oscarssimp

[oscarssimp]

oscar isaac appreciation post (again).

but for his belly.

LOOK AT HIS TUMMYYYY😻😻

i wanna rub and kiss it :(

his tum tum is so cutie 😭😭

LOOK AT HIS LIL ROLLS AHHHHHHHHH

no babyyyy dont hide your belly >:(

YIPPIE❤❤😻😻💍💍

[oscarssimp]

[oscarssimp]

I miss my puppy

[oscarssimp]

Troubleshooting

Nathan Bateman x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 23: Begging

Summary: Nathan can't say no to a challenge.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry).

Warnings: reader who has trouble orgasming by just penetration alone, p in v sex, cream pie, pet names, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 765

“Nathan please,” you gasp, grabbing hold of the edge of his desk desperately as he pounds into you from behind.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I got you.” He mutters, his voice gravely with the strain of holding back. He grasps your waist, keeping you still as he thrusts inside. 

You whine, tears in your eyes from being on the edge for so long. Part of you wishes you hadn’t told Nathan that you couldn’t come by penetration alone, but you didn’t realise quite how much of a personal challenge he would take it as. More fool you.

It feels so good, which is most of the problem. It makes pleasure spike and burn, but it never quite crests, never lets you get completely there.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, you know that?” He growls, spreading his feet wider apart to change the angle. 

If you were a little more coherent you’d throw a sarcastic comment back at him, but the time for frontal lobe thinking was long past. 

“Please!” The sob breaks in your voice. It was bordering on painful how much you needed it, how desperate you were to come. 

Your slick dripped down your thighs, the slap of skin echoing loudly with every thrust. 

“You can do it, baby,” he moans deep in his throat, “I know you can, I know you can come.” 

“I can’t,” you tense, your muscles aching from tightrope walking you along the precipice. 

“You can, you can,” he groans, the sound vibrating through you. “I believe in you.” 

It would almost be sweet if you didn’t want to cry. Pleasure twisted along your nerves, pulling them tight but refusing to snap. Sweat dripped down your back, as he moved, trying a different angle, different speed. He’d been trying for what felt like forever. Unable to stop troubleshooting until the problem was fixed. 

You gasp, as he thrusts shallowly, tensing, your blood buzzing as he hits the same spot in quick, rapid succession. 

“Nathan!” 

“There you are, there you are,” he mutters, part of you wants to hit the smug grin off his face that you just know is plastered to it. “Little more.” 

It’s good, mind-numbingly good, but it’s just not going to get you there. Your clit throbs, yearning for the smallest touch to send you over the edge. 

You sob, your arms weakening. Your left gives out for a second, buckling and you yelp before Nathan grabs you, keeping you from falling and smacking your head on the corner of his desk. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he pulls you close to his chest, kissing your neck greedily as he grinds his hips, keeping his cock deep inside. 

His beard scrapes along your skin and you moan, gasping for air. You couldn’t do this, this was too much, you needed to tap out, to-

He squeezes your left breast in his hand while his other runs down your stomach, his fingers rubbing your clit once and then you scream. 

Your orgasm hits you so hard, tensing every muscle as you convulse and cry out. Pleasure spikes up your spine, cutting under your skin and making your eyes roll back. You gasp out his name, practically vibrating and pulsing along him as your body finally collapses into pure bliss. 

Nathan groans, growling as your walls squeeze and milk him harder than he can ever remember. He shutters, barely managing to thrust one more before he comes deep inside, filling you to the brim. 

He holds you close, slumping back into his desk chair and taking you with him. 

You let out a little huff of air as you land. 

Nathan nuzzles your neck, sucking lightly and whispering sweet words. 

“So much for, ‘you can get anyone to come on your cock alone.’” You mumble, but there’s no heat in your words, too blissed out. 

He chuckles. “Guess you’re a problem I’m going to keep having to try to solve.” He holds you tight, rubbing your arms soothingly. “You okay?” 

You nod. 

He kisses your cheek. “Sorry I couldn’t keep going,” he mutters, “you just sound and feel too good for me to not indulge you.” 

You glance over your shoulder at him, pulling a face. “Indulge me?” 

He grins, “oh yeah,” and slips his hand down between your legs, he brushes his fingers over your clit and you jump, wriggling and moaning softly. “I don’t think I showed here enough attention, did I?” 

“Nathan,” you try to say warningly, but it comes out wanton. 

His grin widens, “I know you got one more in you.” 

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[oscarssimp]

Summary: Jake Lockley loves his girlfriend in every form she has.

Contents: 18+, fem werewolf!reader, predator/prey play (physical fighting, but everyone's superhuman and heals), established relationship, no mention of Marc or Steven (~4k)

a/n: this one came out sexy and sappy

*****

When Jake asks to have sex with you in your wolf form, you laugh.

But Jake’s not joking.

You’re sitting at your favorite bar in town, the quiet corner booth they reserve just for the two of you. Lemonade for you, beer for him, and a bowl of salty, crunchy potato chips on the table between you.

It used to be Jake’s usual spot, but since you’ve been dating him, the regulars have welcomed you with open arms.

It would be a shame, you think, to test out their favorite cab driver’s healing abilities by ripping him apart with your claws in the throes of passion.

“Just because I can control myself post-transformation, doesn’t mean I think clearly once I’m in my other form. You know I spend the first hour or so going completely animalistic,” you say.

Jake wipes beer foam from his mustache. “You don’t know half of the shit I’ve come back from, sweetheart. Big bird’s had to put me back together like a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle before. Besides, you still owe me for saving your ass.”

You lean back and fold your arms. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. Since I started helping you on your missions, I think it’s me who’s been saving your ass. One look at me in the dark, over 6 feet tall on my hind legs, silver-white hair, yellow eyes, and fangs the size of most guy’s dicks, I’m pretty sure your baddies see the error of their ways.”

“Quit teasing me. You’re making my jeans tight,” he grins, pushes up the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt. “You know I’ve wanted this for a long time, right? It’s not some novelty. I think your other form is just as beautiful as this one.”

He lays his hand, covered in a black leather glove, over yours.

“It’s not just that,” you say, feeling put on the spot. “When I’m a wolf, I’m different. I don’t listen to reason. I don’t know we’re dating. I wouldn’t just submit to you because you wanted to breed me.”

“So, purely biological. Breeding.” His eyebrow lifts.

You try to cover your face with your hands but Jake doesn’t let you. He takes your hands, kissing your knuckles with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to use that word,” you say, groaning. “But in my other form, that’s what it boils down to. Female werewolves, we don’t let just anyone mate with us. The male has to overpower us. You’d have to show me you could defeat me before I’d let you mount me.”

The corners of Jake’s mustache turn down in a deep, dissatisfied frown. “You don’t think I can?”

“Sweetheart,” you say, squeezing his hands.

Jake pulls them away. It’s his turn to cross his arms. He’s pissed. “You don’t think I can beat you in combat. Unbelievable.”

“You have super human abilities, but you’re still a human. You couldn’t win in a melee fight with me, no. A gun won’t stop me. I’d smell you from literally ten miles away.”

“Is this because I’m shorter than you when you’re a wolf?” Jake looks at you suspiciously.

You laugh. “I’m trying to save you a lot of pain and blood loss. That’s all.”

“I can handle those things. Done it dozens of times before,” he says gruffly. “I love a good fight. I love you. Seems like a perfect night out in the forest to me. Let me try, querida. Please.”

He all but bats his eyelashes at you, pouts his lips under his mustache. He uses every trick he has to get you to cave.

And that’s how you find yourself in a dark, quite forest upstate from the city.

The falls leaves crunch under your boots, but enough of them still cling to the branches to filter the moon light onto the forest floor.

You hadn’t wanted to do this on a full moon. You’d be at your most terrifying and more importantly, your most powerful.

Jake had, of course, insisted. Said if you were going to do this, you weren’t allowed to pull punches. Stubborn ass.

Something about the way the wind ruffles the trees makes the back of your neck tingle. He wasn’t allowed Konshu’s aid on this one. No sudden wind storms or weird ancient god tricks.

Still, even your human senses knew something was up.

The wolf inside is clawing to reveal herself, to protect you from a danger that you know, logically, is a trap. The wolf doesn’t care.

You take a few deep breaths, your skin already tingling, power surging through you. Your senses sharpen. Smell first, nothing but the forest and the little animals you suddenly thirst to devour. Then eyesight, different strengths and weaknesses than human sight. You can see further, sharper, but less color. Not that it matters on a night like tonight.

Finally, when you smell and see that nothing is an immediate danger, you let the wolf off her leash.

Like a burning, searing, fire that starts in your chest, filling your veins and overtaking your body. The wolf rips out of you, muscles and fur, a distinct, low growl as your body shakes, rising and filling out to inhuman size and strength.

You fill your lungs with air, flexing your paws and licking your jowls.

You’re hungry. With a long, high-pitched howl, you stand to your full height and go in search of a midnight snack.

*****

Jake sits with his back to a sturdy oak tree. He’s picking at the handle of one of his knives. The wrapping’s coming loose. A little project for the weekend, along with cleaning his guns and pressing his shirts. Oh, and he was going to see about getting an ice cream maker to surprise you with. He loves to indulge your sweet tooth.

Then, he hears it.

A howl he knows well.

It makes the blood rush to his cock.

He stands and brushes himself off, sticking the knife in the tree point-first. Quickly, he takes off his jacket, then his tie, setting them in a neat pile. He’s not worried about losing them. You can always help him find them afterward.

You can scent him from anywhere. Which is what he’s counting on.

He’s stashed little pieces of himself all over the forest. You’ll be able to tell which scent is the freshest, but you won’t see the logic in going for the newest scent first. You’ll go for the strongest.

Which is why he’d spent the better part of the evening pissing on random trees and whistling to himself.

He calls up his Moon Knight armor and leaps up into the tree. He picks as far away a branch as he’ll be able to jump, and repeats the process a few time, hoping he’s layered his scent well enough that you won’t be able to immediately find him.

When your huge, wolfy self pads silently into the clearing, he can’t help but smirk. You prefer to walk around upright, in nothing but your thick fur and gorgeous body. Your silhouette isn't wolf or human. Something entirely unique, and in the moments after you've transformed, you're acting on instinct alone.

He sees your dark nose twitch. You drop to all fours, smelling the ground, trying to determine where he is.

You can’t stay away from him, and he knows it. You might not consciously know he’s the love of your life right now, but your instincts do.

One of the timed disturbances he’d set up earlier goes off. Your big ears shoot up, long snout pointing, muscles tensed and ready.

It’s nothing, just something set to rustle the trees a little. He has a few more timed out to distract you.

He wishes he’d had time to watch you hunt something down. You’re deadly. It’s the thrill of his life to watch when you’re working.

Your furry body relaxes a fraction and you go back to sniffing along the ground. In that millisecond, Jake pounces. He sails down from the tree, landing on your back and hugging his arms around your rib cage as hard as he can.

You yowl in pain. He holds on enough that it’ll take a minute or two for your ribs to heal. It’ll slow you down.

You stand up on your back legs, lifting him up with you. With a violent shake, you dislodge Jake from your back, trying to throw him into a tree. But he lands like a cat, rolling sideways and away from your huge, sharp teeth and the claws on your forepaws. You run at him, sprinting and snarling, looking every inch the monstrous predator that you are.

He runs, darting through trees. Past traps he’d set earlier. He doesn’t set them off. They were back-up plans.

He doesn’t want to stop you. He wants you to tire yourself out. It might make you calmer, faster. On a full moon night like tonight, usually you'd go crazy for a full two hours before you'd get our human mind back into shape.

He has about ten minutes at a full sprint left. It’s a gamble that you won’t catch him, though. He can practically feel your hot breath on the back of his neck.

Jake’s never had you come at him like this.

It’s a little terrifying, but makes him weirdly, very turned on.

In the next clearing, he pivots on a dime, surprising you with his agility. 

You skid, but can’t stop your momentum from sliding you toward him. He grabs onto the fur of your side and rams his foot into your thigh, forcing your back leg to give out. It gives him a split second to do the hardest part. He doesn’t want to. But he reminds himself that you heal. Not as fast as he does, but faster than a human.

He balls his hand into a fist, pulls it back.

He hesitates for a half-second, when you look him in the eyes.

Sensing it, you snap your head around, catching your knife-sharp incisor in his leg.

Jake roars out in pain and anger, drawing his fist back and decking you straight in the blood-covered snout.

You yelp, squeal, back up in pain. Jake forces himself to stay upright as you fall to your side, writhing in the leaves and rubbing your legs on your nose.

He feels like you bit his leg clean in two so fair’s fair.

He limps toward you and you flinch. It breaks his heart.

Jake’s posture instantly changes. He holds his hands out wide, feels blood pour out of his leg.

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s me, your Jake.” He retracts his hood so you can see his face.

You’re both out of breath. You look at him suspiciously, like you want to run. But he’s always been good with animals.

And women.

“You’re a beauty, doll. I’ve always said so.” His voice is low and sweet. He holds out his hand, palm-up. “Come here. There’s a good girl. You know me. You love me.”

You keep your body low to the ground. You snap your jaws at his hand, snarling at him from peeled-back lips that show every single one of your white, deadly teeth. He can’t help but grin.

Your huge body turns away from him, toward the forest. Your fur shimmers in the moonlight. He’s always marveled that your silvery dark coat was so much like his Moon Knight armor. Like you were always meant to be.

“Come,” he says with more authority.

You whimper, a high whine that pierces his heart. He can see your cuts healing already, just like his are, but your head isn’t as upright and proud as it usually is.

He watches you get your back feet back under you and thinks you're going to stand up straight and leave. But instead of loping off into the forest, you turn back toward him, staying on all fours. Your head is bent, looking at him from under your long, pretty eyelashes.

You take a step toward him. Then another.

He stands his ground, keeping his face cold and serious. Inside, though, he’s jumping and dancing. He can feel the change in you. You can see him again. Really see him. Not as prey or a danger you want to scare off.

You nudge your cold, wet nose at his hand.

Finally, Jake smiles.

“Good to see you, baby,” he murmurs, running his hand up your snout. “You did good.”

You lick at the wound you’d slashed into his leg, like an apology.

He winces, but appreciates the sentiment.

You run your nose up his leg, nudging it against the crotch of his armor.

“Proved I can beat you, didn’t I?” Jake lovingly pets the soft fur of your head. “I can take care of you. I always will. I love you.”

You bump your head against him, huff out a breath that means you understand. He knows he has you back, the real you.

It takes you hours sometimes, to clear your head to the point where he can talk with you in this form.

When you help him on missions, you go off alone beforehand, blowing off the initial aggression and near-insanity that happens when you transform.

Your beautiful eyes look up at him. He can almost hear you asking him, are you sure this okay?

“You’re so soft,” he says, his hands threading through your fur.

You close your eyes in pleasure, moaning as best you can. You don’t usually let him pet you. Jake thought maybe it was a weird sensation for you. Now he wonders if you’ve kept him from doing it because it turns you on.

Shouldn’t surprise him. You like his hands all over you. Always have.

Your personality’s easy to spot in this form. He scratches behind your neck, the way he does when you’re a human. Then, he pinches your ear. You toss your head, annoyed, just like you usually do. You have no trouble giving him as much sass as a werewolf as you do as a human.

He can sense the human you in your wolf body too. The strong muscles of your limbs, the way you’re teasing him with just a glance. Something in your face as you turn your body away from him, your face still turned to look at him as you bend your front legs, presenting yourself to him.

“Holy shit,” Jake says quietly.

You give him a look that says, what are you waiting for, Lockley?

You swish your tail at him.

Jake lets the front part of his suit disappear. Just enough to free himself. He wants to rub his cock on your fur, cover you in sticky cum.

Your werewolf form is so huge you have to get lower for him, even though he’s standing. You’re slick already, always as eager for it as he is.

When he has you bent over like this, when you’re human, you always do this thing, where you arch your back, lay your right cheek down on the bed and moan a little in anticipation. It’s completely unconscious on your part. He loves that moment.

You do the same thing right now, the woman he loves, in the body of a beautiful werewolf.

He thought it’d be fast, brutal, the two of you like this. Both of you in combat-mode. But as he sinks inside of you, he can’t bring himself to try and hurt either of you. Not when you’re so sweetly giving yourself over to him. Little high-pitched whimpers as he slowly fucks in and out of you.

He has to go slow. If he didn’t have half his brain on baseball, he’d have come the second he entered you.

The muscle of your tail twitches in his hand.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, realizing he might’ve been holding it too tightly.

He pulls his cock out almost entirely, then pushing all the way back in. A few times, driving both of you crazy. He groans and he swears you do to.

Then, a thought dawns on him. Slams into him like a car going full-speed.

Makes him stop while he’s still balls-deep in your warm, wet body.

He’d never asked you if you can orgasm when you’re in werewolf form. He’s actually not even sure if you have a clit right now.

“Fuck,” he whispers, cursing himself for being underprepared for something he’d waited so long for.

He can’t finish if you don’t. It’s not the gentlemanly thing to do. 

Your predator eyes look back at him, a little hazy.

He gives you a few shallow pumps, and pulls out all the way when your eyes roll back in your head. His hands grip your soft hindquarters. You back up into him and it takes every single ounce of willpower he has to resist.

“You’re going to make me come if you keep acting like this,” he warns you.

Tease that you are, you rub your ass against him a little too hard.

“Okay,” Jake says, lining himself up with you again, “I can take a hint, beautiful.”

He sinks back into you, savoring how tight you are. Next time, he wants to have you on your back so he can bury his face in your soft fur, your warm breath right next to his ear. He wants to look you in the eyes.

Two hunters, used to stalking from the shadows, laid out completely vulnerable for each other.

Jake feels the familiar flutter of your cunt around him, euphoria, when he realizes you can come. That he’s the one making you come like this, your paws flexing and muscles shuddering, your strong body pushing back in time to his, greedy for everything he can give you.

He doesn’t hold back anymore. He fists his hands in your fur and fucks you harder. Your whine sends him over the edge.

Jake’s last thought before you squeeze every brain cell he has into useless mush, is that it should be surreal, fucking a werewolf. But it doesn’t feel like that. Just feels like being with the woman he loves.

*****

The same bar, weeks later.

You’ve played, ‘big game hunter,’ as Jake likes to call it, a few times now. 

Until Jake, being a werewolf had never been fun. It had felt like an endless, secret, burden you had to carry alone.

Jake said being Moon Knight had felt like that for him, but that neither of you were alone anymore.

Jake takes his flat cap off and sets it on the table, runs a hand through his hair, shaking out his dark curls.

You lean over the table and kiss his cheek. He turns his head at the last second to kiss your lips instead, pressing his mustache against you in the process.

“What’s this?” He says with a grin, picking up the envelope you’ve left on the table for him. “I told you, if this is the invitation, I’m not going to your cousin’s wedding with you. And you’re not going either. He’s rude to you. If we go, I’m gonna knock his damn lights out-“

Jake’s words stop as he opens the envelope. His dark eyes are as big as dinner plates.

His hands, steady enough to shoot someone from a block and a half away, waiver slightly.

“This is a sonogram,” he says flatly. He looks up at you, a huge smile on his face. “This is a baby.”

Relieved he looks overjoyed, you relax. Jake bolts out of his side of the booth to join you on yours, pulling in for a huge, hard hug.

“So, you’re happy?” You ask him

“Sweetheart, I’m over the moon,” Jake kisses you. He holds up the photo. Nothing more than a dark blob floating in static, but Jake looks proud already. He wipes one of his eyes with the knuckle of his glove. “Look at our little pup.”

You elbow him. “Might not even be a werewolf.”

“Sure, sure,” Jake says, turning the picture this way and that, “as long as it doesn’t come out with a big, fucking, beak then I’m good.”

You laugh, holding the picture with him.

“Is it weird that I do, kind of want it to be like you, though?” Jake asks quietly, his arm settling in around your shoulders. “I want to see you run around with it, hunt with it. Ah, well,” he kisses the top of your head. “If this one’s a regular Joe like me, then we’ll just have to keep trying.”

“You’re in no way, shape, or form, regular,” you say. “And if the pup you spotted isn’t a werewolf, maybe one of the other two are.”

You take the picture from him, running your hands over the small, round blob, and over another smear next to it, and yet another tiny, dark shape on the other side.

Jake Lockley, charming, intimidating, cocky. Goes completely speechless.

“I think we can safely call them a litter,” you say.

You signal the bartender to bring Jake something stronger than a beer.

Even his mustache doesn’t twitch. His heavy eyelids don’t blink. Not a single muscle moves.

You grab your phone and take a picture of Jake’s face. He doesn’t react to the flash.

“I’m going to frame this with the sonogram,” you say.

The bartender sets down a shot of whiskey, claps Jake on the back when he spots the black and white baby photo. “Congrats on the kids. You gotta quit smoking, though, alright? Nothing more dangerous than smoking.”

You can think of a few things you and Jake do that are much more dangerous, but to your surprise, Jake reaches into his jacket, pulls out his metal and leather cigarette case. Wordless, he hands it over to the bartender.

Then, he picks up the shot glass and hands it over too.

“I gotta set a good example,” Jake says as the bartender walks away with both hands occupied.

“Is that blood on your shirt?” You say, his jacket opened from getting out his cigarettes.

“Uh, yeah. I got into a knife fight on the way here. I won, but I guess,” he rubs a hand through his hair, “that’s not really the point. Okay. Starting now, I’m a good example.”

He snaps his fingers.

“Shit. No. Knife-guy had a partner that the Bird’s asking me to take care of later. So, after that, I’m a good example.”

You fold up the sonogram photo, you had them make a few copies, and tuck it into the inside pocket of Jake’s jacket, where his smokes used to go.

“Actually,” Jake rambles, “I’ll have to patrol around our apartment more now, just to make sure things stay safe. I won’t kill anyone in a five block radius, though. And I have to keep weapons in the apartment, but I’ll make sure they’re locked up. Is it legal to put three baby seats in the back of a cab?”

Jake reaches over the table for a napkin and you hand him a pen from your bag. He starts making an incoherent list. 

Seeing Jake freak out a little, which is more than you’ve ever seen, makes you feel strangely calm. Even the wolf inside of you seems to turn a circle and lay down. Like you both know Jake has the watch, that he’d never let anything happen to you or your pups.

And then you see him write, ‘find new partner.’

“What’s that?” You jab your finger at it.

“Sweetheart, you can’t be out there night after night, biting people in half when-“

“Like hell I can’t, Lockley.”

“You can go out, but you can’t sink your teeth into people. You don’t know where they’ve been.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Nothing phases me when I shift. I’m weird. You’re weird. I’m sure the kids will also be deeply weird too.”

“I’m not arguing about this with you.”

Which is what he always says, right before he argues. It’s fun, though, arguing with Jake.

He makes everything better. You think you do the same for him.

“You want to go upstate, blow off some steam?” You ask him.

Jake thinks it over for the blink of an eye. “Hell, yeah. You get the check, I’ll bring the car around.”

He scrunches his hat back on his head, but then takes a long minute to kiss the living daylights out of you.

“I love you,” he says, lips still against yours. “And I love this family already, no matter how weird we are.”

-----

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[oscarssimp]

*touching his extremely defined six pack* who did this to you.....

[oscarssimp]

so true feminist king❤

[oscarssimp]

OSCAR ISAAC behind the scenes of Agora

[oscarssimp]

A Collared Lamb [2]

Robibe Paulson x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 17: Praise Kink

Summary: You tell Robbie what to do.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). A massive thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for saving my butt yet again and beating.

Warnings: praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, humping a pillow, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1699

Robbie fidgets a little with his fingers, digging his nails into the skin of his thumb as he bites his lip. 

“Here you go,” You come in from the kitchen and hand him a coffee - decaffeinated. He shouldn’t really drink regular on his medication. 

“Thank you.” He takes it quickly as you sit down next to him on the sofa. “Your place is really nice.” 

You smile at the little blush on his cheeks. “Thank you.” 

“Really nice, thank you for, um, you know, letting me come over.” 

Your grin widens. “Of course.” 

He takes a gulp of the coffee that is still a fraction too hot, while you blow on your drink.

You’d met up a few times since you’d exchanged your information at The Collared Lamb club, going for a walk and for lunch, just getting to know each other. 

This was the first time you’d both been alone with each other. 

Robbie sets his cup down and winces. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I, um…” There’s a smear of blood on the outside of the mug from his thumb, he hadn’t noticed it had started bleeding. 

You grab a tissue. 

“It’s nothing, really, I’m sorry-” He says quickly, but you take his hand and wrap the tissue around his finger. 

“It’s okay.” You smile. “Did you catch it?” 

“I… um… I was picking at it.” 

You nod. “I noticed you do that sometimes.”

He hung his head. 

“Hey,” You lightly stroke his cheek while you squeeze his thumb softly. 

He’s biting his lip when he looks up at you. You smile and press the pad of your finger against his bottom lip, easing it out from in between his teeth.

“It’s okay, I’m not telling you off.” 

“I know, it’s just,” he swallows. “I know I shouldn’t. It’s a dumb habit.” 

You shake your head. “It’s not dumb, you’re not dumb.” 

He flushes a little at the praise, squirming slightly at your words. 

You pause, a little cheeky thought settling. “You’re a good boy, Robbie, you know that?” 

He wriggles, a shiver passing over him. A soft little sigh escapes his plush lips as he gazes up at you.

“You like that?” You tease lightly. “Like being a good boy?” 

He shivers again and nods shyly. His cock swells, pressing painfully against his trousers.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Okay,” you keep your voice even and steady, even though the glee is building dizzily along your veins. “But you’ve got to be good and tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” 

He nods rapidly. 

You give him a look.

“I will. I will.” He says quickly and licks his lips. 

You pause. Letting the anticipation build. “Good boy.” 

He groans, closing his eyes and squeezing his legs together. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a praise kink.” You say softly. 

His eyes snap open and he looks at you bashfully. “I’m, I’m sorry, I should have, I-”

“It’s fine,” You cup his face with one hand, “Normal. Lots of people have one.” You grin. 

He smiles shyly at you. “Can I,” he pauses for a moment, remembering the things you have talked about before. Clear communication. “Can we…?”

“What would you like?” You ask softly. 

He shakes his head, breathless. “I don’t know, I need…” he leans closer to you, whining happily when you give him a soft kiss. 

“My good boy needs to come, right?” 

He shivers, groaning and nodding his head. 

“Alright.” You pull back a little and he sighs, trying to follow your lips. “No.” You draw the word out, no real heat to it. 

He stops instantly. “Sorry.” 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. Get up.” You motion to the middle of the room with your head and he jumps to his feet straight away. 

“That’s really good Robbie, well done.”

He swallows thickly, his eyes glazed. 

“Now take off your clothes.” 

He pulls them off hurriedly, trying to get it done as quickly as possible to please you. You smile at his eagerness. 

“Good boy.” 

He groans, his eyes rolling back ever so slightly. His cock twitching as it bobs free. 

“Now get on your knees.”

 He drops to the floor quickly and puts his hands on his thighs.

“So good Robie, you’re doing really well.” 

He smiles happily, preening a little. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” 

He blushes, looking down.

“Uh, no, look at me.” 

He quickly looks back up. 

“You’re very beautiful.” You repeat slowly, holding his gaze as you speak. You lightly touch his face. “Kind and handsome.” You trail your hand slowly down his neck, his chest and stomach, lightly gliding your fingertips over his thick length. “All of you.”

He shivers, arching into your touch and biting down a sob when you move back. 

“I’m going to be back, okay? Just be good and stay like you are.” You stand and walk out of the room to your bedroom, 

He does exactly as you ask, trying to calm his rapid, excited breathing. 

You have a bottle in your hand when you come back in, and a pillow that you place on the floor next to him.

Robbie doesn’t look at the items, keeping his gaze fixed on you. 

“Good boy, Robbie.” You kiss his forehead, running your hand through his soft hair. 

He whines gently in the back of his throat.

“You’re being so behaved. Doing such a good job.” 

He puffs his chest out a little as you sit back down on the sofa in front of him and cross your legs.

“Now, I’ve put a pillow there, and a bottle of lube.” You gesture and he follows your hand. “What do you think I want you to do with them?” 

He bites his lip, his thoughts racing. “I…”

You wait patiently.

“I think you want me to,” he swallows, his skin flushing beautifully. “Want me to pour the lube on myself.”

“What part?” 

“On my,” he bites his lip harder and wriggles, he’s said the word plenty of times but there’s something about you asking him directly that makes him want to squirm and moan. “On my cock.” 

“Good boy.” 

He groans again. “And then, then you want me to fuck the pillow.” 

You smile. “Very good boy Robbie.” In all honesty, you didn’t have any particular thing in mind. But you thought this might be a good way to get him comfortable voicing his own desires. 

He puffs his chest out a little, eyes blown wide. 

“Go on then.” You nod your head. “I’m going to watch, make sure you do a good job and be a good boy and come.” 

He nods rapidly, spurred into action by your words. He grabs the lube and pours a hefty amount into his hand before he takes his heavy cock in one hand, the other squeezing his balls lightly as he strokes himself a few times. Then he grabs the pillow and folds it in half, then pauses. 

“Um, how, how do you… should I face you, or to the side?” He asks timidly. 

“Face me.” 

He nods eagerly and positions himself and the pillow. But before he can even think about easing forward you speak. 

“Put more lube in the pillow. Make it nice and wet.” 

He nods again, following your instructions to the letter as he empties a generous amount into the crease he’s made. He looks up at you as he gets back into position. Waiting patiently. 

“Go ahead.” You breathe.

Robbie guides himself forward, thrusting slowly into the pillow and groans. 

“Does it feel good?” 

He nods rapidly as he eases in and out at a tortuously slow pace, “Yes, yes, really good, thank you.” 

You smile, letting him close his eyes and moan sweetly as he fucks into the pillow for a few minutes at his own pace. 

“Faster.” 

His eyes snap open and to your face.

“I said faster.” 

Again, he nods rapidly, increasing the bucking of his lips and watching you until you give him an approving look. 

He whines low, pleasure spiking along his nerves as his muscles ache deliciously.

“That’s good Robbie.”

“T-thank you.” He hiccups, breathing heavily. “Feel-Feels really good.” 

You enjoy his moans and gasps for a few minutes longer, and how his skin flushes and his face contorts in pleasure.

“Slow.”

“What?” He chokes out a sob, but his hips slow to an almost stop instantly. 

“I said slow,” you repeat. “But you’re very good and did so, very, very good.” You lean forward and stroke his sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

He shivers, moaning quietly as he rocks agonisingly slowly. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Hurts.” He whines, tears in his eyes. 

“Aw, hurts?” You pout at him teasingly, still stroking his hair. “Why?” 

“Want-want,” he hiccups again, “want to come. Please?”

“Do you think you deserve that?” You ask as you sit back. 

He bites his lip and shakes his head, looking up at you with large doe eyes.

“Aww, Robbie, sweet thing, why? Why don’t you think you deserve it?” 

“I…” He swallows, looking at you beseechingly. “I don’t knoooow.” He whines, tears building in his eyes.

You lean forward, resting your arms on your knees, your face inches from his. “Well you do deserve it Robbie, you deserve it so much, you’re such a good boy, been so well behaved for me and fucking yourself so good on the pillow, putting on the best show. You deserve to come and come and feel so good and-”

He moans loudly, his hips jerking rapidly as he comes hard. His cock spurting inside the pillow and seeping into the cotton. His eyes roll back, his body shaking as bliss overcomes every nerve. 

He’s not quite sure when he blacks out, but he wakes with you cradling him on the floor covered in a warm, fluffy blanket. You’re stroking his hair and muttering soothing words.

Robbie nuzzles against you and you kiss the top of his head. “Thank you.” He mutters. 

“You feel okay, sweet thing?” 

He smiles at the pet name, wriggling closer and wrapping his arm around you. He nods. “So, so good.” 

“Good.”

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[oscarssimp]

will dempsey- wait for me

Summary: You’d grown up with Will Dempsey, but haven’t seen him in years. On a short visit home, you learn that he’s divorced, and might still be a mess about it. But he wants to love again, and he wants it to be with you. (~2.5)

Contents: fluff, addiction talk, Abby divorced him in this au

*****

“Holy shit,” you freeze, getting out of a taxi in front of your house. “Will?”

The last thing you expected was to see Will Dempsey sitting on his parents’ front steps, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and a beard down past the collar of his t-shirt.

His overly-wide, red eyes look around, then at you. Blank at first, but he smiles when he recognizes you.

“Oh wow, look at you. Ten years. Hey, you have any weed?” He says with some difficulty.

You’d grown up next to the Dempsey family, their parents’ house next to your parents’ house. Holidays spent together, BBQs, almost like communal living. You'd lost touch with Will, though, after you'd moved away for work right after college.

But, your parents had decided to spend a few months out in California with your brother and you were house sitting for them back in New York.

Your mom said Will had moved back in with his parents. She’d also told you not to expect to run into him. He’d been depressed since last year, when his wife had left him. She'd run off to Europe with some big-shot writer, hadn’t even shown up in person to sign the divorce papers.

Will points to you, a big fake smile on his face. “I can tell that someone told you about my life,” he says in an almost sing-song voice. “That’s okay.” He shrugs. “Someone has to be the shitty guy who makes everyone else feel superior. Someone’s life has to be bad, right? So other people feel like their lives are good in comparison.”

The front door opens. Will’s mom appears.

“Hi, Linda,” you say, trying not to sound as awkward as you feel.

She smiles at you tightly. “It’s so good to see you. I’m sorry about Will.” She taps his shoulder. “Honey, come inside, don’t bother her.”

“Yeah,” Will says, fumbling to stand up, “wouldn’t want to ruin her life by coming into contact with it.”

“That’s not what I meant, honey,” Linda says.

“You know my wife left me?” Will says to you, loudly. “Ah, you wouldn’t care.”

Linda looks at you apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you tell her. “We can catch up later.”

Will nods. “My mom was right. I shoulda married you. But love, right? I thought I was in love. You probably don’t even smoke anymore. It’s legal now.”

He stumbles back inside and you turn to the taxi driver. He’s taken your bags out of the trunk and has been standing there, watching. 

“That guy’s real fucked up,” he says.

“He didn’t used to be,” you say, taking out your wallet and giving the guy a big tip.

He smiles at you in thank you. “Word of advice? Don’t try to fix him.”

You look at him, startled. “What? Why would you even say that?”

“I got a nose for people. You seem nice. He seems broken.” 

*****

It takes you three tries to get Linda to invite you over for dinner.

Heartbreaking in a way, because she and Irwin are like your second set of parents. But you know they don’t want you to see Will like this.

Although, when Linda finally caves and asks you over and Will answers the door, he looks fairly cleaned up. Sober and beard mostly gone. He looks older than he should, though. His big, brown eyes are incredibly apologetic.

“My mom told me I was an asshole when you got here a few days ago,” Will says, running a hand through his curly hair. “I don’t really remember because I’m an alcoholic and an addict. In case you couldn’t tell.”

He almost smiles and you reach out and hug him.

“It’s good to see you, Will.”

His body relaxes against yours and he hugs you back. He was always a great hugger. He kisses your cheek.

“Thanks for saying that,” he says, a touch of sadness in his voice. “It’s nice to hear.”

You squeeze him tightly, then let him go. “Well, I mean it. But you look like a hot pile of garbage. I mean that too.”

Will half-smiles. “At least I’m still hot.”

You laugh.

“You bring those for my mom?” He asks, pointing at the flowers you’re holding.

“Yeah. I was going to bring wine, but…”

“You were afraid I’d drink it all before we got to dinner? Fair,” Will says. He loops his arm around your shoulder and walks you into the house. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He looks toward the kitchen, then takes your hand and leads you into his father’s office.

“I’m sorry for how I was before,” Will says earnestly, shutting the door for privacy. “I thought I was over her. Abby. My ex-wife. I can say ‘ex-wife’ without feeling like my insides are being stirred with a fork, but a lot of the bad feelings are still there. Anyway, again, I’m sorry for making a scene. It’s not the way you deserve to be welcomed home.”

“Thank you for apologizing. Your parents used to go on and on about you two. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out.”

Will leans back against the closed door. His face is sad, but relaxed. “They loved her, but honestly, they never thought she was exactly right for me. You know me, though. Once I set my mind on something, you can’t talk me out of it. I was convinced she was the love of my life. The kind of love that you only read about in stories and see in movies.”

Your eyebrows pull together in concern.

“My therapist always says I put Abby up on a pedestal. I liked her up there, away from me,” Will says quietly, sounding lost. “Anyway, she’s happier now. And I live with my parents.” He laughs at himself.

Your heart squeezes. Will never used to have a shred of bitterness in him. He was one of the most hopeful people you knew.

You’d been the cynic. He’d been the romantic.

“I’m next door if you ever need a change of scenery. It’ll be like when we were teenagers. Except no booze this time,” you say.

Will runs a hand through his hair, keeps talking as if he didn’t hear you, like he feels like he doesn’t deserve to have heard.

“The day you got here would’ve been our wedding anniversary. I’d been sober for a year before that. But I’m back to 3 days, which is better than none. I'm trying. Maybe that's not enough.” He smiles and opens the office door again before you can tell him any different. “I’m glad you’re here. My mom said you’re a landscape designer?”

He wants to move on, you can tell, so you let him.

“Half landscape, half interior. My biggest client right now is a chain of luxury hotels. I do their rooftop bars and courtyards, try to make their lobbies look less corporate and more like boutique hotels. They have one not far from here. You should come for dinner or a non-alcoholic cocktail sometime.”

Again, Will doesn’t acknowledge the invitation, but he keeps his hand on the small of your back as he walks you into the living room and toward the kitchen.

“Look who I found wandering the streets of New York,” Will says.

You hug Linda and Irwin in turn and it’s like you never left. Irwin shows you a book of bird photographs that he knew you’d love. Linda tells about her yoga class, and even though it’s for the over 60 crowd, that you should come because she can tell you’ve done yoga before. The way you move or something.

“Mom,” Will says as he sets the table, “stop talking about her body like that.”

“She knows what I mean,” Linda says, waving her hand at him. “It’s a compliment. Besides, I know you like women with a little meat on their bones.”

“MOM!” Will says with an exasperated laugh.

Irwin pats you on the back. “Welcome home, kid.”

He pulls out your chair and you sit down. Will sits in the chair next to you.

“Are my ears red?” He leans over and whispers.

You don’t even have to look to know that they are, some things never change. “Yes.”

*****

Will shows up for the booze free cocktail a few days later.

And the next week, movie nights at your house.

You do yoga with Linda in her backyard and you swear, you see Will’s face peeking out from behind the curtain.

After savasana, you realize how much you’d missed the sound of the city. This street in particular. You’ve always had trouble clearing your mind and settling into yourself. Turns out you’d just needed the right background noise.

Linda invites you in for iced tea.

“I lived in Savannah for a hot sec and they almost ran me out of town for asking for this unsweetened,” you tell her as you sip your tea.

“You always were sweet enough,” she smiles at you, “and diabetes is more diagnosed in the south.”

“And there’s my mom, always with a depressing fact.” Will comes in, leaning on the doorway.

“But damn good beverages,” you say, toasting Linda.

Her eyes flit back and forth between you and Will. She leaves abruptly, laying a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Okay,” you eyeball him, “for her not to have said a single word on her way out, you must have something serious going on.”

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the fabric of his blue t-shirt shifts under his muscles as he half-shrugs. “Kinda. You want to sit down for a sec?”

Will runs a hand through his dark curls. He walks to the dining room table and pulls out a chair for you, his eyes friendly, but a little nervous.

When you sit down, he wipes a hand down his face, like he’s psyching himself up.

“When Abby left me, I couldn’t cope. I coped in the wrong ways,” he barrels ahead of himself. “Hell, I wasn't going to start with that part. Let me start again. Fuck.”

You smile at him reassuringly.

“I want to ask you out,” he says, then visibly winces. “Fuck. That’s not how I wanted to start this either.”

He leans back in the dining room chair, laughing at himself.

As awkward as he feels, you don’t. Not at all.

Compared to the impression you’d got from him, weeks ago now, Will’s so much more himself in this moment. Not confident exactly, but he’d never been a cocky guy. More like, he walks like he knows where he’s going. Speaks like he means what he says.

And adorable now, when he’s trying to sort out how to not ask you on a date.

If he asks you out, you know it’s a big deal. For both of you.

“I get why you’re not sure about it, with everything you’ve been through. If you were to ask me out, though, I’d say yes,” you say honestly.

“That’s kind of the problem.” He scratches the back of his head. “I can’t ask you out yet.”

Your eyes drift upstairs, where you hear the creak of floorboards. “Did your mom say ‘no’ or something?” You joke. 

He knocks his foot into yours. “Please. She’d be wedding dress shopping at Kleinfeld’s tomorrow if I so much as held your hand. No,” he shakes his head, “it’s me. I really need to be sober the right way this time. I need to do it for myself, but also for anyone I’m with in the future.”

“Which might be me?” You ask him, your heart beating faster.

“I’m not asking you to wait for me,” he looks down at his hands. It makes him look 14 again.

“I’ll wait.”

Will wipes his eyes, but not before you see the sheen of tears in them. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready. They say a year, but-“

“It’s okay, Will,” you reach out and hold his hand, squeeze it. “I have a house in Oregon and a job with a lot of travel. I wouldn’t be ready to settle back down in New York for at least a year anyway.”

He looks relieved, can look you in the eyes again. 

“We can still talk, though. If you’re comfortable,” you say.

Will’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, open and exposed. You’d defended him a lot for it growing up.

That he can still be that way, even after the heartbreak and pain he’s gone through, it makes you want to do more than just root for him. You want to love him.

“Long distance friendship,” Will muses. He looks up at you with his big, brown eyes. Hopeful and warm, a look that makes you feel the same.

“You’d really settle for that?” He asks.

You lay a hand on his forearm. “Nothing about you is settling, Will.”

“Stop,” he says lightly, clearing his throat, “before you make me believe in romantic gestures again.”

You squeeze his arm, then let him go.

“I do have a few good ones planned, for eventually,” he says with a grin.

“Of course you do,” you say, rolling your eyes and laughing. “But what I really want, is for you to focus on yourself.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get my head on straight this time. And if it takes longer for you to give me a chance than a year or two, then I can wait.”

Will picks up your hand in his, brushes his fingers over the back, then lifts it to his lips, kissing it gently. A long press that makes your heart flutter.

“I always hated that I never had the guts to ask you out in high school,” he says.

“You wanted to ask me out?” You say, a little shaky.

“Yeah, but Mike down at the end of the block asked you first and then you dated for like, a year. Used to watch him pick you up for dates.” Will glances out the window, like he can see the past, then looks back at you. “It’s taken me a long time to get here. Which is ironic because it looks like, living with my folks, I haven’t gotten anywhere. Inside, I mean, I feel different. Good.”

“I know,” you reassure him. “It took you longer to find your footing than you thought it would. Better late than never, right?”

“A good description of us,” Will says. Then, his smile brightens. “Hey, forgot to tell you. I started listening to Sleater-Kinney again.”

You groan in ecstasy. “Forget waiting. I want to marry you right now.”

He laughs. “I have to talk to you about their newer stuff, though. Want to know what you think. Bring your tea. We’ll go sit out on the front steps.”

Will lets go of your hand as you follow him outside. He seems lighter, more confident. This is the Will Dempsey you know and love. Eager to share and talk, hang out for hours with absolutely no purpose other than spending time together.

Someone who, hopefully, realizes he doesn’t have to fit his love into some kind of box, to be presented to the other person in the form that they need.

That love isn't about doing whatever the other person wants, however they want. It's a partnership. Two people changing for the better.

Someday, you want to give Will the love he deserves. All heart, open and unafraid. Like he used to be. And like you know he will be again.

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What Did You Take?

A One For The Road Bonus Chapter

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 9: Sex Pollen

Summary: Cecil took... something.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

Warnings: kissing, swearing, talk of drunks, sex pollen, flesh lights, jacking off, p in v sex, oral (afab! receiving), please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1556

You answer Cecil’s call almost instantly. He was one of the few people who preferred calling (or video chatting) over messaging, always said he liked to hear your voice. 

You liked to tease him that really it was because then he could make sure he was speaking to the correct person, and hadn’t accidentally sent a saucy pic (his dick) to the wrong contact (poor Harry one too many times).

“Hey Cec,” you lean down, grabbing a tin of soup and putting it into your trolley. 

“Hey,” He draws out the word, his voice soft and breathy. He was definitely jerking off. 

“I’m food shopping.” You say with a smile on your face, “Literally grabbing tins.”

“Uh huh,” he swallows, the sound clicking. 

You frown a little, sure Cecil had a big libido, but you were sure even he couldn’t find you picking up ingredients that interesting. 

“What you doing Cec?” You tease.

“Jerking off.” 

“I got that.” 

He whines, a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. “I got the fleshlight between the sofa cushions and I’m…” he moans, “Fuck, it feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” You grin. “Had to call and tell me about it?” 

He hums an affirmative. “I… I can’t…”

You wait a beat, listening to his heavy breathing. 

“I can’t get off.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not working, like, it feels good, so good, but I can’t get to the end.” He whimpers. “I, I took…”

“What did you take Cecil?” Worry spikes into your chest. 

“It’s this… thing,” he always was so helpful with descriptions. “It’s, so it’s meant to make you super horny and keep going,” he groans and you hear a particularly wet thrust in the background, “and I thought because we’re hanging out later that it would be good for you if I was… if I could just keep fucking you and so I took it and fuck.” He sobs.

“Cecil?” 

“It worked so quickly and I feel so hot, and I wanted to just come and take the edge off and I can’t.” His voice breaks at the end.

You’re already at the self-checkout, quickly paying for your items so you can get the hell out of there and over to him. “When did you take it?”

“Ummm,” he groans, the sound of his thrusts growing louder, “about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” 

“And twenty.”

“Cecil! Fuck,” you grab your shopping and head to your car, how long could someone have an erection before they needed to go to the hospital. “So this is like super Viagra?” You say as you sit down and fasten your seatbelt. 

“Sort of.” He groans, “God, talking to you helps actually,” he whines, “Feel so close.” 

“Where did you get this anyway?” You pull out of the parking lot. 

“Benny.”

“Benny?” You swear. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Noo,” Cecil whines, “He’s not that bad, he always gives me good deals, a friend discount.” 

“Cecil, he sold you that weed that had roofies in it.”

“That was an accident-”

“And that ritalin and-”

“Can we not talk about him,” Cecil gasps, “please, I was really close.” 

You pause, “My voice helps?” 

“Oh god, so much.” He whimpers, swallowing thickly. 

“I’m on my way over.” 

He moans loudly, shivering. “Thank you, oh fuck, thank you, need to see you so bad.”

“Can’t leave you alone for a second can I?” You drive through the light on amber. 

“You can’t.”

“Or you’ll go and take weird drugs that could put you in the hospital.”

“You could, um,” he groans deeply, “put me in you or something, I’m sorry, there’s an innuendo there somewhere, I can’t get to it.” 

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong.” You tease, trying to make light of the situation and ease your slowly building tension. 

He snorts through moans, and then whines pitifully. “I can’t come.” A little sob shakes through him. “I need to so, so, so bad. It hurts.”

 “Fuck Cec.” 

You make it to his house in record time, using your key to open the front door and practically throwing yourself inside. 

Cecil is on you before you even get a chance to call out a greeting. 

“You came,” he sobs, he’s naked, his skin flushed and feverish. His heavy cock bobs between his legs as he moves, slick from the lube he’s been using.

“Of course I did,” you stroke his cheeks, looking into his dilated eyes. “I told you I was on the way.” You say soothingly, he still hasn’t become used to you not stringing him along. 

“Thank youuu,” He groans, leaning forward and kissing you messily, slipping his tongue into your mouth eagerly. Drinking in your air like it was his only source. 

“Cec, Cec,” You manage to pull back, your hands on his cheeks.

He whines pitifully as your lips leave his. 

“We should go to the hospital.”

“No, please,” He shakes his head rapidly, “Please, let’s, please, I need you so bad, let’s just fuck and try.”

“Fuck and try,” you snort despite your worry and he grins, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes, yes, try.” He drags you into the living room, yanking at your clothing and kissing your neck. 

“Cec, maybe we shouldn’t in the living room, I mean, Harry’ll-”

He lets out a whine of frustration, taking his mouth off your skin only so that he can pull off your top and undo your bra. He licks your chest eagerly, focusing on one and then the other, his eyes rolling back as he sucks.

You gasp, your fingers instinctively sliding through his hair as he works.

He slips his hands down to your hips, hastily undoing your trousers and pulling them down to your knees. 

“Cec,” you bite your lip, unsure if you should really be doing this and not taking him to the emergency room. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. He drags you onto the floor, finishes stripping you bare in a matter of seconds. 

He’s everywhere, all over, licking and sucking and moaning in your ear as he squeezes and pinches and impatiently pushes his fingers inside. 

You shiver at the intrusion, a little gulp escaping your lips. You shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much, having him so desperate and needy for you. 

Cecil whines, gasping and rutting against your leg as he curls his fingers and strokes your walls. “Fuck, oh god, oh god, oh god.”

You don’t even think he realises he’s speaking anymore, just letting whatever thoughts he has fall from his lips. 

Pleasure cracks up his spine, makes his vision spin. He groans, bucking his hips faster as he buries his head between your thighs and sucks your clit into his mouth greedily. 

You swallow, desperately grabbing at him as your body moves with his, chasing after the sensation he’s lavishing upon you. 

He whines, whimpers, so, so close he can almost taste it, but still not close enough. He pulls away from you quickly, muttering apologies at your huff of frustration at the loss. 

“Can I? Can I? Can I?” He kneels, taking himself in hand and notches himself at your core, the words fluttering out of his mouth in such a wanton mess they are nearly indistinguishable from each other. 

You barely get a chance to nod before he’s pushing in, trying to slow the rapid buck of his hips by squeezing the base of his cock. 

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck.” He sobs, sounding even whinier than usual. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, feels so nice.” He rocks further in, pressing so wonderfully as he stretches you wide. 

“Cecil,” you bite your lip as he just sinks down, thrusting shallowly as he bottoms out and presses his chest to yours. 

“Yeah?” He sounds floaty, lost in the sensation as he rolls and rocks, keeping his length as deep inside as possible while he rubs the base of his cock against your bundle of nerves in a way that has your mind short-circuiting. 

He feels so good like his body was made to fit inside and please you. You grab at his biceps, his curls, moaning against his lips as his fingers dig into your skin in desperation. 

“Fuck, baby, please, ah, please can you squeeze my neck, please,” he splutters, his eyes screwed up so tight. “Gonna come, please, need to, I’ll take care of you after, I promise, I promise, I-”

You put your hand on his throat, a warm strong pressure, barely squeezing, more there to ground him than anything. And he sobs. 

He ruts twice, frantic. His voice rises to an impressive pitch as he comes deep, his orgasm washing over him and robbing him of all other thoughts. 

You expect him to collapse on top of you, nuzzle into your chest. 

But he doesn’t.

He keeps moving, keeps bucking, causing pleasure to race along your nerves.

“Cec?” You bite back a moan, pushing his sweaty curls from his forehead. 

“Fuck, that was so good, so good, fuck.” He grinds his hips, picking up the pace as he fucks his still very erect cock into you. 

“Still hard, gonna come again,” he whines, all high pitched and breathless. “Gonna make you come with me this time.” He bites his lip, looking down at you with hazy, lust filled eyes. 

It was going to be a long night.

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[oscarssimp]

Summary: Anselm Vogelweide x ghost!reader (~2k)

Contents: 18+, fem!reader has dv in her past (not described, just a few words about the very sad situation), ghost sex (the mechanics get interesting)

-----

Just because you’re a ghost, doesn’t mean you’re a predator.

But it’s difficult to not look at Anselm Vogelweide.

There’s no harm in it and you were here first. For like… more than 100 years. He’d been the one to buy your castle. He’d flat-out said to the realtor that it being haunted, “would be a selling point, actually. The kind of thing that prompts me to pay full-asking price in cash.”

The guy was asking to be haunted.

Oh dear. That part does make you sound like a predator.

When he visits for the weekend, he doesn’t bring bodyguards. No one else.

Anselm walks around naked sometimes.

He sleeps on top of the sheets and blankets, no clothes, with a fascinatingly large member.

You just want a closer look. That’s all.

You’d been married to a real asshole when you’d been alive. He’d been good with money, but useless in bed. A horrible temper and well… he’d ended up killing you in a fit of rage. People thought you’d run away. He’d gotten away with it scott-free.

You’d haunted him and his new wife, with great joy, for many years. Unfortunately, they’d moved when she found out she was pregnant.

The place had gone up for sale. They’d tried to make it a cute B&B, and your entire ghostly-existence a tourist side show. You couldn’t have that.

You had trouble taking on physical, corporeal form, but some guests could see your misty outline. And you’d never had any trouble physically interacting with the world.

One time you managed to wrest control of a guest’s car while they were driving and sunk them straight into the duck pond. They could’ve died. Part of you thought the company would be nice, but unfortunately, they were a strong swimmer and got away.

You didn’t do cutsey ghost stuff. You did the kind of things that drove away paying customers. Leaving kitchen knives on their pillows like mints and whispering truly heinous things to them to wake them up at midnight.

Your castle had been left alone now for almost 20 years.

Until Anselm Vogelweide.

He’d had people here to spruce the place up for a few weeks when he bought it. The furniture was elaborate, almost exactly like the kinds of pieces you’d picked out when you’d set up house here all those decades ago.

He liked eating meals at the long dining table. Putting his feet up in front of the fireplace in the library and falling asleep over a book. Occasionally, he’d shoot targets in the backyard. He’s a very good shot.

Seeing life in your home made you happy, something you hadn’t known you could still feel. You’d never liked the spans of time when the castle had been nothing but empty rooms and cold air.

Strangely, Anselm preferred to sleep not in the master bedroom, but in the smaller room across the hall. Your room. The room your husband had killed you in. As if he knew it had special meaning to you.

So, you sat on his bed, taking in his naked form.

Night after night, for almost a year of his visits.

You leaned in close, smelled his beard, examined the puckered skin of his left side where he’d evidently been burned many years ago. You examined his face without his glasses. You weren’t sure he needed them actually, or the brace he usually wore.

And yes, you did put your face rather close to his cock.

But you’d been lonely for a long time and it was very impressive.

He always smells clean. Fresh. Like if you wanted you, you could just stick out your tongue… just the tip… and give him a lick… just the tip… just… one… time…

“I know you’re there, ghost,” Anselm’s voice says.

You jerk upright, staring at his face.

He opens his eyes, looking around. You’re relieved that he doesn’t actually look at you, despite the authority in his words.

“I can’t see you, but I know you’re a very naughty thing, looking me over like a meal whenever I come to visit you.”

“Visiting me?” You say before you can stop yourself.

His eyes open wide. “She speaks. Oh good. I was afraid you were one of those invisible, mute apparitions and there’d be no fun at all in that. Tell me, ghost, do you like what you see?”

Anselm’s hand circles his cock, moving up and down smoothly.

You’d be scandalized, except the great advantage of having had so many guests during the castle’s B&B-years is that you’d seen people get up to all sorts of dirty things. It’s an education (and entertainment) you’ve missed.

Anselm relaxes his hand, letting his large manhood set back down along his pubic hair and the taut muscles of his stomach.

“I must say,” he muses, “when I bought this castle initially, it was only to make amends for a very serious wrong one of my ancestors committed against you. But this thing between us. It’s been electric. You must have felt it too or you wouldn’t have been following me around like a cat in heat all this time.”

“I beg your pardon,” you say. “I’m insulted you would say such a thing. I’m a lady.”

“And I’m a pervert. And very attracted to you. And very sorry you died by my ancestor’s hands.” He says with seriousness, looking vaguely in your direction, where you’re sat on his bed still. “I believe useless people should be dispatched of violently, but I’m sure you didn’t deserve the end you met. By all accounts, you were a very lovely woman.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly, touched at his sincerity. “I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

Anselm laughs. “I’ve been walking around naked to tempt you. Jerking off before I got to sleep hoping to feel your mouth around me. Didn’t you notice that I moved a photo of you from the drawing room here, to my bedside?”

You hadn’t actually, too caught up in watching his nightly routines.

“Do ghosts have orgasms?” Anselm asks, his tone dark and enticing.

“Yes,” you answer, “but I don’t ever make myself have one here in your room. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Yet you watch as I have them?” He asks with a grin.

You cover your face with your hands, even thought he can’t see any of that. “I’m sorry. I’m so ashamed.”

“No, my dear, I only do these things so you can watch. I’ve felt your gaze on me. I wish I could touch you, that you could touch me.” Anselm sits up in bed. “You’re an extraordinary creature. Truly one of a kind. You should be appreciated.”

It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about you. Between your bastard of a husband and the terrified guests, you hadn’t heard a compliment in your entire afterlife.

You lay your hand on Anselm’s scarred left upper thigh. He freezes, looking at his leg with an astonished gaze.

His hand touches the spot, but instead of sinking down to his own skin, it rests on top of yours. There’s an empty looking space where your hand is. Anselm’s fingers circle your wrist as he leans toward you, running his hand up your arm and elbow, to your shoulder. He finds your collarbone, your neck, curling his hand around the back and pulling you toward him.

His lips pucker slightly and you let your mouth find his. His tongue pushes in and you gasp, your hand going higher to move up and down his hard length.

“My god, you’re beautiful,” he whispers. He slides his hand down to massage your breast, tease your nipple.

“You don’t know that,” you say, looking down at how Anselm’s hands cradle against what looks like nothing. “If I put on clothes, you could see my figure, but I don’t usually want people to see me.”

“I can feel you, though. Pure ecstasy,” he mutters against your skin.

“I haven’t done this since I died and became a ghost,” you say as Anselm maps your body with his hands.

“My dear, that’s horrible.” He frowns. “So many lonely years.”

“It was lonely,” you admit.

He pulls you closer and your legs fall on either side of his thighs. You lean in to kiss him again, letting the momentum carry both of you down to lay down.

You bite his lip, drawing a deep growl from Anselm. Quickly, you realize that your ghostly body is more pliant than you’d realized. You fit his sizable girth inside of you fairly quickly, desperate to feel him.

At an awkward angle, you push against his chest to sit up.

You hear Anselm gasp, his face full of wonder as he looks at where you’re riding him. You look down too.

Anselm’s cock is nestled inside your somehow warm, wet body and yet, you’re still invisible. You can see the movement of him fucking up into you. You moan, moving faster. You grab onto his hair, rocking harder against him, both of you watching. You can’t see the way your hips roll over his, but the feeling is enough. How you shudder on top of him, how you clench and squeeze him when you come, clear fluid running out of you, soaking Anselm and driving him faster and faster. You see his cock twitch, see him release a flood of cum in your body as he groans your name loudly, his dark eyes somehow finding your face. A beautiful sight.

He looks down your body and smiles. His release is still coating you. Clinging and pooling in thin air, his softening cock slightly upright, with no rhyme or reason.

Immediately, a wave of embarrassment fills you.

“I’m sorry.” You reach for a blanket to cover the strange sight.

Anselm pushes it away.

“No, don’t hide from me. This is wondrous. I’m in rapture. I want to watch you take me over and over.” Anselm pulls you down to lay on his chest, his arms around you.

“But you must think it strange,” you say.

Anselm chuckles quietly. “Strange doesn’t bother me, darling. I embrace it. Although, I will have that blanket now, your natural temperature is a bit chilly.”

You pull it over both of you as you move to lie next to him. You should probably leave, but you don’t want to. It isn’t just the connection to humanity that you’re relishing. It’s Anselm.

Someone who not only accepts the way you are, but seems to like it.

“This was wonderful. Even when I was alive, I don’t think I enjoyed myself so much,” you say quietly.

“Please don’t disappear on me.” Anselm’s voice holds an edge of desperation. “Allow me to tie a ribbon around your neck, give you a diamond bracelet, a lacy nightdress. Something so that we can get to know each other, as people do. And I don’t have to look around like a blind man when I want to speak to you.”

“You want to talk with me?” You ask quietly.

You’d have been more than glad to settle for a night or two of passion. It didn’t make sense that he’d want to actually know you.

Anselm’s hands find your face. You mirror his movements, letting your fingers trace along his bushy beard.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says with an honest, earnest expression.

If you could cry, you might. Even though you’re invisible, you feel seen for the first time in your entire existence.

“Well, you should know that ghosts don’t sleep,” you say, rubbing your foot along his calf. “And apparently, have voracious sexual appetites. Would you like to see how your fingers look inside of me?”

Anselm huffs out a breath, his eyelids heavy as he pushes the blanket aside. “I can’t wait. You and I are going to have so much fun together.”

“I’m smiling right now,” you tell him.

The corners of Anselm’s eyes crinkle as he returns your smile. “I’m going to ensure you’re smiling all of the time, and that the halls are filled with ghostly moaning.”

:: Previous Fic: My Partner is a Vampire (Basil) ::

:: Next Fic: My Wife and the Tentacle Monster in the Sea (Leto) ::

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[oscarssimp]

You're Safe With Me

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 6: Sex Work

Summary: Poe gets captured on a mission and you're the closest to his last location.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

This prompt was super difficult and I have kind of just done something that vaguely relates to it.

Warnings: resistance!reader, bad guy here is VERY gross, imprisonment, slavery, implied future sex slave, kissing, sex pollen, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2131

When you’d been told that Poe had run into trouble during a supply run on Tel’Ra you’d expected jail, the first order, him hiding up somewhere with a blaster wound. 

You had not been expecting… this. 

You’d been the closest to the planet and had found the traders quickly when you landed. Only to find out that there had been a miscommunication somewhere. They had thought Poe was the payment, not the negotiator. 

Fucking hell.

You’d spend the better part of the last thirteen manic hours tracking him down, going from trader to trader until you got here, a meeting with the quadrant Tsar. 

He was a large Terlion, powerful in his golden armour. He’d greeted you in his native tongue, and you knew enough about the culture of Tel’Ra to reply in basic. If you even said one word in the Tsar’s language then that was all he would speak, and everything would get very messy. 

“This… humanoid,” the Tsar formed the word slowly, “He is yours?” 

You nod and he pauses.

“I paid good coin for him.”

“So you admit he’s here?” You keep your tone even and calm. 

The Tsar smiles and gestures to one of his guards, speaking in Krazel. You understand enough of the language to understand that they’re bringing Poe here. 

Relief floods your veins, that was something at least. 

“The traders had no right to sell him to you.” You repeat. 

“But a trade was made, wasn’t it? You received goods for him?” The Tsar smiles.

“The trade was for Keseun. Not him.” You swallow, the guards in the room make your skin crawl, there were too many. Even if they had been troopers there was no way you could get out of an altercation alive, besides Terlions were large, physically powerful. One alone could snap you in half with two fingers. 

You keep your chin held high, they respected confidence, straightforwardness. They wouldn’t attack unless you made a faux pas. 

The resistance needed them to stay outwardly neutral to the rebellion. The planet was no fan of the first order, but would trade with anyone that showed respect. 

You couldn’t blow this. 

“Keseun.” The Tsar repeats, stroking his chin. 

“I would offer you the same, for this inconvenience.” 

He nods slightly, thinking when the door opens and Poe is pushed into the room.

You try your very best to hide the shock on your face.

You’d assumed that he had been sold as a labourer, or a servant. Not as… not as a… 

Your gaze hinges on his scantily clad form, soft thin fabrics and lace and dripped in gold jewellery. 

Your mouth dries as heat runs along your skin. That’s when you notice his expression, the relief plasters all over his face as he sees you. 

You shake your head ever so slightly, trying to clear your not so pure thoughts, and chastising yourself. 

“This is the humanoid?” The Tsar asks, beckoning with his hand. The guard pushes Poe forward to him. 

He stumbles slightly, and you see the gold chains are not just for decoration. 

“Yes.” You nod. 

Now that he’s closer you can see the thin gold bar across his lips, the chain connecting around the back of his head, keeping his mouth closed.

The Tsar touches Poe’s cheek, grabbing hold of the back of his neck when he struggles and flinches away. He chuckles. “He is a spirited one.” He pulls Poe closer, forcing him into his lap and you stand, anger blazing through your veins. 

The guards around you tense, but you keep your hands open and away from your weapons.

The Tsar laughs again, waving his hand and the guards relax. 

Poe looks at you imploringly, at first you think he is begging for your help. But then you realise he is pleading for you to leave, for you to not get hurt for the sake of him. 

“He has quickly become my favourite.” The Tsar grumbles, holding Poe to him, “I will enjoy taking-”

“He is mine.” You snarl, taking a step forward. Oh, this was risky, far too risky, but you don’t know how else to play this. 

The Tsar raises an eyebrow, amused “Yours?” 

“Mine.” You swallow, you might as well go the whole distance now. “My mate. Mine.” 

Poe gives you a confused look as the Tsar freezes, his fingers digging into Poe’s side. This was a faux in Terlion culture, this had implications for the Tsar. 

“Your mate.” He repeats and you nod. 

“My mate.”

“You did not say this before, why?” There’s anger in his voice. 

“I did not want to cause embarrassment over a mistake, however, you touching him and flaunting,” you shake your head, injecting as much rage into your voice as you can to cover the panic. “I cannot stand for it.” 

The Tsar’s grip loosens on Poe, but there is fury burning in his gaze. “Humanoids… lie.”

“I am not lying about this-”

“I have no way of knowing if you are other than your word. Which is worth little.” 

You clench your jaw to stop it shaking. 

“If he is… yours. Then he would pass the test of Seva. He would resist the touch of anyone but you.”

You swallow. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You’d heard of Seva, a plant extract that caused extreme arousal that was banned in half of the galaxy and highly regulated in the other. It had been used in the past to prove the loyalty of royalty’s romantic partners. If someone took it and were truly devoted to their spouse then they would only accept the affections of that person while under the influence. But if they weren’t… well, anyone’s touch would do.

You and Poe weren’t together. This was going to end very, very badly. 

“I am insulted that-” You try to argue, but the Tsar cuts you off. 

“The test will be taken, and if he goes to you then you may take him from here without payment,” he pauses, “as I will deal with the traders myself, however if he doesn’t crave only your touch, I will keep him and wear your skin as a trophy and nail your tongue to the wall as a warning to other humanoid liars.” 

Somehow you keep his gaze. “Very well.” 

You were going to be sick. There had to be something, some way out of this. You rack your mind, searching for anything, anything.

A servant brings an ornate pot to the Tsar, bowing as they take off the lid and use a golden spoon to measure a serving of the fine seeds. 

The Tsar undoes one of the chains at the back of Poe’s head, finally allowing him to open his mouth. He looks at you, about to say your name. 

“It’s alright.” Your voice is soft, even. Somehow sure of itself even if nothing else about you is. 

He keeps his shining eyes fixed on you as he opens his mouth and swallows the seeds when offered. 

The servant steps back, retreating and the Tsar smiles. 

“It will only take a few moments, Seva is strong on humanoids.” He muses, “If he is not yours as you say, I will claim him now to relieve him of its effects.” 

Poe shivers, blinking hard. Heat starts to run along his skin, first like a gentle breeze, a caress that is not unwanted. 

The Tsar strokes his back amused as Poe shakes his head, trying to clear his quickly clouding vision. 

The touch is… nice. Soothing almost. Poe leans back into it, sighing. He needed to do something, there was something he was trying to remember… but his thoughts just wouldn’t hold. Would slip out of his grasp the second he tries to focus. 

A weight settles in his stomach, his muscles clenching. He wanted…

The Tsar laughs as Poe sighs, pushing back as he runs the tips of his fingers along his skin. Triumph in his eyes. He takes Poe’s chin and turns him towards himself.

Poe goes with the touch, lightheaded and… he freezes, pain spikes into his chest. There’s a pause, a look of horror on his face before he practically throws himself off the Tsar, and scrambles back. He shakes his head rapidly, his eyes wild and glazed. 

The Tsar frowned, about to speak. 

“Poe!” You rush forward, panic gripping your chest. “Are you a-”

The second he sees you, relief rushes into his mind, presses solidly into his bones. He grabs hold of you, his skin hot and sweaty, “Baby, baby, baby,” he slurs, practically sobbing as you help him to his feet. Which is easier said than done.

He presses his body against you, whining the second there is a fraction of space. 

“Poe, it’s okay,” You soothe, trying to keep him upright. 

He buries his face into your neck, shivering and breathing hard. “It hurts.” He whimpers and you hold him tighter. 

The Tsar drops to his knees, “A great insult has been cast to you by myself.” The guards all fall to their knees as well.

“I-” Your own gasp cuts you off as Poe kisses your neck, lightly sucking on your skin as he grinds his very obvious erection against your leg.

“I will sort this disservice with the traders, please, I offer any future trades to go directly through me and my house to ensure its standards.”  

“Thank you,” you manage to get out, as you grip Poe’s wrists to stop him from undressing you then and there. “There is no ill will, please let me leave you with Keseun as a sign of my appreciation.” 

The Tsar nods deeply, “I will accept, and will repay you for your generosity in the future.” 

Poe wriggles one hand free, pushing his fingers under your shirt.

“I, thank you,” you bow your head, “I need to be getting back to my ship and-”

Poe kisses your cheek, nipping lightly at your jaw as he tries to press his lips to yours. 

“Please,” The Tsar gestures to the side, “Let me show you our hospitality, at least while the effects are still strong in your mate.” 

You want to refuse, you want to get the hell out of there. But there’s no way you can get Poe to your ship like this. 

You nod and are quickly guided to a lavishly decorated room. You barely get the chance to thank the servant before Poe’s tongue is in your mouth. 

It’s dizzying, desperate the way he moves against you, how his hands slide and tug at your clothing. He pushes you back, up against the door.

“Poe– Poe,” You manage to pull yourself away, to resist getting caught up in his warmth. You have no idea how this worked out, maybe Poe had gotten himself together for long enough to throw himself away from the Tsar and to you? 

“You okay?” You hold his cheeks, stroking his feverish skin. 

“Need you,” he moans, his eyes soft and dilated. 

“I’m so sorry.” You mutter. God, you had to find something, do something, knock him out for a few hours until his body worked this out of its system. 

“Why? Why? You saved me.” He bites his lip, rubbing his hips against yours. 

“Hey, hey, let’s see if we can-”

“I love you, you know that?” 

You freeze, your mind blanking out for a second.

“Ever since Heiran. Ever since then, I knew it, I love you.”

“Poe, you’re not thinking straight, the, the S-”

“I should have kissed you on Heiran,” he closes his eyes, pressing his face into your hands and sighing. His skin is burning, desperate for the relief of your touch. “I should have kissed you after, I was scared. Scared you’d reject me…” His eyes are shining when they open, “But you can, you can say no. I won’t…”

He lets out the sweetest sob when you lightly kiss him, moaning into your mouth as you wrap your arms around him and pull him close.  

“I should have kissed you on Heiran,” you whisper, “I wanted to.”

He groans, rocking lightly against your legs to take the edge off the deep ache in his stomach. “I…” He bites his lip, it hurts. The weight is so much, too much. All consuming now that he knows you want him to. 

“Here, it’s okay,” you turn him around so that his back is flush with your chest. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” You kiss his temple, his skin feverish and sweaty as you slide your hand under the fabric around his waist.

He moans, grabbing hold of you desperately as your fingers touch his velvety length. 

“It’s okay.” You soothe as you start to stroke him in earnest. “You’re safe with me.”

Thank you for reading!

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Ask The Question

Outcome 3 x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 3: Drinking Game

Summary: Truth or dare?

A/N: Opps, this is basically fluff. Thank you @thexsanctuaryx for saving my butt and beta-ing again!

Warnings: fluff, teasing, drinking, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 649

You take a shot, the whiskey burns your throat. You can’t remember if it’s your fourth or fifth, your tolerance having been consistently burned down during the course of the evening. 

There’s a pleasant buzz at the back of your head.

He chuckles, his dark eyes twinkling. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to answer that one.” 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so relaxed, without every single muscle tensed, posed and ready to strike.

You pull a face, “I have my reasons.”

“Which are?” Amusement dances in his expression.

You pause then shake your head. “Nope.” 

“That’s unfair.” 

“Is not.” 

He shifts a little closer to you on the floor, pressing his arm against yours, “Is too.”

Outside the wind is howling, the night dark and cold. 

The light from the fire plays across his skin dreamily. 

“I took my shot.” You gesture to yourself. “I’m playing by the rules.”

He tuts playfully, “How is, ‘Are you interested in anyone right now?’ so difficult to answer?”

“You can’t trick me, mister. I’m still not gonna tell you, besides it’s your turn.” 

“Fine.” He gives you an eyebrow raise and then pretends to think. “Truth.”

You pout at him for a second and then grin wickedly. “Are you interested in anyone right now?” 

He snorts.

“See?” You gloat. “Not so chatty now are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What?” 

“The answer’s yes.” He gives you a smug smile. “Your turn.”

“What?” You splutter. “Who?” 

“It’s your turn.” 

“Hey-”

“Rules are rules,” he nudges your shoulder again, “and it’s your turn.”

You sigh dramatically. “Alright…” You know he’s going to ask something similar again, and again if you say truth until you’re too tipsy not to answer honestly. You swallow. 

Part of you wishes he wasn’t so beautiful, wasn’t so charming. That you weren’t hopelessly head over heels in love with him. 

But he obviously had someone he had eyes on. You tried not to let the disappointment that was tearing at your insides show. 

“Dare.” You finally say. 

“A kiss.” He speaks so softly you think you must have misheard.

“Sorry?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, breathless.

“A kiss,” he repeats, leaning closer until he can brush his nose against yours. 

“I…” You don’t know what to do, what to say, your mind racing and also unhelpfully blank. 

He reaches up slowly and lightly touches your cheek in a silky sweet contact. Your skin buzzes, practically hums where his fingers brush against you. 

“A kiss.” He says a third time, barely moving his lips this time as he tilts his head to the side and closes the gap. 

He kisses you softly, gentle and sweet like he doesn’t want to break you, but he groans when your lips move against his. His touch on your cheek grows firmer, his fingers slide down to cradle the back of your neck as he flicks his tongue along your bottom lip. 

This can’t be real, can’t be happening. You’d had too much to drink and passed out on the stupidly plush carpet. 

He hums against you, his kisses growing bolder, more demanding as he licks into your mouth, teasing your tongue with his own. He tastes like the whiskey and that stupid lemon you’d dared him to eat six rounds ago. 

His lips are softer than you expected, but as skilled and firm as you’d daydreamed of.

When he finally pulls back he keeps his eyes closed, a soft lovesick smile on his face. 

You swallow nervously, all words empty from your mind.  

“You can ask me that truth now.” He says softly, his hand still on your neck, tracing soft circles along your skin that makes you shiver deliciously and ache with want. 

“I…who are you interested in?” You finally stammer out, getting lost in his dark eyes. 

He kisses you again, lightly and whispers against your lips. “You, dummy.”

Thank you for reading!

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Known For Little Pranks

Jack (Mojave) x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 2: Edgeplay

Summary: You'd thought the trailer was abandoned, that was your first mistake.

A/N: @thexsanctuaryx is the real hero here for saving me from an absolute mess of words and nonsense and bad description <3

Warnings: Jack is a warning, oral (both f and m receiving), knife play, p in v sex, kinda looks like it's gonna be a dangerous situation at first, but it's all consensual, knife to the throat, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3655

The knife to your throat is a surprise.

You’d thought this beaten up trailer dumped in the middle of the fucking desert was fair game. Abandoned surely. 

Apparently fucking not. 

You know you should have been more careful. 

“Well, well, well what do we have here?” The gruff voice has a smile to it. An unsettling spark of recognition dripped down your spine. 

“Jack?” Your voice comes out more timid than you intend, almost shy. 

He cackles, pressing the knife closer to your neck - causing you to step back a fraction. Your back collides with his chest and his free hand comes around to hold your waist. 

He breathes your name in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “What a surprise little sister… certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

You swallow, “this trailer yours?”

”It most certainly is.” 

“I didn’t… I thought it was abandoned.”

He chuckles at that. “Did ya, little sister? I’m sure you did. Sure you weren’t just doing your usual thievin’.”

“I’m not-” 

He presses the knife firmer and you shut your mouth. 

“You always were sneaking around, far too suspicious for your own good. Got others fooled though, that’s for sure. Couldn’t fool me though, couldn’t fool old Jack.”

You swallow nervously, the blade bobbing with the movement. “I haven’t seen you around for a while.”

“I haven’t been in town for a while.” He says gruffly, your effort to change the conversation direction obviously being an incorrect one. 

“What’s one mistake between old friends?” You say hopefully. 

He laughs again. The sound is anything but humorous. “Old friends? Is that the card you’re really gonna try and play here little sister? You know as well as anyone that the last thing we would be considered is friends.”

The knife starts to cut into your skin, the sting of it razor sharp. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” You try to control your breathing, hide your utter fear. 

“Oh really? Consider me a friend do you?” 

You nod as much as you can without losing blood. 

There’s a pause, and you can almost hear Jack’s thoughts tick, tick, ticking over as he assesses your answer. 

He turns his head to the side, pressing his nose to your jaw and inhaling. “How much of a friend do you consider me?”

”W-what?” The stammer makes you inwardly groan.

He chuckles, “How much of a friend do you consider me?” He repeats, slower, taking his time to pronounce. Every. Single. Word. “Because friends don’t steal from friends, little sister, they don’t do that at all.”

“I told you,” you breathe in deeply, trying to keep your voice even and calm, “I didn’t know this place was yours.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth, I swear, why would I…”

“Finish the sentence sister.” He growls. 

You bite back a flare of panic, “Why would I come here if I knew this place was yours…”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Oh, that’s it isn’t it sister, surely if we’re such good friends you’d come here to visit me wouldn’t you? Come and see your old pal Jack?”

You stay quiet, the beating of your heart so loud it makes you light headed. 

“Say,” he moves his free arm up, pressing you closer to his body, “maybe we can work something out little sister, what do you say?”

“Like… what?” You speak softly, not wanting to provoke him any more than you already had. Your mouth is dry, your voice coming out in a croak. 

“Well, first, let’s have a look in your pocket, hmm? See what you’ve tried to take from old Jack already?” 

You nod stiffly and slowly move your hand, making a show of holding it open and putting it into your pocket and then the other. 

You’d only taken a few trinkets so far, nothing of much use while you assessed the place. A lighter, a silver coin with a language on it you didn’t recognise, and what you thought was probably a piece of clear quartz. You’d picked them up for no other reason than they’d caught your eye. 

“Interesting choice doll, interesting choice for sure… didn’t take you as a lover of shiny things.” He muses, “secret magpie maybe?”

You stay still and quiet. 

“Now, now, don’t clam up on me sweetheart, we’re just having a nice pleasant conversation here. Me and you, just a chat between good friends.”

You shiver. 

“Now, I’m gonna say that if I hadn’t caught you when I did, there would be a hell of a lot more in those pockets, wouldn’t there? I bet there’d be more in your car too and a fuck lot less in here. Robbing good old Jack out of house and home, that’s for sure.” He tuts. 

And you stiffen. 

“You know what little sister? I’m feeling generous, as we go way back. I’ll take this as you were borrowing not thievin’. You were gonna bring them back, weren’t you?” He pinches your jaw with his free hand and makes you nod, moving the knife slightly as he does so he doesn’t accidentally cut into your skin. 

He chuckles, dark and menacing, “Yeah, I knew that was what’s up… just borrowin’... but, of course, borrowin’ isn’t just for nothing. Not in this desert. It’s tit for tat, isn’t that right girlie?”

He nods your head again.

“So you must have been thinking of leaving something for me, tradin’ something for using my stuff for a while?”

You shiver, nausea burning in your throat. 

“Here’s what I’m thinking girlie, what would a little sweet thing like you be leavin’ for me?”

He waits. Stays silent for an endless amount of time. His heartbeat echoes through his chest into your back, it’s slow, even, confident. So different from the way your heart smashes against your ribcage in an attempt to escape. 

“I…” You finally whisper.

“I’ll help you out, shall I doll? I’m just so giving. Old Jack’ll help you out. You got options here girlie, count your blessings that’s for sure. Options. I’m guessing you could have left me a pint of blood.” He taps the knife against your neck and you take in a sharp gulp of air. “Any liquid is always worth its weight in this desert… Or you could have left me a pound of flesh,” he squeezes your wrist, his callous fingers rubbing against your skin. “Though, I feel like it's more of a punishment for thieves… and wouldn’t be a payment between friends.” The way he says that word sends a lead weight of sickness to your stomach. 

“Oh, no, no, no.” He grins again, pressing his lips against your neck. “I think you’ve left good old Jack something else entirely. Something much more sweet.”

Heat pools in your belly.

He moves slightly, stepping a little closer, pressing his chest to your back a little firmer and in the process his arm loosens ever so slightly. And that’s all the chance you needed.

You twist, turn, blocking his forearm with your own and spin around, using his surprise to your advantage and adding to your momentum. You free yourself from his grasp, bend his wrist holding the knife and press him back up into the wall. 

His shelves shake a little with the impact, the breath knocked from his lungs. He grunts, the large hunter's knife still in his hand, but now at his throat with your own fingers curled around it. 

Jack grins. “Took you long enough girlie.” 

“You cut your hair,” you raise your eyebrow at him. It suits oddly, that close shaven stubble. 

“Like it?” He presses his neck closer to the knife to move his head, showing off every angle. 

“I liked your old style.” 

He pouts a little, mischief shining through. “Liked it long?” 

“Before that… when you used to have your curls.” 

His lips twitch, the smile becoming a fraction softer for a second. “Didn’t realise you’d been paying so much attention to me doll.” 

“Then you haven’t been very perceptive, have you?” You tease. 

He swallows, his lips slightly parted. “Why?” His voice is lower now, confident but with a hint of trepidation underneath, “You been making eyes at me all this time?” 

You let his words hang in the air for a moment. Let him simmer in his thoughts. 

When you finally speak, it’s blunt. “You didn’t notice?” 

“Maybe old Jack isn’t as smart as he thought he was.” He smiles, his eyes lidded. “You gonna cut my throat?” 

“That would be a waste of a pretty throat.” 

He chuckles, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling, “Don’t think anyone’s ever called me pretty before, girlie.” 

“That seems like a waste too.” You lean a little closer, your voice a whisper. 

He swallows, licks his lips. “Have I got to slice some skin,” he juts his neck up a little, “to get a kiss? Or do I got to try my luck and hope for the best?” 

“You could try asking nicely.”

“May I have a kiss?” He grins cheekily, “Pretty please?” 

You lean forward, pressing the blade a little firmer against him just because you can, and lightly touch your lips to his. It’s the faintest of caresses, a hair's breadth of contact. 

Jack groans low in his throat, slumping a little more against the door weakly. He darts out his tongue to flick the tip against your bottom lip. His eyes close and he hums happily. “You do taste sweet.” 

You inch closer, kissing him fully this time. Slow and soft and sweet like those daydream first kisses in teenage romance films. He moans happily into your mouth, slowly inching up his free hand to cup your face. He touches you lightly, reverently, a mixture of respect and also not wanting to surprise you into accidentally nicking his artery. 

“Do I get to make you come, girlie?” He mutters when you break the kiss. 

“You can try.”

He chuckles again, stroking your cheek softly. “Oh, Jack does love a challenge.” He captures your lips with his own, licking into your mouth and groaning as you respond and press your body closer. 

He gently urges you back towards his bed, kissing you senseless and easing the knife from your grasp. He stabs it into his wooden bedside table, the sound makes you jump.

“Don’t worry girlie, you can cut me up with it later if you want.” 

You snort. “If I want?”

“When you want.” He beams. 

“I’m beginning to think you like the idea of me having a knife to your throat.” 

“Oh girlie,” he takes hold of your hand and presses it against his crotch. His cock is hard and hot, practically throbbing with his heartbeat. “You have no idea.” 

He starts to work his nimble fingers on the button of your jeans, unzipping them and slipping his hands under your top before you even realise. 

He kisses your neck, searching for the spot that makes you shiver as you hang onto his shoulders for support. 

You grind your hips against him, pulling at his beaten up jacket so desperate to finally get your hands on his skin.

“Let old Jack take these off?” He mumbles against your neck as he loops his thumbs into the waistband of your jeans. 

You nod, too caught up in the feel of his lips on you to do much more.

He chuckles and kneels as he pulls them down a little roughly and then holds out his hand to help you step out of them. You giggle as they get a little caught on your shoes and you have to kick them off before you can free yourself completely.

Jack hums as he nuzzles into your thigh, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin as he drags his lips higher until he reaches your hip joint. He licks slowly, tracing along the outside line of your underwear as he presses two fingers against your clothed centre.

You gasp, jumping a little at the sudden but welcome touch. 

“Ugh, girlie,” he groans, breathing in and nipping at your skin. “Fuck me, you’re dripping. Fucking soaking here.” He strokes the tips of his fingers back and forth lightly along the damp patch. 

You huff a little in embarrassment, feeling slightly self conscious until he looks up at you and meets your gaze. His eyes are dark, lust filled and desperate. His throat bobs as he swallows and presses the heel of his free hand against his dick to just take the edge off.

He presses a little firmer as his attention goes back to your core, humming in approval as your breathing hitches. Slowly he inches out his tongue, pressing the tip of the wetness on your panties. 

He groans at the taste, his eyes rolling back as he licks a large flat stripe and then hastily pulls your underwear to the side. 

“Gotta taste the source, fuck, even sweeter.” He laps at your clit, moaning approvingly as you grab hold of the back of his head. He places his warm left hand on your ass, kneading your flesh and forcing you closer to his eager mouth. 

He mutters and swears as he swallows and licks, sinking his tongue into you again and again before he drags it up and swirls around your clit, driving you wild. 

“Jack, shit,” Okay, you weren’t expecting this. 

He growls, eating you out like a man starved before he pulls back, your slick covering the bottom half of his face. Impatiently he pulls your underwear off completely before he climbs onto the bed, laying his head halfway down the mattress before looking at you expectantly. 

“Get on, girlie.” He wiggles his eyebrows and gestures up with his chin. 

You nod, your legs weak. You barely have one leg on the mattress before Jack’s manhandling you into the position he wants: your knees either side of his head spread wide.

He forces you down onto his eager mouth with his hands on your hips, rocking you back and forth and burying his tongue into your aching heat. 

You whine, gasp, arching your back and grabbing hold of the wall to keep yourself upright as pleasure blooms from your core. 

The noises he’s making are obscene, slurping and groaning like this is the first liquid he’s had in days. His hips buck and cant upward with every pull and press he urges you to make, chasing an imaginary friction. 

Your muscles tighten, thighs shake as he laps, licks further inside, and curls his tongue so expertly. 

“Jack, I’m, I think,” you moan loudly, trying to warn him, but he just holds you tighter, doesn’t let you squirm away from the onslaught of pleasure.

You come hard, your nerves tensing and paralysing you for one long moment as you dissolve into bliss. 

He loosens his grip as you slump and relax, a lopsided smile, and your release, plastered to his face. 

“Look so pretty when you come girlie,” he leans over, wiping his mouth and chin on his shirt before he kisses your cheek. “Sound so good too.” 

You sigh, shaking a little from the after tremors and close your eyes for just a second. But snap them back open when you feel the bed dip as he stands, you reach out for him and he chuckles kindly. 

“Don’t worry, Jack isn’t going anywhere.” He pulls off his clothes, watching you with a smile that widens when he sees you looking. “Like what you see, girlie?” 

You nod as you stare at his chest and lick your lips eagerly as he unzips his trousers. 

“You wanna keep playin’? Or you wanna break?” 

You lift your head up slightly, touched that he would ask. “Want you to fuck me.”

“As the lady wants.” He pretends to tip an imaginary cap and steps forward, about to open his bedside table drawer. But you sit up quickly into a kneeling position, pulling his hips towards you and run your hand over his thick cock. 

“Mmm, girlie.” He groans as you stroke him with one hand and run your thumb along his head. You press lightly, smearing his precum over his sensitive skin and rubbing lightly at his slit. He lets out a breathy whimper and your pride swells as you feel more precum leaking out against your fingers. 

You look up at him as you lean forward, tongue out. Just in case this isn’t what he wants. 

He watches you eagerly, his breathing shallow as you flick the tip against his head, the taste of his salty precum spreading across your tastebuds. 

You groan as he gasps, his face contorted in pleasure as you trace your tongue down and then lap at his balls before dragging a long, flat lick back up to the head. 

“That’s it girlie, that’s it.” He mutters. His cock twitches in your hand, his thighs shaking as you suck his head past your lips and bob down as deeply as you can. 

“Ohh fucccck.” He grabs hold of the edge of the headboard, fighting the urge to buck up into the sweet relief of your mouth. “That’s good darlin’, so good for me.” 

He can’t help himself and presses forward as you swallow around him, easing further into the heat. 

You moan, bobbing your head torturously slow, trying to relax your jaw and take him deeper but he stops you with a hand on your cheek. 

“Hold on girlie, hold on,” he says gruffly, trying to contain himself. “Wanna make you come once more before I do.” He gives you a cheeky wink before he opens the top drawer of his bedside table and fishes out a condom. 

You raise an eyebrow as he opens the wrapper with his teeth and rolls it onto his thick length. 

“Didn’t take you as the condom kind.” You tease. 

“You want me to go bareback?” He chuckles as he kneels on the bed next to you, “I’ll have you know, little girlie, that this is ribbed for your pleasure.” 

You giggle as he pulls a purposefully smarmy face and he grins. 

“So,” he lightly touches your lips, “how do you want it?” 

“How do you?” 

“Oh, dealer's choice, hmm?” His smile widens. “Alright,” he places his hand on your hip, rubbing soft circles onto your skin, the heat of his fingers almost burning. He presses you down gently on the mattress, positioning you so that you’re laying on your side.

“Hmm, that’s good,” he presses your legs together, bending your knees and urging them up and close to your chest. “Can see your pretty face and pretty cunt all at the same time.” He mutters, almost speaking to himself as he drags the head of his cock through your slick folds, groaning lowly as he finally feels your heat against his length. 

“Gonna go nice and hard darlin’, yeah?” 

You barely get your mouth open before he’s already pushing his side, breaching your entrance with his fat tip. You gasp in surprise, his name a whimper on your lips as he keeps sinking in. 

Your pussy clenches, flutters at the sudden intrusion and your hips instinctively try to move away. But he holds your thigh firmly, pulling you tighter against him as he fills you up with one solid thrust. 

“Oh fuck.” He groans, “Nice and tight aren’t you girlie?” 

You squirm, the stretch is intense, burning along your muscles in the most delicious way that has you panting. “Oh god.” 

“Mmm, feels good?” 

You nod rapidly, clutching hold of the pillow as he pulls out and rams back in setting a brutal and frantic pace that has you screaming.

He groans, changing the angle with every thrust until your cries change in pitch and you're practically clawing at the headboard. 

“Oh, is that the spot girlie?” He taunts, his words strained from the rapid thrusts of his hips, “That the spot that’s so fucking good?” 

You can’t answer him, your mind mush as he keeps ramming into you. 

“When’s the last time you got fucked like this, hmm? Who’s the last guy that got you cock dumb and screaming on their dick like a whore?” 

You whine, your back arching as he keeps hitting the same sweet spot now he’s found it, determined to reduce you to a complete mess underneath him. 

“Oh, no one?” He laughs, “No one’s ever fucked you this good, huh? Crying shame, girlie, crying shame.” 

He grabs hold of the headboard with his right hand while he snakes his left around to rub at your clit, rough circles that hit in time with the manic buck of his hips.

“Jack, Jack,” you can’t stop yourself, his name rolling off your lips, the only thing on your mind as your body begins to overflow with the sweetest pleasure. 

You flutter, tensing around him. 

“Oh, gonna come for me, pretty? Gonna cream all over my cock?” 

You scream as he whispers filth into your ear, shaking. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every position, can’t wait to get you coming all over me again and again and again until mine’s the only cock that’ll do.” 

Pleasure hits you from nowhere, sinking its fangs into your skin as you come and pulse. Your cry leaves you silently as you ride the wave, unable to do anything but let it carry you away. 

Jack groans as your walls squeeze him, as you fall apart under him. 

“Oh, fuck, darlin’,” he cries out, his hips bucking frantically for the last few seconds until he comes with a strangled sigh. 

He presses kisses to your sweaty temple, slumping against you slightly, but using his arm to keep his full weight off you as you relax and come back to yourself.

“Fucking perfect,” he kisses your lips, easing his tongue softly into your mouth when you allow him. 

You wrap your arm around his neck, holding him close. 

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[oscarssimp]

Sir...

[oscarssimp]

Victor Frankenstein has plagued my mind for the past few days, thanks to the pictures released on set I decided to reread the book after many many years of the first time I did back in middle school and man, it’s so terrible how poor Victor suffers a lot and lives under a shadow of constant sorrow and his own demons 😞

So it gave me the inspo to sketch this Victor.

I cannot wait for the adaptation Guillermo is gonna give of this story! I’m so excited cause he is one of my favourite directors and also the fact of having the representation of both of my countries there by Oscar and Guillermo feels totally unreal.

Drawings Masterlist