into her gummy walls, emptying himself. Finally, he marked her as his. His doll, his love, his property.

Both were coming down from their highs, trying to control their breathing, letting their heartbeat slow down. He caressed her hair, kissing her cheeks and nuzzling their noses together, all smiles. “So, did I help?” he asked jokingly.

“Didn’t even know why I came here” she answers teasingly.

From now on, Leon would never be exhausted for the wrong reasons ever again.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon x reader #leon smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #infinite darkness #leon kennedy infinite darkness

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masuchu · 9 months

Text

“𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆?” [WRIOTHESLEY]

what happens when your gaze is hopelessly bound to those seemingly innocent, but inexplicably lewd handcuffs your boyfriend constantly carries around with him? ‧₊˚

genre. smut! nothing actually happens, but the entire thing is extremely suggestive, mentions of bondage & punishment, manhandling lol

pairing. wriothesley x reader

love, masu. ah, i think this is an amazing way to get myself back into writing on this blog again! my real writing style is finally being shown haha, none of that sickly, too cute stuff. hope you enjoy!!!!! let me know if you want a part two :))

Wriothesley always spoke with such a sultry, sickening tone that left you feeling your heartbeat in places you usually do not. Perhaps the gentle rasp was what left you so at his mercy? Or maybe, the simple yet defined vocabulary he used when explaining his day, or in other, more intimate moments, what he would like to do to you.

Having said all of this, why could you care not a shred for his words this very moment? Why were absolutely none of his sentences registering in you hazed mind? Instead of paying attention like a lover should, you had your hungry eyes pinned on those alluring, metal cuffs dangling from his belt. The images they conjure, the activities they connote: it all left you salivating and shuddering in the office of the infamous Duke. (Or in terms more personal to you, your lover.)

“Like I said, the prisoners become rowdy when they get bored. I’ll need to implement— Sweetheart, are you listening?” Wriothesley’s eyes dragged across your abnormal, quivering form and he mentally concluded that something was … distracting you.

You jumped out of fear of your daydreams being exposed, but also in mild concern of the daydreams themselves and their insatiable nature. Nodding fast like a guilty toddler, you blurted,

“Oh, I have never been better! Whatever gives you the impression I am not okay?”

The man in question took a careful glance at your wide, doe eyes and stiff form. Suddenly, his head tipped back just an inch or two, and a low chuckle departed from his lips. (The action having a much more arousing effect on your nether regions than you would ever admit.)

“I said ‘are you listening’, not ‘are you okay’. Well done for exposing yourself, sweetness.”

If only he knew what else you were hiding, you thought gravely to yourself. In a naïve belief that he had unknowingly saved you from a mortifying admission, you attempted to go along with his interpretation of your abnormality.

“How silly of me! I really am not with it-!”

Your hips were suddenly locked in solid grip, hard enough to invoke deep, purple bruises along your skin, and you were yanked into a firm but comfortable chest. A chest you knew all too well.

“Also, don’t think I didn’t noticed the way you were looking at my handcuffs, pretty. Got something you wanna’ tell me?”

“You’re mistaken, I— It was simply a one time glance! Absolutely nothing to do with—!”

Your boyfriend removed one hand from your waist and weaved the remaining arm tightly around your waist entirely, keeping you firm against him. His now free hand took a delicate hold of your jaw, and whilst lifting it up his face travelled closer to yours. His hot breath fanned over your lips, and all you wanted for him to rearrange your guts then and there.

“Ah, and now you’re lying? Lying is not very becoming, especially not on you. It makes you bad, and do you know what I do to bad girls?”

His ragged yet stylish hair, his impenetrable, piercing eyes, his strong hold on your body. The physique of a God, you thought. Every aspect of him, how his eyes were intently fixes on yours, waiting for you to answer his question, to use your words— as he was always so keen on you doing. It all came together to allow you to blurt out such a meek, pitiful and uncertain whimper,

“You punish them, Your Grace?”

A devilish smirk tugged on his lips.

“Clever girl. Your little … imaginations might just be brought to life far earlier then you expected. Now strip.”

2023 © masuchu , do not repost, reword, plagiarise, take inspiration, translate or share my work anywhere!

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ sincerely me ‹𝟹 #genshin impact #genshin #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #tee hee #guys this is just a starter in the feast i have prepared …#i’m really hoping this does well over night and that my cuties havent abqndoned me 😭😭#anyways

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minhosimthings · 9 months

Text

You Belong To Me

Symphony Smut Series Day 4: Cat Peirce's You Belong to Me

Lyric: Do what you please to me, I won't resist

Pairings: Idol!Jake × idol!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (m, recieving), dom!Jake, sub!reader, maid costume eyy, handcuffs, p in v sex, protected sex, cum eating, throat fucking, overstimulation, Jake calls reader 'doll', free usage

A/N: Day 4 bishes!! Can I just say this one is my fav one so far. I just need to be used my Jake atleast once in my life IT'S A FANTASY OF MINE.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Jake was tired. And frustrated. And horny. And what better way to let his frustration out than to go home to his beautiful girlfriend and fuck the shit out of her?

You had received the text from Jake probably an hour ago, which very clearly stated to "doll up" for him. While you couldn't become an actual doll, you had been saving a particular maid outfit in the drawers for a long time, wanting to surprise Jake with it, if he ever needed to take a break from idol life.

Taking out the outfit from your drawers and putting it on, you marveled at yourself in the mirror, the dress barely hiding your ass, and hugging your chest perfectly, illuminating the place where Jake liked to mark you most.

Carefully placing all of Jake's favourite candles right where they need to be, your eyes fell upon your bedside drawer. Opening it, you smirked to yourself at what was inside it.

You were going to be Jake's doll and more tonight.

"Doll?" Jake's voice bounced off of the house's walls, as his eyes desperately searched for yours.

"Where the fuck is she?" He grumbled to himself, abandoning his bag and quickly running up the stairs of the house.

"Y/N, wher-"

Jake's words caught in his throat as he saw what was waiting for him inside his bedroom.

"Evenin, babe." You said, leaning on the bed and reading a book without a care in the world.

"Woah." Jake chuckled, inching closer to you, "Is this all for me, doll?"

"Yep." You pecked your lips against his, "Lay down, I got a surprise for you."

Jake's eyes darkened, as he slowly got onto the bed, unsure of what was happening. His eyes never left your ass in that perfect costume, as you bent over the drawer, to reach for something.

"Found it!"

Jake's mouth almost dropped.

The handcuffs.

Of course, how could he have forgotten about all those times he ate you out with the metal restraining you? Brats gotta be taimed ain't it?

"Baby~" he cooed, as you reached over to his hands, tightly cuffing them to the bed frame, "God I don't deserve you."

"We'll see about that." You giggled, pressing your mouth to the button of his shirt, slowly ripping each one off, until his abs were fully on display to you. Your perfume intoxicated Jake, pulling him into a limbo he didn't want to get out of.

"Ah fuck, doll." He moaned, feeling your hands play with his belt, as you undid his pants.

You finally got it free, and you pushed it aside to reveal his black briefs, the one you had helped him pick when you went shopping last week.

You could still feel how tight his body was strung up, and you let your eyes lift up to meet his, and you straightened.

"Christ, you drive me insane, baby."

You barely understood what he was mumbling in between his soft moans, but you didn't need to.The look in his eyes were enough words.

You slipped yours hands into his boxers, tugging it down as his hips lifted off the couch. He was already obscenely hard, and you could have sworn your mouth watered.

"If you are going to keep staring at me like that, I am not responsible for my actions." He muttered, his tone careful as if he was afraid to set you off.

"You are beautiful." You whispered and lifted your eyes in time to see him blush, visible even through the dim light.

You took that opportunity to ease him into your mouth, and Jake swore, both hands dying to drop to grip your hair, if they were not restrained.

You groaned, and you felt them retract, but before you could complain he started talking.

"You have no idea how amazing your mouth feels right now, doll." He groaned as you ease him more into your throat, breathing slowly through your nose.

Jake made a weird noise in the back of his throat, and you bit back a grin, moving backwards before swirling your tongue over and around the smooth head.

You couldn't help yourself as you looked up at him, and he had his hands over his face, and you could tell he was holding himself back, so you jerked forward until you gagged and he let out a string of curses.

“Just like that, baby.”

Using the grip his legs had around your neck, he pulled your head toward his hips, feeding his cock even deeper into your mouth.

It made your jaw ache, considering how big he was and how little you had taken in before, but you didn't feel nervous. Even though you had no control over how much he tried to shove in.

He waited for your nod before he did it again, and this time you leaned into it and tried to take him deeper. You knew when he breached the back of your throat, sliding in and you forced yourself to relax, breathing in through your nose.

It made you think you were a little sick to enjoy the way he was using your mouth, but you couldn't form a single thought as he thrust gently between your lips.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Yeah, just like that. You are doing so good for me, baby.” His praise caused a fire to ignite in your belly, and he curled his fingers into your hair, effectively ruining your hair further.

You felt him shoot down your throat and his grip around your head slacked as you lifted your eyes to see him rest his head against the bedframe.

"Fuck you look so pretty." Jake chuckled, as you leant up to his level, the maid costume barely hiding your nipples, "So fucking pretty for me."

"And darling?"

"Yeah?"

"You didn't cuff me properly."

You barely had time to look up at the cuffs, as Jake's hands pressed against your cheeks, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

Jake could taste his own cum, smeared around your mouth, and it felt delicious.

His hands moved down to your tits, squeezing them tight, and kneading the hardened buds, while he kissed you with his tongue almost choking you.

"Oh fucking hell doll." He pulled away, to see your lipstick all smeared around your mouth, "You're so fucking perfect."

You had no time to think, as Jake flipped you over the matress, his figure now on top of you.

"Ahh Jake." You moaned, feeling his tip caress your cunt so gently.

"Already?" Jake chuckled, "Haven't even put it in yet, doll."

"Jake don't tease." You pouted, feeling his tip hug your pussy again, sending jets of pleasure through you.

"Nuh uh wait." Jake reached over you, to the bedside table, to get a condom, "Protection first."

"Why? You don't want to fuck a baby into me?" You teased him, slightly disappointed that he wasn't fucking you raw.

"You have no idea how much I'd love to do that." Jake whispered, "But I don't want you to be on hiatus for nine months, so maybe not now."

He sinks his cock slowly and gently. His hands trembling as he holds your hips in place, his other hand thumbing with your clit like you asked. His breath was shaking, he felt like he was going to shoot his cum inside you once he bottoms out.

His eyes dropping to your tits, his cheeks get pink. He slides his cock out of your pussy, watching it clench around nothing before thrusting back in, whining as he feels the warmth of your walls. You cunt hugging all the veins and curve of dick.

His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Jake. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.

The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Jake shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.

You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, doll” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum almost filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.

"Fucking hell doll." Jake gasps, collapsing on your side, as you pant, you chest rising up and down. The costume had now been completely ripped apart, revealing your naked form, which Jake deemed his 'piece of art'.

"Don't worry I'll buy you a new one." He chuckled, pulling you into his arms.

"Wanna take a shower?"

"Another round? Sure."

Taglist: @ramenoil + taglist is open my babies!

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hapan-in-exile · 2 months

Text

It's alright to just admit that I'm the fantasy

A Mandalorian One Shot

Yeah, I know your little secret...

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Reader: You are a courtesan at the Dark Garden, Coruscant’s most prestigious pleasure house. Owned by the crimelord Boss Set’ki and operated by his lieutenant Mistress Anassa, when business meets pleasure, you’re expected to entertain soldiers on the payroll. But there’s one—a Mandalorian you’ve come to know and respect—who’s never taken advantage of your services. Until one day, he asked, What if next time I said yes?

Word Count: ~9K

Pairing: dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Warnings: Roleplay, bondage, blindfold, fingering, oral sex (m+f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, hair pulling, choking, biting, protected anal, unprotected piv, rough sex, edging (him), explicit consent, aftercare.

If the above looks super intense, please know I wrote a soft(er) dom Mando—no extreme degradation. Lots of checking in! Lots of praise!

A/N: This is a one-shot set in the same universe as my ongoing Mandalorian fanfic series. It has no bearing on the series plot, but that’s why the ofc Thuli is named (only once). However, there's no description of skin, hair, or eye color; no description of age or body shape.

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Tales from the Dark Garden

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says disinterestedly, sliding the pile of neatly stacked credits into his waiting palm. “Please extend my gratitude to Boss Set’ki for his generous and timely payment.”

You watch him tuck the metallic ingots into one of the leather pouches sewn to his belt—right between the buckle and a string of explosive charges. There’s a dull thunk when the butt of his rifle knocks against the table’s edge as he turns to leave.

It's quite the arsenal. The bounty hunter certainly cast an imposing figure.

It’s a miracle those shoulders made it through the hatch.

You’d heard rumors from the other girls at Dark Garden about the fearsome Mandalorian who visited Mistress Anassa. This just happened to be one of those delightful twists gifted by the universe, where the real thing exceeds expectations. He was terrifying. And sexy as hell.

That first moment when you’d opened the door to see him standing there in full plate Beskar was a shock to the senses that would have reduced a younger Thuli into a stream of inane babbling.

Good thing you had a lot of practice controlling your expression—the demands of professional decorum, after all. It would ruin your Mistress’s reputation if you started drooling over the customers.

The armor suited him. It accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his forearms, and his powerfully muscular thighs. The belt slung low around his tapered waist, and the quilted canvas hinted at the taut abdominals concealed beneath.

All the adrenaline that surged through your body at the sight of his weaponry had immediately transformed into excitement, raw and primal.

This man made you feel…

Sweet gods, divine and merciful.

“Of course,” you smile, leaning forward to place your elbows over the polished tabletop so that your breasts rise enticingly. Lacing your fingers together, you gently rest your chin atop your knuckles. “I will happily deliver your compliments to my master.”

The Beskar gleamed in the candlelight despite an ashy layer of soot. From the state of him, he might have come straight from the lower levels where he’d tracked his quarry. Your eyes linger over the blood splattered across his helmet, sending a shiver of panic down your spine. What sort of violence had this man committed mere hours ago?

Arousal surges within you, fear and wanting intertwined.

The gore and grime are a stark contrast to the lush surroundings. Draped in silk tapestries, with thick woolen rugs and brocade pillows, your shuttle interior was designed to be a sanctuary from the vulgar world outside.

But you suspect the Mandalorian wrapped brutality around him as tightly as the cloak hanging from his neck. It would take a woman of considerable charm to remove either.

Which is why Anassa chose you.

“It is my honor to serve, Master Set’ki,” you reply, rising artfully from your chair and gesturing toward the lounge where you’ve laid out a modest tea service. “And my duty to please.”

The Mandalorian pauses midstep on his way to the door.

“Excuse me?” he asks, curiosity peaked.

Shrugging out of your robe, the silken fabric pools at your feet. You kneel onto the plush carpet before pulling back, sitting on your heels, and reaching for the enameled pot. “My master thought you would enjoy the companionship. A chance to indulge in softer luxuries before you return to the Outer Rim.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet gives away nothing, but you can feel his eyes tracing over you.

Looking up at him through dark lashes, you explain, “The use of this ship—and myself—are yours for the night.”

Despite the layers of cloth and metal, when he folds his arms across his chest, you see the muscles in his back ripple. He looked powerfully, almost aggressively masculine. Like someone who took what he wanted.

And right now, he’s imagining taking you.

The fear is still there, but by now, it had sharpened to anticipation so intense that it ached.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says firmly. Yet, his words did not match his actions. Instead of continuing on his path toward the door, he turns to face you, uncrossing his arms to hold them at his sides.

Is he simply nervous? Sometimes, warriors hardened on the battlefield liked to yield dominance in the bedroom. Maybe you should try throwing him against a wall and climbing him like a tree.

No. If submission were his preference, Anassa would have chosen someone else—Katlin with her barbed whips or Bat’ya with her cruel tongue.

You need to coax him without pushing. The subtle art of persuasion.

Let’s start with coy seduction.

Turning to look at him from over your shoulder, you toss your hair just so, sending shimmering waves down your back. You twist gracefully at the waist until your bodice gapes, revealing the contours of your body.

“Think of it as a reward,” your voice is supple as the velvet cushions surrounding you on the floor. “Someone to take care of you. My only desire is your comfort and pleasure.”

With that, you pour the tea and walk over to him, proferring a cup.

“That is indeed generous,” the Mandalorian cocks his head. “But I usually find more comfort in solitude.”

Yet, again, he makes no attempt to leave, accepting the cup from your hand graciously. Worn leather caresses your skin as your fingers brush against each other, reaching around the warm porcelain. The jaw of his helmet lifts, and you catch a glimpse of bronze skin and coarse black hair while he raises the cup to his lips.

Surprisingly full lips.

What did he mean by offering resistance? Was this a challenge? Some test of your professional acumen?

A skilled courtesan is, above all else, a student of human nature and hidden desires. She must know what her clients want before they speak the words. Before they know it themselves. This Mandalorian wanted to be…tempted.

Timidity would yield nothing.

You arch an eyebrow, “I have never known a man who preferred solitude to my company.” Then, you stare directly into the jet-black surface of his helmet’s visor. Meeting his gaze, you place a delicate hand over his chest plate and fill your voice with honey, “Let tonight be a rare exception to the usual.”

The Beskar feels cool against your palm and the pads of your fingertips. You hadn’t realized how flushed you’d become with your heart beating this fast. The insistent yearning between your thighs matches each pulse coursing through your veins.

“I am here to satisfy your needs. Whatever the Mandalorian desires is his for the taking.”

While the bounty hunter remains stubbornly silent, you can hear his breathing grow shallow through the modulator.

Having made your supplication, you draw back. “If it is tranquility the Mandalorian desires, perhaps I could play the valachord or sing for him?”

“Sing?” he huffs, sounding amused. It’s funny, hearing the smirk on his lips.

Well, at least he’s not completely immune to your charm.

“Pleasure takes many forms,” you say, flashing him a demure smile. “As such, we courtesans are skilled in many arts. I’ve been told my voice is exceedingly lovely. And I know all the Twelve Ballads of Kiergaard.”

You shift onto the edge of a thick cushion to pour yourself some tea. When you raise the cup to your lips, the look of elegant femininity slips—just for a moment, so he can see the earnest hunger filling your gaze. You fix him with your most smoldering stare, “Though I can certainly think of other ways to please you with my mouth.”

The tea tastes bitter on your tongue, but you hardly notice, waiting for his reaction.

The Mandalorian says nothing as he pulls the rifle over his head, settling it against the door frame. He walks over in a slow saunter that makes his hips dip and sway. Slowly, he extends his hand to take your face in his leather fingers, lifting up your chin.

“You want me to fuck your mouth?”

Your breath catches in your throat. A wave of arousal courses through your body, emanating from your clenching belly until it ripples over every surface of your skin, pinching your nipples.

“If the Mandalorian—” but he cuts off whatever beguiling line you intended.

“I thought this was about what I wanted?” he demands.

Suddenly, you’re too flustered to speak, confused by the sudden shift in dynamic. All his polite reticence had been an act. He was done testing you. He wanted to assert dominance.

In answer, you lower your gaze.

“That’s right,” he says cooly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re remembering what you’re for.” The Mandalorian takes the cup from your hands and tosses it aside. “There’s no more need to talk. Don’t open your mouth unless I tell you.”

Then he reaches down to his belt and unbuckles it.

And to think you worried he’d be too self-conscious for roleplay. This is going to be so good.

“You’re here to give me whatever I want?” he asks, his tone gruff and intimidating.

You don’t look up, just nod.

He laughs, “I’m glad we understand each other.”

With your gaze locked on the floor, you watch the tread of his boots make their way to a lacquer armchair in the corner of the room. His knees splay wide as he leans back in his seat. “Answer my question.”

“Whatever the Mandalorian desires, I will give him.”

“Because tonight, your body is for me.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding in confirmation.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

You answer truthfully. “That you’re a dangerous man, and I should do my best to please you.”

“Smart girl,” he says in a rough whisper. “But don’t worry, I have no intention of harming you. I’m going to make you come. Then you’ll sing for me, senaar'ika.”

Senaar'ika. Little bird.

Your whole body flushes with heat.

“What do you know about Mandalorian customs?”

When you hesitate, he adds, “You can answer me.”

“I know that it’s a sacrilege to look upon your face. That to touch your helmet, even by accident, is to forfeit my life.”

“Then you’ll understand why I need to tie you down.”

At that, your head snaps up to look at him.

“Or tie you up. I haven’t decided yet.”

Part of you is terrified by the thought of being captive to this man for hours, splayed wide and helpless. The other part of you wishes he’d do it this second.

“You can undress while I make up my mind.”

Obeying his command, you stand and reach behind you for the lacings of your bodice.

This, at least, is an art in which you can make your mistress proud. The trick is to envision it’s a private ritual, something deeply intimate. That you always loosen the silken knots this slowly. That each row of the lacings must be pulled free, one—by—one.

You lift your elbows so that he glimpses the soft curves of your breasts as you move. Slip your right arm from its fitted sleeve, then the left, until you’re certain the dress will fall, cascading over your body like waves caressing the shore.

Only then do you turn, rolling your hips and then your shoulders, displaying your nakedness, before you finally look over to where he’s sitting, as though you’d forgotten anyone was watching.

At some point during your performance, the Mandalorian had leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together in wrapt attention.

“That was beautifully done,” he murmurs. “You may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart swells, hearing his admiration—perhaps because it sounds so genuine. Suddenly, all you can think about is how best to please him, the things you’ll do with your lips and fingers.

“I understand the Hapan courtesans from Dark Garden are the most expensive, the most prized companions in all of Coruscant.” The hunter’s voice sinks into a low, husky rasp as he says, “But tonight, I’m not interested in your talents, though I’m sure you have many. This is about what I want to do to you. Tonight, you belong to me.”

It’s just as well he demanded your silence because you can’t speak.

You know he can see you breathing, shallow and fast, from the rise and fall of your breasts. See your pulse thundering against your throat. He’s feeding off your fear, you realize. That’s why he keeps trying to catch you off guard like this. The Mandalorian wanted to shatter your artful calm and see something raw and real in your eyes.

You know you should be afraid—and you are—but you’ve never been more turned on.

So when he gets up from his seat to approach you, you don’t bother hiding the way your whole body trembles in trepidation.

The Mandalorian crouches to pick up the belt from your discarded robe.

“Give me your hands.”

He uses the fabric to tie your wrists together, wrapping the belt around and between them in a complicated knot. Then, his strong hands pull you under one of the lanterns suspended from the ceiling.

Cupping it in his palm, he lifts the glowing orb from its hook to set it down beside the abandoned tea service. The cabin grows dim, like he’s wrapped you in shadows.

That’s when you realize what’s about to happen. Unspooling the cable from his whipcord, he loops it through the empty hook. He’s going to suspend you from the ceiling by your wrists.

The breath coming from your nostrils is so fast now that it’s the only thing you can hear in the close, quiet cabin of your shuttle. But you say nothing. You can’t protest; you can only submit.

After securing your bound wrists to the cord, he inspects the knots.

“Not too tight?”

You release a deep breath and shake your head no.

“You remember the signal?” Mando asks with concern, breaking from the fantasy entirely.

“Yes,” you smile up at him with more confidence than you really feel—trying to ignore the insistent throbbing between your legs.

“You can stop me at any time.”

“I know.”

“Alright,” he says before his voice drops into a rough whisper. “You’re giving me total control. Anything I want is mine.”

Fuck, just hearing him say that makes you ache with need. That same trembling emanates from inside you, fear and arousal, two halves of the same coin. You don’t know precisely what the bounty hunter plans to do to you—and the suspense just makes the fantasy feel more real.

Within seconds, you’ll be tied up, defenseless against him and his desires. The only way to stop him is to say the safe word, and you already know you won’t. You want it too much.

You’ve spent months building up to this—years, really. It’s my choice, you’d told him. It’s different when it’s my choice.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.

Then he pulls down on the whipcord, and your arms lift above your head.

For one panicked moment, you think he’s going to haul you entirely off the ground, but your feet remain on the floor, bearing your weight. You remind yourself that this is his domain. He knows how to bind, what the body can withstand.

And for now, the tension feels manageable. Slack enough so you don’t feel the strain in your joints; taut enough so you can grip the cord to steady yourself.

Yet you remain utterly helpless, unable to turn your head or move without losing your balance.

He takes a few steps back, leather boots creaking, and you watch as the Mandalorian strips his gloves off before removing the Beskar from his arms and chest. The fabric underneath outlines every contour of his powerfully muscular body.

Though not as graceful as your tradecraft, he certainly knows how to build anticipation. Each time his hands grip, pull, and tug, your stomach clenches.

Soon, you feel volatile, ready to explode, waiting for him to touch you. When he finally does—when you feel the tip of his calloused finger tracing over the length of your spine, it burns through you, down to your core, so hot your cheeks flush scarlet.

“It’s a good thing we have all night,” he murmurs. “There’s a lot I want to do with you.”

As he circles, the view plate sweeps up and down your body as though inspecting some prize captured in a snare. All you can do is stand there on display, completely exposed, until he makes a satisfied sound, a hummm that vibrates through the modulator. The hunter, pleased to discover what he’s caught.

“I feel deeply honored to receive you as my reward,” the Mandalorian sounds eager, standing behind you, voice full of hunger. “Now spread your legs.”

The breath catches in your throat, hearing that tight ache—the same raw yearning to match your own. You want to obey.

But there’s no give to the whipcord. The bindings on your wrist pull tighter the farther your feet draw apart. Though you can still balance, your shoulders start to burn from the stretch. Slowly, you rise onto tiptoes. But not fast enough—

Wrapping an arm around your waist, the Mandalorian lifts you from the floor.

“Wider,” he commands, gripping you roughly by the knee to pry open your thighs with his other hand. You have to bite back a scream. By now, you’re so wound up that just the sensation—the air cool against your wet center, his powerful chest pressed against your back, his fingers digging into your skin makes you drunk with lust.

“You’re so wet already, senaar'ika. It’s slicking down your thighs,” the Mandalorian groans, breath warm against the back of your neck. His hand gripping your knee slides upward between your legs, tracing toward the heat of your skin. “No wonder you were begging me to fuck you.”

His fingers part and probe—massaging in slow, firm circles that spiral until you’re panting. Every stroke sends pleasure pulsing through you, and you can’t stop yourself from whimpering.

“You like it when I use my hand?” he asks, voice maddeningly calm. Only the persistent throbbing against your hip, matching each beat of his heart, betrays his arousal. When you release a sigh in desperate delight, he says, “Maybe this is how I should start.”

And fuck, if Mando doesn’t knows exactly where to touch you—how much to bear down and how fast to go.

“Mmmph,” a moan of deep satisfaction escapes his lips as he thrusts two fingers inside you, sending a gush of wetness welling against his palm. He pushes them in and out, obviously relishing the obscene squelching sound.

Wait! When did he take off his helmet?

No. No, this is forbidden. This is dangerous.

You couldn’t move your head to look at him even if you wanted to, but your eyes shut tightly just the same. The fear of seeing his face, the dire consequences, amplify every panicked thought running through your mind, heightening every sensation—his fingers curling, his thumb pressing down over your clit.

Your breaths come sharp and shallow now. All the blood in your body rushing between your legs. The stimulation is almost too much to bear, the excitement and panic roiling within you—the Mandalorian dipping his fingers inside, slipping them out to circle and stroke. Drawing a wet line between your cunt over and over.

Desire ripples through you in waves. Your body tightens, muscles clenching. Your bound hands keep straining in their futile urge to grab his wrist, your knees fighting against him to shut tight around his thrusting fingers.

You’re close now. So close, you’re on the brink.

He kisses the back of your neck, “Don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you.”

“Aaangh!” That’s when he presses harder, circles faster, and you come, “Haaa-aah!”

Your orgasm crashes through you in a tidal wave that upends gravity. You cry out desperately with all the air left in your lungs—the relentless pounding of your heartbeat against your eardrums making you dizzy.

“Haa-aah! Aaah!”

Losing equilibrium, you sway, and the bindings pull painfully around your wrists. You’re at the limits of your flexibility, fighting to keep your balance before the Mandalorian’s muscular arm tightens around your waist, until he’s bearing enough of your weight to keep you upright.

“I’ve got you,” he says gently, pressing a tender kiss over your head. “Stand up. Come on. Legs spread. You know what I want.”

You shift on your heels, testing your unsteady knees. “I can’t—” but your words break off into a gasp when he clasps his hand around your throat, warm and sticky with your come.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against your temple. “I told you not to open your mouth unless I said so.”

His tone is soft, and he kisses you tenderly again through a tangle of damp hair, your forehead glistening with sweat. But his fingers grip tighter in warning.

“Don’t speak unless you’re begging me for more.”

You nod once in understanding.

“Smart girl,” he says, and without the helmet on, you can hear the wry grin on his lips. “I’m glad we understand each other. It’s going to make everything so much easier. But just to be sure—”

His wide palm fans out from your waist, gliding down your body to slip over the curve of your buttocks.

Then he brings it down in a sharp smack that echoes through the quiet cabin. Hearing that slap, feeling the sting on your skin, the burning heat that radiates from his handprint—shakes you from the hazy lust.

It’s not enough to want to obey.

“I’m going to take good care of you, senaar'ika. But you have to do as you’re told.”

While he’s playing a role, the pain is very real. Yet this fantasy is about your powerlessness. Whatever the Mandalorian wants to do to you, you have to take it. Yes, the pain is undeniable—but the adrenaline?—it sharpens the hunger.

When you finally regain your balance and tilt your pelvis forward at just the right angle, your ass brushes against his straining erection, and he groans, a low vibration you feel through his chest. Arousal arcs through you, and you gasp responsively. Even now, as your body tingles numbly in the aftermath of climax, your cunt still aches, longing to be full of him.

With his entire body sealed against you, you feel the firm pressure swelling against your ass. It throbs, heat radiating through the canvas flight suit. The coarse fabric is rough, rubbing over your slapped skin.

“You feel that?” he whispers, grinding the entire length of his cock against you. “That’s what you’re going to take for me.”

Holy fuck, he’s huge. Thick, too. Your mind reels at the impossibility; can you really fit him inside you?

“You’re going to take it all,” the bounty hunter huffs, as if he’d heard your thoughts. “You’re going to come with my cock buried in your ass.”

Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!

It’s something you’ve talked about, something you said you wanted and prepared for, but….you’ve never had anyone this big up your ass before. He’s going to tear you apart.

“Are you scared? Because trust me, I’m going to make you ready. You’re going to beg me for it. Then you’ll come so hard with my cock in your ass, nothing else will ever feel as good.”

The hormones that suddenly surge through your body make arousal indistinguishable from panic. You should be so afraid, and yet, you want this. Under the fear, you’re still full of need, urgent, and emphatic.

“After that, if you’re lucky, then I’ll fuck your mouth.”

Shit! Shit, that’s…you try to banish away the shame washing over you. He’s going to claim your body in every way imaginable, use you filthy—and it feels like you shouldn’t want this. But you do.

“Don’t worry,” he sighs, voice sounding softer now, gentle. “I’m not going to rush this. First, I want to explore your beautiful body.”

You feel the cold Beskar plates against the backs of your thighs and shiver.

His hands slide outward along your shoulder blades, curving down and around just enough for his fingers to lightly brush the sides of your breasts. Then, the Mandalorian’s arms circle you, reaching up to grasp them in both hands. Arousal rekindles as he kneads and squeezes, pressing them together tightly. Igniting as he tugs and pinches.

And when your nipples are so tender you whine, “Mmmph!” he soothes them in his wide palms.

“You—are—so—beautiful,” he moans, kissing the curve of your jaw.

Behind you, his lips trail soft, open-mouth kisses down the back of your neck, between your shoulders, along your spine, and lower, until he drops to one knee. His hands trace over your ribcage, your sides, the indentation of your waist, and the flare of your hips.

The pads of his fingertips are coarse but tender.

“Look at you. Legs spread. Open and wet for me. When I dream of you, this is what I’ll see.”

Then he crouches between your knees to press lighter, softer kisses up the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you grow desperate with anticipation. “Haa!” you gasp, already panting.

Spirals of arousal coil through you, so dizzying you have to grip the whipcord for balance.

Soon, you’re lost to anything but the desire for him to taste you. That he’s risked so much by removing his helmet is the only thing keeping you from breaking position, regardless of the punishment. That’s how much you long to tilt your hips and rub yourself against his mouth.

Don’t speak unless you’re begging me for more. Would he like it if you begged?

“Please,” you whimper, voice full of desperation.

He groans in satisfaction before making one long sweep of his tongue, right through the very center of your urgent longing. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!”

“I like hearing you beg.” Then his lips press firmly between your thighs, enfolding you in his warm, wet mouth.

Okay, wow, he’s good at this. He’s really, really good at this.

The Mandalorian’s tongue searches for your clit, stroking and circling in a rhythm that drags you back to the brink almost instantly. But slowly, agonizingly slowly, to hold you at the edge of pleasure—like he could do this, keep you suspended there—forever.

“Show me how much you want it,” he says, hot breath tickling against your delicate skin.

If you could bury your fingers in his hair, you would. Instead, you shift all of your weight onto one leg, using what remains of your equilibrium to drape the other over his shoulder, feeling the rough stubble of his beard and the shell of his ear press against the inside of your thigh.

Helping you balance, one strong hand grips you by the hipbone while the other slips over your knee before guiding his mouth between the sopping wet folds of your cunt.

You tense every muscle, digging your heel into his sinewy back to try to keep him there. Right there!

He rewards you by lapping faster—and then, when you cry out, speeding up even more. “Sing for me, senaar'ika.”

Every throb of pleasure ripples through your body from your nipples to your scalp, all the way down to your toes, until you can’t help yourself from rocking your hips, increasing the pressure just a little more. You feel each bob and turn of his head as he keeps at it, caressing you in spirals as a long, luscious wave of ecstasy swells inside you.

Mando’s fingers tighten around your thigh to hold you in place. He keeps going, maintaining his rhythm so that you can ride each cresting surge. It builds low, climbing and arcing higher, and when it finally overwhelms you, when you let go, and it rushes through you—you do sing. You cry out in one long wail that lasts the length and breadth of your climax.

Your body goes limp once the orgasm fades, and just like last time, the Mandalorian is the only source of strength to keep you upright. Hands clutching your hips, he pulls back to place a wet, sticky kiss low on your belly, then says, “We’re not done yet, little dove. Not nearly done yet.”

Gods in heaven, how much more of this can you take? You’d love nothing better than to sink to the floor in post-orgasmic bliss…but his cock is still in his pants.

Too afraid to look down, you feel his body shifting between your knees and wonder, what next? Should you offer to reciprocate? Fuck, you want to. Right now, you want him in your mouth so badly that it’s all you can do not to beg for it.

Your lips part, the words ready on your tongue—

When suddenly, he lifts you by the back of your thighs, settling you on top of his shoulders. You barely have time to gasp, to grip the braided cable between your hands—to think—before he buries his face between your thighs again.

“Oh, gods!” you gasp. “Oh, haah…!”

The tension in the whipcord keeps you from falling backward, but you feel precariously weightless sitting on his shoulders. Reeling, overstimulated from your last orgasm, you instinctively try to writhe away from the press of his wet tongue, his hot mouth, the coarse hair of his beard, and nearly lose your balance.

Mando steadies you, wrapping his arms around your lower back, ass braced against his thick biceps as he works, tongue parting the soft creases of your cunt to find your sore, throbbing clit.

This time, he holds nothing back, laving and shaking his head until your vision starts to blur; the pleasure is so intense it’s blinding.

Oh shit! Merciful gods, this might break you. It’s too much. Too much. But you can’t move. Caged in his arms, you have to take what he gives. It feels so good.

You don’t think it can get any better until he starts to suck. After that, you can’t think about anything anymore. Your mind is just blank. Static. White noise.

Fuck! You’re at the brink again—so fucking close—your heartbeat is thundering against your ribs. The muscles of your inner thighs lock, clenching around his jaw. Your body is poised right there. Right there! That exhilarating moment before—

And at that's when the Mandalorian slips a finger, slick with your come, inside your ass.

The sensation kindles alarm, and your entire body tenses in response. All your instincts awaken in primal fear to remind you just how vulnerable you are.

Okay! It's okay! Just relax.

In answer, his other hand begins sweeping up and down your thigh, caressing and soothing the tension away.

That’s right. You have to relax. He’s doing this for you, to make you ready. Right now, your pleasure is the only thing that matters. Focus on his tongue circling your clit, his finger gently caressing millions of tiny nerve endings.

But he slides up so seamlessly, so deep inside you, the pressure pools in your abdomen, and you gasp, “Oh, gods!” again.

Don’t resist the sensation—yield to it. Work with it. Take what you need.

Pulling on the whipcord for leverage, you thrust your hips against his mouth. He groans in encouragement, responding by sucking harder, licking faster—and then, spearing his tongue inside you.

Okay, yes. Yes! Gods, yes! You have never come so soon after your last orgasm, but he’s going to get you there.

That’s when he adds a second finger.

You feel it stretch you, but your body doesn’t resist this time. And when he starts working them back and forth in rhythm with the thrusting of his tongue, it starts to feel so good. So good.

Each rut of his tongue and stroke of his fingers sends heat coursing through you, so flushed now that your skin seems to be on fire. Your hair clings to your sweaty cheeks. But nothing is as hot as his breath between your thighs.

So you move faster, rubbing yourself against the raw stubble of his chin, the tip of his nose, drowning him in your cunt. All the while, he increases the pressure of his fingers just a little more, massaging inside you.

You start to shake, the muscles in your legs trembling, as the Mandalorian twists his hand, rolls his wrist, and you feel the brush of his knuckles against the tender skin of your asshole.

Then, he sucks your clit between his teeth, and you come in a burst of ecstasy so sharp it makes you scream. There’s a second when your vision goes entirely white—like staring into a bright sun—and your heart thumps so hard you hear the blood rushing in your ears.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your stomach.

His fingers gently slip out of you so he can grasp you by the ribcage with both hands, bracing you as you shudder through the ricocheting aftermath of your orgasm.

“You taste like heaven.”

He would know. His face, his hands, his neck, and shoulders are all covered in your come.

“I told you I’d take care of you,” Mando’s broad hands stroke the length of your back, and the sound of his voice melts away any lingering doubts. He knows when to be gentle and when to be rough. You can trust him with this.

When the bounty hunter ducks his head out from between your thighs, you think you’ll have to stand up again, get back into position. And you know you’ll be punished—but you can’t. You’re shaking too much for that.

It doesn’t matter. Your feet never touch the floor. Bending you at the waist, he slings you over one broad, muscular shoulder, so that you dangle limp and dizzy, upside down as he steps into a lunge to lift you both off the ground. Tearing your wrists free from the whipcord at last, your arms fall numbly behind him, blood rushing back into your digits.

Draped over his shoulder like a hunter’s prize, he strides across the cabin toward the bed.

Perhaps you’re delirious—you must be after three orgasms. Or maybe it’s because your fingers are so desperate to find new life. But when you look up (or is it down?) to see his perfectly sculpted ass outlined in dark gray canvas about a foot from your face…weak as you are, you can’t stop yourself from reaching for it. Your hand stretches lower until you feel its firm contours press satisfyingly against your palm. And gods help you, but you squeeze. Hard.

The Mandalorian chuckles, a deep booming laugh that has your knees jostling against his chest. You’re breaking from the submissive fantasy, but maybe he won’t—

“I knew you wanted it,” he laughs, voice full of triumph as—fingers splayed wide, he slaps his hand down over your ass cheek—the exact same spot as last time—so hard the sting brings tears to your eyes.

Fuck! Your jaw drops. The pain sharpens all of your senses, bringing everything into focus. Your thighs squeeze together, cunt clenching against the sensation. Fuck that stings. Right. He’s back in the role. Time to be rough.

“You’ve wanted my cock inside you since the moment I stepped through that door. Haven’t you?”

When he tosses you onto the bed, you fall onto the mattress, flat on your belly. But before you can get to your hands beneath you, he presses a knee down between your shoulder blades to keep you from moving.

“You want to beg me some more, senaar'ika?”

The silk belt of your robe slips over your eyes, and he lashes it tightly behind your head.

“Tell me!” he demands, like he’s making you confess to something.

“Yes,” you whisper into the sheets, words muffled by the bedding.

“Yes, what?”

“I want your cock.”

“Where?” he asks, and the sound of him tugging down his zipper fills your ears.

“Inside me,” you gulp. “I want your cock inside me.”

You hear him tearing open the condom wrapper, “That’s right. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please—”

Then he’s on top of you, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your face, his knee lifting from your back to part your thighs, his massive weight pinning you underneath him.

Reaching between your naked bodies, he wraps a hand around the base of his shaft to rub the swollen head of his cock along the cleft of your ass, back and forth, slicking the entrance before he pushes inside you.

You cry out in shock.

So does he.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, that’s so tight! Haa, haa!”

Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss atop your head, pausing with just the first few inches of him inside, letting your body stretch to fit him.

“You okay?” he whispers quietly against your cheek, his face damp with sweat.

When you nod, he begins tracing his tongue over your earlobe, kissing your jaw and the corner of your mouth. His beard is still drenched with your come.

“This feels amazing,” his breath is hot in your ear. “Just this. You're gripping me so tight.”

You’re tempted to stop here, to say the safe word. And you trust Mando to stop; you know he would. That’s why he’s reminding you. And this does feel amazing, his body enfolding you, the rub of his bare skin over yours, the feeling of every firm muscle pressing into your soft curves—the pressure inside you.

But you want this. You want all of him.

“More,” you moan.

The aching burn is so intense as his enormous cock plunges deeper inside you—slowly, but without ceasing. “Oh fuck!” he gasps. “Fuuuuck, that feels so good. Almost, ha-aah…almost. It’s almost in.”

The burn as he opens you—the way the entire universe narrows to this bodily sensation, until you perceive nothing but its fantastic pressure—only anal sex does this for you. But its so hard to trust someone to be careful, to make you feel safe in spite of being so vulnerable and powerless. Mando does that.

“I’m going to start, haah…I’m going to start moving, okay?” he says, panting from arousal and restraint.

Adjusting his weight onto his elbows, he rolls his hips gently, strokes building. There’s so much lubricant on the condom; each shallow thrust is frictionless, but you’re still trembling like one of the strings of your valachord.

“Haah, you feel so good. So—nnngh—so fucking good!” Threading his fingers through your hair, his forehead drops against your neck, and the heat from each ragged breath spills over your shoulders. “Anngh!”

Then he starts fucking you in earnest. He pushes deeper now, pulling out further to feel the grip of your asshole squeeze up and down the length of his shaft. Already, you feel arousal peaking within you with each long, slow stroke.

Mando’s width and length stretches you, makes you burn. And you moan, fingers twining in the sheets as the pleasure becomes indistinguishable from the pain.

“You like this?” his voice is teasing again, getting back into the role.

“Mm-hmm,” you moan, unable to form words.

It’s like you can’t feel anything but him moving inside you, pleasure surging in ebbs and flows, like a tidal current. It’s hard to describe. The barrier between your anus and cunt is so thin you feel him everywhere. It burns, this inner blazing heat.

It’s a sweet agony, like the handprint on your ass, making everything tingle with sensitivity, amplifying every sensation. Even the pressure of the mattress against your clit is enough to send a thrill through you.

“Is this the biggest cock you’ve ever taken?”

You cry out in torment and desire as he shoves into you harder this time, and your whole body bends and turns in a desperate effort to accept every inch.

“Yes,” you want to sob into the mattress. It aches. It’s so fucking good you could scream.

“You’re taking it so good,” he whispers as he sinks in even deeper. “That’s it.”

And he’s finally all the way inside you now, so deep that when he starts thrusting, you feel the slap of his sac against the dip of your cunt. Each stroke presses you harder against the mattress—hitting you where it feels best inside and out.

And strong, so strong he pushes your body upward on the bed.

“I want to fuck you like this all night.” His voice is tight with strain—just barely holding on, waiting for you.

But he’s not moving fast enough for you to come.

“More,” you whimper into the damp folds of silk.

Mando pushes in again, burying himself balls-deep inside you before whispering against your shoulder, “What's that?”

You need more. “I need more…I need—”

“You worried I won’t fuck you hard enough?” he laughs, plunges in deep, and bites the soft flesh of your shoulder. It’s not enough to break the skin—but you cry out from the painfully sweet ache of it.

“Beg me, senaar'ika,” he says, sitting back on his heels, filling his lungs with each heaving breath. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

But this time, you don’t want to obey. You don’t want to say please. You want to find out exactly how hard the Mandalorian can give it to you. If you want to come with him, you need more, and you know how to get it.

You turn your head so he can see the jut of your chin, fill your voice with challenge and say, “For the love of god, fuck me harder.”

The bounty hunter scoffs in shocked bemusement.

His arm hooks around your elbows, pinning them behind you, “You’ll regret that, little dove.”

Then he yanks back on your arms, pulling you off the bed, and against his chest. Your ass presses into the bowl of his hips, thighs sealed against his. His other hand slides up your stomach and between your breasts to clasp around your throat. A touch that means possession.

The Mandalorian owns you now, and he knows it.

Mando slams into you, and you want to cry out—but you stifle it somehow. You don’t want him to stop. You’re so wound up that tears well against your eyelids, dampening the blindfold. It scares you how much you want this. Gods help you, but you do. You fucking love it.

His thrusts remain slow at first. Deliberate. Punishing. Yes, punish me! His pelvis clashes against your buttocks like the snap of a paddle. But the tempo increases as he starts to get into it. Soon, he pumps into you so hard that it makes your breasts bounce, and your entire body starts to sweat. Your hair swings around your face, tendrils sticking to your neck, your flushed cheeks and forehead.

He never loosens his grip. Your shoulders start to ache from being pulled back so far—your throat throbs against his palm—and yet you want nothing more than the slap of his body, the feel of his cock filling you. It’s like he’s reaching to the core of your very being with every thrust.

Yes, you think, fuck me. Make me take it.

The bounty hunter’s hand tightens around your throat—unconsciously, you think—because of how close he is. Each ragged breath vibrates against your back. You can still breathe, but his grip keeps you dizzy and light-headed.

A sharp thrust, and your arousal climbs. Another, and it goes higher. Mando bucks and bucks, and the world behind your eyelids becomes bright and sparkly around the edges. Sensation shivers upward through you, strengthening by the moment.

The climax builds from somewhere deep inside you, and you sink into it with every thrust, slipping deeper into pure instinctive sensation, until it claims your whole body in white-hot ecstasy. When you come, the desperation in your wordless cries transforms into a feral scream as you fall forward, tumbling back onto the sheets when he releases you.

The silk feels so cool and smooth against your feverish cheeks.

“Haah, aah! I knew you’d love it,” he groans triumphantly. “Nnngh!”

But he’s almost at the brink himself—his body contracting, abdominals clenching. That’s when he pulls out, denying himself release.

The mattress dips and creeks as he climbs off you, and off the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet, senaar'ika. We’re not even close.”

You hear the snap of latex when he removes the condom.

What next? You’re limp and dizzy, lying sprawled across the covers. Will he make me come so hard I pass out? Fuck me until I can't walk straight? You shouldn’t want that as much as you do, but complete surrender can feel so sweet.

“I can do this all night,” Mando pants.

Then, he lunges across the bed and grabs your ankles so tightly you feel the press of his thumbs dig into your bones as he drags you down the mattress, until your legs dangle off the side. The tips of your toes brush against the floor.

“You thought you could push me?” His voice has lowered almost to a growl. “But that’s not how this works. You belong to me.”

He pushes your thighs apart roughly, then clutches your hair and tugs back hard enough to bring renewed tears to your eyes. Bent over the edge of the mattress like that in front of him, you feel his other hand seize you by the hip, and with that, he shoves the whole thick length of his cock inside your cunt.

“Aaah!” you cry out as he starts thrusting faster. His fist in your hair tightens as he pumps into you, and already you know you’re going to come again. How is that even possible?

“That’s right,” he pants. “You know you have to take it, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Yes, make me take it. Gods help you, but you fucking love it. There’s nothing you love more than the slap of his body, the feel of his cock. “Yes!”

"Because you're mine. Mine to fuck."

"Yours."

Mando fucks you so hard and so fast. Your ass would not have been able to take this. Shallow rapid thrusts until, growling, he rams his full length into you. Then he’s pumping inside you again and again. By now, the shame you think you should feel at being taken like this has been eclipsed by the pleasure surging within you.

Every single goddamned stroke of the Mandalorian’s cock sets you on fire. A wildfire so hot it consumes you, burns you down to nothing. You press your face into the mattress and feel the tears welling in your eyes spill down your cheeks, pooling against the sheets.

The only sounds in the cabin are his guttural grunts of pleasure and the slap of your bodies against each other. Just hearing it turns you on even more.

He’s moving faster now, and you’re nothing but heat. Pleasure tightens, blazing inside you.

Mando fucks you, and fucks you, and then you’re coming again, clenching around his cock. You come so hard that consciousness is nothing but white light, white noise. Your cry is muffled by the sheets and blankets, but you wail it out anyway, unable to hold back.

“Yes,” he whispers as he pistons even faster than before, his hand on your hip gripping tighter. “Fuck, yes—”

The Mandalorian groans as he throbs inside you. He goes tense, makes an animal sound that seems to come from low in his belly, and slams into you one more time.

Then he’s pulling you off the bed and onto your knees. You feel his wet cock press against your face. His voice is hardly more than a whisper, trembling with need. “Open your mouth.”

His fist in your hair doesn’t leave you much choice. You open, and Mando pushes inside. "You're going to swallow all of it."

It’s all you can do to take him in. You taste your come slick around his cock as it slides between your lips. He’s so huge that you can barely use your tongue, but you bob your head, doing your best as he thrusts, shallow and then deep.

The Mandalorian's grip takes control, sometimes pushing no more than the head of his cock into your mouth, and you suck, hallowing your cheeks—then shoving into your throat, making you choke and gag around him.

It doesn’t take long.

He shouts out, and then he comes, filling your mouth. You swallow it down, every drop, the sensation of him throbbing between your lips, almost lost in the spasms of pleasure still echoing through you.

The Mandalorian pulls out then. The fingers buried in your hair release their grip. Pausing one long moment to regain his breath, he brushes the sweat-soaked hair from your cheeks.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

Really? Blindfolded. Flushed and sweaty, legs tangled beneath you, slumped against the bed frame?

But the honest tenderness in his voice has you pressing a hand to your chest.

His cock is still half-hard, nuzzled against your cheek, and there’s a second when you’re tempted to pull him down to slide back onto it. But…you’ve reached your limits.

And the Mandalorian is in no better shape. You hear him collapse onto his knees beside you on the floor, crawling over on his hands and knees to reach for something. His helmet, maybe?

But it’s not his Beskar.

Gently, he drapes the soft folds of your robe over your shoulders and gathers you in his arms. He leans back, sitting propped against the bed, settling you onto his lap. You let your head fall against his chest and delight when he rests his chin atop your head.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you manage to form words. “Just give me a second. I’m…melting.”

That makes him chuckle, and for a while, you both stay like that, laughing, breathing hard, barely able to move.

“I wasn’t too rough?”

“No! No, you were perfect. I loved it. It’s like—like you read my mind from that night we met. It was everything I wanted. You took such good care of me.”

His voice remains concerned. “But you’re shaking all over?” and his arms wrap tighter around you.

“It was just so intense.”

“Here,” he says pressing a cup of tea into your hands, then lifting it to your lips when your fingers tremble too much to grip it tight enough. Fatherhood has softened him.

“Are you?” you ask timidly.

“Am I what?”

“Are you okay?” You feel strangely shy in front of a man who just fucked you senseless. “I mean, was it okay that I asked you to do this? Are you okay with being—with what we did?”

“It was amazing,” he sighs, kissing your temple.

But that doesn’t really answer your question.

Honestly, this is the part you were most afraid of…that it would change everything. That no matter how good the sex had or hadn’t been, you thought, afterward, he’d lose respect for you, and it wouldn’t be worth it.

You don’t want his judgment or pity for needing this.

But there's no contempt in his voice. He doesn’t sound righteous. Or cold, or callous. And he doesn’t seem intent on sneaking out to leave you alone in regret.

“Before, I was worried that I might hurt you…and that was hard to balance against my desire to protect you," the Mandalorian says thoughtfully. "But you made more than enough noise to let me know how much you enjoyed it.”

“Oh gods,” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth, absolutely mortified.

“That was the best part,” Mando lifts your hand from your face, tilting your chin up to kiss your nose, then your lips, not shying away like some men do, after they've come in your mouth. So you part your lips and feel the brush of his tongue against yours. His fingers wrap around your neck, deepening the kiss, and pulling you closer.

It’s not the unbridled passion from before–it’s tenderness and longing. Two lonely hearts finding shelter in a precious moment of fragile intimacy.

“I was just surprised, given…”

“Some of my clients never touch me. Some have hurt me—said horrific things. Most are rich businessmen,” you shrug. “Nervous about cheating on their wives. Regardless—given what they pay, they all expect a performance...

So it’s nice to let someone else put in the work,” your lips tug into a sly grin. “Seriously, five times? And your dom talk is shockingly good! The growling is very hot!” Guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones. "Now I get why Anassa keeps offering you a job."

"She told you that?" He scoffs.

"Hmm, she likes to tease me about having a crush on the Mandalorian."

Nestled into the crook of his arm, you feel the rumble of renewed laughter building in his chest.

"She told me I could keep the armor on."

You reach a hand behind you to stroke his jaw and bury your fingers in his hair. "I'm glad you didn't."

Mando's head turns in your grasp to place a soft kiss against your palm.

“And you don’t think differently of me for…wanting this?”

"I know the difference between fantasy and reality," then he leans forward to stroke your earlobe with the tip of his nose. "And I bet I could make you scream just as loud, taking you soft and sweet."

Now why does that make you blush redder than your slapped ass?

“Maybe next time, we can switch roles. Then I’ll understand better why you like it.”

Next time? You love that! He’s already thinking about the future.

Your brow arches, “Maybe I'll tie you up—borrow one of Katlin's whips to smack that tight ass of yours.”

“Oh, yeah?”

There are no words for the wicked anticipation in Mando’s voice.

Next time...

****************

Thanks so much for reading!!

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