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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

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18+ NSFW. MDNI.

dreamlike — tommy miller x fem reader

warnings: slightly dark content, dark!tommy, smut, unspecified age gap but reader is over 22+, masturbation, handjob, cheating, tommy’s moral compass breaks down, unclothed grinding, surprise ending, sex outdoors, tension, maria ily this isn't personal I just rlly like ur man

notes: hi guys it's been 100 years I'm sorry ily + take this bc im ovulating 😎 tommy miller suddenly making me feel things bc of gabriel luna that's right. likes and reposts are appreciated🥹

“I don't think you've settled down quite just yet.” joel tells him one day while they're eating breakfast together. tommy glances, swallows then responds.

“I don't know what you mean.” but his eyes betray him as they return somewhere for the fifth time; at a distant specific table where you're reading some silly book again.

your food is yet to be touched while tommy’s and joel’s are nearly gone.

“tommy we're too old for this shit, you and I. you're my brother, I already know what you'll do before you even do it.” joel throws the bait and tommy bites it.

“I’m not doing anything joel except—”

“except eating Maria's food while throwing damn heart eyes at her.”

tommy hisses at joel’s truthful interruption, not so much at being interrupted but at the validation of those words.

“I’m just making sure she likes the food.” joel deadpans, tommy does the same right after because of his own words. gods, he is pathetic.

“fuck, just shoot me already.” joel shrugs at his brother's words and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's grinning. “tell your wife, I'm sure she'll be delighted.”

tommy shakes his head and keeps on eating. he stresses over his thoughts so much that, lucky for you, he misses your piercing gaze and the bite of your lips.

he spends days trying to blame it on something other than him being a terrible person. the breakout, the virus, the living circumstances, the we need to work faster from Maria or that everyone depends on him for the hard stuff.

sure, tommy had chosen this in the first place but he doesn't even know if he wants whatever this is anymore. what does he want?

“mister miller!”

the tension leaves his shoulders as he watches you walk towards him, only wearing that favourite sundress of yours and an oversized jacket.

it's the first real summer that wyoming has felt since the outbreak. tommy only appreciates it because he's too lazy to gear up for winter.

“you’re early.” he says and finds himself smiling as you flop down beside him, sitting on the green weeds.

the snow is still melting but it doesn't make things less cold — but clearly you don't feel the cold he does.

“I helped in the kitchen so they let me off early.” you explain and tommy hums. he thinks about the past months when he'd found you during patrol, covered by the snow and nearly dead. he'd never ridden back home faster, urging for the medics to help you out and thank gods they'd done a great job. now you were here, a few months later, and trusting him more than anyone else while tommy was just a straight up bastard.

he fed you more than others, brought you new clothes that you might like and most importantly showed you his spot. that well hidden spot outside the fences which was an hour's walk away... it wasn't even special but it was spacious and quiet and a little cleaner — and suddenly he was calling it our spot instead of my spot.

for months you'd come here, chat with him and draw in your worn out notebook. the pages were running out and tommy made a mental note to find you a new one. fuck.

“what’s this?” tommy murmurs while his hand points at a very specific drawing on the left page.

he seems to pale while you just feel yourself growing hot. you'd drew him back in the cafeteria when he was looking at you, when he thought you were so unaware of his eyes but you always knew.

“I just—” you try to find the right words, or better yet the right excuse, but you can't. “I just did it.”

tommy catches on your tone as if you were afraid to receive a reaction. his reply surprises you.

“do I really look at you that way?” he asks and you nod, the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder clearly to test him.

tommy has never succeeded in any tests in his entire life.

you lay on the ground, indifferent about the weeds tangling in your hair. tommy’s face hovers over yours as he kisses you, one of his hands sneaking beneath your dress to squeeze your thigh and nothing more.

“tommy.” he swallows his own name from your lips, his lips kissing you feverishly yet the rest of his body doesn't dare move. tommy just sticks to laying beside you while his elbow achingly supports his weight.

he cannot trust himself to move, to slip between your thighs and only kiss.

the hand he's placed on your thigh earlier starts to retreat but you don't let it as you use both of your hands to capture his wrist.

“sweetheart.” tommy warns, his eyes blown wide with lust while his chest heaves up and down. he’s affected by this, feeling overwhelmingly lustful like he's young again, while also fearing the consequences of this. the aftermath of it.

for the first time you don't listen to him, pushing his hand between your thighs until his fingers come in contact with your soaked panties.

you hear him cursing beneath his breath, fuck this, as he touches you after what feels like forever.

he rubs you through your panties, his massive hand feeling the material soaking further as his thumb finds your clit. your head turns and you bury it in his chest while tommy just rubs.

his breath is hitched and he's in a far worse state than you for a different type of reasons. you drool on his shirt and throb against his fingers because you're excited, you feel good. on the other hand, tommy cups and fondles your pussy possessively while stressing over the limits. he can't do more than this — he shouldn't.

“can I touch your cock?” you whisper almost too shyly and tommy wishes joel would have just shot him when he had asked the first time.

your hand unzips his trousers and takes out his cock because tommy has obviously agreed, because it's your fault for looking at him with those sparkling eyes.

your foreheads collide as tommy touches you and you touch him.

his fingers eventually sneak beneath your panties because he wants it to be fair, you're touching his bare cock so he's entitled to your pussy right?— or maybe he really is just an asshole deep down.

nothing like the tommy that maria loves, nothing like the tommy that everybody respects. no, once again he's the tommy miller that only joel knows.

your fingers circle around his cock, feeling it at first, before caressing every inch of skin you can get. your eyes are on tommy’s as your foreheads keep touching and a soft smile occupies your face while you stroke his cock.

you're smiling and touching his dick and tommy likes it too much.

“you need a new notebook, don't you?” tommy asks through gritted as your fingers squeeze around his hard cock. because it's definitely the right time for conversations.

you nod, mouth slightly agape as his fingers circle your swollen clit and then dip between your lips, feeling you dripping.

“anything else?” he asks too softly while his nose brushes against yours, offering some intimacy that isn't just sexual.

“pencils?” you don't order him or demand. you ask because you care and tommy likes that you care in that way. it's always only if it's okay with you and that's exactly how he needs it.

“notebooks.. pencils.. whatever you say, it'll happen.” he slaps your pussy, not too hard, and you whimper.

you can feel your nipples hardening beneath your dress while your pussy simply leaks for tommy miller. your legs shift and you spread them.

tommy sways his hips, fucks his cock into your tight but soft fist and curses.

the summer breeze carries your soft whimpers and tommy’s gentle grunts. your hand strokes him a little faster as your thumb purposely brushes against his sensitive slit and you don't fail to notice the way tommy’s hips twitch when you do it.

the front of his shirt is a mix of your drying drool and his sweat but it doesn't bother him. his solid focus is to fuck your small fist and, of course, to pleasure you which is his first priority.

tommy can handle you, his middle finger circling your wet entrance slowly before he pushes in, the slide smoother than he'd expected. he adds a second finger minutes later, then a third.

you stroke his cock as he thrusts his fingers inside your pussy and for a while nothing else really matters.

the squelching of your cunt is loud and tommy curls his fingers inside you, reaching a place that makes you see stars. “tommy!” you gasp in that angelic voice and he goes a little crazy, fingers digging into your sweet spot as he becomes a little desperate with his thrusts.

your lower tummy shudders with delight and your thighs flex as his fingers thrust into your tight pussy recklessly, poking at those sensitive nerves every damn time.

tommy thinks you warn him about your orgasm but he's also not sure as he's too busy watching your face and your pussy reacting simultaneously. your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forms a small ‘O’ as your walls are suddenly gripping his fingers too tight, too deep.

you cum with a shuddering moan of his name and coat his fingers generously, becoming a spectacle. you squirt for him, because of him, and he'd draw out more if it wasn't for time running away from you two.

tommy seems confused when you push his hand away but then everything happens so fast. he can't stop it, he swears.

he watches as you roll to your side, your chest brushing against his, and slip his cock between your thighs. tommy can't breath when his entire girth slides between your pussy lips, soaking through, until his tip kisses your clit.

“no sweetheart—” tommy warns weakly but you're already moving, swaying. his cock is wet with your juices as it slides against your pussy, harder than ever, and he is utterly defeated.

“please cum on my pussy.” you mumble against his lips and he kisses you otherwise he might do worse. he satiates himself with this situation, sucking your bottom lip while thrusting his hips upwards and taking half of what he wants. something he doesn't deserve.

his balls swell and then clench as he orgasms, lowering his hips a little to cum on your pussy. he fulfils his promise, painting the surface white with his cum before resting his forehead on yours again. spent.

it's quiet for a long time as his arms remain lazily wrapped around your body. you melt against him, into him, and you two do your best to catch your breath.

when he looks at you again, the sun is setting right behind you and making you look surreal. you're like a dream while tommy is just there with a stupid smile on his face and half indecent because of what you've done.

then suddenly he doesn't feel real, his body is all too light before it gets incredibly heavy.

he hears his name being called out repeatedly tommy tommy tommy and he jumps, looking around with sweat dripping down his back.

maria stands over him as he lays on the couch because he's home — not outside the fence. not with you.

“I told you to cut day drinking with joel. he's bringing back old habits.” his wife tells him, pressing a kiss on his forehead before walking away.

tommy rises and stumbles to the window. the snow is still there, white and thick, while the red calendar on the wall reads December 25 like it's a fucking joke. like he'd never met you secretly in the spot that belongs to you and him.

reality hits hard as you pass by his house, that familiar notebook resting against your chest as you hug it preciously. you look at him instinctively, as if feeling his burning gaze, and you smile.

“merry christmas, mister miller!” you yell cheerfully and tommy nods, forcing his best smile.

miracles can only go so far and in the end, tommy can be content with just dreams.

#tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #the last of us #tlou #gabriel luna #gabriel luna x reader #gabriel luna x you #tommy miller tlou

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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

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Summary: You and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. When a trip to the gyno answers questions you didn’t even know to ask, your husband enlists the help of his one and only brother.

|| smut MDNI 18+, pinv, no outbreak, talk of infertility, not cheating but def not exactly kosher, baby makin', breeding kink, dirty talk, size kink, boundaries being crossed || notes: forgive me father for I have sinned. this is filthy. but also thinking about a part 2. kinda sorta maybe inspired by some crazy reddit stories. you'd be surprised how many there are like this LOL

You knew this was a crazy idea. Batshit crazy, actually. You were aware. But maybe, just maybe, if you spun it the right way, if you framed it with enough love and logic, it wouldn’t seem so absurd.

See, the thing is, you and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. Trying and, well, failing. It wasn’t until your last visit to the OB-GYN that a simple question—"Has Tommy ever been tested?"—sent everything spiraling. A few weeks of waiting. A single piece of paper. An answer you never expected. It wasn’t you. It was him.

Not that you’d ever blame him. You loved him too much. But no matter how many old wives’ tricks you tried—holding your legs up after he emptied himself into you, orgasms before and after, cinnamon and honey in your morning tea—nothing could change the fact that no amount of effort would make it stick.

Which brings you to now. Sat at the kitchen table in your quaint, cozy home with Joel across from you, a few glasses of wine deep. His expression was somewhere between exhausted and mildly entertained from whatever dumb story Tommy had been telling. You’d needed a glass yourself, just to steady your nerves.

And then Tommy popped the question.

Joel blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened, then shut again, then opened just enough for a noise—somewhere between a scoff and an incredulous laugh—to escape. He shifted in his chair, pushing back just slightly, like he needed to physically distance himself from what he was hearing.

“You…” he started, then stopped. Shook his head. “You want me to—?”

He didn’t even finish the sentence. Just motioned vaguely, like the words were so ridiculous they refused to come out of his mouth.

Tommy sighed, his grip firm around your hand while the other wrapped around your shoulders. “Yeah.”

Joel exhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two of you, like maybe, just maybe, this was a joke. That you'd all start laughing and point at him with a big 'got ya!'. His lips parted slightly, his forehead creased.

“You’re serious.”

“We wouldn’t ask anyone else,” Tommy said, voice steady.

Joel let out a breathy laugh, hollow and disbelieving. He dragged a hand down his face before pressing his palms against the table, fingers splaying out like he needed to brace himself.

“This ain’t a normal conversation to be havin’ over dinner, Tommy.”

“We know.”

“Do you?” Joel snapped, finally looking at his brother again, his voice sharper now. “Because I gotta tell ya, it really don’t seem like you do.”

“This ain’t easy for either of us,” Tommy said, his voice steady despite the tension winding between the three of you. “But we wouldn’t ask anyone else. We want to keep it in the family, so…the baby would still be related to me.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. His fingers gripped the stem of his wine glass like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

He looked over in your direction, but not directly at you, just at the table. At your hand in Tommy’s.

“And you’re…okay with this?” His voice was different now. Lower. Measured, like he was afraid of the answer.

You nodded. “We’ve talked about it. A lot. Ever since the results came back, we’ve been weighing options, and this—” You hesitated, swallowing, trying to gauge if he was even absorbing a single word. “It makes the most sense. More than adopting. More than a stranger. It keeps things in the family.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his ears tinged pink. He still wasn’t looking at you.

Not until you said his name. Soft. Careful.

His eyes flicked to yours, just for a second. Just long enough for you to see everything—the disbelief, the sheer what the fuck of it all—before he dropped his gaze again, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you said gently, exhaling softly. “Just… take some time to think about it.”

Joel didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, he left—no joke, no small talk of the next Sunday night football game could cut through the weight pressing down on the room. Just a stiff nod, a muttered see ya, and the quiet sound of the door closing behind him.

The following Sunday, it almost felt like the conversation had never happened.

The three of you sat at the sports bar, watching the Cowboys play on the massive screens, the air thick with the scent of beer and fried food. Tommy was his usual self, shouting at the refs, leaning into Joel’s shoulder every time the score tipped in their favor. Joel, on the other hand, was harder to read. He was relaxed enough, beer in hand, his usual dry remarks slipping out here and there, but there was something quieter beneath it all—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Not one mention of a baby. Not a single word about what you’d asked of him.

And maybe that was his answer.

When your husband got up, throwing out the excuse of takin’ a leak, the energy between you and Joel shifted. Not in a way you could name—just… thicker. More noticeable.

He sat a seat away, the empty barstool between you like a buffer neither of you had the nerve to close.

You tried to let it roll off your shoulders, but as you sat there, your mind wandered. What if Joel had said yes? What if it worked? Would the baby have his dark eyes, that heavy, thoughtful brow? Would they get that serious little crease between their eyes when they were thinking? His thick hair, his strong hands?

Tommy would still be their father. That was what mattered. That was the whole point. But the idea of seeing traces of Joel—subtle things, the shape of a nose, the curve of a smile…

The thought sent a strange, unfamiliar feeling curling in your chest.

It hurt, his lack of an answer, of course it did. But how could you blame him? You were asking for too much. Asking him to do something unnatural, something messy, something that could never be as clean and logical as you and Tommy had tried to convince yourselves it was.

You swallowed, setting your drink down as the silence stretched. “Listen, Joel—”

“I’ll do it.”

It was quiet. Like he wasn’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

Your breath caught, as you stared at him, mouth agape. The side of his face gave nothing away as he kept his eyes on the TV as you waited for some kind of smirk, some sign that he was messing with you.

But he wasn’t.

Joel kept his eyes averted, like this was the kind of thing a person could say without looking someone in the eye. He took a long drink from his bottle, then set it down with a dull thud.

“You and Tommy deserve this,” he murmured, rolling the glass between his palms as he stared down at it. “To have a kid.”

Your heart constricted at the sincerity in his voice.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “My life is better ‘cause of Sarah. Don’t think I ever told Tommy that outright, but… it is. I’d love to see him get to have that too.”

You blinked. “Are you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You serious?”

Joel turned to you finally, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since last week before you dropped the bomb on him, “Yeah.” he said finally, “Yeah, I’m serious.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, clearly still working through it—but the fact that he said it at all, that he meant it... that was more than you expected.

To be honest, you knew the baster idea wouldn’t work.

Not that you’d ever say it out loud. Not to your very loving, very kind, very hopeful husband. But deep down, you were pretty sure that by the time Joel had taken care of himself, transferred it into a container, driven it over, and you’d sat back on the bed with your legs up, whatever needed to be alive in there was long dead.

You didn’t bring it up. Couldn’t. Not when Tommy was trying so hard to make this work.

Across from you in the kitchen one morning, another negative pregnancy test sitting between you, your husband sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before reaching for his mug, “If I ask you somethin’,” he murmured, voice low, hesitant, “will you tell me the truth?”

Your eyes flicked up to his. “Of course, baby.”

His hand rested on the granite, fingers close enough that you reached out, tracing them lightly with your own. His eyes drifted down to your delicate touch against him.

Then, he exhaled slowly and cleared his throat.

“Do you think we should try…” His fingers twitched under yours. “Ya know. The old-fashioned way?”

For a second, the words didn’t land.

Not until you saw the way his eyes found yours and he was looking at you—serious, thoughtful, like he’d been turning it over in his head for longer than he wanted to admit.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tommy sighed, pressing his lips together before setting his coffee down. “I just think… for it to stick properly, we might need to try somethin’ more… natural.”

Your mind reeled. Heat crept up your neck, flushing your skin before you could stop it.

The idea of being with another man…

Tommy saw it. The way your lips parted, the way your breath caught just slightly.

He stepped closer, smoothing his hands over your cheeks, tilting your face up toward his.

“Only if you were comfortable with it,” he assured, voice gentle, steady. “I’d never ask you to do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do.”

You swallowed hard, still trying to process. “I—I don’t know, Tommy.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And Joel would flip out if we asked that of him.”

Tommy hummed, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “Yeah, he might.”

Might was an understatement.

Joel was over the following day to help with your bathroom remodel, a project the brothers had taken on during the slow season. You were busy finishing whatever odds and ends you needed to get done upstairs when you heard his voice traveling through the house.

Not just his voice—but the volume of it.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind?!”

The sound rattled through the house, shaking the walls as you hovered at the top of the stairs, heart pounding.

“Joel—” Tommy’s voice, calm but firm.

“No. No, you don’t get to ‘Joel’ me right now, Tommy, because what you just said—what you just— Christ.” There was the distinct sound of something slamming—a fist on the table? A chair shoved back? You weren’t sure, but it made you wince.

“Look, man, I knew you’d be pissed,” Tommy started, only to be cut off immediately.

“Oh, did you?” Joel’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You knew I’d be pissed, but you went ahead and asked anyway? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m already crossin’ so many lines with what we’re doin’, and now you’re askin’ me to…to—!?”

You could picture it perfectly—Joel pacing the length of the room, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair, winding up, because when Joel was really mad, he didn’t just stand there.

“You’re makin’ it a bigger deal than it is,” Tommy tried, tone even.

Joel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand the part where you just asked me to fuck your wife?”

Heat crawled up your neck.

“We ain’t askin’ that, Jesus, Joel, don’t talk about her like—”

“You are absolutely askin’ that.”

“It’s not like that.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

Silence. Heavy, tense.

You swallowed hard, gripping the banister, unsure whether to go down there or stay put.

Then—Joel’s voice, lower now, but still laced with disbelief.

“Tell me you didn’t really think I’d say yes to this.”

And Tommy, just as steady as ever:

“I think you wanna say no.” A pause, and you could almost feel the shift in the air between them. “But deep down? I think you’re already considerin’ it.”

Joel let out a slow, sharp exhale, but he didn’t argue.

And a week later, he was back at your doorstep.

There were three rules.

1. No kissing.

That was the hard line, the non-negotiable. Kissing was too intimate— too personal, too close to something else entirely. You could rationalize everything else, strip it down to the mechanics of what needed to happen, but kissing blurred the lines. That made it mean something. And this couldn’t mean anything.

2. No talking about it outside the bedroom.

No slipping up over dinner, no awkward mentions in passing, no weird jokes over a few beers. It had to stay contained. A thing that only existed in a room with the door closed and the world shut out. Because once it bled into the rest of your life—once it became something you acknowledged beyond those four walls—it would become real.

3. No names

No whispered Joel in the dark, he couldn’t say yours while he was inside you. Names had weight. Names had meaning. And the second you said them, it stopped being about a baby.

So when your ovulation window came within the next few days, you found yourself in your bedroom with the two brothers. When Tommy excused himself from the room—pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading out to meet his buddies at the bar like this wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing in the world— you turned to Joel

Over the years, you’d come to know him, grown comfortable with him. That familiarity should’ve helped, should’ve made this easier. But sitting here now, alone in the bedroom with him, awkward was an understatement.

Joel sighed, rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his brows as he stood at the edge of the bed. “Guess we better get to it, then.”

You nodded numbly, tucking your legs beneath you on the bedspread, looking up at him.

He was already tense, broad shoulders squared, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t even in the damn room. He exhaled sharply, then—without ceremony—unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal sent a strange ripple through your stomach, but you forced yourself to focus, watching as he shucked his jeans down to his thighs, taking his boxers with them.

Your breath caught.

Even soft as he was at the moment, he was bigger than Tommy. Thicker.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his stance, one hand bracing against the bedpost while the other wrapped around himself. He wasn’t looking at you. Not even close. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere off to the side, jaw locked, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he started moving his hand.

It wasn’t working.

Minutes passed, the air between you thick and suffocating, but he remained… soft. The tension in his face deepened, brows knitting, his motions growing stilted.

You chewed your lip, watching as his frustration mounted.

“You don’t gotta sit there starin’ at me,” he muttered, voice gruff, like this was somehow your fault.

You exhaled through your nose. “I’m just… tryin’ to think how I can help.”

His hand stilled. “You’re fine. Just–just give me a minute,”

Then suddenly as the idea struck, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

Joel’s head snapped toward you, eyes going wide. “What’re you doin’?” His voice was sharp, edged in something that sounded suspiciously close to panic.

You hesitated. “Just… thought maybe it’d help.”

“Well, don’t.” His ears were red. “Keep your damn clothes on.”

You huffed. “Jesus, it’s just a shirt.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but let it go, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

Another beat of silence, only the sound of skin on skin filling the air as he fisted himself.

“Can I help?”

His gaze flicked to yours, skeptical. “Help how?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. What do you like?”

Joel tensed. “…The hell kinda question is that?”

“A valid one,” you shot back, tilting your head. “C’mon, there’s gotta be somethin’. What do you like?”

He hesitated, shifting where he stood, uncomfortable. You rattled off a few suggestions, some kinks you’d heard of. He barely reacted.

Then finally, one seemed to slap him upside the head, “Do you like dirty talk?”

His entire body stilled.

His eyes finally, finally found yours.

Bingo.

A slow pulse of heat curled low in your stomach.

You leaned forward slightly, voice softer now. “What kind of things do you say?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you, the tension in his jaw loosening, his pupils starting to widen.

“Come on, Joel,” you said, then immediately pressed your lips together, realizing you’d already broken one of your own rules—not even five minutes in.

“Sorry—” You exhaled, shaking your head. “But c’mon, do you want me to talk to you? Or what do you usually say to women?”

Joel’s eyes were suddenly burning into you, his chest rising and falling just a little heavier now. He exhaled sharply, remembering himself as his gaze flickered around the room like he wasn’t sure where to land it, like maybe if he didn’t look at you, this would stay clinical—mechanical.

“I uh…” He wet his lips, voice rough. “Usually will tell ‘em they’re bein’ real good for me,” he said, exhaling through his teeth. “Bein’ a good girl.”

The temperature of the room shifted, the air growing heavy, pressing down on you. A slow, pooling ache pulsed low in your belly. His nostrils flared as his eyes found yours again, like maybe he could see exactly what that did to you.

You swallowed, “What else?”

Joel’s hips twitched. He hesitated, his grip flexing around himself, fingers curling just slightly. You caught the bob of his throat, the faint shift of his stance. He was getting there.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Tell ‘em how pretty they look on their knees.” His voice had taken on a new weight—thicker, heavier, his drawl rolling low in his throat. “How sweet they sound when they moan for me. How bad I wanna feel ‘em wrapped around me, drippin’ and ready, beggin’ for more.”

The room contracted, the air impossibly tight, each breath harder to pull in. Your skin felt hot, your lips parting as you fought to keep your breathing steady. And you knew—knew—your pupils were wide, knew your face was flushed.

Because his was too.

His eyes had darkened, locked on yours, heat simmering beneath the surface. You inhaled deeply, the air between you charged, electric. You reached out, fingers grazing along his forearm. He tensed, muscles flexing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“You wanna take this off?” you murmured, voice quiet but sure, fingers tracing up toward the sleeve of his shirt.

Joel let out a slow breath, something flickering behind his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty—but then, after a beat, he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Your gaze raked over him.

Christ. He was the epitome of masculinity—broad and solid, built like something carved from rough earth, from long years of labor and hardship. His chest was strong, lined with thick, dark hair that tapered down his stomach in a steady trail, leading lower—disappearing into the patch just above where he was hardening in his hand.

Your mouth was dry, your pulse a slow, deliberate thrum in your veins.

You lifted your hands to the hem of your own shirt, pausing just slightly. He hadn’t looked away.

“Okay?” you asked softly.

His jaw flexed, gaze dark, unreadable—but after a second, he nodded.

You pulled it over your head, the fabric slipping away, baring more skin than you’d ever thought he’d see.

Joel exhaled sharply, his eyes dragging down your body, heavy and slow, his pupils swallowing the color of his eyes. Your nipples pebbled in the open air, a shiver running through you as his gaze settled there, his breath hitching just slightly.

You reached for him again, fingers trailing along the hard lines of his chest, dipping over the planes of his stomach. He was warm beneath your touch and he smelled like pine and musk and something richer, something leathered and sun-baked—something distinctly Joel.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “O—okay,” he exhaled, voice rough. “I think I’m… good,” he added shakily, and you could see his body finally catching up to the filth rolling off his tongue, the thick weight of him fully hard now. You swallowed dryly at the sheer size of him in his palm.

Standing slowly, your hands dropped from his body, but your eyes never left his as you slid your pants down your hips and let them pool at your feet.

Bare. You were both bare.

Your gaze dragged over him, from the broad stretch of his shoulders down to his stomach, the solid cut of his thighs, his cock standing thick and heavy between you. It was the most you’d ever seen of him. The most he’d ever seen of you.

And he was beautiful.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tight as his gaze traveled over every inch of you. Then, wordlessly, you laid back down on the bedspread, opening your legs for him.

He cursed under his breath.

You caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched at his sides before he climbed onto the bed after you, settling between your legs. His eyes darted down, locked onto the wetness pooling between your thighs, and his nostrils flared.

“All this from just a few sweet words, huh?” His voice was lower now, edged with something amused but dark, something he hadn’t meant to let slip through.

He shifted forward, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, suddenly shy. “It’s said that women are more likely to get pregnant if, um… if they orgasm during or… or before, I think.”

Joel stilled for half a second before a slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You doubt me so much?”

The teasing edge in his voice—the cockiness—made some of the tension in your chest loosen. You let out a breathless laugh, your body unwinding slightly from the tension earlier. “I just… I’ve never…”

Something shifted in his face. The smirk faltered just a little. “You’re sayin’ my baby brother doesn’t take care of his own wife?”

“No!” you said quickly, your hand flexing against his chest defensively. “He does, it’s just… I can’t finish just from penetration. Most women can’t, actually.”

“I know, darlin’.”

You gasped as the thick head of his cock suddenly swiped through your slick arousal, and he hissed, pressing his other hand into the pillow beside your head as he leaned over you.

“Fuck—”

His voice was rough, gravelly, wrecked, and something about it made your thighs squeeze around his waist, made the heat coil even tighter in your belly.

Joel lingered there, his cock sliding through your slick, slow and deliberate, teasing against your swollen clit with every pass. The thick head caught at your entrance, nudging just slightly, and a gasp broke from your lips before you could swallow it down.

His jaw ticked, fingers flexing in the pillow beside your head, his body wound tight like a spring.

“This okay?” he asked, voice rough, strained.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes.”

He pressed forward, just an inch, just enough for you to feel the blunt stretch of him, and your breath hitched.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “So damn wet.”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t think—couldn’t focus on anything other than how thick he was, how different he was from Tommy. You felt like you were being split in two, but you wanted more. Every inch only made that need, that hunger, grow.

His hand lifted from his cock, skimming over your hip before settling on your thigh, holding you open.

“Gotta take it slow,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets beside you. “I can take it.”

His head dropped for a second, a quiet curse slipping past his lips. “Don’t say shit like that, sweetheart.”

Something about that word, the way it left his mouth—low and full of something dangerous—made your stomach clench.

The stretch was slow, unbearable in the best way as he pushed forward even more, your body giving inch by inch, and you let out a sharp exhale as he filled you.

Joel groaned, deep and low, his fingers tightening on your thigh as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

Jesus Christ.

The weight of him inside you, the way he fit—it was overwhelming, taking up every inch of space, leaving you panting beneath him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hips flush with yours now, his jaw tight. “You’re—shit, you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

Your thighs trembled around his waist, your body working to adjust to the fullness, to the sheer size of him, and then—oh god—then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in.

You moaned, head falling back against the pillows, fingers flexing against the sheets.

Joel’s breath was ragged, his grip tightening. “That’s it.”

As he began to set a steady pace, a deep thrust in, a gentle pull out, the tingling sensation you knew all too well was rising fast—too fast. It climbed up your spine, coiling tight, and your breath hitched in your throat. The sensation was familiar, so familiar, but not like this. Not from this.

Joel moved with deep, deliberate thrusts, each one stretching you full, dragging against every oversensitive nerve inside you with agonizing precision. His cock was thick, heavy, unrelenting—pressing deep, pressing right, pleasure licking up your spine like fire.

His hand moved between you, thumb finding your clit with ease, the calloused pad brushing over the swollen bundle of nerves, a touch just firm enough to make you jolt. Your whole body reacted, thighs trembling, an involuntary gasp ripping from your lips.

His breath hitched as he felt it too, and he let out a dark, pleased hum.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his voice a slow, deliberate drag against your skin. His thumb moved again, slick and sure, working tight little circles against you. “Now, what was it you said again?”

Your chest heaved, your fingers gripping at the sheets, at him, anything to keep yourself tethered, because the pleasure was coming in hot, hard waves now—building, climbing, making your skin flush and prickle with heat.

“I—I never—” You gasped, voice breaking, lips parting as your back arched into the feeling, as you felt your muscles tighten and clench under him.

Joel leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “C’mon, sweet girl. Use your words.”

Your hips met every thrust, dragging a moan from deep in your chest.

“I’ve never—ah!—never come like this before,” you choked out, breathless and desperate.

Joel swore under his breath.

“You’re tellin’ me,” he rasped, voice dripping in absolute filth and sin, “my pissy little brother never made you come on his cock before?”

The shame of it—the filthy, shameless truth of it—slammed into you just as hard as the pleasure. Your breath came in short, stilted gasps, your thighs twitching, heat curling low and tight, twisting like a wire pulled too taut. You gripped his biceps hard where they caged you in, your nails digging into his skin.

“I–”

“Never felt the way you’re squeezin’ the life outta me right now, baby?” His voice dipped lower, rougher, as his thumb pressed, rubbing slow and tight. “Never had you like this? Drippin’ and desperate? Makin’ the prettiest fuckin’ sounds I’ve ever heard?”

Heat flared in your belly, your legs shaking around him, pleasure tearing through you.

Joel felt it, the way you clenched down around him, and he grinned, breath hot against your mouth as he groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck—that’s it. Let me feel you.”

And you did.

Your body suddenly snapped. The orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and merciless, every nerve in your body firing at once, blinding you with pleasure so intense it was nearly unbearable. Your breath punched from your lungs as your back arched clean off the bed, thighs trembling, a cry tearing from your lips as waves of heat crashed through you.

Joel swore under his breath, hips stuttering as you clenched tight around him, and his mouth hovered just above yours, his breath mixing with yours, the air between you thick and electric.

He felt the way your body fluttered around him, still pulsing with the comedown of your orgasm, dragging him deeper, tighter—trapping him. His breath was heavy, coming in sharp, ragged exhales as he dropped his head, his forehead resting against yours.

His hips kept moving quick and uneven, dragging his cock in and out of your still-clenching walls. He was throbbing, thick and hot inside you, every roll of his hips sending sharp little sparks of overstimulation through your system.

That was when, after coming back to earth, you saw the way his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching whenever you squeezed around him just right. The tension in his face, the way his muscles coiled and flexed with every deliberate movement.

He was close.

You wondered…

Your breath was still shaky, voice unsteady, but you let it slip out, slow and sultry, testing the waters, “You feel so good,” you whispered.

Joel froze for a split second, a sharp breath punching from his lungs as he reeled his head back to look down at you.

"Does it feel good for you?” you whispered, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. “Filling me up? Making me feel so full? So good?”

Joel let out a ragged, wrecked sound, his fingers digging into your skin, gripping you like a lifeline.

And in that moment—fuck the rules.

Because this was anything but clinical now.

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, letting your breath fan against his ear as you whispered, gentle, teasing.

“You gonna give me a baby, Joel?”

Joel let out a wrecked groan, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace faltering. His thrusts turned rougher, sharper, his body moving on pure instinct now—chasing it.

And then he snapped.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you as heat flooded you. His whole body shook, a ragged, guttural sound tearing from his chest as he came, thick and hot, spilling deep, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was trying to ground himself.

You gasped at the feeling, at the warmth spreading inside you, at the way his body shook above you.

Joel was panting, forehead pressed to yours, sweat damp at his hairline, his breath fanning against your lips, warm and unsteady.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Joel was still inside you, still filling you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you. His breath was heavy, warm against your cheek as he turned his head, his chest rising and falling against yours in slow, uneven waves.

“I should, uh…” His voice was hoarse, thick with something he wasn’t naming. He swallowed, clearing his throat as he sat up. “I should probably—”

You shifted slightly beneath him, still sensitive, still pulsing with the warmth of him inside you. Your thighs trembled, the ache delicious, spreading through you like slow heat.

“You can go,” you murmured, voice soft, a little sleepy. “I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

He hesitated as he looked down at you, your bodies still connected.

You blinked up at him, lips curving in a lazy, satisfied smile.

“It’s said that if a woman stays lying down after, it increases the chances of conception.” You hummed, stretching slightly, body still warm and loose. “Just want to give it time to stick.”

You felt him twitch inside you, like his body had just caught up to the meaning of your words, and then he was pulling out, hissing under his breath as he eased away from you.

His heat vanished instantly, and a shiver ran through you at the sudden emptiness, the cool air replacing where he’d been pressed so solidly against you. You exhaled, tugging the covers up over yourself, shifting deeper into the mattress, letting your body sink into the afterglow.

Joel, on the other hand, was already moving, and fast.

He turned away from the bed, running a hand through his hair, reaching for his jeans like he needed them back on, needed the barrier, needed to be done with this.

“Hey,” you called softly as he stepped toward the door, one leg shoved into his pants.

He paused, turning slightly, just enough to look at you over his shoulder.

You blinked up at him sleepily, the blankets pulled up to your bare shoulders, your voice softer now. “You okay?”

Joel hesitated. Just for a second.

His hands hovered at his belt, his fingers twitching. His lips pressed together, like he was weighing his answer, like he didn’t trust whatever was sitting heavy on his tongue.

Then, he gave you a short, stiff nod. “Yeah. ‘M good.”

You hummed, unconvinced, watching the way his chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths, the lingering flush at his throat, the tension in his hands as he buckled his belt like he was fighting something.

“Okay,” you murmured, turning your head into the pillow, eyes half-lidded, “And, Joel?”

His gaze flickered back to you, hovering, like he was bracing himself.

You swallowed, shifting slightly under the blankets, warmth settling deep in your bones. “Thank you.”

Joel’s fingers twitched where they grabbed for his shirt, his throat working around something thick, something stuck. His eyes dragged over you one last time, heavy, unreadable, before he gave a single, curt nod.

“I’ll see you,” he muttered, voice rough, almost hesitant.

Then he turned, and with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him, he was gone.

#joel miller #tommy miller #joel miller tlou #tommy miller tlou #joel x you #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller smut

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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

Text

“Stormy night”.

Pairing: Pre Outbreak!Joel Miller x babysitter!Reader

Summary: You’ve been babysitting for the Millers for months now, admiring Joel from afar. Until one stormy night things gets spicy.

WC: 3,3k

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, age gap, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (m!receiving).

A/N: I know the babysitter is such an overused trope but i’m just a sucker for fatherly and domestic pre outbreak Joel. This has a little fluff and lots of smut at the end, so there’s that.

⸻

You’d been babysitting Sarah Miller for the last six months. Some might think she was a bit old for a babysitter—she was twelve, after all—and far smarter than girls her age. But her father, Joel, mostly hired you for the company. He worked long shifts that often ran well into the night, and he never felt comfortable leaving his daughter alone for so many hours.

And you? You were a typical college student—desperate for a few extra dollars. So, when you saw the flyer on the bulletin board, you didn’t think twice.

You loved working for the Millers. It never really felt like work. Sarah was sweet, and you genuinely enjoyed helping her with her school projects, watching movies together, gossiping, and giving her advice on boys like an older sister would.

Joel was a good boss, too. He always paid you on time, left you and Sarah money for takeout most nights, and always offered to drive you home when it was too late or raining.

And, of course, the looks didn’t hurt. You couldn’t help but admire him when he was around. Joel was a handsome man—rugged and worn, but in a way that made him even more appealing. He was nothing like the college guys you were used to seeing—the ones who couldn’t grow a proper beard, who talked too much and said too little, trying too hard to impress. Joel was the complete opposite. He didn’t need to impress anyone. He barely spoke to you most of the time, but when he did, it caused an impression.

You arrived to the Millers’, the relentless Texas sun high in the sky, making your skin glisten and your clothes cling to your body.

“You brought the nail polish, right?” Sarah asked eagerly as soon as you stepped inside.

“Of course I did,” you said, holding up the small pouch filled with bright colors. “Hot pink and glitter, just like you asked.”

You’d only just settled in when Joel came downstairs. His hair was damp, a towel draped over the back of his neck, and his shirt was tugged down just enough to reveal the faint outline of his chest.

“I’ve got a lot of work today. I’ll be back around nine, maybe a little later. You good with that?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

You nodded. “Yep, that’s alright.”

“Don’t let her stay up past nine,” he said, grabbing his wallet and keys from the table before heading out the door.

You spent the evening with Sarah, painting each other’s nails, watching silly rom-coms, and making dinner together. It was a routine you’d come to enjoy more than you cared to admit.

“My dad has the hots for you, you know that?” Sarah said, her voice muffled through a mouthful of mac and cheese.

“Jesus Christ, Sarah.” You chuckled, your face flushing a little as you nervously laughed off the comment. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“No, I mean it. He’s like… less cranky when you’re around,” she said, swallowing another spoonful. “And he looks at you like those guys do in the movies we watch.” She leaned back, making exaggerated and comical love-eyes at you.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “You’re being silly.”

“I’m not. I know him better than anyone,” she said, chewing lazily as she watched you. “But he hasn’t dated in, like, forever. I’ve actually never seen him date. He’s weird.”

You chuckled, trying to brush it off and change the subject. It’s not like you hadn’t wondered about Joel’s love life yourself. You had. He only ever asked you to babysit when he was working, which implied he never had any dates, and you’d never seen a woman around the house.

No. Stop thinking about this. Doesn’t matter if he dates or not. He’s your boss. He’s significantly older than you. Nothing is ever going to happen. You’re being stupid, you told yourself.

By 9:30, Sarah was curled up on the couch, leaning against your shoulder, completely out of it. She didn’t even stir when Joel stepped inside.

“Howdy,” he greeted you, his voice warm but tired. He looked exhausted—dark bags under his eyes, his broad shoulders looking tense and stiff.

“Hey,” you said softly, brushing a few strands of Sarah’s hair away from her face. “She’s out like a light,” you whispered.

Joel gave a small, fond smile as he looked at Sarah, then came closer to the couch to scoop her up in his arms.

“I’m gonna put her to bed,” he said softly as he started toward the stairs.

There was something so endearing about Joel’s dedication to his daughter. Even if he worked too much and wasn’t around as much as he would’ve liked, everything he did was for Sarah, it showed how much she meant to him.

A few minutes later, he came back downstairs, looking even more worn out than before.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice raspy, and with that thick southern drawl of his, it made your stomach twist in a way you’ve never felt before you met him.

“I’m good,” you replied, swallowing nervously. “We had mac and cheese for dinner—there’s a bit left if you want it.”

He hummed softly, glancing over at you.

“So I guess that’s it for today,” you said, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“You sure you don’t want a ride back? It’s pretty dark out there,” he offered, his hand already on the doorknob.

“It’s cool. I don’t mind the walk,” you said quickly. You’d never wanted to feel like an inconvenience, even though he’d driven you home several times before.

“C’mon. I’ll drive you home.” He was already pulling his keys from his pocket, moving toward the door to walk you out.

The drive to your place was about fifteen minutes, but with every second spent in the truck beside him, the air seemed to grow thicker. The tension was palpable.

“How was work?” you asked softly, trying to break the silence and ease the tension.

“Well, everyone seems to be assholes who mess up the simplest orders, so you tell me,” he said, his voice carrying frustration, though his eyes stayed locked on the road ahead.

“Sounds terrible.”

“Yeah, well, it is what it is. I chose this hell.” He glanced at you for a brief second before returning his focus to the road. “How’s school?”

“It’s fine. Hard, but I guess I chose this hell too,” you replied, shifting in your seat.

He let out a low laugh, almost inaudible. “You study psychology, right? Makes sense. You’re good with people.”

You smiled. “You think so?”

“I know so. You’re good with Sarah. I don’t say it enough, but I really appreciate it.” His voice softened in a way that made you feel a little dizzy.

“Thanks… I really care about her. She’s a great kid,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “And you’re a great dad. She’s lucky to have you.”

He scoffed lightly. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing half the time. It’s all just improvisation.”

“Well, whatever it is, keep doing it. It’s working. You’ve raised an amazing daughter.”

Joel smiled at you—probably the biggest, most genuine smile you’d ever seen him give anyone.

A few more minutes passed in silence before you arrived at your place.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, reaching out to touch his arm for a second longer than you should have. You suddenly felt too embarrassed, your face flushed as you quickly got out of the truck without saying another word.

Joel watched you walk to your door, his eyes lingering a little too long. He couldn’t help but notice how your shorts shifted with each step, revealing more of your thighs, and how the strap of your top slipped slightly off your shoulder, showing the edge of your bra.

And he felt like a creep.

Every single time. He felt disgusted with himself. He’d tried to avoid it, but every time you were around, his mind wandered. Like when you’d come over after getting caught in a storm, your white shirt soaked and completely see-through. Or when you were on the floor on your knees, helping Sarah with a school project, and all he could think about was how good you looked on your knees like that. Or the worst—whenever he found himself flipping through an old secondhand Playboy magazine Tommy had left around the house many years ago, just trying to get his imagination going… only for his brain to drift to you. Always you. Until he cummed to the memory of your nipples under that wet white shirt.

Joel felt like the worst kind of man. He was older, a father, an adult who should know better. And yet, here he was, fantasizing about a girl half his age. Even if he never acted on it, it still felt wrong. On so many levels.

The next day, when you arrived, Joel had already left for work. A note on the counter, written in his messy, all-caps handwriting, told you he’d gone out to run some errands before work and wouldn’t be back until around ten.

By seven, the sky had split open like something ancient had broken loose. Thunder rattled the windows, lightning tore lines across the darkening sky, and the rain came down in torrents. One of the worst summer storms in years.

You and Sarah had decided that the weather made the perfect excuse for popcorn and horror movies that probably weren’t appropriately rated for kids her age. But she loved them anyway.

By nine, she was fast asleep on the couch, legs tangled in a blanket, soft breaths rising and falling, completely unaware of the front door opening.

“Holy hell,” Joel muttered as he stepped inside, soaked from head to toe, shaking water from his hair like a dog. He pulled off his boots, leaving puddles on the mat. “It’s been years since I’ve seen a storm like this. Streets are flooded, some trees came down, and they’re closing off the roads. Barely made it back.”

“Gee,” you breathed, glancing at the chaos outside through the window, the trees swaying like they might break.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re gonna clear it ‘til morning,” he said, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “You’re staying here tonight. I’ll drive you home tomorrow.”

“I—thank you,” you murmured.

He glanced toward Sarah, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he stepped over and scooped her into his arms. He carried her upstairs like he always did, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When he came back down a few minutes later, he’d changed into dry clothes. A gray t-shirt clung to the shape of his chest, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends.

“You can take my bed if you want,” he offered as he walked into the kitchen, already opening the fridge. “Clean sheets and all. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, no—I can’t,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “The couch is fine. I already feel like I’m intruding.”

“Don’t,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I sleep on the couch most nights anyway.”

He pulled out some leftovers and popped them in the microwave.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“I had popcorn,” you said with a small smile.

“Popcorn ain’t dinner,” he muttered. He grabbed another plate and started dividing the food between the two of you.

You sat beside him on the barstools at the counter, eating quietly, listening to the distant growl of thunder and the drumming rain against the roof.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you said softly.

“I wouldn’t let my biggest enemy out in that mess,” he replied, chewing slowly. “Least I could do.”

Later, you were at the sink doing the dishes, sleeves rolled up, warm water running over your fingers. Joel stood next to you, drying with a dish towel.

“Thanks for dinner,” you said again.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Are you ever gonna stop thankin’ me for every damn thing?”

“Hey, just bein’ grateful here,” you said, grinning as you flicked a few drops of water at his face.

The smile faded from his lips in an instant. His eyes locked on yours. Intense. Heated. Without a word, he reached for your wrist—his touch soft, but firm—and pulled you gently toward him.

You inhaled sharply. His body was warm and solid against yours. His face just inches from yours. His breath hit your skin.

“Joel…” you whispered uncertainty.

“Ask me to stop,” he said, his voice low, ragged. “Please ask me to stop.”

But you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you breathed.

And then his mouth was on yours.

It started slow, hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe he was finally kissing you. But seconds later he lost all inhibition, his lips crushed against yours, hungry, desperate, as if he’d been holding himself back for far too long. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you tight as he lifted you onto the counter like you weighted nothing.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest heaving.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been dying to do that,” he murmured, voice thick. “I feel like I’ve been losin’ my mind.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his hand moved fast, sliding down between your legs with almost no pretense, just need. You gasped as his fingers found the heat between your thighs—confident, greedy.

“Joel…” you moaned, trying to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

“If you want me to stop just tell me and I will,” he said again, lips brushing your skin as he kissed along your jaw, down your neck.

But you said nothing. Didn’t need to. The way you tilted your head to give him more access said everything.

He slid your shirt over your head, his mouth following the trail of bare skin as he moved down to your breasts. His hand cupped one, thumb brushing your nipple, twisting it softly, before his mouth went to the other one, closing it over it, sucking gently.

“They’re so perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself, before giving them both equal attention.

You could feel how hard he was through his pants—thick and aching, grinding against you like he couldn’t help it. You rocked against him, searching for friction, for more.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

“I got you, baby,” he rasped. “Gonna make you feel real good.”

His hand slid under your skirt, fingers finding your soaked panties. He groaned at the feel of you—hot, wet, and wanting like he’d never seen before in a woman, and knowing it was all because of him drove him near feral.

He was scared of being way too rusty and out of practice, after all he hadn’t done this in longer that he cared to admit. As a reflex he pushed your panties aside and pressed his thumb to your clit, making you gasp again.

“You this wet for me?” he growled, rubbing slow circles. “Christ.”

Two of his fingers teased your entrance, gathering your slick. “This feel good?”

“So good… don’t stop,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, muffled by the bite you gave his shoulder to stay quiet. Sarah was upstairs, but keeping silent felt impossible with what he was doing to you.

Encouraged, Joel pushed his fingers inside you. Slow at first, careful. Then faster. Curling them, finding the spot that made you see stars—and when you moaned, he knew he had it.

“Fuck, Joel… I’m so close.”

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered, his thumb relentless on your clit. “Please let me feel you.”

Your hips rocked against his hand. You were barely holding on. Then your orgasm hit, fast and hard, ripping through you. You bit your lip so hard you nearly bled.

He felt it. The way you clenched around his fingers, your whole body trembling, your chest heaving. He looked up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“That was… I’ve never felt like that before,” you said, breathless, blinking through the haze. “Not ever.”

He stared at you, flushed and wrecked, eyes locked on your blissed-out face. “You look so fuckin’ beautiful right now.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” you said, eager to return the favor.

“You are,” he affirmed, not wanting to force you into anything, but dying to relieve the pain he was feeling in his pants.

“Like this,” You slid off the counter and dropped to your knees, hands on the waistband of his pants with a confidence that surprised even you. “Let me make you feel good too.”

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, watching you. The image of you, down on your knees, eyes wide and eager, was nearly too much.

You pulled his pants and boxers down, releasing his cock. Thick, heavy, already leaking.

Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking slow, building pressure. Then your tongue replaced your hand, hot and wet and perfect.

He groaned loud, his hands gripping your hair—not to push you down, but to keep himself grounded. You took more of him, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling.

“God, baby…” he gasped. “Oh that feels—fuck.”

Your mouth took him slowly, savoring every sound he made, taking your time to enjoy everything, from the curse he breathed out when you licked along the vein on the underside of him to the way his hips jerked slightly when you hollowed your cheeks.

“Stop—fuck, baby, you gotta stop,” he said, voice hoarse. “Don’t wanna finish yet.”

He hauled you to your feet, kissing you hard as he picked you up and set you back on the counter.

“Need you,” he growled. “Need to be inside you.”

You nodded quickly, breathless. “Yes, Joel. Please.”

He pushed your legs open, standing between them, with one hand he positioned himself, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance.

“You su—?” he tried to ask before you cut him.

“I’m sure.”

He pushed in slowly, stretching you inch by inch, letting you adjust to him. Both of you groaning at the overwhelming sensation. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled. “You feel perfect… perfect little cunt.”

He started moving, each thrust deep and rough, every inch felt like a delicious torture. The wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the kitchen. You bit his shoulder again, muffling your cries so you wouldn’t wake up the entire neighborhood.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, concern breaking through his haze of lust.

“I’m alright,” you whimpered. “Don’t stop… harder.”

He obeyed, slamming into you harder, faster, one hand gripping your waist, the other braced against the counter. His name fell from your lips like a silent prayer.

“I’m close,” he gasped. “You feel so good—I can’t—”

He began to lose control, his thrusts turning frantic as his climax approached. He didn’t care about pulling out—not right now—even if it was the most reasonable thing to do. Right now, he wanted to finish inside of you, to feel his cum filling you up until it dripped out of your cunt. He wanted to mark you in the most primitive way.

“Shit—I’m gonna—”

A sharp stillness took over him as he spilled himself deep inside you, cumming hard like he hadn’t in years, painting your insides with his seed.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “I— You— That was—Joel…”

“Incredible,” he said, forehead pressed to yours. “Jesus. I don’t remember ever feeling that good.”

He stayed there for a moment, head buried against your chest, catching his breath.

You stroked his damp hair. Neither of you said anything.

After his intense climax, he felt so vulnerable. All he wanted was to lay down in his bed, arms wrapped around you, holding you all night long, keeping you close and safe, like you belonged there with him. And pretending that this wasn’t something fleeting. That this was something real.

“You’re taking the bed,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And I’m sleeping with you.”

You smiled at him, heart fluttering. “Deal.”

#joel x female reader #joel miller/you #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel smut #joel miller

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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

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SWITCHING POSITIONS! | THE HUNGER GAMES HEADCANONS

going feral thinking about thg men and their fav positions to put you in. this was so much fun to write and sooo hot 🫢🫢 also this is a lil bit longer than my other thg headcanons. are we loving longer or shorter headcanons pls lmk?? anyway, enjoy <3

includes: gale, finnick, peeta

warnings: sub/dom, switch, p in v, manhandling, teasing, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum, creampie.

gale has an insatiable need to overpower you. he likes his body to be on top of yours, pinning you down and threatening to crush you if he ever decides to stop supporting his own weight. he’ll lift your legs over his shoulders in missionary then lean down to kiss you, just so you feel his weight pressing you into the mattress. but he doesn’t just want to weigh you down. no, he wants you to feel powerless. expect him to manhandle you. he’ll toss you around, lifting and bending you into whatever shape or over any surface he desires. and resisting is futile, so if you do, don’t be surprised when he takes hold of your chin and forces you to look up at his disappointed face. “thought you knew better,” is all he’ll say, before he’s lifting you into his big arms and bouncing you up and down on him.

it’ll be too slow, slow enough for you to whine at the punishment, and that pathetic cry is almost enough to bring him to his knees. almost. instead, he’ll say, “oh, so now it’s too slow for you?” with feigned shock. then he’ll shrug and say, “don’t be sorry for what comes next.” cue him pinning you to the mattress, face in the blankets as he rams in and out of your pussy from behind. when you’re crying out at your second orgasm, he’ll say “no tears! you asked for this.”

he comes alive in missionary, standing up cowgirl, and PRONE-BONE (hands on your back, full weight crushing you into the mattress).

when it comes to sex, finnick has very few reservations. despite his sexual past, he will turn very little down for you because for once he feels safety in his sexual explorations. the only nonnegotiable for him is being able to see your face at all times. it grounds him, and more importantly, it encourages him to enjoy sex. like gale, he likes showing off his strength by lifting you up and down on his cock. but finnick is a switch, and he loves the feeling of falling out of power just as much as he loves the feeling of getting it. so when you push him down on the bed (or sand, boat deck, or shower floor), he’ll put up no fight as you climb on top of him and take charge. expect strong eye contact, but don’t blink here or you’ll miss that smirk stretching into a grin. the only time it will disappear is when he’s about to cum. eyes rolled back, throaty moans spilling through his open mouth, and don’t be afraid when he pinches your hips and fucks his own up into you. he just really likes getting deep inside you when he cums.

shines best in standing cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary (he likes watching your face when he first pushes himself inside you).

peeta isn’t fussy. as long as you’re the one who’s over or under him, he’ll be up for anything you want. but being underneath you is his favourite, especially when you get a little bossy and tut at him for trying to push up into you, or when you peel and throw his hands away when he cups your tits without your go ahead. it drives him crazy to be so powerless, and he appreciates every second that he gets to watch you bounce or squat on him, because he knows just how lucky he is that this is his view. but sometimes you go too far. sometimes you pin his hands down for too long, or he’s had enough of your tuttings and teasings. sometimes he thinks you forget that he lets you be in control.

you might miss the dark shift in his eyes when he’s decided you’ve gone too far, but you’ll know it when he has your face pressed into the mattress, strong arms caging you beneath him as he grunts out “think you can tell me off, huh?” between powerful thrusts. “no, peeta,” you’ll cry out, but he’ll ignore you. he’ll keep going, thighs slapping heavily against the backs of your own. “peeta!–” you’ll beg, but this time he’ll tut at you and slide his hand over your mouth. “shh, i didn’t say you could talk, did i,” he’ll say, and when you silently shake your head, he’ll grin and affectionately say “ah, there’s my good girl.”

routinely finds himself in under you in cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, but comes alive in DOGGY!!

sorry but peeta’s makes me GIDDY hehe. please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging. love <3

#finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #gale hawthorn x reader #the hunger games smut #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #thg x reader #thg x reader smut #thg smut #thg

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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

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Be the one to do it

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You've always had a crush on your neighbor Joel, and once your friend Jordan suggests you ask him to help with a little "problem" of yours, it turns out he had never been such an unattainable dream.

Warnings: basically pwp. smut| big ass unspecified age gap, virginity loss, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, kinda breeding kink and size kink, dirty talk, he talks you through it, Joel calls reader with a bunch of pet names and probably more stuff but i need to go to sleep.

a/n: this is the farthest it can get from original. you've probably read 10 other fics with the same premise but i just wanted to write some sweet and filthy virginity loss sue me

"I can barely get a sentence out around him and you think I'm gonna ask him to have sex!?"

"well yeah" Jordan laughed "It makes sense"

Your friend was looking at you like she'd just suggested getting ice cream, while what had really just come out of her mouth was really, exponentially different.

"you're out of your mind if you think-"

"just shut up" she interrupted, rolling her eyes "It would be a fucking walk in the park"

Your eyes widened exaggeratedly at that.

Did she have any idea about what she was suggesting?

The last time you'd interacted with Joel Miller all he had to do was ask how summer break was going for your face to get as hot as the sun and for you to end up muttering some nonsense and running away.

"He'd never say yes"

Again, Jordan's eyes rolled back.

"Y/n listen I love you but sometimes you can be real fucking dumb," she said, fighting a smile "The guy probably hasn't gotten laid in years!" she huffed a laugh "And with you? With a hot young piece of ass like you!? No guy on the planet would say no"

"You-you're just saying that... and you don't know him"

"I know men"

__ __ __

You didn't even remember how you'd gotten there, all you knew was that Joel Miller was right in front of you, opening the door to his fucking house.

"Hi"

Your face was already getting warm and your voice was just an inch above unhearable.

"Hi darlin'" he greeted you, smiling with that slow, easy smile that made you want to cry every single time.

How could a human being be so hot?

"Come on in" he nodded behind him "What's goin' on?"

Now here was the problem. You had no plan whatsoever, and this was setting itself up to be a complete shitshow.

"I..."

You weren't even meeting his eyes, you could see him trying to catch a glimpse of your gaze but you couldn't do it- to be quite frank you were already starting to panic... and to regret your decision.

"you want something to drink?"

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open as your words died on your tongue.

Jesus, he was handsome.

You hadn't gotten the chance to really look at him before, but now there he was in all his glory… huge strong muscles fighting against his shirt and all.

"c'mon, I'll get ya some water"

You didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he caught you ogling his arms.

Definitely not off to a good start.

He handed you a glass of water, and you took it, willing your hands not to shake.

The golden light of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains of his kitchen windows, illuminating the space with a calmness that completely contrasted with your state.

"boy problems?"

You almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

"gotta beat somebody up?"

He must have thought you were dumb with the way you were staring at him all wide-eyed, not daring to speak a word.

You needed to think of something, preferably right now.

"n-no, nothing like that” you shook your head, forcing a smile.

A beat of silence passed before you decided to take back already what you’d said.

“well actually sorta"

He frowned, shifting his stance from one foot to the other.

He was waiting for you to expand on your words, but the birds chirping on the nearby trees were the only sound in the room.

"you can talk to me doll, I ain't gonna bite"

You could feel your cheeks get hot.

Jesus it's like everything he did was scandalously sexy- every time he spoke with that sweet drawl of his, every pet name he used for you... he could have peeled his clothes off slowly as he gave you a lap dance and the effect on you would be the exact same.

"Well I just..." you started "I've got a... problem"

He looked even more confused.

Were you about to tell him you're pregnant? No that would be impossible, he'd never seen you with any guy around here... but maybe at college.

For some reason, the thought of you with another guy... with a boy... didn't sit right with him.

Actually, he knew the reason, throughout the summer he'd caught himself staring a little too long at you more times than he'd like to admit- it was like all of a sudden you had grown, and the sweet little kid living next to him was now suddenly a gorgeous woman. He didn't really know what to do with that information, with the inappropriate feelings and urgings weighing in his gut every time his gaze fell upon you and you squirmed embarrassed like a shy little thing.

"alright..." he urged you to go on.

"Sarah's not home right?"

His brows drew closer together as he frowned.

Why would you ask that?

"She's at a friend's"

You nodded, suddenly looking more resolute, even if the way your teeth tortured your poor bottom lip was enough of a tell of how nervous you were.

You had decided. Jordan was right. There was no harm in trying, and if it didn't go right you'd just avoid him for the rest of your life.

"I'm a virgin Joel"

You saw his eyes widen before your own words had even registered.

"O-oh"

That's all he could stutter. I mean what was he supposed to say? That seconds before he thought you were about to tell him you were pregnant? That he could not understand how someone as beautiful as you, with the billion contenders he was sure you had, still had not found a single one to have sex with?

"And I... well the thing is that I don't want to be anymore"

He tried to get back to how cool and collected he was before- you were here to talk to him after all, the least he could do was be as helpful as possible.

"right" he cleared his throat "you want some advice on how to navigate this thing?"

The silence and the look on your face told him quite the opposite.

What were you here for then?

"No- I- the thing is that... I was wondering if maybe you'd agree to-" you bit your cheek as you finally spat it out "to be the one to do it"

Joel was sure his heart had stopped.

"babygirl-" The words had barely left your mouth and he was already stopping you.

You felt tears prick your eyes... you knew that tone.

"I'm sorry it was a stupid-"

Goddamn you Jordan.

You were already planning to run out the door when he spoke.

"darlin' I'm pushing forty here"

That's not what you expected him to say. He wasn't disgusted, or amused, or angry...

"yes but-" You tried to speak but he was talking over you again.

"you're twenty... you ain't even old enough to buy a six-pack, I-I- that ain't something you're supposed to do with me"

Joel would have never admitted it, but he was saying those things mostly to himself- to desperately fight the instinct that took over him the moment you explained the reason you were at his house... the instinct to take you up the stairs and fuck you so good no one else would ever compare.

"b-but it's what I want"

You weren't giving up. You didn't know what, but there was something about the way he was going about it that told you there was still a sliver of a chance.

Only there was a lot more than a sliver... and the way you were looking up at him with those desperate doe eyes was upping your chance as you spoke.

"I trust you, Joel," you said "You're the only man that I know that I would trust with this"

He sighed, shaking his head "If your dad found out- Jesus I wouldn't live to see another day darlin'"

Your hand found his chest, strong and solid as rock beneath your palm.

"I won't tell" you murmured, your words verging on pleas "I-I won't tell anyone Joel I promise" you swore, looking up at him as his own eyes bore into yours.

"You're the only one I want to do this with... the only one I trust"

You could see the resolution, the fight, leave his face.

How the hell was he supposed to say no?

Christ, not even a priest would have that amount of self-control.

"fuck sweetheart" he shook his head before looking up, a long breath leaving his throat "You're gonna get me killed"

You didn't even try to hide your excitement.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you asked "Is- is that a yes?"

His eyes- his beautiful, big, hazel eyes were back on you.

"'f course it is"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

It was really happening.

You were gonna lose your virginity to Joel fucking Miller.

"A-are we gonna do it now?" you asked, almost breathless with joy "I-I mean only if you feel like it of course"

"If I feel like it..." Joel couldn't help but laugh "You really have no idea do ya?"

Your mouth parted in confusion.

Did you say something wrong already?

"About what?"

A beat passed as he stared down at you, almost amused.

"About whatcha do to me, sugar"

__ __ __

The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and all of a sudden, you were the only two people on earth.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second, and although you felt very much on the spot, you liked his gaze on you.

"If you change your mind at any point darlin'," he said, walking closer to you until his right hand could gently move some hair out of your face "You tell me, and I'll stop, ok?"

"mh-mh" you nodded, although you were more than sure no changing of mind would happen... God, you didn't even know how long you'd dreamed of this.

"Don't gimme that doll, use your words" he corrected you, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek "Later too"

"O-ok, yes, I-I understand"

He smiled, amused.

"there's no need to be nervous sugar, we'll go real slow ok?"

"y-yes"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"what can I do to make it better?"

You had an immediate answer in mind. The only thing you had been able to think about since he got this close.

"Can... could you kiss me?"

Jesus H. Christ.

Joel had to fight the urge to laugh. He'd drop to his knees and lick every inch of you if you asked, and you were wondering if he could kiss you...

"I can do whatever you want, babydoll" he murmured, as he slowly leaned closer.

You placed your hands on his big strong chest as you raised yourself on your tiptoes, and before you knew it... his lips were on yours.

You were holding your breath as the sound of your beating heart pounded in your ears.

This was really happening- this was real-

But before you had time to take it all in, the sweet feeling of Joel's lips on yours, of his beard, his nose, his hands, it was like something switched, a knob turned in his brain, and Joel wasn't kissing you anymore- no, he was devouring you.

He'd tried to go as soft and slow as he could but the moment you let out a little whimper... it was like he got possessed.

The hand on the back of your neck forced you impossibly closer as the one on your waist tightened enough to bruise, and he was... his tongue was desperately savoring every inch of your perfect mouth, swallowing all your pretty sounds.

His lungs screamed for relief but breathing was the last thing on his mind.

He'd never kissed like this.

Your panties were soaked once he finally pulled away.

He was about to apologize for losing control, but by the way you were looking at him, there was nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm gonna take off your clothes now doll, ok?"

You nodded, your breathing ragged, your cheeks on fire.

With just one kiss, he'd rendered your mind an empty mess. You doubted you could remember your address at the moment.

"What did I say 'bout usin' your words?" He murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of your swollen mouth.

"Sorry," you whimpered weakly.

He wouldn't have heard you if he had been but an inch away.

"Y-yes, you can take my clothes off"

He smiled at that, leaving another soft kiss on your lips before both his hands reached underneath your shirt.

His big, warm hands detoured to caress your sides, leaving shivers in their wake, before he brought your top up until he slid it off.

His eyes fell on your tits, still covered by your bra, and he looked up at you to check if you were alright before oh so slowly undoing the clasp and letting the garment fall to the floor.

He had to stifle the groan climbing up his throat because Jesus, he wanted nothing more than to take each of your perfect fucking nipples in his mouth and suck until begged him for more...

but he didn't, he let his self-control win this time as he reached for the waistband of your shorts.

He watched like a hawk every inch of skin that he uncovered until the shorts pulled at your feet and you stepped out of them together with your sandals.

Your breathing still hadn't gotten back to normal, and every fucking inch of your skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of his gaze.

He didn't say anything as his fingers slid past the waistband of your panties and with a quick movement pulled them down, leaving you completely bare.

Not able to stop himself, he groaned this time, his hands taking a tour of your body from your collarbones, to the valley between your breasts, to your belly, until his thumbs were but an inch from where you were burning with desire for him. But he didn't touch you there, no, his hands reached your waist as he stared at you 'cause god bless his heart, but he couldn't stop looking.

He liked his lips, as if he was hungry- starving- and you let out a small whimper, realizing you had held your breath all this time.

"You're... perfect babygirl"

You prayed he wouldn't judge you when he saw the mess that had become of between your thighs.

He can't say stuff like that and expect me not to melt.

His eyes were finally back on you, and the pure lust in them almost made you gasp.

He looked like a completely different man.

"Sit on the bed"

Your brain took a second too long to register his words.

I mean it's not every day you're naked in front of Joel Miller.

Joel's old mattress creaked as you sat on it, and you stayed there, diligently frozen in your spot as he took his sweet time to come closer.

He wanted to preserve the image of you sitting on his bed, naked, waiting, looking like a damn dream, in his brain for all the lonely nights of the rest of his life.

He stood there, towering over you, looking down at you as you looked up at him, and you felt even smaller.

You were about to speak, to beg him to please do anything, touch you in any way, put you out of your misery, when he crouched down, his eyes now level with yours.

His hands found your thighs and another whimper escaped your chest.

"Spread your legs f'me, doll"

And so you did, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl"

This time, it wasn't a whimper that fled your mouth, but a small little moan.

Fuck

Heat rose to your face again and you looked away, embarrassed.

Of course, you liked to be told you're a good girl.

"None of that" Joel tsked, his right pointer forcing you to look back at him "Eyes on me"

You were so turned on you wanted to cry. But you didn't, you nodded, and just like that... Joel was leaning closer and his mouth... oh god his mouth had found your neck.

You gripped the sheets as your whole body started going on fire- as his mouth left hungry wet kisses under your ear, on your pulse, on your collarbones, on your tits, and when his lips wrapped around your right nipple... when his tongue toyed with your hard bud you swore you saw heaven.

Soft little moans started spilling from your mouth as he sucked and sucked and sucked, his hands going to support your boobs, pushing them together as his mouth went from one to the other again and again until you didn't even remember what it meant to breathe like a normal person.

It felt so good.

Who knew it would feel so fucking good?

Joel only stopped when your nipples were swollen and utterly drenched with his saliva, and you were about to protest when you felt his mouth traveling south...

"Joel" you whispered.

He looked up at you with that sexy fucking smirk on his face, not stopping the trail of kisses down your belly.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you-" your sentence was interrupted by a gasp when his lips found your mound "W-what are you doing?"

His smirk only widened as his mouth dived lower.

"I'm gonna lick your pussy now darlin'" his low and lustful voice was enough to make you orgasm alone.

You could only blink, and then swallow, and then open your mouth... just for no words to come out.

Joel chuckled before kissing your inner thigh, sending a shock of pleasure to your core.

"'s that ok with ya?"

"Yes," you heard yourself blurt out before you even knew it, which made him laugh, a soft, vibrating laugh that fanned your core and rendered you all the more desperate.

"That's good to hear" he grinned, his mouth lowering until he was kissing your lips... your other lips.

Oh Jesus Christ

You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he hummed in approval, taking them in his hands and forcing them on his shoulders.

Oh sweet Mother of Christ

He granted himself one look at your perfect, beautiful fucking pussy, before his eyes were back on you, and his tongue darted out without warning and licked your whole core like an ice cream cone.

"Oh"

Your hips spasmed for a second but before you had time to feel embarrassed, his tongue was back in action, only this time he was eating you as if he were starving.

He groaned in pleasure at your taste as his tongue explored every inch of you he could physically reach. His nose was rubbing against your clit and his beard felt so nice against your skin and oh god if you thought you'd seen heaven before you were wrong because the moment his lips wrapped against your bud angels opened up the pearly gates for you.

"Oh my god" you cried, your left hand getting a mind of its own and grabbing Joel's soft hair "Oh my fucking- Oh wow"

This was nothing like what you'd experienced before- nothing your own fingers had ever produced, this was... so so good.

"You taste so fucking sweet sugar" he groaned into you, sending another wave of pleasure through you "y've got such a perfect lil pussy babygirl" he continued in between lapping at your core "wish I could have it for breakfast every day"

You could only moan in response, and you could feel his smile on your skin as he watched the effect he was having on you.

Goddamn, you looked like an angel biting your lip as you moaned for him, your face flushed, your hand in his hair... this was the best decision he ever made- who gave a fuck if your dad put him in the ground, at least he got to see this.

"Gonna come for me doll?" he teased once he heard your cries get louder and your grip on his hair tighten "Gonna let me taste all your sweet juices like a good girl?"

Those words, once again, had their effect because in no time your hips were grinding onto him and breathless gasps were forcing their way out your throat as the best orgasm of your life shuttered through you,

"Just like that" he praised you as you rode the high "thatta girl- give it to me baby"

You were only partially aware of where you found yourself as you came down from the orgasm.

you were breathing heavily, your eyes closed as Joel made his way up your body, his lips pecking every inch of it until he finally kissed your mouth.

"You ok darlin'?"

Your eyes opened at once, the dreamiest look in them,

"I'm great" you grinned, making him smile before he kissed you again, slowly this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He only pulled away when you whined, your hands gripping his arms desperately as your body begged for more.

He sat up on the bed against the headboard, and it was then you finally realized he was still fully clothed...

You were naked from head to toe and he was still dressed... you had no idea why but that made you even hornier, which is why you hastily sat up.

"A- are we gonna do it now?"

He huffed out a laugh as his hand invited you closer.

"not quite yet sugar," he cooed as he guided you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest and your ass against... oh wow.

You could very much feel through his jeans the print of what felt like his huge cock right against your backside.

You couldn't help it, you shifted your butt, not so subtly grinding against him, and when his only response was to grab your waist, you couldn't help but do it again... and again, until you not only heard, but felt a groan rise up his chest.

"babygirl..." he murmured against your ear, making you shiver "You might wanna stop that"

You bit your lip, doing it again "Why?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening "'cause baby, if you keep on goin' I'm gonna come, and you ain't gonna get what you came all this way for"

That made you want to stop and keep going at the same time.

The thought of Joel Miller coming because of you doing what you were doing...

"Don't ya even think about it sugar" He anticipated your actions as if he'd read your mind. You felt him smirk as he kissed you right under your ear.

To that you surrendered, stopping your movements at once.

He hummed, satisfied, inhaling your scent as his right hand slowly moved down your belly.

You held your breath as his fingers found your clit and his mouth your neck.

You couldn't see Joel from this position, but you didn't need to, you could feel him.

His ring and middle finger started circling your clit in a slow and precise motion and moans were already spilling from your lips.

"Joel" you breathed.

"'m right here" he promised, his voice husky, clouded by his lust.

His fingers continued their torturous path until he found your hole.

You could only gasp as his fingers dived inside of you.

Oh god.

"You ever done this to yourself doll?" he asked, his fingers thrusting in and out of you lazily.

You could both hear how unbelievably drenched you were, but that was the very last thing on your mind... what seized your attention at the moment were the sparks of pleasure Joel was igniting in your core.

"mh?" he hummed once you didn't answer, still kissing your neck.

"I-I did" you swallowed, your words interrupted by yet another cry when his fingers curled, sending much more than a spark of pleasure to your brain "Like... like twice"

"just twice?" Joel asked

"It just... it doesn't feel good"

His movements continued, making your breathing get more and more uneven.

"How does it feel now?" he accentuated his words by making whatever gesture he made that had your walls tightening around his fingers.

"G-good"

"Now that ain't gonna do" he cooed, his fingers all of a sudden leaving your core.

"B-but-" you were about to protest turning his way, but his voice took over.

"'s alright darlin', gimme your hand"

You looked down to see his hand waiting for yours, and without even thinking you did as he asked.

He placed his palm big palm on top of your hand, engulfing it, and he guided it down your body, past your belly button, until you were right where he was seconds ago.

"use these two fingers" he instructed, showing you the ones he was talking about.

"good, now get 'em all nice and wet" he murmured, guiding them through your slick folds to do just what he'd said.

You were back at your hole and your mind had stopped working.

You were just a doll, following his every instruction, watching closely his hand move yours as your core ached with desire.

"Now slide 'em in" he whispered, his honeyed voice hypnotizing.

And so you did, you pushed your ring and middle finger inside of yourself.

Why was this so fucking hot?

"Now go in and out" his words were your command, literally.

Again, the sound of your slick pussy spread through the room as you did as he asked.

"how's that feel?"

You weren't gonna lie, not to Joel.

"It's... it's ok" you breathed "Not as good as before"

He smirked, his tongue darting out to lick your pulse as his free hand traveled higher, finding your boobs.

Well of course it felt better before his fingers were two times yours.

"curl your fingers" he ordered, his palm caressing your tits "Like this," he said, showing you exactly what he meant.

He did almost like a "come here" motion, and although skeptically, you replicated it, and well... Joel Miller knew what the fuck he was talking about cause goddamn...

You cried out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Again"

And so you did it again, only this time, Joel's fingers had found your left nipple, and the way they toyed with it just as you fingered yourself made the feeling triplicate.

"Keep doin' that babydoll" Joel breathed, his mouth leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders as his fingers tweaked your pretty nipples.

"just like that" he hummed as you cried out louder and louder, as you squirmed above him, your free hand gripping his thigh to have something to hold on to.

"that's it... look so pretty like this sugar" he continued "making yourself come like a good girl..."

Jesus his cock was begging for attention... this was the hottest fucking shit he'd ever seen.

Your legs were starting to close as your orgasm approached, and your voice, calling out Joel's name, was getting more and more desperate.

"so good" he groaned, his fingers pinching your nipple without warning "Y'look so perfect when you come babygirl".

That's the last thing you heard as a tsunami of pleasure overtook your whole body.

You were pretty sure you were shaking and wailing like a madwoman, but all you could really be sure of was what happened once you finally reopened your eyes.

You felt so very spent and you hadn't even done what you came here for yet.

Joel's eyes were boring into yours, his hands caressing your sides.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah," you smiled wide once again.

You felt like you were lying on a cloud, no thoughts or worries going through your head... just pure bliss.

"You still sure about this sugar?"

You had no hesitation.

"Yeah"

He smiled, kissing your lips for a brief second before leaning away.

The moment you realized he was finally taking off his clothes you were wide awake.

You sat up just as he discarded his shirt to the floor.

Je-sus.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen Joel shirtless. It wasn't a coincidence you chose to sunbathe every time he was mowing the lawn...

Yet, the breath was still knocked out of you.

He was broad, like seriously so. He was big and although you couldn't say he had a six-pack it was plain obvious the man was strong.

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting even wetter.

You wanted nothing more than to let your palm caress his chest, the sparse hair on his pecs, the v lowering towards his pants...

Speaking of which, a gasp fled your throat the moment he took off his jeans, and by the time his boxers were off your mouth hung open in awe... and worry.

"you're..." you had to swallow to try and get some water to your dry mouth "Joel you're-- huge"

You weren't looking at him as he laughed, but at the big scary cock against his stomach bobbing with the movement.

"how would ya know, babygirl?"

You had to force yourself to look away from his manhood, and once you did, you found his gaze again.

"I... I've watched... stuff"

A side of his mouth twitched mischievously at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he teased "My good little girl watches porn? 's that whatcha telling me?"

Why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

"N-No I just..." heat rushed to your face as you bit your lip "I-I mean-"

He laughed, cutting you off "'s ok sugar, I won't tell"

You could only offer him a little smile because to be honest, your focus was still on the reason you'd even broached the subject.

Your eyes were back on his dick, and while yes it was a worrying size, it also sparked curiosity and need deep inside of you. Which is why you moved closer to him, kneeling on the bed so that his cock was right before you.

And holy mother of God.

"Can I..."

You didn't even need to finish the sentence.

Jesus, if he were to be honest even just seeing you in this position was getting him close to coming.

"You can do whatever you want babydoll, I told ya"

You nodded, hesitantly leaning a little closer.

"I-I've never..."

"As long as my dick is in your mouth I'll be a happy man darlin'"

You gulped, biting your lip as you tried to understand where to even begin, and just then, a tiny bit of precum leaked from his manhood- so naturally, you acted on your first thought... and licked his head, tasting the tang of him.

You heard him inhale sharply as you continued licking, first just his head, then the sides, every ridge and vein... but it was only when you finally wrapped your lips around him that he lost it.

"Fuck"

He groaned like an animal and that only gave you all the more reasons to go further, forcing his dick into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

"Fucking- Jesus Christ"

You looked up at him now, your hands finding his legs as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking so very well every inch you could fit... which was barely half.

He'd gathered your hair to the back of your head, but he wasn't guiding your movements, it was all you.

"Babydoll" he rasped, "I think that's enough"

But you didn't wanna stop. This was so hot... feeling him in your mouth, hearing him moan for you...

"Baby" he grunted "I ain't gonna be able to fuck you if I come down your throat"

Those crude words brought you back to reality... and made you even hornier.

You pulled away from his dick, letting it slap back against Joel's stomach.

"Lay down f'me"

You did, without question.

He stifled a groan at the sight, at the fucking image displayed before him once you obeyed his command and spread your legs.

Fuck.

He looked at your eyes, watching for any sign of doubt, of a second thought... but he found none.

It was then he finally took his cock in his hand, giving it a much-needed pump and making you swallow drily.

He was silent as he guided his tip to your folds, making it slide between them and catching on your clit... but you weren't.

You were letting out all sorts of little cries and whimpers and moans as he toyed with you.

But you too, fell silent once you felt him stop at your entrance.

"Mh-" you were starting to hum, biting down your lip as he began pushing inside when he suddenly stopped.

"Fuck- forgot the condom"

You blinked, trying to make sense of what had happened as he reached into his night table.

"Joel" you called for him, making him turn around, condom in hand.

"'m sorry darlin', should've remembered sooner"

But that's not what you wanted to say.

"Joel can we..." you gulped "can we not-- use it?"

He frowned as his dick damn near exploded.

You wanted him to fuck you raw?

"Jesus sweetheart you tryna kill me today or somethin'?"

You smiled, your hands fidgeting.

"N-no I just... this is my first time... I- I wanted to feel it, y'know?" you murmured "A-and I'm clean and if you... if you use it with all the other women then you must be clean too, so..."

Joel had the urge to laugh.

"That ain't what 'm worried about, pretty doll"

It was one thing your dad finding out he'd fucked you... a different thing if he'd fucking got you pregnant.

Your mouth formed an o shape as you remembered.

"O-Oh no, I-I'm on the pill"

I shouldn't do this.

There's still a risk.

I'm old enough to be her father I shouldn't be doing this for countless different reasons.

I shouldn't.

I really fucking shouldn't.

And yet Joel had already gotten rid of the condom and had made his way on top of you.

You smiled before he kissed you, taking away all the oxygen from your lungs.

"I need you to relax now sugar" he murmured, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance once again.

"O-ok" you nodded, feeling the very tip of him push inside you.

"Just like that" he praised, kissing you again "Doing so well f'me"

It burned.

The stretch got more and more demanding as he tried to push himself deeper into you.

"Ah!" you gasped, your hands gripping his biceps as he kissed your neck.

"I know baby, I know"

"I-it's big" you cried, planting your feet on the mattress to try and ground you.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, looking you in the eyes, although yours were shut close.

"N-no" you shook your head "I just... " you hissed from the pain as he slid in an inch further.

"You can do it babygirl" he whispered, still planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

"B-but it's too big" you whimpered desperately as he still kept going. It felt interminable.

"Don't ya worry 'bout it honey" he said, moving some hair out of your face "I'm gonna make it fit"

That got him the first little moan of pleasure, which coincided with you letting him get an inch deeper.

"Yeah you like that?" he cooed "You like the idea of me filling you up with my cock to the very brim?"

You moaned again, louder.

"I know you do sugar." one of his hands had traveled between your bodies to find your clit, making you cry out even louder "Want nothing more than to be full of me, do ya?"

"'s ok sweetie, we're almost there" he promised, his breath sending shivers up your spine "You're taking me so well... letting me stretch this perfect little pussy for the very first time..."

It still burned, but the worst was done, and his words were making you forget half the pain.

"such a good girl" he cooed "There we go, like that, lemme in babygirl... fuck"

You'd done it.

"Oh my god" you gasped.

You felt utterly and completely full, like your body had been missing a part of it all this time.

"Joel" you cried, your grip on his arms tightening.

"You ok sugar?" he asked, although you could hear the restraint in his voice.

"Yes" you breathed opening your eyes to look at him "Yes please do- do something"

He smirked as he gave you a quick kiss.

"I'm gonna start moving now, ok?"

You nodded hastily "Y-yes- please".

And so what could he do, if not exactly what you'd asked?

He retracted his hips just to thrust in again, and... wow.

"O-Oh my god" you cried, as he did it again, finding a slow and oh so very deep pace.

He was rolling his hips, grinding against your pelvis every time he trusted in, making fireworks explode in your body.

"Fuck, doll" he groaned, his pace quickening "Y'feel so good... so tight for me"

You could only moan at his words, your legs wrapping around him.

"it's like you were made for my cock" he said, staring at you although your eyes were closed.

He didn't want to miss even a second of this.

"To let me fuck you like you need" he hissed, having to refrain himself from coming too soon.

That had been a danger since the very first inch of him had entered you.

You just felt so fucking good.

"You're such a good girl baby, y've got no idea" he groaned, kissing and licking your neck "Taking me so well"

"J-Joel!" you basically screamed once the fingers on your clit resumed their work.

"I know baby" he cooed, continuing to fuck you thoroughly "I know it's a lot, but you can take it"

The sound of your skin slapping with his bounced off the walls with each thrust together with the creaks of the mattress.

"I-I- Joel" you kept on crying, your breathing getting more and more ragged as your belly tightened expecting the approaching orgasm.

"what is it darlin'?" he purred, "need me to fuck you harder, softer?" he murmured "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to ya baby"

"M-more"

He could only smirk as he picked up his pace, now slamming into you harder, feeling your walls tighten with each thrust.

"Oh god- O-Oh shit--"

"C'mon doll," Joel groaned as your nails dug into his skin "Be a good girl and come for me- let me feel you come around my cock"

He didn't even need to ask.

"like that" he rasped as your eyes shut tight and you cried as loud as your vocal chord permitted "Just like that- good fucking girl"

Each molecule of your body rearranged itself as the orgasm overtook your body, mind, and soul.

You were sure you had ascended to another universe, the only thing that grounded you was Joel's words as he reached his own peak.

"Fuck doll, 'm gonna come" he grunted " 'm gonna fill you up babygirl- like that- take it sugar-- take it all"

It took a long while for you to gain back consciousness, and when you did, you found yourself lying under Joel's blanket, his hand gently drawing patterns on your arm as he... he was watching you.

"There she is"

You could only find it in yourself to smile as you leaned closer to him, leaving a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Joel"

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us

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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

Text

ON MY WAY TO HEAVEN, TOOK A DETOUR TO MY VICES

｡𖦹° M.GRAYSON

🎧ྀི it was meant to be an easy mission, something mundane—but the second you and mark wake up feverish and desolate, you put those hopes of ease to bed. something's in your bloodstream, festering, begging to be let out—soothed. the worst of it all—whatever the hell’s in your system has infested itself in mark as well. and you’re not sure how long he can bear it.

wc 3.8k | minors dni, 18+ CW | S3X POLLEN FIC so, dark content (i'd say. they're close pre-fic but not this close), main!mark also, college!mark, college!reader & superhero!reader, cursing, ominous villian, they're drugged, pain from battle, body discomfort, characters horny under duress, fevers (is that a warning), mentions of yakking, plot—what plot? smut: piv, unsteady consent (see; s3x pollen), hints of voyuerism.

the ground beneath you doesn’t feel real. just jagged rock and cold dirt, and your heat-slick skin pressed to it like it’ll help. it doesn’t. nothing seems to. you're not sure you even remember when the effects started, but you're sure you've prayed to every god within the span for it all to stop.

you groan, roll onto your side, and blink up at the burnt orange sky. your fingers shake as they press the comm at your ear. nothing. just static. the sound of your own ragged breathing, like it’s echoing from somewhere deep inside your chest.

across from you is—mark—INVINCIBLE. suit torn, chest rising and falling like he ran the globe and back. he shoots a look at you—eyes blown wide. his stare hold recognition first, then confusion, and then something else. something hazy, almost delirious. until he bends forward, on his hands and knees, coughing hard.

his shoulders twitch, wings of tension mar his back. he spits onto the ground, breath steaming in the cooler air—there's too much heat pouring out of him.

you breathe out his name, a weak, inquisitive tone. he flinches like it hurts.

"think i—" he tries, then swallows the rest. “it hit us. during the fight. whatever it was.”

you nod. you don’t say anything. you already know.

because your body feels wrong.

burning. wriggling. like every nerve is two seconds from misfiring. like if you moved the wrong way—against how your body is craving—you’d tear something open from the inside.

you sit up almost impossibly slow, every muscle screaming. mark collapses back onto the dirt beside you, blinking fast. skin flushed. chest heaving.

you don’t meet his eyes. you can’t, instead, you clear your throat, trying to hide some of the discomfort you're feeling. if mark's already far gone, one of you has to keep a clear(er) head.

for a split second, you can hear cecil reprimanding you for getting caught in this situation—whatever it is.

"maybe it’s some kind of toxin.” you mutter, trying to keep it clinical. detached. “we have a fever. we can just wait it out.”

“yeah,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “sure. just a fever.”

except it’s not—and you both know it.

the burn behind your ribs, the pressure deep in your hips, the way your pulse stutters every time you hear him shift beside you—it’s not pain. it’s something else.

something archaic and primal, something utterly abysmal.

you shift, just slightly, and your breath catches—pain threading sharply through your core. it’s not the injuries. not bruises, or sprains, or broken skin. it’s deeper. like an anatomical pressure valve being tampered with from the inside.

mark’s hands twitch where they rest in the dirt. his fingers curl into a fist. his jaw’s clenched tight, like he’s trying not to make any sound.

you follow suit—you don’t speak. the silence stretches, and stretches.

and then—mark's voice, “don’t touch me.”

the words come from somewhere not right. too low, too strained, practically rehearsed. but his words are clear. and they make your stomach drop.

you blink, “i wasn’t going to.”

his adam’s apple bobs, head nodding, “i know. i know. just—don’t.”

the two of you sit there, breathing in tandem, a vile cadence. the feeling, a ribald fever—it’s escalating. second by second. beat by beat. breath by breath.

you try your comm again, the same static greets you.

“we need to move, we can't stay here.” you say. it’s more head-strung than true plan. “get somewhere safer. a building. cave. anything but open ground."

mark shakes his head, scanning the sandy terrain, “don’t think i can fly right now.”

you look over. he’s shaking. his hands, his shoulders, his mouth. he’s not meeting your gaze anymore. his pupils are nearly black with dilation. his lips are parted, breath shallow.

you open your mouth to say something—anything—but your stomach turns. a wave of heat rolls over you so strong it knocks every bit of air from your lungs. like you’ve been anesthetized with pure fire. like your body’s burning up, molecule by molecule.

you fall back onto your elbows, gasping, "fuck—"

mark startles at the sound, eyes snapping to you. but this time…he doesn't look away.

you finally see it—not confusion, not resistance. just raw, scorching lust trying so painfully to wear the face of shame, disgrace, humilation.

his voice is practically a whimper, “hmm—it’s getting worse.”

you nod once, voice coming out unnecessarily gritty, "yeah. i know. it got me too."

and that’s when it hits you.

you weren’t meant to die in that fight. you were meant to survive it. long enough to get away—together. long enough to fall apart—together.

long enough to complete whatever sick, calculated, and meticulously planned sequence someone else set into motion. the thought has you reeling away from the dark-haired hero. your body cries out at the movement, but you force it anyway.

the barely-there logic left within you is screaming at you to get away, to not succumb to the lurid visions invading your mind, to realize that this isn't right—it's warfare of your own body, your autonomy.

you dig your own fingers into the dirt, trying to anchor yourself to something that isn’t your own body, that isn’t his breathing.

you shouldn’t look at him again. you know better. but your body doesn’t listen, and your eyes drag back to him like they have to.

and he's trembling—trembling—like he’s the one doubling over in both need and humiliation. as if this is breaking him, the unbreakable—like it is you.

and maybe he is. maybe this thing, whatever it is, doesn’t care that he’s half-alien, that he’s strong enough to break worlds. right now, he looks damn near breakable.

"we have to fight it.” you say through your teeth, but it sounds less like an order and more like a plea.

“i am fighting it!” he snaps back, but there’s no venom, only pain. he drags a shaky breath in through his nose. “i’ve been fighting it since you said my fuckin' name.”

you flinch. not because of what he said, but because of how much truth there is in it. you're both trying, both failing.

something curls inside you—tight and electric. want, not yours, not entirely. it's something layered, ancient—synthetic. something meant to reduce thinking things to base instinct.

“we must have gotten tagged,” you say out loud, trying to organize your shared chaos, trying to drag reason into your mess. “during the fight—maybe tech, some compound, i don’t know. it’s designed to keep us…compliant. distracted.”

mark breathes out a ragged chuckle, “yeah? i think it’s working.”

you don't laugh back.

because you're terrified that it is, indeed, working. that whatever you were hit with, doesn’t need to be permanent. it just needs to last long enough to make you too weak to resist. the various, "why's" all but lost on you. you just know it can't happen—you can't succumb.

“i don’t know if i can move...” mark murmurs. he’s curled inward now, knees drawn slightly to his chest, like he’s trying to keep something inside. “my body is—i don’t know how to describe it. everything’s too much. you feel that too?”

you nod, far too fast, like it’ll stop the shudder building inside you, “like it’s crawling under my skin. like i'll...lose it if anyone touches me.”

mark exhales, slow and bitter. “yep. like that.”

your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. you taste copper. maybe from biting your cheek. whatever—it tastes rancid.

you can’t stay like this. you can’t.

you scramble onto your knees, nearly retching from the sensation alone, but you stay up, teetering. “we have to get somewhere. underground. shielded. wherever this thing can’t—find us. we’re not safe out here.”

mark doesn’t respond. not at first.

then, faintly, like it’s killing him to admit, “i don’t know if i trust myself to be anywhere alone with you.”

that hurts worse than anything. not because he’s wrong. but because he’s right.

you stare at him, raw and quiet, and your voice cracks like brittle glass, “mark—it's not just you going through this. do you think i even trust myself right now?”

he lifts his head, finally. eyes still wild, but there’s clear guilt beneath it now, a thick and ugly weight pulling down the corners of his mouth. “i’m trying, okay? i’m trying so hard not to think about what this is making me want—from you. i’m trying not to want it too.”

that’s what makes it worse.

because he said it. he feels it. wants it, he does. you do too.

you can feel impulse pulling at the edges of your self-control, grinding your mind down to something basic and desperate. all of it—every broken thought, every sharp-edged craving—leads you straight to him.

your voice wobbles, barely a whisper, “what if it’s not just trying to…divert us?”

mark’s breath catches, you hear it so clearly, too clearly.

“what if it’s trying to make us…” you swallow, the word tastes sour, thick, “bond.”

you don’t need to explain. not to him. not to the guy you shared an anatomy course with last spring. not to a half-viltrumite who knows what it means when instincts override reason. he knows, same as you.

his arms twitch. he covers them over his face as if he can block the thought out of existence. “fuck. that’s—”

“inhuman,” you finish. “which makes sense. we’ve fought worse.”

“but nothing that’s…used us like this.” he shakes his head. “nothing that’s made me want to—oh, god.”

you look down at your hands at his outburst—how they tremble like they’ve got a will of their own. how they ache for something, but nothing you can give them. not without losing everything else.

you whisper, “we need help.”

mark groans, “but no one’s coming—are they?”

you glance back toward the horizon. no sign of movement. no hum of backup. no smoke flares or jets. just the buzz of static and your own ragged breath.

no. no one’s coming.

you and mark are on your own.

and whatever’s been done to you—it’s not done yet.

"maybe we just...touch? something...i'm sorry—just, please." he sounds desperate, and you know he is. equally as needy and out of it as you.

Dismissal passes across your mind, gone in a flash, "just touch?" your question comes out so soft, you wonder if he can hear you over the wind.

"yeah—here," he grabs your wrist, and for a second, you're overcome with solace. in your belly, your heart, your head—pure relief. but then the small touch becomes far too little, far too fast.

he pulls you closer, straddling him now, and you can smell him—sweat and saccharine sin. his breath fans across your neck as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“here...” he says again, and this time his voice is low, guttural, like he’s barely holding himself together. his hand slides from your wrist to your hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there, possessive and demanding.

you shiver, your body betraying you as heat pools low in your belly. his other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, and you can’t stop yourself from parting your lips, letting out a shaky breath.

"this is so fucked up," you manage. you don't pull away, but you give him the most serious look you can muster, "i'm so sorry."

mark swallows, "i know, i am too. i just want to make you feel better—make us feel better."

you nod—because he's right. you believe him. it’s not a lie, not a trick, not some smooth line he’s tossing out just to get laid. it’s him. desperate, aching, more human than you’ve ever seen him.

and still, it’s wrong.

but so much of you doesn’t care. not now, not when you feel like this and he's staring at you like you're the only oasis in this desert.

his thumb trails your lip again and you don’t even flinch, don’t even blink. instead, your mouth opens for him, and that’s when something in his expression fractures. his breath stutters like a heartbeat skipping a step and he exhales your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

then he's kissing you. the contact brings a new kind of pain and pleasure—sharp and bittersweet. you gasp into his mouth, your hands finding their way to his shoulders. it hurts. everything hurts. but it also feels…so good. like coming home to something you’d never known was missing. he tastes addicting—it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

his kisses are wet and demanding—hard enough to bruise, and you let him. god, you let him. you need him to. you can't stop yourself from moaning as he drags you in closer, fingers sinking into your hips and waist, pulling you flush against his own body.

your core throbs in time with his heartbeat as he presses against you, free hand digging hard enough into the the ground that the dirt beneath cracks. his lips move down your jaw, teeth nipping at your earlobe, "you feel—really, fuckin' good. Feels good to touch you."

you can tell by the way his words run on, he's rambling. if it weren't for the need in your own system, you'd try to pull this back—make him realize how stupid this is.

but you don't, "does it make you feel any better? am i helping?"

he groans, eyes half-lidded, "not anymore—" his head falls to the crook of your neck, nose inhaling your scent, "i need more."

he says it as such a plea—like it’s the last thing he’ll ever say. it wrecks you.

"okay..." you breathe, fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "okay, mark."

he shudders, your name desperately falling from his lips again as he kisses at your throat, open-mouthed and hungry. like he’s starving and you’re the only thing he’s ever even wanted to taste. when he drags his teeth along your pulse, your hips jerk against him, and the answering grunt punched out of his chest feels like a prize.

your hands are tearing away at his suit before you even realize it, palms skating across much too warm skin, the heat from his body almost intolerable. his muscles jump beneath your touch as he pulls back just enough to look at you—flushed, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-swollen. he’s shaking. quivering. trying so hard to hold himself back.

"please don't hate me for this. i need you," he pants, voice breaking. "i want—i just want us to get better."

you nod again. not just because you can’t speak, but because you feel like you had given in to this the minute his skin touched yours. every pulse of your body is screaming for him, every synapse firing off his name. you drag his mouth back to his instead of answering, and he whines into the kiss, his hands slipping off your suit like he’s done it a thousand times before.

his fingers are clumsy, yes—but they're reverent. like you’re something sacred and holy. something he never thought he’d be allowed to touch.

you feel his restraint slipping, fraying at the edges the longer you’re pressed together, the more your bodies align. he’s trying so hard to be gentle, to be careful, but his hips keep rolling against yours like they have a mind of their own, like he can’t help it—like he’s fighting himself just to keep from tearing through every physical layer between you.

your head falls back, and he takes advantage, licking into the valley of your neck, hand sliding over the swell of your chest. the contact makes you whimper and arch into him, needing more, needing everything, and you feel his grip falter as he breathes against your skin.

"you don’t—fuck—you don’t know what you’re doing to me," he grits out, forehead dropping against yours. "fucking unfair really—"

"stop—stopping. you're the one being unfair." you whisper, and that’s what shatters him. your rebuttal is all it takes.

his resolve crumbles—and he’s on you like he was made for it.

his hands are everywhere, frantic and greedy, yanking at the fabric of your suit like he can’t stand the damned thing. his mouth crashes into yours again, this time with no hesitance, no restraint—just pure, crude need. his tongue explores every inch of your mouth as if he’s trying to put the taste of you to memory.

you can feel his cock pressing beneath you through his torn suit, and you roll your hips against him, needing to feel more, needing to feel him.

"fuck," he groans into your mouth, hands gripping your hips so tight it almost hurts.

you don’t even think anymore. your hands are fumbling with the yellow and blue material covering him—exposing more and more of his red-tinted flesh. he lets out this broken little laugh at your effort, a desperate sound that only makes you want him more, but then he’s helping you, masks is thrown to the side, then the vibrant colors of your suits follow—leaving both of you bare. taking in eachother—the rise and fall of his chest, his toned stomach—down, to his cock. and fuck, is he perfect—thick and hard and already leaking, tip glistening.

you wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly, just to hear him moan. he doesn’t disappoint. his head falls back, his mouth falling open as he lets out this low, guttural sound that goes straight to your core.

"holy fuuck," he breathes, his hips jerking into your hand. "you’re gonna fucking ruin me."

his words only prove to egg you on, because then you’re pushing him down into the ground, clambering onto his lap like a woman possessed.

your hands are on his chest, skimming over the hard planes of his body as you position yourself over him. he grips your hips tight as you sink down onto him, taking him inch by inch—until he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

he chokes out your name, his head lulling as you start to move. his hands are everywhere now—on your breasts, your ass, your thighs—like he can’t decide where to touch you first. but it doesn’t matter. all that matters is the way he feels inside you, the way he fills you so perfectly you swear you’ll never need anything else.

and then you’re riding him like your life depends on it—hard and fast and needy, your hands bracing yourself on his chest as you take what you need from him. and he lets you—he lets you use him like this, lets you take control, and all the while he’s watching you with this look in his eyes—like you’re eden personified.

"fuck," he groans again, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrusts up into you, wild. "you feel so fucking good. so fucking perfect."

the air’s dry and scorching around you, sun sinking low but still brutal, painting everything in a haze of gold and sweat and dust. your knees dig into the sandy dirt, scuffed and trembling from how you’ve been riding him, but neither of you let up—not when his hands clutch you like you're the only thing tethering him to earth.

“can’t—can’t stop,” he pants, voice rough and cracked from the heat and how hard he’s breathing. his pupils are blown wide, sweat sliding down his temples, dark hair sticking to his forehead. the usual softness in his expression is long gone, replaced with something animal—something ravenous. “feels like i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

he shifts, steadies himself with one arm on the ground, and drives up—deeper—hard enough that you cry out, your body jerking in his grip. you go limp in his grasp, falling forward into him. it's the closest you've gotten to relief yet, and your mouth is expelling every sound of pleasure it possibly can.

and god, the look on his face when he hears you. it’s ravaged, desperate, like he’s starving.

“again.” he breathes. “make that sound again. please, fuck—i’ll give you anything.”

your body responds on its own, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, dragging him deeper, tighter.

the compound is still thick in your blood, turning every brush of skin into a live wire, sending every moan into something that echoes inside your skull.

“i wanna come with you,” he moans, almost frenzied now, head tipping back again. “wanna feel you lose it around me. you’re—shit, you’re so wet, i can feel you shaking—please, just—come on, come on, please.”

he thrusts up into you again, snapping his hips. your body gives in before your mind does—tightening, clenching around him, and his whole body jerks beneath you. you're both a mess, just grasping at eachother like you're one. your vision is overcast, blurred and your ears seem to be dialed in on every sound falling out of mark's lips.

his mouth drops open. he shouts your name, follows it up with a slew of curses, praises, prayers.

he grabs your waist like he's afraid you'll vanish, grinding up into you through the wave of it, chasing your high as if it's a storm.

“that’s ittt.” he groans, burying his face against your chest as he spills into you, hips still twitching, breath ragged and rough. “that’s it, that’s it…”

he holds you like he doesn’t know where he ends and you begin, arms wrapped tight around your back, heart pounding against your ribs. both of you shaking, ruined, covered in sweat and dust and heat—but still not entirely satisfied. not really.

you pull yourself off of him slowly, wincing at the sudden absence of his warmth. the ground feels like ice beneath your skin, the coolness juxtaposed with the burning heat that radiates from the two of you.

neither of you speaks at first. you can hear him trying to steady his breath, but it’s labored, like he's still unsure whether he's waking up from a dream—or a nightmare. you sit next to him, not quite looking at him, but not able to stay away either. the weight of the air around you presses down, heavier than the sand and dust under your hands.

mark shifts beside you, the sound of his movements dragging you back to the moment. he looks at you, eyes wide and confused, but there's something else there—something darker, almost desperate.

"we can't tell anyone about this," he mutters, the words catching in his throat.

you nod, your hands shaking slightly as you pull your knees to your chest. the weight of the situation presses down on you like a vice, but his words, though simple, offer some strange sense of clarity. there’s no going back now.

"i know." you whisper, voice strained but firm.

he runs a hand through his hair, fingers raking roughly, but it’s clear he’s struggling to pull himself together. "we can’t let anyone find out what happened," he says again, this time more to himself than to you. "not yet. not until we figure out who—or what—the hell did this to us."

you meet his gaze then, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. there’s a quiet understanding in the air between you, a silent agreement forged in the mess of everything that just happened. the rawness of what you've shared is terrifying, but it’s also…something only the two of you know. and that means, somehow, it’s yours to carry.

"we'll go back." you say quietly, though the words feel like a weight in your chest. "just… we go back home. like nothing happened."

he nods, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders. "yeah. no one needs to know about this. not yet."

with a deep breath, you both stand and grab your suits. the haze feels as though it’s slowly slipping away, but in its place, doubt is bubbling. neither of you are too sure what you got yourselves into—but you know it changed everything.

writer's note .☘︎ ݁˖ this is so unlike anything i've ever written so i hope i did okay—i just had to write something for mark. he's captivated me. also i got through the entire series so fast i had to write just to quell my invincible brainrot LMAO. this fic isn’t beta’d, so if there are grammar mistakes and such i’m sorry! if you enjoyed this—reblog or comment (or both and i'll love you forever)

dedicated to @inthehystericalrealm to hoping we find our own mark variants in this life <3

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

#i’m salivating at this #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson x you #invincible x you #invincible x y/n #invincible x fem!reader #mark grayson x fem!reader #mark grayson

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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

Text

mohawk invincible taunts mark grayson by flaunting you in the worst way possible. wether it's you, pretty and hanging onto his arm, playing nice so you don't get your head caved in.

you try your best to hide the fear in your eyes when you make eye cintact with mark, the corner of your lips wobbling slightly as the grip around your waist tightens; and you feel mohawk invincible's strong bicep pop a few vertebrae in your spine. a silent threat to behave.

or -- even worse. It's you, spread wide open. fluttering cunt swallowing mohawk mark's cock like it's hungry for every veiny inch that digs into syrupy coated walls. your head hanging back over his right shoulder, breasts bouncing with every thrust upwards for mark's eyes only to watch you fall apart.

you don't moan his name like you used to. before you were stolen away, before you were held against your will in this prison of a relationship with his variant. you moan your captor's name, begging to cum for the 'nth time.

the chair mark had sat on is shredded down to splinters ages ago, yet he's still there. watching his girl bounce on a cock that isn't technically his.

#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #invincible variants x reader #invincible #mohawk mark grayson #mohawk mark #mohawk invincible

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starrytemptation · 2 months ago

Text

⠀⠀꒰ ۪ ⋆ passing out during sex w jason todd ; mdni 18+

there’s a threshold between pleasure and oblivion, and JASON TODD never fails to drag you right to the precipice. the room is steeped in darkness, save for the feverish glow of the city bleeding through the blinds—thin slats of light slashing across his body like luminous scars. his damp hair clings to his temples, raven strands tickling your cheek as a low groan spills from his throat, muffled where his mouth is buried against the crook of your neck.

he’s saying something, but it slips past you. all you can register is the thick, glorious stretch of him splitting you open to the point of delirium. “f-fuck, doll—” he groans, and somewhere in the haze you feel his calloused palm at your jaw, guiding your gaze to his. but your eyes barely hold. head tips back, vision narrowing to pinpricks of light as everything frays at the edges before softening into black. a sudden, airy moan tapers off into an erotic squeak, and your body slackens beneath him.

the next thing you feel is breath—warm on your cheek. your eyes flutter open to find your boyfriend unmoving (still buried inside you), arms braced on either side like he’s been guarding your return. “back with me?”

before you can open your mouth, his hips roll forward in a shallow grind, and then you do moan. a dry chuckle escapes him before he presses a kiss to your temple.

“missed you too.”

#jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd drabble #jason todd #jason todd blurb #red hood x reader

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starrytemptation · 3 months ago

Text

Triple Trouble

Mohawk Mark, Full Mask Mark, and Original Mark x Reader

MDNI 18+

just a tease

It was supposed to be one night.

Just one night of giving in to the chaos of having three versions of your boyfriend completely wreck you.

But then?

They never left.

And now, you were trapped.

Trapped between three versions of Mark, all of whom had decided they were staying.

Mark (your Mark) was trying to act normal. Trying to pretend like having two alternate versions of himself competing for your attention wasn’t driving him insane.

Mohawk Mark had zero shame about the situation. He was all over you, arms thrown around your waist at breakfast, whispering filthy things in your ear whenever Mark left the room.

Full Mask Mark was silent, possessive, dangerous. He didn’t say much, but he was always watching, his hands constantly on you, keeping you close.

And the worst part?

They were competing.

It started small.

Little things

Mark made your coffee in the morning? Mohawk Mark dumped it out and made you a better one.

You were cold on the couch? Full Mask Mark was already pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you before the others could.

Mark tried to kiss you goodnight? Mohawk Mark stole it first.

It was ridiculous.

"You guys are insane," you muttered one night as they all crowded you on the bed, refusing to let the others have the prime spot next to you.

"Insane?" Mohawk Mark grinned, biting your shoulder playfully. "Babe, we’re just dedicated."

Mark groaned, rubbing his face. "I hate this."

Full Mask Mark, as always, said nothing.

He just pulled you closer, resting his chin on your head, his grip unyielding.

Yeah.

You were so screwed.

Then..... the game started.

Mohawk Mark got bored.

Which was dangerous.

Because the second he was bored, he started a competition.

"Let’s make this interesting." He smirked, draping himself over your back as you sat on the couch.

Mark narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Yes." Mohawk Mark grinned, leaning in to whisper right against your ear.

"Whoever makes her fall apart first… wins."

Silence.

Then—

Mark growled.

Full Mask Mark? Oh, he was already moving.

And you?

You didn’t stand a chance.

Your Mark grabbed you first, pulling you onto his lap, his lips already on your throat, hands gripping your waist like he was staking his claim.

"You want to play games?" he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing your pulse. "Fine. Let’s play."

Mohawk Mark let out a low whistle.

"Damn, baby," he grinned, watching as Mark devoured you, his grip possessive, unrelenting.

"You really think you can handle all of us?"

Mark snapped his head up, glaring.

"Shut up."

Mohawk Mark just laughed.

The second Mark paused, Mohawk Mark swooped in, flipping you under him, his hands already trailing lower.

"Tsk, tsk," he grinned down at you, pinning your wrists. "You hesitated. That’s a rookie mistake, man."

Mark growled, already reaching to yank him off you, but Full Mask Mark stopped him.

"Wait."

Mohawk Mark smirked.

"Ooooh, he wants to watch."

You shivered.

Because oh.

Oh, that was dangerous.

Full Mask Mark was silent, but his actions spoke louder than words.

He didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t play games.

Didn’t tease.

He just took.

Mohawk Mark let out a low groan, watching as Full Mask Mark wrecked you completely.

"Damn, dude." He let out a breathless laugh. "You’re brutal."

Full Mask Mark didn’t even respond.

He was too focused on ruining you.

And oh, he did.

#invincible comic #invincible season 3 #mark x reader #mark grayson invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #invincible x you #invincible smut #invincible #mark grayson x reader

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starrytemptation · 3 months ago

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HIIII!! i js read ur thing ab the different roles w the variants (the bakery one n the idol one) and they were so good!!

i was wondering if u could write the mohawk (OF) one n the shiesty (streamer) mark ones??

love ur writing <33

Heeey thanks! I had a feeling someone would ask, I'm not rlly proud of Shiesty Mark's part here since I didn't know what to do wit it but I hope ya'll like it.

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, this has nsfw on Mohawk's part (shocker!)

CW: masturbation, dildos, nsfw videos

Based on this

Pt. 1 here

Mohawk Invincible:

There always was a certain guilt that gnawed at him whenever he spent money on not safe for work content, though Mark never had an issue shoving aside his conscience, he had an issue shoving aside the discomfort when the content wasn't catered to him enough, did people on OF just forget how to be sexy?

One thing he dislikes for 2 seconds and he scrolls. It turns him off immediately. He spends more time cringing at his phone with his dick in his hand trying to find someone, *anyone* that can scratch that itch just right.

So imagine his pure euphoria when he spots your face, gets through your paywall and sees just how well you cater to him.

God, your angles, the setting and your noises, he has to pace himself and refrain from fisting his cock so quickly and cumming to soon, he wants to savor your videos and pictures.

He has notifications turned on for all your socials, he's the first to pay for your content, the first to comment. Anytime his dick hardens even a little bit he immediately pulls up your page.

Mark sees you take commissions and practically works overtime to make his request happen, a grin tearing through when the payment is accepted and in less than 3 days, a video was already up labelled 'commissions'

This time, he didn't have to get through a paywall because it was sent to him the moment it was finished.

The details were simple: he wanted a personalised boyfriend experience video, you had to use a dildo as a replacement but fuck, you were so good at convincing him it was real when you moaned his name.

He was glad he let you post it, these chumps needed to know who was your best supporter.

"Missed you all day, Mark..." he bit his bottom lip harshly at the whiny tone from the video, watching you fuck yourself to please him gave him such an ego trip. Money well spent.

The way you called out his name repeatedly and so sweetly was enough for him to coat his stomach in white spurts, hissing in pleasure when he realised that he timed his orgasm with yours just right, thank God he tipped you.

. . .

Hearing a cry for help from a desecrated building, a blood-thirsty smile came across Mark's features as he followed the shouts asking for anyone to help. This was his favorite; pose as a helping hero, outstretch a hand to help before killing them shamelessly.

Something about that voice was familiar, like he heard it before. He blamed it on the acoustics of the surrounding rubble and smoke, he found the source, a store toppled over and broken into bits of concrete, he could see a head of hair and one outstretched hand

"Please! Anyone! I'm stuck!!"

"Are you now?" His boots came into your view as you strained to look up, not exactly Invincible himself... "have no fear, citizen." He mocked with a grin, effortlessly removing a large chunk of stone and throwing it God knows where, lifting you out from underneath.

He paused, looking over your physique and expression, the voice was freaky but this was... freakier. Something stirred in him.

"... Oh. Ooooh." He laughed, holding you closely as his eyes raked over you. "Holy shit, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

Perplexed, you tried to separate from him only to be met with an unmoving grip. "You went off the grid in my dimension, y'know? Just. Poof! But damn! No one could really make me cum like you did!" He almost sighed romantically

Your face contorted to a cringe as you tried to shove him away. "What're you talking about?! Let go of me, you pervert!!"

"Oh, you have no clue." He grinned, his hands branching out to grip you wherever, landing on your ass his fingers squeezed and kneaded the flesh as he looked over your shoulder, hissing through his teeth as the memories came flooding back "I could never forget this ass either.."

Your face flushed in embarassment, his grip too tight for you to break free. "Mmh, this is better than that vid I commissioned. I threw so much money at you, baby!" Mark was well aware you didn't know what he was referring to, you weren't the same person but this was definitely the same body. Like you were made from the same mould.

"Let's go somewhere private, I'll show you just how well I know you."

♡

Shiesty Mark:

College was boring, studying was worse. Music did not help him focus and podcasts on topics he cared about just ruined his focus, Mark scoured the Internet for any sources, anything that he could play while absentmindedly focusing.

It was only when he came across a tiktok of yours playing some overly pixilated game that his interest was piqued, nonsensical commentary was everyone's cup of tea nowadays, so, by pure coincidence, he found you were live when he looked for your channel.

You were playing a horror game, Poppy bedtime or whatever, he didn't. The way you reacted to the scares, your cocky attitude when you solved a puzzle, the way you focused on boss fights was charming. It wasn't long before he managed to go through all the slides needed for his quiz and you were still going, vowing to finish the game. A comment wouldn't hurt.

MarkG_: I finished studying for my quiz and ur still playing lol

To his surprise, you noted his comment through the handful of viewers. "You finished studying? Oh, good luck on the quiz! I'm actually happy this chapter is longer, The last one was so short!"

Maybe a few more comments wouldn't hurt, soon enough he was a regular who commented game suggestions or simple friendly jabs, he never really crossed a line with you given you started as a distraction and he insisted you still were.

You played the games he recommended, greeted him when he made his presence known, his heart pounded in his chest every time you did because it meant you were keeping him in mind during these long streams, not those other losers, but him.

Someone did cross a line at some point, a self-proclaimed and entitled 'fan', putting your safety in danger and ultimately causing you to apologise and go offline for a while for your safety. That time was painfully quiet, other streamers were too boring or too loud, he understood your need to put some distance between you and entitled fans but fuck, he was tired of watching old vods.

It didn't really matter, being Invincible soon swallowed up so much of his time he didn't check back to see you when you returned.

. . .

Another pathetic squirming hero, another embarrassing defeat. Mark held the 'hero's wrist with a bored expression behind the loose face covering as he crushed the hero's wrist. "Seriously? You guys are lame, y'know there's like 20 of us?"

He didn't wait for a response as he lifted and launched them into whatever structure was in view, grinning at the impact as the hero crashed through a building and succumbed to the debris. "C'mon! Is nobody in this shithole worth it?!" He almost shrieked, waiting for a beat to see if anyone would try to refute him, the destruction can wait.

A rock flew through the air and decked him in the back of his head, it didn't hurt but it pissed him off, eyebrows furrowing and turning to look.

You stood with an arm outstretched, holding a metal pipe from where he was sure was the destroyed city, you looked terrified. "... this some kinda joke?"

You lifted the pipe, if you'll die you'll go out fighting like hell, no man impersonates your close friend without you beating the shit out of him. "What?! Hotshot alien too scared to take on ONE human?!"

He noted your features, you looked different without a camera at one fixed angle. Realisation came to him, you were that cute streamer he followed back in his world.

"No shit, of course you'd be here." He came closer, asfalt and dirt crunching under his boots as you readjusted your grip. "Back off!"

"Of fucking course, because why not? Let's make it more of a pain in my ass! Give me someone I don't wanna kill in this stupid town!" His rambling unnerved you, but you stood your ground. The moment he lifted a hand to grab you, your arms reacted and swung as hard as you could, the pipe connecting with his head. Nothing.

Mark stayed quiet, the resounding echo of the pipe connecting with his skull disappearing as his hand clutched it and tore it from your hands, bending it in his grip like it was some pretzel and throwing it aside. "Got it outta your system?"

"Fuck you!" You spat out immediately, you were more hostile here, that's for sure.

"Maybe let's get to know each other first." He grinned behind the cloak-like covering. "Don't struggle."

You gasped as he bent down and easily threw you over his shoulder, your fists immediately beating his back. "Let go of me! I'll kill you!" You were so cute.

"Sure, I'd love to see you try to wrestle me down, hun." He chuckled, glancing around the ruined town. "Hold on tight, I fucked this place up too good."

He'll find a little corner to be able to talk to you properly, he hadn't heard your voice in so long, he almost felt guilty taking pleasure in your screaming as you held onto him while he soared through the sky.

"We'll get real close and personal this time, alright?"

#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson smut #invincible smut

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starrytemptation · 3 months ago

Note

(Refering to the reader beating the shit out of nogogglescible drabble) "lemme know if you want a fic" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAHJ PLEADH PLEDSAF PLEADLS PLESRE-

Damn shawty OK! Here's a quick one!

CW: violence, masochism, dirty talk(?) It's no goggles cmon man

"Do whatever you can to beat it out of him." Is what Cecil told you before you came into the interrogation room. They had somehow subdued this version of Invincible and trapped him in dull room with only one giant one-way mirror, he was trapped and confined to a chair with giant technological confines caging his hand, as if his hands were through a cinderblock.

You were debriefed before you came here, you heard of the killing, how he behaved, naturally you were already wary of Invincible's strength, and this seemed like Cecil's worst nightmare. An Invincible that isn't on your side.

The 'Mark' with you right now had his head tossed back, leaning and lounging like this was a waiting room, he looked up; no goggles covering his dark eyes. "Oh, HeLLO!" He sat up, excited to toy with you. "I remember you!"

You ignored his rambling as you looked through a list. "Y'know, we used to bang in my world! Then you got emotional when I killed somebody and broke up with me. Total bitch behaviour in my opinion, but hey, the sex was— GUH?!"

You had reeled back your fist and swung it into his jaw as best as you could, watching him pant and groan as he readjusted himself. "Ooh! Oh you wanna play?! Fuck, I can't believe I felt that!"

"Where did you and your copies come from?" You started, eyebrows furrowed as his attitude was getting on your nerves. Mark paid no mind to your questioning.

"What copies? You think perfection can be made twice?! You wish there were mo— OUGH!" Another punch in the opposite direction, blood splattering past his lips.

"Answer my questions, why are you here?!"

"Get fucked, sugar♡" Mark grinned as he looked up at you, blood blending into his gums and soaking his teeth and lips, he wanted to piss you off.

You gritted your teeth in frustration, clenching your fists as you repeated the onslaught, his grunting and sputtering echoing in the room.

"Yes, fuck that's— GHK! YES! C'mon! UGH! Hit me again! Hit m—URGH! Oh fuck yes, harder! Harder!" He repeatedly tried to speak and yell at you to hit him harder, your knuckles growing sore and pained as he showed no sign of giving in.

You took a moment to breathe, hands reddened as your panting overlayed his groaning and moaning. "oooh baby... Hah... I know I'm invincible, but you hit like you wanna fuck me...!" His thighs parted further, bucking to get any friction. "Why don't you sit, huh? Gives you stability to beat the shit outta me!"

A cringe appeared on your features as he coaxed you on his lap, you could see a hardening beneath the fitted costume. This freak was horny.

"You're disgusting." You started while rolling up your sleeves, he could feel the arousal rush to his dick as he sat up, licking the blood of his lips.

"Yeah, c'mere baby— get mad at me! Hit me!"

The door clacked open as Cecil stepped in, his expression mirroring yours. "Alright, I can't watch this shit anymore, (Name). Hit the showers."

"I knew it! (Name)?! MY (Name) from MY world?!We were destined to fuck!" Mark announced excitedly while looking up at you. "Quit cockblocking, dickhead! Get out! I don't give a fuck if you cucks watch, just gimme 30 minutes alone here with—"

"You shut up! We'll deal with you later." Cecil watched you collect your things as Mark watched you like an abandoned dog, chest rising and falling. "Wh..?! Hey! Hold on! Not even gonna hit me bye?!"

You rolled your eyes, embarassed and angry by the interaction, you could hear him yelling as you left.

"Hey! Hey, come back whenever, sweetcheeks! Maybe I'll let you choke me while you ride me! You like that shit?! Fuck, you're just my type—"

The door slammed shut, you really hoped this ordeal would get sorted soon.

#I LOVE THIS PATHETIC FREAK #LET ME AT HIM #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson smut #invincible smut #no goggles invincible #no goggles mark x reader #nogogglesible

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starrytemptation · 3 months ago

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You know that to be Desired fic you wrote? Would you be willing to write one Where Mainstream Mark finds out about his other versions wanting his childhood, he gets jealous and decides he has to have them in every way possible, and his other versions can go fuck themselves.

To Be Wanted

Note: Great minds think alike, I actually created this the day after the first one blew up and scrapped it. I'm going on a whim and making this as literal as possible before delving into everything.

Synopsis: He was wrong, he was foolish, and he's here to make up for his mistakes. Of course, you were always the better option, and no one else needs you the way he does. (To Be Desired ABRIDGED)

Warnings: Smut, Sub/Dom Dynamics, Multiple Sex Positions, Pussy Eating, Jealousy/Possessive, Porn w a Plot, Mentions of Anal, Slightly Foot Fetish, Mentions of Other Variants, Switch!Mark Grayson, Switch!Reader (both are pretty subby), He needs that cookie real bad, etc.

Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,700 (Had to make it equal to the prequel)

Mark's knuckles ached from the last punch he threw, his breathing ragged as he hovered above the city, eyes locked onto him. Another him. He could charge headfirst immediately, but as his eyes landed upon the destruction and chaos wailing around him, he could only think one thing. I want to see her. You were independent and creative on the battlefield, but even he was angered and fearful. What if these versions of him convoluted your impression of him? He never had the chance to fully confess, and right now, he hated this with every fiber of his being.

The city was unrecognizable, reduced to a graveyard of twisted steel and crumbling concrete. While the screams of the dying were drowned beneath the thunderous collapse of once-proud skyscrapers. Ichor slicked the pavement, bodies crushed beneath rubble or torn apart mid-air, and through it all, the Variants rained destruction without hesitation like a merciless plague of living extinction.

He shot forward, propelling through clouds of smoke tickling him. Smoke settled in his mouth, tasting charred wood and something almost metallic—like blood burned to dust. It was acrid and suffocating, but now was a moment of clarity. He was bruised, costume tethered as blood seeped from cuts among his skin, knuckles bruised with his eye threatening to swell shut.

This needed to be the end of their tyranny, and soon.

As Mark’s body cut through the wind with an unparalleled determination, his fist met bone with a nauseating crunch, the force of the strike vibrating across the man's face. The variant groaned, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth, before turning towards him with that smug, knowing grin. "You don't get it, do you?" he taunted. "I don’t blame you. You weren’t there when she finally realized she didn’t have to wait for you."

Mark’s heart slammed against his ribs. He knew what the man meant, of the power you possessed. The familial ability to pierce a tear in the universe and peak into what the future beheld. This was an opportune time for you to be dissuaded; he didn’t seem to be the only candidate pursuing you, not with them here.

"Shut up."

The Variant only chuckled, tilting his head. "They say the multiverse is infinite, but you know what every version of us wants? Her. And we don’t hesitate. We don’t string her along. We don’t let her slip through our fingers a second—"

A second time. He didn’t wish to acknowledge that he never chose you, even when fate had bound you two together. He was lovesick, that was his biggest fault. Mark grabbed him by the throat and drove him through a building before he could finish. Glass and concrete exploded around them as they crashed through another two stories. "You think I don’t hesitate because I don’t care?" Mark growled, pressing his forearm against his Variant’s windpipe. "You think I don’t want her?!"

The variant only smirked, even with his air supply cut off. "Then why am I the one she's been warming up to?" His eyes widened in pure panic and rage flashed white-hot in Mark’s vision. He reared back, ready to hit him again when—

"Mark?"

The sound of your voice cut through the chaos like a blade. His breath hitched, movements halting as if to show the hold you had on him. Your costume was worn, the usual well-manicured appearance now frazzled from wages of war, and dried blood flaked against your skin. That look on your face… was different from the ones he recalled in his childhood. The difference was that the fuzzy warmth you once had, was slowly fading into something neutral, common, amongst the glances you shared with everyone.

Mark turned, his heart lurching as he saw another variant landing just a few feet from you. This one wasn’t fighting. He was standing too close, looking at you like he already owned you. His lips are pursing to deceive you.

The Variant beside you reached for your hand. You were actually listening to him, just how many had found you by now? How many professed their love? "Come on. You don’t belong with him. Not when we—"

Mark didn't let him finish. In a blink, he was there, yanking the variant away from you and slamming him into the pavement so hard the ground cratered beneath them. "She’s mine," Mark snarled, gripping the Variant by the collar and lifting him up just to punch him back down. The variant spat blood, barely conscious, but Mark wasn’t done. "I don’t care how many of you there are," Mark seethed, throwing the variant across the street. "She’s mine. You want her? Go fuck yourself." His voice cracked with the sheer intensity.

After a long moment of silence, he turned to face you. Even after that display, you were left silenced. Truthfully, you had begun to consider their words, was it bitterness from his previous relationship with Eve? Or perhaps the feelings you forced yourself to bury? Being a hero made it easy to turn a blind eye, once you became resentful enough.

Mark’s breathing is shaky as he approaches you, his hands still trembling from the fight—from watching them try to take you, try to twist your mind into thinking they were better for you. It makes his stomach churn and his blood boil all over again. Because what if you had believed them? What if he’d been too late? When truthfully, they never stood a chance.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice lower now, steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through him. “I don’t care what the others told you. I don’t care what they promised. They’re not me.” He awaited a response. Your lips parted, hesitation flickering in your expression. Not because you didn't feel something for him—he could see it. It was the uncertainty. Maybe even a little of the possessiveness still lingering in his tone.

So he softened. Mark reached out, his fingers barely brushing over yours as a silent question before running his thumb over your knuckles. The warmth nearly caused him to shiver. "I should have told you," he murmurs. "A long time ago. But I kept holding back because I thought—I don’t know, maybe I’d ruin things, maybe you didn’t see me the same way. But I can’t do that anymore. Not after seeing them try to take you away from me." You understood what he meant; this was his apology for abandoning you. Leaving when you received your powers, when he got his first girlfriend, when you needed a friend.

You stare at him, searching his face, your breathing uneven from adrenaline. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the way his breath trembles against your lips. "Tell me you want this," he demands with desperation. Your fingers trace along his jaw, your voice a hushed whisper. “You threw a guy into the pavement for me, Mark. What do you think I want?”

Your voice is low but firm as you yanked him against you. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Mark knows he should be careful, knows he shouldn’t let his emotions swallow him, but then you’re pulling him closer, your fingers threading into his hair, your body molding against his like you’re giving him the permission he so desperately craves.

And just like that, his restraint snaps.

Your back is against the nearest wall before you can process it, his lips crashing into yours with a fervor that nearly steals your breath. It’s messy, desperate—his hands gripping your waist like he needs proof that you’re his. He makes a noise in the back of his throat—something between a gasp and a holy shit again—before his grip tightens.

He groans into the kiss, his fingers sliding under the torn edges of your costume, skimming over bruised skin. "God, you’re so—" He exhales sharply, lips trailing from your mouth down to the curve of your jaw, then lower, ghosting over the pulse at your throat. He couldn’t stop touching you; he wouldn't stop.

You shudder as his teeth scrape lightly against your skin. "Mark—"

"No, seriously," he mumbles between kisses, words muffled against your collarbone. He found you to be perfect, the light in the muddled mess of his life. He could barely let you speak, just wanting to prove to you that he would always be the better option.

His voice is wrecked now, breathless with want, and when you roll your hips against his just to tease, his breath hitches.

"Oh, my God," he chokes, pressing his forehead against your shoulder for a second. "Okay. Okay,—we should probably go home now because if we keep this up, I won't be stopping.” He was right; it was probably best if the news didn’t catch wind of the actual Invincible getting frisky in public during such a time. You bite your tongue, teasing, "You sure?"

Mark groans, lifting you effortlessly, his hands firm against your thighs as he takes off, propelling you both through the sky in a blur. "I have literally never been more sure of anything in my life," he says, his voice tight as he tries not to focus on the way your body is pressed against his—or how obvious his erection is right now.

But you do notice.

And when you grind down against his lap mid-flight, he lets out a noise so strangled and needy that he nearly forgets to keep flying. "Oh—shit, that’s—okay, wow, you’re evil. You’re actually evil. Holy shit, I’m gonna crash us into a building."

Once you two clumsily entered the sliding door of his home, your clothes were quickly strewn across the kitchen floor. He didn’t waste any time; his lips were on yours like a magnet, the taste of you intoxicating like he’d imagined. At this moment, he realized he would’ve never reacted the same for another woman. Excitement swelled his veins as you two collapsed against the couch, the renewed energy powering his body through its injuries.

Every part of you was his. From your knuckles to your shoulders, to your neck and collarbones, breasts, and down to your toes. He’d make sure of it as every part of you was riddled in his saliva-ridden kisses. "I should’ve done this sooner—I should’ve made sure you knew you were mine before they even had the chance to try." He heaved, his muscled body appearing from the crevices of your flesh. “No one else gets to touch you like this." His voice had a slight rasp, nearly distracting you from the harsh yank against your panties. At the sight alone he groaned, hands moving at inhuman speeds as he stripped himself of his boxers and the tight confines of your bra.

He moves lower, his lips tracing over your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel. You feel a rush of anticipation as he moves lower, his lips claiming your thighs. He parts your legs, his tongue tracing over your skin, his fingers moving to touch you. That’s when it happens— His tongue, almost hesitant, licks your cunt. Oh. You’re sweet like sugar all over. The realization dawned on him as his pupils dilated, his lips messily smushed against your labia, and the rough texture of his dry tongue raked against your clit. The arousal that pooled from you was like water, his tongue seeking hydration. Your hips slowly rolled against his face; the soft mewls vibrating against your throat spurred him further. It was almost sensual, slow as a reminder of who was between your legs right now. His muscular arms locked your hips into place as his tongue grew brutal; its rapid, pleasurable lashes had you seeing stars. Just as you approached a quick orgasm, his tongue delved inside you, tongue-fucking you as far as his tongue could possibly reach. His nose nudged rhythmically against the bundle of nerves as his fingers glided up your abdomen, mapping out every curve to his memory. His hips rutting desperately against the now damp couch cushion.

The quiet sound of the kitchen faucet dripping made your moans sound eerily loud. Your fingers roughly travel across his muscled forearm as your back arches into his mouth. With harsh gasps, your fingers roughly tapped him as he finally ripped the climax he so desired from you, his mouth covered in your scent. Bringing himself up, his lips captured yours once more, your groans responding to one another. “You’re mine too, you know. But I like watching you get all worked up about it,” you mused breathlessly. He chortled quietly to himself, his reddened and pulsing cock waiting readily in his grasp. Stroking it a few times between gasps, he spoke almost darkly amused. "They thought they could steal you from me, but they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know what you like. But I do." Before you could question him further on his remark, his hips snugly snapped against yours. His dick parted through you with ease as you both whined. The rhythm started slow, purposeful, as he punctuated with each thrust until he grew consumed with lust. Driving himself forward, the couch rocked from the unnatural movement. He had you completely beneath him, knees tucked against your chest and spread wide as his body pressed flush against yours. The wind was knocked out of you with every pummel, leaving you nearly salivating at the sensation. The raw sensation of your nipples rubbing against his chest adds a pleasurable sting to the mix, your hands now clawing at his shoulders.

"Mine. Mine. Mine," he muttered against the shell of your ear, his jaw unnaturally tight as he fought the urge to cum here and now. You were his, not theirs, just his alone in his suburban neighborhood when he should be putting an end to this. This was his moment to be selfish; to him, his need to defend was over until he devoured every inch of you. "God, I—fuck, I can't stop touching you. I don’t want to stop. You feel too good; you’re—oh my God, you’re everything." He rambled, abruptly pulling out, and a schlick sound echoed from between your legs. Suddenly, you were in his lap, pressed firmly against his torso, his hands wrapping around the width of your shoulders as he resheathed himself once more, his hips pistoning deeper into you. All you could manage was to bounce dumbly against him, the meat of his neck being your sanctuary as the skin absorbed the pornographic sound of your moans. He was breathless, barely able to contain himself as his skin became crowded in a red flush.

Then again, another position change, your bodies tangled together effortlessly, one of his legs hooked over your hip while the other remained stretched out beneath him. The angle was deep, intimate—allowing him to press closer, his body half-wrapped around yours as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Every movement sent a slow, rolling wave of pleasure through you, his hands gripping your waist to pull you even closer. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he murmured your name between each heated thrust. He slowly came up, hands spreading your ass cheeks as he watched himself be sucked into you willingly. The sight of your puckering hole clenching with each rock made his dick weep for its release. One hand melded against the fat of your ass, the other running up your sculpted calves until his lips mark your ankles and feet, his tongue swirling around your toe. "S... Say it again. Say you’re mine. Please—just say it." He pleaded, more so demanding as his movements became rougher, the couch shifting forward a few inches. “They don’t matter… I—I’m yours, Mark.” Your words were cut between burying your head in the couch pillows. “T-They don’t matter…” He echoed, a pleased groan vibrating against your foot.

Again. You were suddenly flipped as he stood, his feet backing into a wall as his knees nearly gave out from the sensations. You were hoisted into his arms as he bullied himself inside of you, both of your combined voices growing weak and raw. His neck craned lower as his tongue delved a nipple into his mouth; your skin was cold from a combination of sweat and his saliva. Creamy fluid leaked down his shaft as he unknowingly came from overstimulating himself. His hands gripped you hard enough to bruise, as you scratched up the length of his back, causing him to yelp. His canines finally blossoming their first hickey against your chest. Soon, his lips found yours, the rugged ends of your teeth nipping his lips hard enough to draw blood.

Not that it mattered—every scratch, bite, and pull only cemented one undeniable truth: you were his. And he wasn’t done. Not after feeling the slick warmth of your tongue against him, not after the way his thumb teased your rim while he moved inside you. Not even when he leaned you against the couch, having your legs straddle his as his tip prodded the entrance of your ass.

He seemed truly hellbent on caressing every inch. For further context, the previous two parts: To Be Desired, To Be Desired PT 2

#invincible #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible smut #invincible x reader #mark grayson smut

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starrytemptation · 3 months ago

Text

ᢉ𐭩GOOD BOY(‘S) [1]

Pairing: mark grayson x sinister mark x Mohawk mark x viltrumite mark x F!reader (god damn)

Synopsis: been awhile since the invincible war ended. A few of them ended up being captured in your world and kept in the prisons. Cecil allows you to visit them and (clearly) has not a damn clue as to what you’re saying or doing with them. Usually, it’d be complete chaos and nothing would change or happen in the room. However, you finally try something new with them…all of them…(should be good to mention here that you have powers…if u didn’t you’d honestly be stupid going into that room with confidence 🧍🏾‍♀️)

Warnings: story will lead to smut, slightly suggestive, harsh words (like bitch, pussy, or slut), not proofread, some corny dialogue (bear with me pls)

W.c: 2,086 (rlly doing my big one)

A/N: (there’s alot I have to say so pls bear with me 😭) first off, thank all of u for all the constant support on my other fics and even my shitty little doodles I posted. Means a lot to me. This is my first series/series writing and it’s also the first fic I’ve made with multiple ppl speaking let alone mark variants. So I’m begging you, please bear with me. If anything is overly fucking terrible or bad feel free to dm me advice. Also I’ll be making a master list soon for all my writings. Or wtv. This is part one to the series and it’ll get super smutty in the next one so I hope u js enjoy this one for now. It’ll be meh…(I highkey think it’s bad but wtv)

Long after the Invincible War, you were still intrigued by all the versions of your boyfriend that had come into your world to reek havoc and chaos. Most were dead, some were in prison, and some were thrown into whatever place they went to. Being a superpowered scientist under Cecil had its perks–you got to not only examine and see these variants, but you also got to speak to them (only with the supervision of your world's Mark of course). Your visits grew more and more frequent to them, it went from once a month, to once a week, to 3 times a week. They had memorized the times you visited, the clack of your heels, and your pen clicking before you entered their cell each time.

Your Mark always complained–sometimes it was genuine concern for your safety and reasoning, other times, it was clear and blatant jealousy.

“Why do you always want to go see those bastards, they almost destroyed the entire world. Not only that one of them almost crushed you to fucking death! If this gets too bad we're not seeing them again…” he was annoyed–making good and fair points. Sadly, you were too stubborn to attempt to listen to them.

“You've almost crushed me to death before,” you said with a shrug as you kept walking down the long hall getting ready to get to the cell that held the marks.

“WHAT!? When was this?” Mark had stopped for a second now having genuine concern as he hadn't remembered ever doing that. He tried his best to make sure you were protected from anything and everything.

“You crushed me plenty of times in bed–it's ok though because I've crushed you back just as much so we're even.” you had one smug ass smirk on your face seeing Mark's annoyed one before you two finally made it to the room. Before you could swipe your keycard to enter the room, Mark grabbed your arm having you stop and listen to what he had to say. “I'm serious babe…let them get out of line and we aren't seeing them again, they'll just rot in here till Cecil finds something to do with them.”

You used your free hand, swiping the keycard as the door opened. You turned to your mark lifting his chin with your pen as he looked prepared to hear whatever you had to say.

“I will decide when this research is over. However, you know if you want it to truly end and for me to stay out of this cell, you would only need to tell Cecil you won't accompany me anymore. Until you do that…we're continuing.”

You were stern and stubborn, meaning every single word you said. You finally pulled the pen down—giving his cheek a soft kiss before walking into the cell.

“Well, we see who wears the pants in your little relationship.” The mark with the mohawk said before he just started laughing trying to bother and mock your mark as best as he could.

“Hey well at least I get to leave here, I'm not locked in a fucking cell with my arms hanging up!” your mark snarled back–getting closer to Mohawk Mark as they glared each other down.

Sinister Mark cut into the conversation, having a lot worse to say about your mark and his “submission” to you.

“Hey, does she fuck you too? I just wanna get a full scope on how pussy you are! God, you're pathetic…weak…”

They were being little assholes ganging up against your mark, all besides the viltrumite one. He was just silent, observing your behaviors. As those 3 bickered, you walked up to him with crossed arms.

“Nothing to say?” You asked leaning in closer to his face. He backed up as best as he could, struggling to even move a bit because of his restraints but he found small ways.

“No…bitch…” he said before scrunching up his lips. You just leaned into him closer and closer knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Don’t your people have a thing for respecting higher-ups? Am I not higher up right now?” You were absolutely smug watching as his expression kind of dropped. He knew you were right and he hated every bit about it.

The cell was silent now…the other marks wondered why he stopped fighting back, falling silent.

“Don’t tell me you're all pussy now too!?” Mohawk Mark had said in a snarky tone. Your mark was walking up to you to pull you back from him. You raised your hand stopping him from coming closer as you used your other hand, softly rubbing viltrumite Mark'sk'sace.

He jolted from your touch for a second—not being used to anything like it at all. However, he had been in that cold cell for days, weeks even, with no warmth whatsoever. He melted into your hand as you kept rubbing it softly—he felt odd…like he had never felt before. He released soft huffs the whole time until you finally stepped back.

“W..wait-“ he exclaimed trying to get your attention again. Before he could even say what he wanted, sinister Mark butted in.

“What the hell did you just do to him!? He’s never been like that ever!”

Your mark wanted to be filled in as well, waiting for your response.

“I just touched 'em relax.” You were honestly shocked yourself.

“C'monn…let’s go, your mark said wanting to get the hell out of there. The other marks were getting angry and you were touching another mark…one that wasn’t yours—it made him a bit jealous.

“Wait wait…I wanna something…” you said with a grin as you rushed to Mohawk Mark. He looked a bit annoyed but intrigued. You drew closer and closer as the other marks watched once again—it’s all they could do…

“Listen whore, I’m not your mark…so hands off.” He said in a snarky tone. You just kept moving your hands towards his face not giving a damn, you were testing every ounce of patience he had.

“I will fucking bite you! I promise it…” Mohawk Mark tried to move his head back as quickly as he could to get away from your hand. Eventually, it landed right on his forehead before moving upward, softly stroking his hair. He tried to bite you for a second so you used your powers. With a hard glare from your eyes, his body was paralyzed in mere seconds as you rubbed it softly. You released your hold on his body just as fast as you used it.

You kept stroking his head, you saw him moving his head forward as best as he could so you could keep going. Your other hand reached up to his face, squishing it softly before you began to stroke it. He let out a noise of pure satisfaction…a soft moan. As soon as he realized, you backed up satisfied with your work on his behavior. He went from snarling and snapping to melting in your hand.

Your mark grabbed your shoulder, making a notation to get the hell out of there. You just gave him a soft kiss trying to keep him satisfied as you had one more mark to deal with. You knew your mark was getting jealous quickly so you had to hurry it up.

As soon as you walked over to sinister mark in his restraints he spat on your face. The other marks watched waiting to see what happened your mark dashed over to you as he began a screaming match with sinister mark.

Ignoring them and all their noise, you just spat right back on his face as the room fell silent. You were even now—the only difference was you could wipe the spit off of your face but he couldn’t get it off of his. Your hand reached up to his face as he prepared to bite you but you flicked his nose before continuing. You rubbed his hair—making it messy in mere seconds before you looked him dead in the eyes, smiling warmly.

“I promise you, if you ever spit on my face again I will break your face in.”

Your mark was just frozen in the spot waiting for this interaction to finish. Sinister Mark's eyes widened a bit before going back to normal—he was surprised at how you could look so gentle while threatening him.

“Yes bitch…” he said in a snarky tone trying to get some power back in the situation. You smiled before pinching and twisting at his nose. He couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.

“Huh? What’d you say?” You waited for him to change his manner of speaking. Your mark reached to pull your arm down as you 2 shared a look. He was trying to figure out what you were even doing but you gave him a glance that said you could handle it.

“Yes…ma’am” sinister Mark said in an annoyed tone this was basically his version of surrendering defeat. Your hand went to his face stroking it just like you did to the others. At first he acted like he didn’t give a single fuck about you or your touch—seconds later he was melted into your cheek moving his own face to have it happen faster. You stroked his face slower and began scratching his hair as Mohawk Mark began complaining how that wasn’t fair. Sinister mark was losing himself—lifting his chin to have that touch and rubbed to. He bit his lip trying to keep in any sounds he would’ve made but eventually one slipped out.

“F…fuck…” he moaned out roughly before you moved your hand away from him

“Good boy.” You said back with bliss in your voice. You honestly felt aroused by the fact you had 4 Marks folding for you just at the simple touch of your hand and sternness in your voice.

“God…what did she do to us…” Viltrumite Mark said sounding embarrassed or even frustrated that that even happened. The other Marks (sinister and Mohawk) just told him to “fuck off” as they kept their heads down in a bit of shame. They were absolutely in shock at how they folded that fast but knew they wanted more. They were pissed that they clearly weren’t getting more.

You had them fold enough for the day. Plus, your Mark looked like he wanted to snap sinister Mark's neck for spitting on you. He was tired of being in that damn room for the day. Your mark grabbed you by the waist giving you a look that said “You needed to leave” You just nodded and let him lead you out of the cell. You and your mark left the cell making your way out of the building. Mark was flying you 2 home as he wanted to talk about what the hell happened.

“So…what was that..” he asked in a genuine and jealous tone. He wanted to know what was up with all of it. Why did you guys keep going back, why were you touching them, how did you make them fold that easily? He wanted answers…

“Honestly…I don’t know. I didn't even think it’d work on the viltrumite one but as soon as it did I just had to try it on the rest of them and it worked. Guess you’re just weak for me in every universe?” You gave the best answer you could to your mark waiting for his response.

“Not gonna lie…I was a bit jealous. They practically killed everyone and now they wanted to fold just cause you touched them!” Mark exclaimed before you kissed his face softly. He had calmed down quickly just from your lips.

“Relax... you're the one who gets to take me home. You win either way. However...I do need you to take me back there tomorrow. It’s something I wanna do with you there. All of you…” you had something a little sinister and against the rules on your mind.

“Again!? What is it…I’m so sick of that place…” your mark wanted to know what you’d do if you went back. He was tired of going there and honestly was ready to never go back again. However, he was trying his best to trust your judgment and see where it’d go.

“Don’t worry about it…just know that you’ll have fun. All of you, trust me. You said with a smile before Mark finally landed, bringing you two to your house. You had plans…foul plans…and you couldn’t wait to put them into action tomorrow.

#invincible mark grayson #invincible x reader #mark grayson #mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #invincible #mohawk mark #sinister mark #viltrum mark

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