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Hunter verse;
[If one is strong, is it not right to use that strength to one’s own benefit? That was a thought that had come to him a long time ago. His family had always had ties to the most powerful of magic, a blessing, they said, from Isis herself, for their hard work and devotion to the gods so many countless years ago. To destroy creatures, be they beast or man, who delved into wickedness so that they may be judged at the very end of it all, was a calling that they did well. Among that, though, was the tendency to force pacts upon said beings after their defeat or so that they could save their own hides. ‘You have one of two choices,’ the Founder had said. ‘You may forsake your wicked ways and avoid the jaws of Ammit just a little longer by servitude, or you may go and meet with your judgement now without mercy. The decision is yours.’ Most always chose to bow their heads, fearful for their own demises and hungry to continue living even if it meant that they were leashed and bound to their pact holder, most chose this path. It was the wise choice to make, it was said…though such may be questionable to others.
One would almost compare this shared pact to a demon’s contract, but what would be silly, wouldn’t it? After all, this was for the sake of protecting humanity in the name of the divine. Besides, at the end of it all...The greater number of the pacts one has, the more powerful they were, the greater their abilities and the greater their threat if they ever shifted their desires from ‘protecting’ to giving into the temptation for power for power’s sake. As ambitious as Ozymandias was, he would never place a toe over that particular line. Just a little bit near it. He would aid others, defeat the evil that lurked in the darkness awaiting with drooling maw, but…he would also gain much from it for himself as well. With each new growing generation , this too became a mindset that many began to share, so why not take advantage of this? Don’t worry, he will save you and your family from the monsters in the forest or hiding in the alleyways on a moonlit night. Unlike the others, his family has most ancient history. So, no worries. You can meet the day with a sigh of a relief knowing he is there.
For a price, naturally.]
#RATTLES MY BARS#okay tucking this in my verses for the future one day FSDJFDSF#;v: do not fear the eyes in the dark#;;au (hunter)#;;alternate verse
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Make It Stick
Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.
Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk
Word count: 4.7k
He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.
Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:
‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’
Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.
But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:
“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”
And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.
Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.
If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.
But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.
With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.
Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.
No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.
Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.
Where the FUCK was his cum?
In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.
He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.
“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”
But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.
You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.
“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.
Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.
“Hold still,” he grunted.
“How come?”
“‘Cause I said.”
How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.
“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.
But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.
Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.
He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.
He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:
“Jo-el—”
“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.
“Push?”
“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”
You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.
Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.
And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.
At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.
You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.
He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.
You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.
Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.
“Joel, what’s—”
“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”
Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.
“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”
Well, fuck.
Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.
“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.
An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.
“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”
You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.
“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.
You’re old.
Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.
“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”
You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?
For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.
“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.
Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.
“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”
What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.
He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.
“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”
You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.
Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.
Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—
“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.
“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.
Joel carried on without a hitch.
“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”
You nodded along, not hearing a word.
“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”
Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.
“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”
That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:
“My own age?”
Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.
You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.
“What?”
“What?”
Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.
“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”
Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’
And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.
This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.
“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.
No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.
Smiling a little, too.
“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.
“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”
Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.
“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”
You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.
“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”
“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”
Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.
“Baby…”
To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.
Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.
You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.
It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.
Feels nice.
Tastes alright, too.
You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.
“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”
Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.
And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.
“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.
Joel cursed under his breath.
“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”
“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”
As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again
“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”
In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.
He communicated as much by moving to pull out.
You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.
“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”
Of course, it had been Joel.
Always, always him—the only one, in fact.
Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:
‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’
He couldn’t.
Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.
But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.
“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.
“I do.”
In fact, he loved it.
“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?
Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.
Idiocy.
“Just once?” Joel croaked.
Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.
“Just one?” you murmured back.
He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.
“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.
“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.
Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.
“One?” Joel panted. Confused.
He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.
“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.
Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.
“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”
The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.
In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”
Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.
“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”
Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.
To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.
“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”
Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.
That’s all he’s ever wanted.
Let the neighbors talk.
Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:
“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.
The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.
Something to stick.
“Please say it, baby.”
Someone to call yours.
“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.
A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.
“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.
“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”
As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.
“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”
“Ri— right there. Right there.”
Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.
It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.
Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it
“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”
He kissed the tip of yours.
“Hope they get this.”
He kissed either one of your cheeks.
“These too.”
You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.
The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.
Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.
There it is.
#IN CONCLUSION……….WE MAKIN BABIES#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel tlou#the last of us fic
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˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane
NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!
REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here
SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.
WORD COUNT -> 3.3k
WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie
MASTERLIST
MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.
You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor.
Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know.
See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.
He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you.
Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him.
That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs.
“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?”
Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.
You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him?
To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you.
As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation.
“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”
“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”
“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion.
“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.”
Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.
Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.
You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to.
“Doctor Crane—”
“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.”
“What is it?”
He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you.
“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”
You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right?
Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.
Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”
You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.”
He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.
“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.”
Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him.
You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.
“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”
His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.
“Drinks?”
“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?”
“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.”
“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.”
You nodded, slightly starstruck.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.
You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.
“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”
And so you did.
You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…
“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…”
“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”
He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…”
Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.
You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses.
A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again.
“Jonathan, I–”
“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”
You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently.
You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss.
But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.
“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress.
“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”
Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice.
“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked.
Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you.
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”
The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together.
Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.
He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.”
“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom.
He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it.
Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed.
After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient.
Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt.
After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease.
He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly.
“Please,” you whimpered.
Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly.
“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust.
“O-oh–” you moaned.
His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.”
“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”
“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?”
“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute.
Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart.
But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there?
“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!”
Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time.
No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.
“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”
You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”
“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.”
His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…
“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”
“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.”
“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”
Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.
In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.
Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
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i know you know | m.s. |
matt sturniolo x fem!reader
summary: after a night at a party, matt hears his best friend sleeping with someone. the memory of it overtakes him all the next day, and he can't get it off his mind. but what happens when it turns out that she wanted him to hear all along?
warnings: SMUT (holy fuck this is smutty); established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); unprotected p in v (don't do this); absolutely filthy talk; voyeurism vibes; switch!matt; mentions of alcohol; 18+
notes: guys i fear i might have just written my new fave one shot. i warned y'all that i only have matt ideas rn, but this one is SO GOOD i had to post immediately. i normally don't go feral for my own writing but this one made me get up and do a few laps around the house tbh. i hope y'all like it as much as i liked writing it LOVE U LOVE U LOVE U MUAH
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
“Matt?” You called his name as you began climbing up his front steps. “Hey, I’m doing laundry.” His voice rang through the house, and as you entered the empty kitchen you saw his back in the hallway as he folded a pair of jeans and placed them on the neat pile of clean laundry stacked on top of the washing machine. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment half in greeting and half to help ease the pounding in your heavy head.
“Last night almost killed me. How are you feeling?” You asked him, lifting your head off of his shoulder so that he could face you. His eyes were tired, his hair was a mess, but there was a slight glint of curiosity in his eyes that caught you off guard. After staring at you for a moment too long, he replied. “I feel alright. Slept most of the day though.” You released a soft laugh.
Last night, you and Matt went to a big party for one of your mutual friends. What was supposed to be an early night — both of you agreeing to show face for an hour and then head home — turned into one filled with dancing, too much tequila, and a night spent on the couch of the host for you both. Once you were both sober in the morning, Matt drove you home and you both tended to your own hangovers for the rest of the day. Now it was Sunday evening, and you two decided to spend it watching a movie and eating shitty food.
“Same here,” You replied, “I literally rolled out of bed 30 minutes ago. You’re lucky I even had enough energy to drive over here.” You leaned against the running dryer, and watched as one of Matt’s eyebrows arched as he continued folding clothes. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He replied, a smile threatening to creep over his mouth. Noticing the knowing tone in his voice, you grew confused.
What you didn’t know, was that Matt knew that it wasn’t just the two of you who had spent the night on that sectional couch. He had noticed you spending a lot of time with Carrington, a good friend of the host. He watched the two of you throughout the night — he saw you touch him any chance you got; saw you dance on him once you got really drunk; and most definitely saw you press your lips to his at the end of the night. So, late last night as he tried his best to sleep, when he heard the creek of the stairs and felt the dip in the couch, he knew that Carrington had laid down with you. That was confirmed when he heard the soft whispers that you two shared before the sound of wet kisses filled the dark room. A moment later, he laid as still as he could as he felt the couch begin to move in a rhythm that could only mean one thing.
Although you and Matt had the type of strong friendship where you both felt comfortable telling the other about your sex lives, never before had either of you been so close in proximity to the act itself. Although he was facing the opposite direction, Matt knew that your feet were only centimetres from his head, and the thought of invading your privacy like this, albeit unintentional, made his cheeks flush red. Even in his belligerent state, Matt had been shocked, and he considered making the fact that he was still awake known. Until he heard it.
Your soft moans floated like music in his mind, and they were unlike anything he had heard before. They were angelic, breathless; as if the air was being pushed out of your lungs involuntarily to create the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The heat that he felt in his cheeks immediately began travelling down his body, right to his growing member. And then, the unmistakable wet sounds of your arousal — surely dripping from you not more than two feet away from his ear — caused his head to spin. The two sounds radiating from you created the perfect harmony, and they made his cock press excruciatingly against his stomach; desperate for some relief.
The movement of the couch — and with it, your moans and wetness — increased in speed. As it did, your soft voice, so familiar and divine, whispered into the quiet room, “I’m gonna cum!” Matt pressed his pelvis into the couch, doing his best to relieve some of the pressure he felt in the tip of his cock. As your moans got louder, his heart pounded faster. Suddenly, as you reached your orgasm and began riding the waves, he felt one of your feet lightly graze his bare back. Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin, and the slight contact in combination with everything he heard was so intense that he thought he was going to cum all over himself.
But just then, the room grew painfully silent once again. After some time, the indistinguishable whispering returned, then the sound of one quick kiss, and finally, the creaking sound of the stairs. You two were alone once again, and in the silence Matt began to question whether or not he had dreamt it all. That was, until he heard your soft voice whisper his name. Immediately, he felt his body react, but stayed as still as possible so that you would think he was asleep. He seemed to do a good enough job, as after not getting a response, you slowly got off the bed and walked to the bathroom.
Once he heard the door click shut, his eyes shot open. The air was filled with the addictive smell of sex, and his cock had grown so hard that it was throbbing. Tentatively, he ran his hand along his shaft still in his boxers and had to stifle a guttural moan from the brief contact. No, he couldn’t do this here. Not when you were in the next room able to walk back through the door at any moment. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep. He would just have to try to get to sleep, and deal with his spiralling brain tomorrow.
Well, now it was tomorrow, and he had spent the entire day thinking about it. When he had woken up to your smiling face asking for a ride home, he had felt riddled with guilt; as if he had taken advantage of you. The guilt was only exemplified when, once he was alone, he had spent every minute thinking about it; his dick growing hard every time he heard your moans in the back of his mind. Even as he slept the day away, he had dreams about it and had even woken himself up by grinding his hips against his mattress. It had been driving him crazy, and now you were standing in front of him, seemingly oblivious to everything that had been running through his mind, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Hello? Earth to Matt?” Your voice pulled him out of his train of thought, and immediately his cheeks flushed when he realized that he had been completely zoned out for god knows how long. “Oh, uh, sorry.” He mumbled, folding the shirt he had in his hands. “You’ve deadass folded and re-folded that shirt like five times. Are you okay?” You asked, concern etched across your face. Gulping, Matt nodded his head. “Shit really? Must be the brain fog.” He forced out a laugh that sounded painful to his own ears, but it seemed to be convincing enough for you, as you once again relaxed against the dryer.
Matt’s focus went back to the pile of clothes in front of him, and as he began organizing the pile of socks, he heard what he had been reimagining over and over again in his mind. That now achingly familiar soft moan of yours. His whole body jolted in shock, the sound much more vivid than it had been in his memory. Slowly, his eyes were pulled from the laundry to your face, and he found your eyes shut in ecstasy as you leaned against the running dryer. His jaw almost dropped at the sight, and his cock, already having been on high alert all day, immediately responded.
“This feels so good.” You whispered, just as you had the night before, and Matt had to brace himself against the washing machine to stay upright. Your eyes were still closed, a small smile crept onto your full lips, and in that moment it all became too much for him. His cock was pulsing in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat, and as you released another small moan and bit your bottom lip, he began to wonder if maybe — just maybe — you had wanted him to hear you last night.
His hunch grew stronger and stronger as he continued to take in your expression with your back pressed against the dryer, and he felt the shame strip off of him as your hooded eyes finally opened slowly. They landed on his dilated eyes and slowly trailed down to the impressive bulge in his pants. Looking back up at his flushed face, you couldn’t help but smile shamelessly. Because he had been right.
It hadn’t been planned, of course, but once Carrington pushed himself into you, the thought of Matt being just on the other side of the couch filled you with a new and unfamiliar level of arousal. So as you moaned, you hoped that he would hear it. The thought of him listening caused you to grow more wet than you ever had before, and it didn’t take long for you to finish. As you came, you purposefully brushed your foot against him; trying to let him know that it was him you were thinking about as you unraveled.
You hadn’t been sure that he heard you, after all when you whispered his name he hadn’t answered, but the way he had been acting since you arrived at his house today — zoning out, avoiding eye contact, and seeming extremely flustered — you know that he knows. And knowing the effect it had on him, you want him to do something about it.
Matt watched as you put both hands on the dryer before hoisting yourself up to sit on it. With the dryer running, the vibration that came from it shot right to your core, and subconsciously your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
Matt watched, completely stunned, as you pleasured yourself on top of the dryer. He was in such a state of shock that he wasn’t even sure if this was real life. You rolled your hips once, twice, against the machine, and then suddenly your eyes were on him again. The pleasure you were experiencing was etched into your face — your full lips a dark shade of red, dark eyebrows knit together, pink cheeks flushed — and it drove him crazy. But it wasn’t until your lips turned up in a small smile and you grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you, that he was finally able to move.
“You heard me last night, didn’t you.” You finally regarded the elephant in the room, and watched as his eyes bulged slightly in surprise at your knowing gaze. Very slightly, he nodded his head; his eyes were planted on your lips. “Should we talk about it?” You asked, dragging your fingertips up and down his torso slowly; feeling his stomach tense each time you reached below his belly button. Still hypnotized by your lips, Matt placed his hands on each side of your face before shaking his head no.
Without hesitation, he engulfed your mouth with his own. They moved with a quivering desperation that can’t be sufficiently described with words. His hands ran through your hair, pulling you as close to him as he could. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, gasping at the feeling of his rock hard member pressing against your aching core. It seemed to affect him too, because as soon as they made contact a small grunt fell from his lips and landed on yours.
Matt’s hands eventually moved from your hair and snaked down to your waist, where he quickly pulled your loose-fitting sundress up and exposed your bare tits. You watched as he took a moment to admire their fullness before bringing his mouth to one. He nibbled and sucked on your sensitive nipple, shooting rays of pleasure down your spine. As he moved his mouth to your second tit, he gripped harshly onto your hips. With his grasp, he expertly titled your pelvis in such a way where your cunt was pressed directly against the dryer; causing moans to spill from your mouth from the vibration.
As he helped you roll your hips against the warm metal, he struggled to keep his composure as he heard you moan for himfor the first time. Just like last night, they were soft and breathy, as if you didn’t even notice them falling from your lips. But his ears caught every single one, and they drove him crazier each time. Looking down to where your body connected with the machine, his vision grew blurry as he noticed the fluid that had accumulated on top of the dryer; the same fluid that he had heard last night. “Mmm, so wet already?” He managed to purr in your ear, causing you to shudder in pleasure.
You nodded, letting your head fall back as the pleasure intensified by his words. “F-for you Matt— fuck! — all f-for you.” At your words, Matt stopped all of his movements, afraid that he would fall apart in seconds if you kept speaking like that. Looking up at your disoriented face, he noticed that the loss of friction was making you antsy. You hooked a small finger in his chain and pulled his lips to yours; kissing him deeply as his tongue swiped against your teeth begging for entrance. You pulled away, needing more than a kiss, and watched in awe as Matt read your mind and dropped to his knees in front of you. He brought his hands up to your hips where he grabbed onto the sides of your thong, slowly sliding it down your legs.
You watched, chest heaving, as he tossed your discarded thong into his pile of laundry that still needed to be washed without letting his eyes leave your dripping core. His eyes on you like this was exactly what you imagined as you thought of him last night, and the neediness in his blue eyes threw you into an erotic frenzy. He grabbed both of your legs and, after stroking them thoughtlessly for a few seconds, placed them on both of his shoulders. Eyes flittering between your core and your face, he spoke, “Need a taste.” His voice was gruff with arousal, and you responded by lacing your hands through his hair and pushing his beautiful face in between your legs.
As soon as his tongue ran up your slit to collect your arousal, he lost any hint of sanity that he still had. You were so sweet against his tastebuds, and so soft against his lips, it took everything out of him to not cream his pants. Instead, he effortlessly found your aching clit and began sucking and kissing the sensitive bundle of nerves. Already stimulated by the dryer, you felt yourself melt under the pressure of his tongue. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning against you, causing the vibration to echo through your entire body. You mindlessly began grinding yourself against his face, chasing a high so intense that nothing else seemed to matter.
Matt relished in the feeling of suffocating by you, and used his hands to spread you apart. He pulled away for a brief moment to take a look at you stretched open for him, and the sight of your dripping hole — begging, without words, to be filled — made him want to pull his cock out and slam it into you immediately. But no, he was going to savour this. So instead, he spit onto your cunt and began tongue fucking your hole. As he eagerly drank up all your juices, his tongue moving in and out of you quickly, you lost the ability to stifle your moans.
Even though he knew you were getting too loud — after all, Nick and Chris were somewhere in the house — Matt couldn’t get himself to shut you up. The sounds that fell from your lips were like music to his ears, and he wanted to listen to them forever. Besides, how could he tell you that you were being too loud when he was making all sorts of erotic noises with his mouth against your cunt?
Your head fell back against the dryer, it wouldn’t be long until you came. The build up was so intense, so good, that you almost didn’t want it to end. Plus, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Matt’s poor cock, suffocating in his pants. As you imagined it, veiny and dark red at the tip, your mouth began to water. After coming back from the washroom and getting back on the couch last night, you glanced at Matt’s still frame and wondered if — even subconsciously, if he hadbeen sleeping — his body had reacted to what had happened. Your suspicion was furthered the next morning. When you went to wake him up to ask if he could drive you home, the blanket had slipped off of his lower body and exposed the imprint of his hardened cock; and your mouth watered. Since then, you had fantasized about taking all of him in your mouth as an apology for not helping him out that morning.
These thoughts raced through your bleary mind, and the pressure continued to increase in your lower stomach at Matt’s relentless tongue in between your legs. You wanted to cum, badly, but even more than that you wanted to get a taste of him. Just the thought of his warm cock in your throat caused your back to arch and a moan to slip from your lips, so in a frenzy you grabbed his jaw and pulled his mouth from your core. Cool air quickly replaced his warm tongue, and you cringed at the loss of contact. Matt looked up at you, his eyes hooded in contentment and his lips and chin coated with your arousal. “What’s wrong?” He asked, taking in your expression.
Without saying anything, you turned your body so that you were now facing the wall behind the dryer. Carefully, you lowered your torso so that you were now laying against the machine, legs bent and facing away from Matt; your view now being his frame upside down. Confused, Matt took a few steps back so that he could look at your face. You lock eyes with him, and he chuckles softly. “What are you doing?” His voice is still deeper than usual, and your view of his bulge makes it clear that he is in desperate need of you. “Want you to fuck my throat.” You replied simply, watching as his eyes darken in arousal while his eyebrows knit together in relief.
Without hesitation, Matt begins frantically removing his grey sweatpants. His cock has been achingly hard since last night with little to no relief, and your words shot straight to it. The filthy talk falling from your lips was still so foreign to him, but that unfamiliarity was addicting. He pulled his boxers down and finally freed his cock from its restraint, and even the feeling of it slapping his stomach on release was enough to make him shudder in pleasure.
As soon as your eyes fell to his exposed cock, your mouth watered. It was so perfect, so plump, you couldn’t wait to wrap your lips around it. As he took a step forward, you impatiently opened your mouth wide; not wanting to wait another second. Luckily, the feeling was mutual, and after tapping your mouth with his cock twice, he slides just the tip in. Already, the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him causes him to see stars, and he doesn’t even move for a few moments as you swirl your tongue around his tip. You find the bead of pre-cum dripping from his slit, and lap it up indulgently.
You want more of him, so in a desperate act you begin trying to bob your head while upside down in order to travel down his shaft. Your desperation gets to Matt, and, recognizing that you want more of him, he begins thrusting his hips slowly into your mouth. Even with only half of him in your mouth, you can feel his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and all it does is make you want more. You wrap your lips as tightly as you can around his girth, and the hushed groans that fall from his lips tell you that he’s enjoying himself.
You begin to grow frustrated, not content with the fact that you haven’t had all of him in your mouth yet. So you reach up and grab firmly on his hips, opening your throat to allow his entire length access as you pushed him forward. Matt hissed, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock sinking deeper into your throat, and that was when he lost all control.
Matt grabbed onto the sides of your neck to brace himself before finally driving his cock all the way down your throat. He started slow, sliding it all the way down, holding it in place for a moment, and then pulling it nearly all the way out before doing it all over again; but once he realized that not only could you take all of him, but that you also enjoyed it, he started picking up the pace. He watched your throat as he fucked it, and noticed that he could actually see his cock going all the way down it; causing his vision to go blurry. “Fuck, baby.” He moaned out, his voice shaky as he struggled to not lose himself.
You were in heaven, the feeling of his cock filling your throat caused your body to flood with heat, and you couldn’t stop your hand from finding your clit and rubbing it in rhythm with Matt’s thrusts. Noticing your hand, Matt quickly swatted it away before replacing it with his own; the softness of your wet cunt enough to cause his cock to twitch; threatening to shoot his seed down your throat. But he didn’t want to cum; not until he felt all of you.
In the blink of an eye, he pulled his dripping cock out of your throat; causing you to gasp for air. Before you had the chance to question anything, he grabbed you under your arms and pulled you off of the dryer before slamming you against the wall in the hallway. The wind was knocked out of you, but Matt didn’t give you a minute to recover before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist; keeping you pressed to the wall. His mouth found yours again, and the taste of you on his explorative tongue was enticing. With his mouth still on yours, the tip of Matt’s cock practically finds your opening itself, and it was so hard he didn’t even have to stabilize it with his hand before it slipped into you; stretching your walls and filling you up completely.
As soon as he bottomed out, he released a deep, guttural moan that echoed in your ears. Fighting a moan of your own, you grabbed the back of his neck. “Shh!” You whispered, looking into his eyes through droopy eyelashes. He snapped his cock into you. “You didn’t seem too concerned with staying quiet last night.” Matt’s words were strained as he tried to control his thrusts. Still looking at him in the eyes, a sinister smile crosses your face at him actually wanting to talk about last night for the first time.
He picked up on the reasoning behind your smile, and he snapped his hips again; causing you to yelp. “So you did want me to hear, hmm?” His head moved to the crook of your neck, and his lips against your ear caused goosebumps to raise on your skin. As he thrusted into you, all you could do was nod. “Do you know — ah fuck — do you know how bad my cock has been aching for you all day?” His words caused the pressure in your stomach to triple, and the thought of him being desperate to be inside of you caused your back to arch against the wall.
“M-made me feel like a creep all day, and for what? Hmm?” Matt grabbed your jaw and made you face him. He continued driving himself into you as he stared lustfully at your face. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip and you opened your mouth; letting his thumb fall in before wrapping your lips around it and sucking innocently. “Fuck baby,” He grumbled, watching your lips as your tongue swirled around his thumb. “Tell me.” His eyes were pleading with you, and you knew he was close, but he wasn’t gonna cum until you told him the truth. “W-wanted you to k-know what it’s l-like — fucking me. Wanted y-your cock h-hard for me.” You managed to tell him the truth. “Jesus Christ.” Matt moaned out in response, grabbing the base of your hair before slamming his cock in and out of you faster than he had before. Each time his cock hit your g-spot, your head slammed against the wall behind you; adding a new intensity to the fast-approaching orgasm you were feeling.
“Shit, gonna cum. Where do you want me?” His voice was ragged, as was his pace, and the desperation laced throughout the sloppiness drew you even closer to the edge. “As deep as you can get Matty.” You whispered in his ear just before you were overtaken by your own orgasm. As he continued to thrust into you, you felt your walls convulse around his girth. Your legs wrapped even tighter around his waist, toes curling as the waves of your orgasm crashed around you.
As you were still in the middle of cumming all over him, Matt suddenly snapped his cock hard and deep into you; spilling his seed deep in your guts, just like you asked, as a deep ragged moan fell from his mouth. Your hungry cunt milked his dick dry, and the intensity of filling you up with the nut that had been debilitating him all day was like no other orgasm he had ever experienced.
You could feel his cock twitch repeatedly as he filled your insides with his hot white cum, and his soft moans of pure relief in your ear were as continuous as your own as you both fell into a deep trance. As you both came down from your highs, Matt held you against the wall; brushing his fingertips softly against the skin on your upper thigh. You had never had sex so satisfying, so deliciously exhausting, and you were in such a haze that you could have easily fallen asleep right there, pressed against the wall.
But after a few moments, Matt carefully slid his shaft out of you and helped you to your feet. He took a moment to admire you, fixing your hair and pulling down your dress, before leading you to his washroom. “You’re a little psycho, you know that right?” He asked jokingly as he started the shower. You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection; evidence of Matt’s touch all over you. You smiled at him as he helped you take off your dress. “I’m sorry.” You replied, to which he rolled his eyes. “No you’re not. But do me a favour, next time you want me to fuck you, just tell me, alright?”
Your stomach did an excited flip from his unexpected words, and you walked into the shower on shaky legs. Turning around to face him standing by the washroom door, you found him staring indulgently at your naked frame. You put your hands on your hips and huffed dramatically. “Okay, get in here. I want you to fuck me.”
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo x reader#the sturniolos#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolo
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wild like the west
3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader
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summary: joel and his cowgirl warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!
It doesn’t matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will.
Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes.
Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it won’t trust you to be the guide on its back. It’s a mutual thing to trust one another. It’s the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.
He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow. It’s beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. He’s not from around here, he’s got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods.
Life guided him up here and he never turned back.
You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt.
“S’okay, boy, take it easy, easy,” you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the colt’s mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.
You’re the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys.
“You got a habit of gettin’ in’ta trouble before it even knows to start lookin’ for ya.” Joel’s southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction.
“I got it, Joel,” you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joel’s direction.
“Know ya do.” Joel stops at the horse’s chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight.
His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. “You know that part of learnin’ how to be a cowboy is lettin’ them break in their own horse. Hop down.”
A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence.
“You’re too nice to ‘em. I hired you to be a bit more…” He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.
“Ruthless. I know.” Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job.
The plan was plain and simple, a route you’d taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley they’d go.
The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps.
“I want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, it’s gonna get dusty back there,” your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, “any questions?”
“Why do we have to go through the valley? We’d have to push hundreds of cows through open water,” Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps.
“Yeah, n’I can’t swim. Never learned.” Another pipes in.
“Then you’re a goddamn idiot,” old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly.
All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joel’s taste. “She’s takin’ questions about the plan, not your ‘pinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells ya’ll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.”
Joel’s always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you.
The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo.
Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. “You wanna say somethin’?” You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes.
“Got a fight in you? It starts an’ ends with me.”
Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew.
The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joel’s, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together.
“Not as bad as I thought this was gonna be,” Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. You’re unrecognizably quiet. He’s never known you to be so still.
He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horse’s mane. “You undermine me in front of them, and they don’t respect me, Joel.”
So that’s what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasn’t in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here.
“Bo’s as green as grass. He needs to learn not t’talk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.”
Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up.
Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horse’s reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side.
“C’mon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.”
“You go about defendin’ me, it looks like we’re sleepin’ together,” you gripe, “and I don’t need our crew slingin’ the slander that I got my job fuckin’ the boss. I don’t want that shit, Joel.”
Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut.
He settles on the truth.
“We are sleepin’ together.”
Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horse’s underbelly. “Well, maybe that should end.”
Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. “You set those boys straight, or I’ll have to keep doin’ it for ya.”
You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley.
Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joel’s thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.
But he can’t deny that this life was made for him.
Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone else’s dream property? He had his own dreams.
The ranch was his dream.
He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors.
Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning.
Plus, he’s never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasn’t much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even.
Despite years of riding and wrangling, you’re so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you don’t seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body.
But in turn, you’ve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore he’d never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions.
Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine.
The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. You’d slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed.
He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse.
“Whatever you say, darlin’.”
Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles.
“Thought you said you were done,” Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles.
“I ain’t a quitter,” you mutter against Joel’s mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely.
He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He can’t help but touch you like you’re his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind.
You kiss as he slips you under the bed’s cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses.
Joel’s hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties.
“She’s already soaked, darlin’. You been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor.
“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly as he’s about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours.
“What?” He asks, damn near annoyed.
“I can’t wait,” you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. “I-I can’t, I’m beggin’ you, please. It’s been a long day.”
Joel sighs but ultimately nods. It’s not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix.
Joel’s body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own.
“Good idea,” he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center.
You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.
You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now.
The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl.
“Fuck,” you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, you’ll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joel’s back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders.
Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joel’s spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him.
“Such a goddamn brat,” he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head.
He’s obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air that’s just out of your reach.
“You take it, baby girl, you keep takin’ it. She’s so fuckin’- goddamit, so fuckin’ good for me,” he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you.
Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels.
“Holy fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod you’re gonna make me-” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm that’s still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge.
Joel’s holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he can’t deny he’s nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him.
What’s wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?
Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit.
Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.
“You’re gonna give me another, right here, right now,” Joel grunts, stilling his hips as he’s buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room.
“Fuck, Joel I don’t think I can,” you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand that’s still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock.
“Know you can, baby, cum on this cock again. You’re a strong cowgirl, ain’t’cha? You been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.”
And he’s right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, it’s everything that he does that turns you on.
And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give him a second one.
Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more.
“Keep fuckin’ me, I didn’t say to stop,” you pant.
Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. You’re shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish.
Just as he feels like he’s going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight.
“Fuck,” he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and he’s spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on.
The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesn’t lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute.
“Quit,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes.
“You ain’t as old as I thought you were.” You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth.
Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.
“You gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Don’t stop ya from comin’ back each night.”
You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump.
Joel’s got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh that’s draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout.
“Goodnight, old cowboy.” You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest.
“G’night, pain in my ass.”
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Sex on the Beach
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Suncream...cum, is there a difference? Bucky is painting you either way.
Word Count: 6.2k
Warnings: bratty reader with Bucky doing his best at taming, teasing, oral sex (m), bucky fucking your tits, p in v sex, sarge/good girl kink, fingering, creampie, Bucky getting his own back at the end.
A/N: Thank you Daisy @firefly-graphics for this banner!
As Bucky sprawled out across the plush double sun lounger, his chiseled physique on full display in nothing but a pair of well-fitted swim trunks, he exuded an air of pure tranquility. The Ray-ban sunglasses you had thoughtfully gifted him just before the trip now shielded his eyes from the late morning sun's gentle rays, which danced across his lightly tanned skin. Every muscle in his body was completely relaxed, not a hint of tension to be found, as he teetered on the edge of drifting off into a blissful morning nap.
The lounger was situated on the expansive deck of Tony's luxurious Hamptons beach house, mere steps away from the glistening, azure waters of the pool and the endless horizon of the ocean beyond. The expertly positioned fencing surrounding the property offered the two of you a welcome sense of privacy, shielding you from prying eyes while still allowing the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the nearby shoreline to reach your ears.
When you had first packed for the weekend getaway, the weather forecast had called for nothing but rain and stormy conditions, and you had almost left your vibrant yellow bikini behind, certain that there would be no opportunity to don it. However, Bucky had insisted that you bring it along, and now you were endlessly grateful that you had heeded his advice, eagerly anticipating the chance to join him in soaking up the unexpected sunshine.
As you emerged from the pool, the cool, refreshing water droplets glistening on your skin, you couldn't help but marvel at the unseasonably warm weather. The sun's golden rays felt almost soothing against your unclad flesh, a stark contrast to the chill of the pool you had just left. With a towel wrapped snugly around your waist, you cast a playful, impish glance over at Bucky, who hadn't moved from his reclined position on the nearby lounge chair, sunglasses perched on his nose. A mischievous smirk crept across your lips as you bent down and scooped up a handful of the chlorinated pool water, your fingertips lightly skimming the surface. Carefully, you tiptoed over to where Bucky lay, the water sloshing gently in your cupped palms.
Though his eyes were shielded by dark lenses, you knew Bucky's heightened senses were ever alert, a byproduct of his turbulent past living in fear - whether under HYDRA's control or on the run. Sure enough, as you neared him, one of Bucky's eyes snapped open, his body instantly tensing, ready to spring into action at the first sign of perceived danger. But when he saw it was merely you, a playful glint in your eye and a splash of water in your hands, his posture relaxed, and he sat up, the sunglasses sliding down his nose as he fixed you with a playful glare, silently daring you to make your move.
“Whatcha doin’ there, doll?”
You flicked the remaining water droplets in your hand at him but they barely reached his bare chest.
“That the best you got?” he taunted, his piercing gaze daring you to try again.
“Not even close,” you replied with a mischievous grin, letting the towel slip just slightly as you pretended to consider your next move.
Bucky raised a single, dark eyebrow, his playful glare still firmly in place. “You think you can just come at me with that pathetic splash? I’d be ashamed if I were you,” he goaded, his deep, rumbling voice sending a shiver down your spine.
Unable to resist the challenge, you let out a bright, carefree laugh that seemed to dance in the air around you. “Oh really? Is that a challenge, Barnes?” you retorted, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you prepared to retaliate, the tension between you electric.
“Depends on what your idea of a challenge is. Because if it involves getting me wet, you might just succeed.” He smirked, leaning back slightly as if preparing for something.
You laughed, sitting down beside him, letting your wet skin rub against his as you rubbed the towel along your arms. “Do my sunscreen?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at him and batting your eyelids coquettishly.
Bucky raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he shuffled closer. “Sunscreen, huh? You sure that's all you need me for?” he asked huskily.
He was halfway through a playful eye roll when your hands moved to the back of your neck, swiftly undoing the halterneck string of your bikini top to reveal your soft breasts. “Don’t want to risk getting tan lines,” you smirked at his widening eyes.
“Of course not,” he mumbled, shaking his head at your antics.
“So you gonna help me or not?”
“Get over here.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and hoisted you into his lap. With his flesh arm he flicked open the bottle of sunscreen, making the same popping sound that you associated with him opening a bottle of lube and you felt a shiver through your body, your skin erupting in goosebumps.
Bucky noticed immediately, there wasn’t anything he missed when it came to your body’s responses. “Cold?” he smirked.
A soft gasp escaped your lips as Bucky pulled you closer, his chest pressed flush against your back, his breath tickling the nape of your neck. Despite the warm fall air, a shiver of anticipation still rippled down your spine at the feel of his body against yours.
“N-No,” you breathed out, your voice a breathless whisper. “Just a bit… sensitive.”
Bucky's eyes darkened further, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he felt your shiver and heard the huskiness in your voice. He knew the effect he had on you, and he loved it.
He leaned in, his voice low and deep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. "Sensitive, hmm?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. One of his hands drifted downwards, tracing a slow, tortuous path along your bare hip.
"Mmm, don't forget the front," you moaned.
Bucky's smirk grew even more wicked at the sound of your moan, his chest rumbling with a low, appreciative growl. He shifted you in his lap so that you were straddling him, your legs on either side of his hips, giving him full access to your front.
He leaned back, the sunlight casting a glow around his head like a halo, his eyes roving hungrily over your body, taking in every inch of bare skin.
"Are you just going to sit and stare? Or you want me to get burned?”
Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he met your gaze, his hands still resting on your hips.
"Patience, doll. I'm just admiring the view," he teased, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hips, sending prickling shivers through your body.
Slowly, he began to apply the sunscreen on your torso, his hands moving in sensual, deliberate circles, covering every inch of your skin in the creamy liquid.
Bucky's hands slowed as they reached the curves of your breasts, his palms hovering mere inches away, as if reluctant to touch them just yet. His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark and hungry. He swallowed hard, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.
"You don't know how hard it is to keep my hands off you, doll," he murmured, his voice gruff, his hands slowly moving closer, his thumbs just barely brushing against the swell of your tits.
You leaned forward so your hardened nipples grazed his chest. "Who said you had to?”
Bucky's breath hitched at the feel of your nipples gliding across his chest, a low, guttural moan rumbled in his throat. He shifted his hips, his growing hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his swim trunks.
"Mmm, doll. You're a damn tease, you know that?" he panted, his fingers digging into your hips, his thumbs still brushing against your sensitive skin, teasing but not quite touching where you wanted.
"Who's teasing?" You asked innocently, pushing your ass down into the growing bulge in his trunks.
Bucky's eyes darkened, his expression shifting from playful to downright feral, the veins in his arms bulging as his muscles tensed. He let out a growl, his voice deep and strained.
"Oh, you're playing with fire now doll," he warned, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his body quivering with barely restrained desire. He bit his lip, trying to hold back, but it was taking all his willpower not to throw you down onto the lounger and take you right then and there.
"The only fire I'm feeling right now is that giant ball in the sky that's unevenly tanning my boobs right now," you pouted.
Bucky let out another soft growl.
"Aww, did I make you mad?" You put on a baby voice.
Bucky huffed out a sardonic laugh, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your hip. He was far too distracted by the feel of your body on top of his to be truly angry.
"Mad? Nah, doll. Just struggling to control myself with you being so damn frisky right now." He raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking onto yours, the heat in his gaze undeniable. "Question is, what’re you gonna do about it?”
"Want me to kiss it better?" You leaned forward with pouty lips.
Bucky's eyes darkened at the sight of your pouting lips, his resolve slowly crumbling. This teasing game you were playing was getting torturous, but damn if he wasn't loving it. He reached up, his hand cupping your chin, his thumb tracing along your lower lip.
"Mmm, I think I might need a little more than just a kiss, doll. You're being a brat and you know it.”
"Ask nicely.”
Bucky bit his lip, his breathing growing heavier as your defiance only seemed to fuel his desire. His hand threaded through your hair, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart.
"Please, doll," he said huskily, his voice low and thick with lust. "Stop being such a damn tease and let me have you.”
"Only if you're good, Sarge." You bit your lip seductively.
Bucky's breath hitched at the sound of the nickname, a low moan rumbling in his chest. You knew how much he loved it when you called him that, and the effect it had on him was always immediate.
"Doll, you know damn well I'm always good," he said huskily, his eyes locked on your lips as you bit them seductively, his hand in your hair gently pulling your head back, exposing your neck. "But today, you're going to need to follow my orders.”
Your walls fluttered with excitement at his words and you bit back a moan.
Bucky smirked at the reaction he saw in your eyes, his gaze raking over your body possessively. He could see the effect his words had on you, and it only made him more possessive. He knew your weakness, just like you knew his.
"So obedient," he murmured, his mouth hovering over your neck, his lips just barely grazing your skin. "But I want to hear you say it. What’s the safe word?”
You whined against his ear, wiggling your ass in his lap. "Oklahoma.”
Bucky let out a harsh breath, his eyes fluttering closed for just a second as your body moved against his in his lap. He took a moment to collect himself before opening his eyes, a smug look on his face as he looked at you.
"Good girl," he praised, his lips finally claiming your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. "Now, why don't you get on your knees and show me how good you can be for me?”
"No, thank you.”
Bucky's eyes widened slightly at your defiant reply. No one disobeyed him, especially not when he had laid out clear instructions.
He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hint of a warning.
"Doll, you can’t be defying my orders already. I know you know the punishment for being a disobedient little brat. Is that what you want? A reminder of who’s in charge here?”
"You're so cute when you try and control me, even though we both know that I'm in charge," you smirked.
A deep rumble left Bucky's throat at your words. He knew you were playing, pushing his buttons and testing his patience, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back.
"Oh really, doll? You think you're in charge?" he purred, his eyes darkening as he held your gaze, his hands gripping your hips tightly.
"Maybe I need to remind you who you belong to.”
"Do it, I dare you.”
Bucky's eyes flashed with a predatory gleam at your challenge. It was as if you were dangling a steak in front of a lion, and expecting it not to pounce. You were playing with fire, and he was itching to teach you a lesson.
In a swift, fluid movement, Bucky shifted your position on his lap so that you were lying back on the lounger. He hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, trapping you beneath him.
"Oh doll, I'm gonna do more than just remind you," he growled. "You're gonna do as you're told.”
"Yeah?" you asked breathily.
Bucky smirked at the breathlessness in your voice. It was clear that you were already affected, your body responding to his proximity, his touch. He brought his face closer to yours, his lips hovering just millimeters from your ear. His voice was rough and low, carrying a threat that made your heart skip.
"Yep. I'm gonna teach you a damn lesson in obedience, doll. And you're gonna love every second of it.”
"Oh, am I?”
Bucky leaned back to look at you, his eyes raking over your body, taking in your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. He could see the effect he was having on you, and it only served to make him more confident.
"Damn right you are," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I can see it in your eyes, doll. You love it when I get all dominant, when I take charge. And I love it when I have you all submissive and pliant, begging for more.”
You could only whimper in response, your body consumed by the arousal and promise of his cock.
Bucky smirked, noticing your inability to form a response. He could easily see how turned on you were, how badly you wanted him to take you. His eyes darkened with a mixture of lust and satisfaction. Slowly and sensually he rolled his hips against your core.
"See, doll? You can try to play the brat, but deep down, you know what you want. You want me to be in charge, to take control and make you feel good. And that's exactly what I'm gonna do.”
"Good luck... with... that." You wanted to continue with your little game but his proximity had your resolve faltering.
Bucky chuckled at your attempt to keep up this charade, but he could see that your resolve was weakening. Your body was responding to his proximity, betraying your act of nonchalance.
He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin.
"Doll, you forget who you're dealing with," he murmured. "I've got you all figured out, and I know all your weaknesses. You can try to resist, but deep down I know you're craving my touch, begging for it, in fact.”
"So what are you gonna do about it?" you challenged softly.
Bucky's eyes darkened at your challenge, his smile turning into a predatory grin. He knew damn well what he was going to do, and he was aching to show you just how in control he was.
"Oh doll, don't tempt me," he warned, his voice low and husky. "I can think of plenty of things I could do to a disobedient little brat like you. But I think you'll find it hard to keep up this act when I've got you pleading and begging.”
"Oh please, I can do this all day.”
Bucky chuckled at your defiant words, taking in your flushed cheeks and breathless state. He could see the effect he was having on you, the way your body was responding to him, even as you tried to keep up your act.
"Is that so, doll?" he taunted. "You think you can keep this up all day, huh? We'll just see about that.”
For the first time since you started this game, you held your tongue. You welcomed whatever punishment he had in store for you... you craved it.
Bucky smirked at your sudden silence, sensing the shift in your attitude. It was clear that you were finally submitting to him, and he loved it. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need for him to take control and give you what you wanted.
"Looks like someone finally realized who's in charge," he murmured, his hands roaming over your body, tracing gentle patterns on your skin, his touch both soothing and dominating.
"Ready to be a good girl and do as you're told?”
"No," you breathed softly.
Bucky chuckled at your persistence in playing this game, his eyes darkening with a mixture of annoyance and desire. He knew you were testing his limits, seeing how far you could push him before he snapped.
"What do you mean, no? If I want my dick in your mouth, it's going in your mouth whether you like it or not.”
You shuddered with anticipation. Of course, you wanted his dick in your mouth. Bucky smirked, noticing the shiver that ran through your body. He could see the desire in your eyes, the way your tongue darted out to moisten your lips, betraying your own need for him.
"I see that got your attention," he murmured. "You want me to use that pretty mouth of yours, don't you?”
You struggled slightly under his weight. Bucky laughed at your attempts to move under him, the sound deep and throaty. He knew he had you right where he wanted you, trapped beneath him.
"Struggle all you want, but you're not going anywhere until you're dripping with my cum.”
Bucky chuckled at the pout on your lips, but he allowed you to prop yourself up on the lounger, his knees still trapping your hips on either side. The position he had you in was intimate, his cock was almost pressed against your face, his eyes locked on yours, his hands resting on either side of your shoulders, caging you in.
Bucky loved having you like this, so vulnerable beneath him but his body completely at your mercy.
Bucky's eyes darkened as he watched you lick your lips, the gesture driving him wild. He could see the need in your eyes.
"You want it, don't you?" he asked, his voice heavy with desire.
"Only because you want it so bad," you smirked, your eyes roving over his throbbing length. He had pulled it out of his swim trunks, the veins full and pulsating readily. "Look at you, can't wait, can you? Need my lips around your pretty cock?”
Bucky nearly lost his breath at your words, his body shuddering with need. You knew just how to play him, how to push all his buttons.
"Damn doll," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire, momentarily forgetting his character. "You talk like that, and you're gonna make me lose control. But yes, I need your lips. I need your mouth on me. I need you, doll.”
You softened a little, wanting to give in without a fight, to give him what he craved. But a tiny voice in your mind reminded you that this would be so much more fun.
A slow smirk formed on your lips. "Make me," you said with as much defiance as you could muster.
Bucky's eyes darkened with annoyance and desire at your disobedience once again. He loved the challenge. The way you tested him pushed him to the edge, but it was hard to hold back when you were so goddamn sexy.
"Oh doll, are you really gonna push me like that?" he gritted out, his voice strained as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Slowly, he reached out and made a fist in your hair and moved your face right up to his with his firm grip. "Head back, mouth open, tongue out... now.”
Slowly but petulantly, you complied, letting him slide his head onto your tongue. Sensually, you rolled it around the edge before kissing the tip. You loved seeing the way his muscles contracted with pleasure.
Bucky's head fell back slightly, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily, a moment of ecstacy coursing through him.
"That's it, that's my good girl. Now you remember what to do if it's too much?”
You nodded, tapping his thigh three times, making him praise you again. You took him into your mouth again, lips forming an O. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him with a hint of rebelliousness and daring.
Bucky's eyes darkened at your gaze, his breath hitching in his chest. He wasn't used to anyone giving him this level of sass, and it was driving him crazy.
"I see you're still feeling mouthy. Looks like I'll have to find a way to keep that pretty little mouth of yours occupied.”
You decided to show him how mouthy you could be, letting him slip further into your mouth.
Bucky's head slumped back, his breath coming in short bursts as you teased him. Damn, you were so damn good at this, and it was driving him wild.
"That's it, doll. Just like that, that's my girl. You know just what I like.”
You tried to answer him, but you couldn't form any coherent words with the way he filled your mouth.
"What's that, doll?" he chuckled despite his ragged breath, a hint of pride in his voice. He loved making you speechless, especially with your mouth full of him.
"Can't talk now, can you? You look so pretty with your mouth all full.”
You moaned, sending vibrations straight up his aching cock. The way he tasted always turned you on and your pussy was begging for attention. You squeezed your legs together to offer yourself some relief from the throbbing between your thighs.
Bucky groaned, your moans resonating through him, shooting straight through his body. It was like a jolt of electricity to his nerves, and he had to grit his teeth to keep control.
"Ah darlin’, you know how that mouth of yours is affecting me," he breathed out, his eyes darting down to your squirming form. "Damn doll, you look like you're aching for something.”
Finally, you sank down all the way, your nose brushing the short strands of hair on his skin for a moment before pulling off with a gasp, a long string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.
Bucky could hardly think straight with the way you were working him over. It was a good thing he was sitting down because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand right now.
"Damn doll," he breathed. "That mouth of yours is something else. But did I tell you you could stop?”
"It's my turn, Sarge.”
Bucky's eyes darkened, his breath hitching in his chest at the title. Something about you calling him by his rank made him a little weak.
"I don't think so, doll," he warned. "You know who's in charge here, and I haven't given you permission to take it your turn yet. You gotta earn it. You're gonna follow my orders.”
You whimpered softly, so turned on now that you couldn't think for yourself.
Bucky's eyes scanned over you, taking in your flushed and panting form. He could see the way you were responding to him, how your need was taking over and making it hard for you to think.
“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth. "Now open that pretty mouth and stick that tongue out so Sarge can fuck your face.”
You followed his orders without question, tilting your head back and sticking your tongue out as far as it would go. Seconds later Bucky was shoving his fat cock between your lips, thrusting his hips until the head of his dick was hitting the back of your throat. You did your best to suck around him, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue lapped up every drop of precum leaking from his tip. One of your hands braced on his hip while the other came up to play with his balls as he grunted softly with your ministrations.
Bucky was losing it a little more with each passing second. You were so damn gifted with that tongue of yours, and he wanted to come inside you.
“You’re gonna make Sarge come,” he moaned. So did you, right around his cock. “Bet you'd like that, huh?” His hips thrusted deeper into your throat and you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “You wanna taste me?”
You gazed up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, and he responded with a dark, mocking laugh.
“Too fucking bad.” He grunted, pulling himself from your mouth as his eyes fluttered shut while you were left panting and speechless.
“Ruined that chance,” he continued. “Show me those gorgeous tits. You want me to make sure they're protected from the sun? I can cover them in cum and you won't have to worry about that any more. How does that sound?”
Bucky's hands moved to rest on your shoulders, firmly pushing you down onto your back, his body hovering over you, trapping your wrists above your head in his hands. His cock resting between your breasts.
“Is that a nod, doll? You gonna let me come on your tits?
"No,” you answered, rather weakly.
He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hint of a warning.
"Oh go on now, get me off, darlin'.”
You struggled slightly in a weak attempt to free yourself from his grip, to take what you wanted.
"Struggle all you want, doll. But you're not going anywhere 'til you're dripping with my cum," he muttered darkly from above you.
This man and his filthy mouth. The way it had you squirming, panting. You could feel the heat pooling between your thighs. The need for him to take you was overwhelming. Your body writhed beneath his, your aching pussy silently begging to be filled.
"Aww look at you all stuck," he laughed. "You're dripping wet, aren't you? You might as well tell the truth because I'm going to fucking check anyway.”
"Go on then.”
Bucky smirked, his eyes darkening with a familiar look. He loved this game, the push and pull, testing your limits and seeing how far he could go.
"You sure?" he asked, his tone taunting. "You want me to touch you, make you squirm even more than you already are?”
"Please..." the word slipped from your lips before you realized what you were saying.
Bucky's eyes darkened at your whimper. He could always tell when you were starting to let your guard down, when you were giving up the fight. It made him want you even more.
"Please? Look at that, you're begging now, doll. You need me, don't you?” He asked, gently thrusting between your breasts.
You whimpered softly. There was no denying it, you wanted to be touched, you wanted him to fill you up, you didn't want to wait.
Bucky could see the look in your eyes, the desire that had taken over and left you a needy, begging mess. He loved seeing you like this, completely under his control, waiting for his touch.
"You're starting to be a good girl now, huh? I knew you would give in eventually. You just need a little push, don't you?”
"The only thing you should be pushing right now is little Sarge inside me.”
Bucky chuckled deeply. Damn, your filthy mouth was going to be the death of him.
"You're getting cheeky, doll. You won't be getting that anytime soon until you learn some manners.”
"You gonna teach me?" you smirked.
Bucky's laugh was dark and dangerous. "You're just asking for it, aren't you? But I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson, doll.”
You just gave him a long, silent look, slowly wetting your lips.
Bucky's eyes tracked the movement of your tongue, the way it glided over your full lips. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he was loving every second of it.
"You're playing with fire, doll. I don't think you realize just how much you're testing my control right now.”
"Show me.”
Bucky's breath hitched at your words. The challenge in your voice, the slight attitude behind your words. He loved it.
"You really want me to show you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You want me to lose control? You think you can handle that?”
"You think you've been in control all this time?”
Bucky actually laughed at that. You were trying so hard to regain a little bit of power, to knock him off balance and turn the tables. But he could see through it all.
"Don't act like you haven't been the one begging for it this whole time, doll," he smirked. "You've been desperate for my touch, my attention, my control. And you know it.”
"Then do it.”
"Oh, doll, you're so impatient," he taunted. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you, just the way you need. You'll get your fill, but on my terms.”
He moved down to kneel between your legs.
Bucky knelt between your legs, his body towering over you as he settled in. He could see the way your breath hitched, the way his presence alone was affecting you.
"You good, doll?" he asked, his voice low and sultry, "You ready for this?”
You smiled at your boyfriend, something had suddenly shifted between you, teasing put aside, your closeness and intimacy taking over as he hovered against your entrance.
Bucky froze for a moment, his eyes softening as he saw the change in you. He knew that feeling all too well, that moment when playfulness gives way to something more tender and true. He met your gaze, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"You look so beautiful, doll," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I love you so goddamn much.”
"Love you too, Buck," you whispered.
Bucky's heart filled with warmth every time he heard you say those words. It was a moment of vulnerability, a reminder of the love and trust that existed between them.
He leaned down a little more, his body pressing against yours, the tip of his hard length resting against your entrance. He could see the love and longing in your eyes, and he wanted to make you feel good.
"Are you ready for me, doll?" he asked.
"Always ready for you, Sarge." You spread your legs, inviting him in.
Bucky darkened eyes sparkling with affection. He loved that nickname, the way it sounded when it left your lips.
"There's my good girl," he praised, his fingers caressing your skin as he positioned himself at your entrance. "I'll take care of you, doll. Just relax and let me make you feel good.”
You panted softly as his thick cock filled you, the glorious stretch of your walls as he pushed into you making your eyes roll backwards. The first movement was slow, cautious, and almost gentle, giving you the chance to accept him. He kept going until he was fully seated inside you, his nose not even an inch away from yours.
Bucky was in ecstasy, there was nothing quite like the feeling of your body wrapped around him. It was like coming home, a moment where he was yours completely, where he felt safe and accepted.
Bucky could feel your body twitching beneath him, begging for more. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer, the need was too strong.
The moment of stillness was just long enough to let the realization sink in that they were truly connected, body and soul. Bucky was fully lost in the moment, the heat and the sensations that were coursing through him. He needed more, needed to feel those highs, those peaks. He needed you.
"I need you, doll," he managed to gasp out, his voice gruff and raw, "Can I move?”
You nodded fervently.
Bucky could sense the pleading in your eyes, the unspoken plea for him to take you, make you his. His hands moved to your hips, holding you firm while he pulled out and then slammed back into you hard, a groan leaving his lips.
"Damn doll," he grunted. "You feel so good.”
"Ohhh, Buck." You moaned, no other words were left in your vocabulary as he pounded in and out of you, the sound of your skin slapping together almost drowning out the waves crashing on the beach.
The sound of your voice, the way you said his name, it drove him wild. He knew he couldn't last much longer, not when you were looking so damn beautiful, lying under him, taking every inch of what he had to offer.
"That's it, doll. M'close.”
You weren't too far off either, not with the way that his tip brushed your A-spot before he pulled out, dragging over your sensitive G-spot. You moaned salaciously as he pushed up your thighs, burying himself deep inside you with each thrust.
Bucky was barely holding it together anymore, the need to make you fall apart first was the only thing keeping him from letting go.
You reached down to touch your clit, to speed things along so you could keep up with Bucky. Bucky's hand shot out, stopping you quickly.
"No, doll," he said, his voice firm. "You don't touch yourself unless I give you permission. That's my job. Understand?”
You whined softly, in the midst of your pleasure, you'd forgotten to keep up your act.
Bucky saw the look of frustration on your face and knew you had slipped. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, even as he was on the edge himself.
"That's right, doll," he teased. "You forgot who was in charge here, didn't you? But don't worry, I'll remind you.”
He thrust into you harder, pounding into you so hard that you weren't forming any coherent thoughts. The familiar feeling was building rapidly inside you. "Buck," you moaned, as if the sound of his name would communicate what you were feeling.
Bucky recognized that sound, the way you were begging him, calling his name. He knew you were close, right on the edge of falling apart. He didn't let up, keeping that hard and steady pace.
"Yeah, doll," he grunted, "You're gonna come for me, aren't you?”
Your fingers tightened around the towel that was still hanging on the side of the lounger as you whimpered.
Bucky could see the way your body was tensing, the way your grip was holding onto the towel for dear life. He knew he was pushing you to the limit. He wanted to see you come undone.
"That's it, doll. Let go for me, I want to feel you squeezing me, come on, be a good girl for me and come.”
"Oh fuck!" The words tumbled from your lips as waves of pleasure crashed over you.
Bucky felt your body convulse around him as you came, and it was all he needed to tip him over the edge. The way your walls squeezed around him, milking his throbbing cock, sending fireworks shooting through every nerve in his body.
"Buck-uhhhh," you panted as your body relaxed, coming down from your climax.
Bucky collapsed onto the lounger next to you. He was panting, his breath coming out in gasps. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest, tucking your head under his chin.
"Damn, doll," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That was something else.”
"Aww baby, did I make you all weak?" you smirked into his chest.
Bucky chuckled deeply, shaking his head slightly. "Don't get cocky, doll. I still got plenty of stamina left." He nipped playfully at your ear, his hand trailing down your side.
“I'm still waiting on that suncream, Sarge.” You gathered some of his cum that had trickled down your thigh onto your fingertip and held it up. “Not sure this is gonna cut it.”
Bucky growled, his eyes narrowing. Suddenly he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the end of the pool.
“Bucky!” you shrieked. “Don't you dare.”
“I think you need to cool off.” The grin on Bucky's face was positively smug.
You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and gave him a warning look as he threatened to throw you into the pool.
“Don't,” you said warningly.
Bucky chuckled, turning around and held you closer. You were about to sigh with relief but the glint in his eyes betrayed his intent. You gasped as he took a step backwards sending you both tumbling into the pool with a huge splash!
#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fan fiction
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Columba
summary: It isn’t until you’re in his home that you learn it’s General Marcus Acacius who’s summoned you for your services—you’re not sure why he did, when the other courtesans standing beside you, hoping to be chosen by him, have bodies that look nothing like yours.
pairing: Marcus Acacius/Plus Size f!reader (Courtesan)
rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, explicit smut, plus size reader, courtesan reader, age gap (reader is of legal age in today’s standards), takes place pre-Gladiator 2, dommy Marcus Acacius (loves giving orders), he’s a tiny bit possessive, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, rough sex, backshots, woman on top, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, breast worship, hair pulling (m receiving), slight breeding kink, (1) pussy slap, dirty talk, spanking, spit mention, some biting, with hair like that he wants it pulled, some sweetness at the end)
word count: 4.8k+
a/n: I took one look at Marcus’ hair and immediately thought, that guy likes his hair pulled. I also decided that since he spends weeks to months with a bunch of men at a time, when he comes home, he really appreciates a curvy woman. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything for him until I saw the movie, but the trailer got me. This is unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
Masterlist
It was the marble bust atop a pedestal that revealed whose home you were in. The opulence of the domus’ atrium, with its four tall marble columns surrounding the impluvium's shallow, sunken pool in the middle of the room and the compluvium’s opening in the ceiling above it, allowing the moon’s light to filter in, told you whoever lived here had notoriety—then you saw the face carved out of stone, recognizing the curls and strong nose you'd only ever seen as he was paraded past you down the street in honor of his latest victory, and you knew.
General Marcus Acacius is a man feared by many for his ferocity and skills in battle. It's been said Mars, the God of War, blessed his birth, while others believe his bloodline is descended from the God himself. What you know to be true is he's a gifted General that the Emperors and Gods have smiled upon, and in his presence, an intimidating figure you didn't dare look at unless you were addressed.
There are four women standing to your right, all of you younger than him, naked, and courtesans of the highest standard—well-educated and well-versed in politics along with the pleasures of the body—and highly sought out by society's elite.
Marcus is at the opposite end, silently making his way down the line with what you can only assume is a scrutinizing eye, and you fear there's been a mistake that you're here—the other courtesans are all built similarly with small breasts, flattened stomachs and thinner waists than yours, whereas you’re curvier, and have more meat on your bones, with your bigger chest, soft noticeable belly, and grabbable hips. Clearly, he requested a particular type of woman, and it doesn't appear you're it. Staring down at the tiled floor seems better than seeing the disappointment on his face when he gets to you.
His sandaled feet come into view as he stands before you, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your bare body—golden snake bracelets coil around each of your upper arms, and at the unexpected gentle touch of his fingertips to one, you flinch.
"Do I frighten you?" His voice is a low, deep rasp that shivers down your spine.
"No, Sir," you answer.
His thumb strokes over the snake's head and along its body. "Why do you flinch?"
Raising your head, you see he’s wearing a white tunic with a gold pattern lining around his neck, down his arms, and along the hem, a belt securing it at his waist; golden cuffs covered his wrists. You’re met with dark eyes, a furrow crinkling between his eyebrows—his brown hair with a kiss of gray, curls like waves on his head, his facial hair dotted with a few silvery strands. It takes you a second to answer his question because the glimpses of him you caught during victory parades and the marble bust didn't prepare you for his beauty.
Mars and Venus have bestowed their blessings upon him.
“My apologies, Sir,” you finally reply. “It was simply surprise at being graced by your touch.” His expression is difficult to read, so you continue speaking, “I’ve heard of your prowess in battle that inspires songs and how your enemies tremble before you, but I do not believe I have reason to fear you—unless that is something you wish. Do you wish for me to be frightened of you?”
Some men liked it if you acted afraid of them to feel powerful. Some men, usually the big, tough ones, liked to bury their faces in your bosom while you held them. The slight show of relief on Marcus’ face when you said you had no reason to fear him made you suspect he’d be in the latter category.
“No.” His eyes are locked onto yours. “I do not need another to fear me. I wish for you to want my touch.”
“I wish for more than your touch,” you reply. “I wish to feel your lips on mine and your weight on top of me, I wish to feel your cock inside me and to hear the sounds you make when you peak, and I do wish for your touch; I wish to feel your hands claim my body as yours.”
His gaze turns to one of desire, and it makes you smile.
"You," he says. "Stay. The rest of you,” he announces, keeping his eyes on yours, “leave us.”
The invitation the messenger brought to your home the day prior did not state who requested your services; it simply said the person was a public figure, and the woman picked would be paid handsomely.
The servants, who stood as still as statues against a wall, scurried to assist each of the other women with redressing.
"Come," he orders, offering you a hand you accept. He leads you to a room you realize is his personal quarters when you spot his armor in a corner, Medusa's golden head on the cuirass shining in the candlelight—she wards off evil and offers protection. There's a bed against the wall opposite the door, and he lets go of your hand, slipping off his sandals by the doorway before walking over to a thin table laden with a jug, cups, and a bowl of berries and grapes.
"Care for some wine?" he asks without looking at you while pouring himself a cup.
His body is tense, and you’re assuming you’re here to help him relax—he arrived home only days ago from war, and you got a chance to see him rolling down the street on a chariot as he waved to the cheering masses. It would make sense that he could use somebody with your expertise to get him to unwind.
“No, thank you, Sir,” you answer, and he faces you again, taking a drink. “It’s a great honor that you chose me, and I do not wish to forget a single moment.”
His cup lowers, and you're surprised to find he’s wearing a little smile. He twists to set his wine down next to the jug, and removes the cuffs from his wrists, setting them onto the table then his eyes are on yours.
"Marcus," he says, and it only takes a few strides to have him in front of you again.
"I'm sorry?" you ask.
His attention moves to your body, and he’s not looking upon you like an object or something he’s just purchased as most men do; his gaze is appreciative, the same kind of look you could imagine was on his face when he stared at art that pleased him. Your figure isn’t the ideal for most Roman women—your hips are too wide, your breasts are too large, your ass is too big, your thighs are too thick, and your stomach is too noticeable—yet, there are many men who sought you out and paid well for your time, and it seems the General is one of them.
"My name." He walks around you, his fingers sliding along your upper back from shoulder to shoulder. “Call me Marcus. I want you to be familiar with how my name tastes on your tongue.”
The touch and his words cause your nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on your skin.
"Marcus,” you say.
He’s in front of you again, his darkened eyes on yours. His big hands grip your waist, pulling you into him, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, feeling him inhale deeply. “Gods, you’re the best thing I’ve smelled in months.” The words are said against your flesh. “Like a meadow of flowers in Spring, and I fail to remember the last time I felt such softness.” He squeezes the fleshy handles at your hips and goes lower to grab handfuls of your ass, then runs his hands up your back. “Upon hearing your description,” he says, “I knew you’d be perfect, but what I imagined has no comparison to seeing your beauty with my own eyes.” His admission catches you off guard as it sounds as though he always intended to pick you from the line of women. It’s curious that he even invited the others if his mind had been set beforehand. He straightens, meeting your gaze. “Take off my clothes.”
There's no need to reply; you just do as he ordered, getting his belt undone, the leather falling to the floor, then pulling his tunic over his head, it meeting the same fate as his belt.
He’s completely nude, standing at his full height before you.
You expected the scars etched all over his body, the evidence that he'd lay down his life for Rome without hesitation. There's a long, jagged one across his right pec, silvered with age, that has you forgetting yourself and softly pressing your fingertips to it.
He snatches your smaller hand, pulling it away from his marred skin.
"My apologies," you quickly say, bowing your head in submission. "I shouldn't have touched you without permission."
"You may touch me." Once again, he surprises you by putting the flat of your palm against the scar, his other hand grabbing your chin to lift your face.
From his reaction to your fingers on him, you think he hasn’t been with a woman in quite some time, and you hope you can make up for all the nights he spent alone.
It seems he's done with the pleasantries when his lips crush into yours. It's all of the encouragement you need, kissing him back while rubbing your palms up his broad chest, feeling his warmth. You snake a hand down his stomach through the trail of hair low on his belly to take his half-hard cock into your hand—he groans and twitches in your hold.
He truly has the Gods' favor—a talented General, handsome and well-endowed.
With his hands on your waist, he walks you backward to the bed, laying you on the mattress. He's on top of you, deepening the kiss with his tongue pressing into your mouth, his hand palming your tit, making you wet with arousal and your body heat.
It's fascinating how he's defying all of your expectations. The men who seek you out after spending months fighting are often rough and brutish, using you however they want to release their tension. There's never kissing or offers of drink; it's orders to suck their cocks, or to get on the bed in their desired position—and here's Marcus kissing down your body, along the skin of your neck to your chest. Most of his weight is on his knees between your legs while bending forward over you, and the only word you can think of to describe it is he's worshipping your breasts. He has them in his hands, moving from one to the other, licking, sucking, and nibbling on your nipples and soft skin, the sensations making your pussy weep with need.
“Gods, Marcus,” you moan. He has you squirming with how good it feels, your fingers pushing into his curls. He takes a pebbled bud between his teeth and gently tugs. “Oh,” you gasp, your hands tightening in the tousled waves on his head.
He releases your nipple. “Harder,” he rasps, then flicks his tongue against your stiff peak, and you do as requested, pulling his hair harder. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as he continues laving at your tits, skimming his hand down your stomach, your skin tingling under his fingertips, until he’s sliding two fingers through your wet slit. You tighten your hold on his head, your toes curling when he starts rubbing your clit, and the realization hits that he intends for you to have just as much enjoyment as him.
"Marcus," you whine.
He’s one of those men who has you praying that he’ll wish for your company again, and you wouldn’t even make him pay if you got another chance to warm his bed.
The push of his thick digit into your pussy makes your breath hitch at the slight stretch, his thumb pressing to your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving side to side—you know he’s going to make you come, and you silently thank the Gods.
His finger is pushing in and out of you, his thumb continuing its movements, and he lifts his face to look you in the eyes, his own are so black there’s hardly a sliver of brown remaining. "Come for me," he commands, slipping a second digit inside you—you’re so wet you can hear the slick slide of his fingers pumping into you. The muscles in your belly are tightening, and the fire in your core is building. "Come for me, sweet girl." His head dips to lightly bite your nipple before soothing it with his tongue. "Once you come, I'll do as you wish and sheath my cock into this perfect cunt."
The hot heat of his mouth envelops your pebbled bud, and he sucks—it's your undoing; your eyes close as you fall over the edge, coming with a moan of his name. His digits and mouth continue to extend your ecstasy while your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart pounds.
He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, his hand sliding from your pussy, up your stomach, leaving a trail of your release on your skin. His voice deepens, “You’ve done well for me, and I keep my word—turn over.”
He helps you to roll onto your front, and you get up onto your hands and knees—a familiar position. He takes a moment to admire you in front of him, his palms feeling the thickness of your thighs and hips. His fingers dig into your plump asscheeks as he spreads them and dips his head, hearing and feeling him spit between them, the hot saliva dripping from your asshole down to your opening. He shuffles up behind you, sliding his cock through the wetness of your come and his spit to lubricate himself, then notches it at your entrance—you both moan as he slowly starts feeding himself into you.
Gods, he’s big.
There’s a slight burn with how he’s stretching you, your inner walls having to accommodate his ample girth, and once he’s pressed all the way to the root inside you, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in.
He has a tight grip on your waist and pulls out almost all the way, immediately pushing back into you hard enough there's a clap when his hips hit your ass. This was expected, Marcus setting up a rhythm that punches the air from your lungs each time he thrusts forward—he’s working out what he doesn’t wish to feel, and with how slippery it is between your legs, he's moving easily, and the brutal pace feels amazing.
Many times, you’ve had to fake your enjoyment to make those employing you think they’re talented lovers—the majority are selfish in bed and care little about your comfort but want their egos stroked. Marcus, on the other hand, earned your favor when he took the time to ready you with his fingers and allowed you to climax.
He's pounding into you, the collide of his body against yours making your asscheeks shake, and with how his cock is pressing into something truly divine, he’s also earned your screams of his name and whatever incoherent words are babbling from your mouth—he has you dizzy with pleasure, heat coiling in your belly, and there’s no doubting the Goddess of Beauty and Sex has given him her blessing.
Sounds are spilling unbidden from your lips, Marcus loudly grunting with each stroke, the wet slap of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, and you look over your shoulder—the candlelight around the room shows the glisten of sweat on his golden skin. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and his jaw slack. Hair is sticking to his forehead, and a beautiful rosy flush has begun on his chest, rising up his neck to paint his cheeks. You can't think of another you've laid with who looked so breathtaking while taking their pleasure, and you could only imagine how glorious he’d look on the battlefield. You don't know what comes over you, reaching your hand back to touch his hip, and suddenly, he’s looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust.
It’s as though he’s been in a trance, losing himself in your body, and now he’s come back to be in the moment with you. He falls forward, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you, blanketing your back and slowing his pace. His chin is on your shoulder, and he bites the shell of your ear; all of his weight goes onto one arm to free up the other that roughly grabs your breast and plucks at your nipple.
“You take me so well,” he says into your ear, his cock continuing to slide in and out of you. “Your sweet little cunt will milk me dry, and then I’ll have you again and again after that to keep you full of my seed.”
His words steal a moan from your lips.
“Does that please you, my sweet girl?” he asks. “You wish for more of me? Has another ever fucked you so good?” He gets his hand between your legs to circle the pearl of your pleasure, and your jaw drops, eyes closing—he’s going to make you come again. “Answer me,” he growls, lightly slapping your clit, and you clench around him.
It’s challenging to think, but you say, “No,” and push your ass back against him as he thrusts forward, fucking yourself on him to get closer and closer to your end. “I’ve never had such fortune.”
“You do now—by morning, I’ll have you ruined for any other man, and your cunt won’t soon forget the shape of my cock.”
He means every word that slips from his tongue, and it sets the fire in your belly ablaze. You’re holding yourself up on shaky limbs, the muscles in your stomach knotting up—you’re close.
“Marcus,” you moan.
His warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks into it: “I love how my name sounds from your lips. I know you’re close. Give in so I can feel you ascend to the heavens.”
His words, the fullness of his thick shaft moving in and out of you, and his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle at the apex of your thighs has you shattering—stars burst behind your eyelids as white-hot pleasure erupts in your center, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough he slows to a stop, and groans in your ear.
You exhale panted breaths, your heart beating rapidly, and the blissful euphoria ripples through your body, slowly ebbing away.
Somehow, you find your voice, "Allow me to ride you."
He kisses your shoulder, his beard scratching against your bare skin. "You want to mount me?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Then you shall."
He pulls out of you, an achy groan leaving him as he lies beside you on his back, and you get up onto your knees. He draws your attention with how he’s splayed out on the mattress, his long legs slightly spread and arms crossed over his head. His cock is still hard, it shiny with your juices, and resting against his lower belly, cushioned by the tantalizing path of hair that led directly to it—and he’s looking up at you, his eyes dark with want that keep lowering to your bosom, and back up to your eye line, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip, that you suddenly wish to bite.
There’s the common knowledge about Marcus all of Rome is aware of—the family he comes from and the military achievements that have led to him being the victorious General the Gods have blessed the city with, and now you’re versed in his more private attributes—he likes his women to be sturdy with sizeable breasts, he enjoys the pleasurable pain of his hair pulled, he’s a generous lover, he prefers to be in control unless you can tempt him enough to hand over the reins. It’s quite tempting for him to lie back and watch your tits bounce as you ride him.
Shuffling in place to face him, taking his hard length in hand—he didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer, yet you want to take care of him like he took care of you, so you scoot back enough that you can bend down at the waist, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.
The sound of Marcus’ loud moan and the way his back arches as if it were the string of a bow shoots straight to your cunt—you can taste the mix of your essence and his arousal that’s steadily dribbling from the sensitive head that you lick and suckle; your hand easily stroking up and down the sheath of skin on his shaft. The muscles in his thighs and stomach have tensed like it’s taking everything in him to hold back and not fill your mouth with his come.
“Enough,” he grits the order through his teeth, and his palm lands on the side of your ass with a hard slap that echoes against the walls, the sharp sting getting a moan out of you—your head lifts off of him to see he’s scowling. “I’m not spilling down your throat,” he continues and smacks your ass again. “Ride me, or I’ll have you under me.”
“Apologies, Marcus,” you reply demurely and sit up on your knees once more. Quickly, you move, throwing a leg over his waist to have your thick thighs hugging his hips. You rise, grabbing his cock, you press to your entrance, and you watch his face as you slowly start to impale yourself on him, relishing in how his mouth falls open and the tight grip he has on the meat of your thighs, his fingers digging into them hard enough it bordered on painful.
The fullness is incredible when you sit flush against him, and you love how he fills you. Your palms find purchase on his broad chest, and you rise until only the tip of him remains inside of you, and you drop back down—the rhythm you set has you moving in his lap, up and down in quick succession, Marcus groaning, his eyes locked on the jiggle of your breasts.
Sweat forms on your skin, feeling it on your forehead and a single drop sliding down your spine, your eyes closed as you focus, your moans stuttering each time you sink onto him.
His hands are resting on your backside, rising and falling with you, his voice rough with pleasure, “That’s it, ride me, bounce on my cock.”
This isn’t about you, and though it feels good riding him, your goal is helping him achieve his own high, and you’re determined to do so—your hands leave him to press your tits together, and you gasp in surprise when he sits up and shoves his face into them. Your pace doesn’t waver, and you look at him to see he’s keeping himself up with an arm braced on the bed behind him, the other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.
Your fingers slide into the unruly curls at the back of his head, and you yank them hard to make him look at you, Marcus hissing while his cock twitches inside you. In this position, you’re taller, and he gazes up to meet your eyes.
“I want you to come,” you pant, continuing to fuck yourself on him. “I want to feel you flood my cunt with your seed.” The noise he makes sounds like a whine. “Then I want you to do it again, and again after that—I want you to fill me to the point I’m brimming with you, and you’re in me for days.”
He squeezes his eyes shut as he groans out a long, drawn-out Fuck
With his beautiful neck on display, you duck your head and lick up the taut skin of his throat, wishing you could suck a mark into it to remind him of you for a while after you part ways. His free hand roughly grabs your chin to pull you close enough for him to slot his lips against yours, and you have to slow to a grind as he messily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth.
He breaks away to fall back onto the mattress, his fingers getting a tight grip on your ass, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you enough to start thrusting up into your soaked pussy rapidly—he’s grunting while baring his teeth to chase his high, and all you can do is press your palms to his chest for balance while keeping yourself raised enough for him to pound into you.
The slick push and pull of him, moving in and out of you, has you chanting his name, and it sounds wet between your legs, hearing the clap of skin on skin of him plowing into you. Perspiration makes his tan flesh glint under the candle's light, his hair is a mess atop his head, and his expression is wild; it’s no surprise when his strokes get uneven and his eyes close. Marcus tugs your ass down to bury himself as far as possible in you as he gives in, coming with a guttural groan—you feel his cock jerk and the wet pulse as he paints your insides with spurts and spurts of his spend, wringing himself out until his body goes completely lax.
He pulls you forward to lie on top of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, and turns you both onto your sides. There’s a hiss that slips from his lips when he removes his softening length from your cunt, and you smile at Marcus sliding down the bed far enough for his face to nuzzle in your bosom while hugging you tight. Your fingers stroke through his sweat-damp curls, his hums of appreciation sounding like the purr of a cat.
Minutes pass in silence as your breaths even out and your hearts slow. After some time, he says something you can’t make out.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” you reply.
His head lifts, and he kisses under your chin. “Stay,” he says again.
“I have no intention of leaving. I’m here until you send me away.”
“And if I don’t wish to send you away?”
His lips trail along your jaw.
Your eyebrows pull together. “As I said, I’m here until you request my leave.”
“And if I never request your leave?”
He’s kissing your neck now, the question making your eyes round. “You intend for me to be your mistress?”
It’s not uncommon for a courtesan to become one’s mistress. Some of you are from families of wealth and do this line of work for the powerful connections, while others are freedwomen who’ve worked their way up to earn their notoriety—either case, courtesans are respected and thought to make great mistresses.
“That is all I can offer since I have no plans to marry,” he answers. “You can stay here with or without me when I’m ordered away, and whatever is left of my salary and spoils of war after the household debts are paid, you may keep.”
He makes you frown.
“Why me?”
Marcus gets his arm out from under you and scoots up the mattress to look you in the eyes.
“You’re everything I desire in a woman with your beauty and intellect, and you can sate my needs in bed—you’re perfect, and I want you all to myself. I do not wish to share you with anyone else.”
It’s in this moment you realize you’re the one in control here—you don’t need him, you’re self-sufficient, and there are many who’d eagerly take his place, but your looks are rare in your profession, and he needs his deal to be enticing enough for you to take it.
“What if I decline your offer?”
“Then I pray you’ll allow me to keep your company until I receive my next orders.”
He seems to be a good, honorable man who wants to please you, and he had you tempted to accept on the merit of his skills in bed alone—there’s just something that won’t leave your mind.
“Before I make my decision, answer this question: if you believe me to be so perfect, why were the others here?”
He presses his large palm to your cheek. “It was in your power to deny me your company, and though the other women weren’t of my tastes, they were better than nothing.”
You see no flaws in his answer.
“I accept your offer on one condition.”
“And that is?”
You no longer find him intimidating, and you’re now comfortable brushing errant hairs off his forehead and sliding your fingers through the curls above his ears.
Your eyes lock onto his. “You return home to me,” you tell him. “You fight with the might of Mars, and you always return home to me.”
That earns you a small smile, and he takes your hand into his, kissing the center of your palm.
“I will, my Dove.”
Masterlist
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#pedro pascal#marcus acacius#general marcus acacius#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius x reader#marcus acacius/reader#marcus acacius x y/n#wheresarizona writes
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Blood Lust
summary: With his ego inflated after Rook’s Rest, Aemond makes another move against the blacks — taking you.
pairing: Aemond x Niece!Reader
word count: 1.8k+
warnings: Explicit smut, dark!Aemond, incest, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, heavy dubcon, loss of virginity, mention of blood, knife play, angst!!! 18+ MDNI
Destiny was a fickle thing but Aemond Targaryen knew three things for certain: he was destined to lose an eye, destined to claim the largest dragon of the known world and destined to be with you.
For as long as Aemond could remember, he wanted you, dreamed of you. The mere thought of you made his cock ache at any moment.
It was not as if Aemond had no other options. There were plenty of Lord’s willing to send their daughters to King’s Landing to be married off to a prince.
As lovely as those girls might have been, they all shared the same detrimental flaw: they simply were not you. You were a member of House Targaryen — bastard born or not, the blood of Old Valyria ran deep within your veins. You were a skilled dragon rider, you carried yourself with grace, held a quick wit, spoke your mother tongue. Above all else, you had been there for Aemond when no one else was. You were perfect.
Aemond had no interest in being betrothed to a Baratheon or a Lannister, nor an Arryn or a Stark; even the most beautiful girl the Tyrell’s had to offer would simply never compare. After a denied proposal for a betrothal and you being taken away to Dragonstone Aemond felt powerless — until now.
Your entire body aches as you make out your surroundings. You had been taken in the middle of the night, forced onto dragon back with your hands and feet tied.
“Listen to me,” your uncle says as he crouches in front of you, “if you scream the guards will come and you’ll be thrown in the dungeons. You have no friends here except me. Do you understand?”
You nod your head in agreement, desperate to be free of the makeshift gag he had made for you.
“Aemond, this is treason,” you state plainly.
“Treason, would be betraying the crown, sweet niece,” he responds, “I am the crown.”
“Fuck you!” you grumble at him.
“Iksos bona skoros ao jaelagon?” Is that what you want?
Against your better judgment, you spit right in his face, observing him nervously as he wipes it away.
“Fiesty little thing you are.”
“What do you want with me, Aemond? Will you force me to kneel before you? Carve out my eye? Perhaps I’ll suffer the same fate as my brother?”
Ah, Lucerys. He was waiting for you to bring that up.
“While I’m sure that seeing you on your knees is a glorious sight, I have other plans for you.”
“I have no desire to bed you, Aemond. I am betrothed.”
The smirk on his face slightly drops at that. Betrothed.
“And where is Lord Stark now?” He questions casually.
“Preparing his army for war.”
“I wonder how it must feel?” he goes on, “to be whored out? Practically sold like a broodmare so that your pretender of a mother can build herself an army?”
“Better to be his whore than your war prize.”
The mask of cruelty on Aemond's face fades for a moment, and for a second, he almost looks hurt at your words.
“Is that what you think? That you’re merely a ‘prize’? You wound me, dear niece. Do you not remember that I love you?”
Ice fills your veins at his confession and your heart drops into your stomach. Things could’ve been different, they should’ve been.
“I don’t understand why things had to escalate in this way, Aemond,” you say as you start to cry, “you could’ve —“ you choke back a sob, “you could’ve had me.”
Aemond takes your chin in his hands as he lets out a laugh.
“I do have you, baby.”
Fear courses through you at his words. Aemond unsheathes a knife from his jacket pocket and holds it to your chest for a brief moment before pulling away.
“Hold still,” he demands as he cuts the rope that holds your ankles together.
You wince as Aemond forcefully spreads your legs apart, violently cutting a hole into your undergarments, exposing your cunt to him.
“Tell me, has Stark fucked this pretty little pussy yet?”
He knows he hasn’t, he knows you and Cregan still have yet to meet. He wants to hear you say it.
“N-no,” you stutter as you continue to cry. Gods, you look so pretty when you cry, Aemond thinks to himself. He only smirks in response.
“You are still a maiden, right, sweet one? You haven’t let little Lord Strong defile you, have you?”
“Gods, Aemond. No.”
“Hm,” Aemond frowns, “a shame for him, really. Now he’ll never have the chance being that you will never see him again.”
“They’ll come for you,” you tell him.
“If they wish to keep me away from you and your perfect cunt they’ll have to kill you,” he muses, “But even then…”
A darkness takes over your uncles face and you soon realize the Aemond you once knew is gone. You are dealing with a whole new monster. He is an animal, a beast — and you are merely prey.
“Do you touch yourself?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts.
“S-sometimes,” you whisper, feeling ashamed, but finding it difficult to lie to him.
“What do you think about when you do?”
“Not you,” you retort.
He runs two fingers through your soft folds, causing you to gasp, before bringing his fingers up to the light.
“Liar,” he states as his fingers glisten, coated in your slick. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, baby. I think about you, too…”
You can’t help but notice the evident bulge in your uncle's pants, his cock strains against the delicate fabric. You can tell how big he is. You try your best to divert your gaze elsewhere.
“Now, I’m going to untie your wrists. Might I remind you of what I said earlier: You are far better off in here, with me, than out there,” he says, pointing to the door with his dagger.
You’re not sure if you believe him. At this point, you might prefer to be thrown in the dungeon with the rats, left to starve. Instead of arguing, you simply nod your head as Aemond cuts you free.
You feel wobbly as you stand on your feet, Aemond holds your hands as you gain your composure. Your ankles and wrists feel sore, but Aemond rubs his thumb against your wrist soothingly.
Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as that familiar ache between your legs begins to grow. You know you shouldn't be aroused by this behavior, but your body is betraying you.
Aemond picks you up swiftly and places you onto his bed. There was a time where you dreamed of this. If only your younger self could see you now.
Your thoughts are interrupted once again as Aemond’s large hand wraps around your throat. He squeezes lightly, trying to keep you in your place. You make a feeble attempt to push him away, but he is too strong and you can’t break free.
“Please, don’t be afraid of me,” he pleads, “I need you,” the timbre of his voice is so low that you aren’t sure if he meant for you to hear. His free hand moves to your breast, massaging it roughly through your chemise.
"You are so beautiful," he says, leaning over you. You feel him press himself against you, his cock rubbing against your leg, pre-cum leaks out of the tip and smears onto your thigh.
He pushes back and nestles himself comfortably between your thighs. His dexterous fingers part your folds ever so gently, exposing you to him completely.
“Gods, you’re perfect. The most perfect girl in the entire realm,” he groans before his face is buried between your thighs. His plump lips suck at your clit as he prods at it with his tongue before moving up and down your slit. You feel yourself getting wetter, arousal leaks from your core and Aemond laps it up eagerly. On instinct, you spread your legs even further apart, your body betraying you once again.
Aemond licks harder, and you feel the soft muscle of his tongue slip inside you. A loud moan erupts from your chest as a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. Your hand shoots down to to tug at Aemond’s silver tresses.
You’re so close, you’ve never been touched like this before and one final glide of his tongue pushes you over the edge. You cry out loudly as you cum, your vision going blurry as your cunt contracts around him.
Aemond pulls himself from your core and stands up, grabbing your hips. He harshly pulls you to the edge of the bed and you feel his cock pressing against you. You eagerly push towards him this time. There is no point in fighting him. You gasp as he enters you fully, filling you completely. The stretch is overwhelming, a tight burning sensation. The fullness begins to feel good as your silky walls flutter around him.
“Just relax,” he coos, “I know you want me.”
You feel his cock twitch inside you slightly as he groans, leaning down to bite your shoulder.
“Fuuuck,” he drawls, “you’re so tight and wet, baby, so perfect; just like I dreamed you would be.”
Your cheeks bloom crimson at his praise and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he fucks into you. The sharp pain soon fades into pleasure. The fat tip of his cock relentlessly bullies that sweet spot inside you that you were never able to reach on your own.
Aemond reaches up to paw at your breast, pinching at your nipple roughly, and a wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your spine tingles and your toes curl, causing you to moan in response.
"You think Stark could fuck you like this? Make you feel the way I do? That anyone could?" He rasps as his thrusts become relentless. He slaps your face when you fail to give him an answer. A shameful whimper escapes you.
"Answer. Me." he demands between thrusts, his teeth gritted together, his thumb swiping over the rosy, delicate flesh where he hit you.
“N-no, Aemond! Only you, just you! I'm sorry!” you all but choke out to him.
“That’s right, my sweet. You were fuckin’ made for me,” he grunts before pausing his thrusts, his hips stuttering before he pulls his cock out of you almost entirely. Making note of the blood that coats his shaft, hoping you don’t notice.
“You know it, I know it, your mother knows it,” he grits out, “you’re mine.”
“Yes, Aemond, I’m — fuck! I’m yours,” you mewl.
“Do you love me?" he asks, your mind is hazy, and stars blur your vision as he continues to drill into you. Even while he is taking control, his insecurity still has a way of shining through his cruel demeanor.
You loved him once, long ago. Maybe you could love him again? You know the answer he is looking for is not ‘maybe.’
"Kessa, Avy jorrāelan." Yes, I love you.
Aemond grins at this, impressed with your knowledge of your shared mother tongue.
He slams his cock into you full force, stilling as he presses hard against your cervix, making you cry out again. His hand tangles in your hair as he places his forehead against yours.
“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he tells you.
You grip at his hips, pulling him into you.
“C-cum inside me,” you moan through bated breaths, “claim me as your own, once and for all.”
“You’ve always been mine,” he says as he complies, pushing into you deeply as he shoots his hot cum inside of you, warmth blooming in your chest as he does so; before collapsing on top of you.
“What happens now?” you ask, as he gently pulls himself out of your heat, allowing his seed to seep onto the bed sheets.
“This is just the beginning.”
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x niece!reader#aemond x reader smut#aemond x strong!reader#dark!aemond#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond smut#hotd smut#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen oneshot#aemond imagine#aemond x niece!reader#house of the dragon smut#hotd s2#dark!aemond x reader#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond x niece!#aemond x strong!#prince aemond#aemond oneshot#aemond one eye#prince regent!aemond#prince regent aemond! x reader
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❝programmed for pleasure❞ | qimir x fem!reader
pairing: qimir x fem!reader
summary: Your best friend Qimir always had your back, and that didn't change when the Jedi accused you of treachery. Without hesitation, Qimir helps you hide. After days of close quarters and constant danger, things get heated and secrets flow to the surface.
warnings: this is just filth, english is not my native language, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (who needs it with him right), fingering, hints of mind control, reader finds out qimir's identity during the act, choking, cockwarming, degradating, praising, 5k+ words, not proofread
a/n: in ep2 when osha was pretending to be mae and qimir's mask dropped- so did my panties and i wish we could see what would happen if the jedi didnt barge in
also i apologise if this is not my best work my brain's rotting
now playing, fill the void by the weekend and lily rose depp
The sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows across the bustling market square. The air shimmered with heat, and the scent of exotic spices mixed with the dust kicked up by the steady flow of people. The cacophony of merchants hawking their wares and customers bartering for goods filled the air, creating a lively yet chaotic atmosphere. That's when you jumped in, covered in a heavy cloak, weaving through the crowd, moving with desperate urgency that contrasted sharply with the slow pace of the marketgoers.
Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and sweat trickled down your temples, but you didn’t dare slow down. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the fear that suffocated you.
You glanced over your shoulder, scanning for signs of your pursuers. There, in the distance, the unmistakable silhouettes of Jedi Knights moved with an unerring determination, their robes flowing like liquid shadows. Panic surged within you, propelling you forward even faster.
You stumbled into a fruit vendor, nearly toppling the cart, and barely registering the vulgar complaint thrown at you, only focused on your desired destination.
Ahead, through the throng of people, you spotted the familiar sign of your friend’s shop. It was a small, unassuming place, nestled between two larger establishments, almost easy to miss if you didn't know what to look for. You aimed yourself toward it like a ship setting course for a distant star, your legs burning from the exertion.
Another quick glance back showed the Jedi gaining ground, their calm, composed faces a stark contrast to your own panic. You had to reach the shop; you had to get to safety. With a final burst of energy, you pushed through a group of curious onlookers, thrusting them to the ground, and practically threw yourself against the door of the shop.
It swung open with a jingle of bells as you tumbled inside, the cool air a welcome relief against the overheating streets. You slammed the door shut behind you, the noise causing your friend, Qimir, to look up from behind the counter, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Hey, what are you—"
"Shush," you panted, leaning heavily against the door, trying to catch your breath, scanning any sign of the Jedi through the glass door. "I need to hide."
“What is going on?” Qimir appeared right behind you, his face a mix of concern and curiosity. He motioned for you to follow him. This wasn’t the first time you had begged Qimir to help you, and many times you had promised to pay him back, but you never did. You tried to calm yourself as you followed him to the back of the shop where the infamous hidden trapdoor was placed.
“I owe you,” you breathed out, looking up at Qimir before you kneeled down to get in, climbing your way into a narrow space, the darkness of the room slowly enveloping you.
“You always do,” he murmured to himself before he closed the door, leaving you alone in the pitch-black darkness. You’d been here many times, so it wasn’t difficult finding a certain switch, turning on the lights that partially blinded you. As you quickly got used to them, your other senses heightened, hearing Qimir making his way back to the front of the shop above your head.
You pressed yourself against the cool earth, willing your racing heart to calm. Above, you could hear the faint murmur of voices, the unmistakable timbre of the Jedi questioning. You held your breath, every muscle in your body tense, praying that your hiding place would remain undiscovered.
You calmed yourself, putting your hand on your chest where your heart would be, carefully listening to the conversation above you.
“Have you seen a cloaked figure running by this shop? We saw them run this way; do not bother us with lies,” came Yord’s unmistakable voice. You had never liked him, even as a youngling or a Padawan. He finished his trials sooner than you and felt the need to remind you every second. Today was the last day you decided to respect it.
“I think I saw someone pass by, but I didn’t see their face or where they were going,” you heard Qimir lie to the Jedi, protecting you again. You never grasped how he could lie to the Jedi and not get caught. You always suspected he was Force-sensitive and accidentally blocked everyone out of his mind, but that theory vanished quickly when he once face-planted on the ground after you woke him from his peaceful sleep. Maybe he was just a good liar.
Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the Jedi grow quiet, leaving the shop. You allowed yourself a tentative sigh of relief, knowing that you had narrowly escaped capture. For now, you were safe, as long as you stayed with Qimir.
It didn’t take long for Qimir to come back for you, opening the trapdoor to get you out. You climbed fast, jumping at him, almost crushing him with your suffocating hug.
“I’d like an elaboration on this one,” he declared into your ear, waiting for you to let go of the hug but returning it with slight pressure. “Weren’t you supposed to be in the Outer Rim? That’s where your Master sent you.” You let him go, running your fingers through his hair, making a big mess on his head. He let out an annoyed scuff, furrowing his eyebrows, but his smile betrayed him.
“Hmm,” you whispered, turning back to him to walk to the door and shut down the blinds. The Jedi might have been gone, but you weren’t sure. “I was already there. Mission accomplished.” You replied with excitement as you threw away your cloak on the counter, turning in a circle back to Qimir. His expression was to die for.
“Wait,” he picked up his hand as if to stop you from coming closer to him. You stopped your movements, a cheerful smile playing on your lips. “You killed Kelnacca, without a weapon, and managed to come back and do whatever you did for the Jedi to hunt you down?” He didn’t trust you at all, and it was painfully obvious. He circled around you to block your way, even if you had no intention of going outside and leaned against the counter.
“I killed Kelnacca without a weapon, came back here, and killed Torbin.” You smiled, hoping for Qimir to cheer up too, for he was the one always believing in you and your Master’s missions for you. “That’s why they chased me; they found out. But it’s done. I did it.” You couldn’t help but jump towards him, looking up at him as he stared you down.
“You killed them both without a weapon?” he repeated his question, scanning your figure up and down, like he was trying to figure out if you’re joking or serious. Your smile dropped, as you realized he was more of a puppet to your master than your friend. You liked Qimir, but there were times when you didn’t know what he was thinking or where he was going on random days.
You scuffed to yourself, annoyed but understanding in some way. You weren’t always the best apprentice, but you earned it. You earned your place as his pupil and hoped, one day, your master would show his face to you.
“Is this what you want?” you asked, irritated, throwing a tied bag on the counter, right next to Qimir’s hands. He was hesitant but opened the sack, revealing two Jedi lightsabers: Kelnacca’s and Torbin’s. “I could have brought their heads, but that would defeat the purpose.” You added, frustration obvious in your tone. You were so excited to tell Qimir, your friend, about the great news and were immediately let down by his reaction. You hoped he’d be happy for you, finally safe from your Master as you satisfied him with your work.
"Sorry, just shocked," he let out a small chuckle before closing the bag again and leaving it on the counter. "He'll be so pleased with you," he turned to you, a wide smile on his lips. The drastic changes in his mood always scared you, but now you were simply happy you could share the happy news with him.
“Of course I’m proud of you too,” Qimir added, coming towards you to pull you into another hug, this one warmer and more reassuring. You hesitatingly wrapped your arms around him, melting in his embrace. However small and skinny he looked behind his untidy clothes, whenever he hugged you, you almost disappeared between his arms.
“Now who’s gonna tell him?” you muttered into his shoulder before he let go of you, his hands leaving your back seconds later. You were so happy about your success that you never thought of informing your master. Even though you passed his test, you were still nervous about talking to him. His mask was scary enough for you, and his quiet mannerisms were even worse. You could never read what he was thinking, what he was planning next, or what he might be contemplating doing to you. If Qimir volunteered to inform him, you wouldn’t protest.
“Well, you should,” he stated to your bad luck. ��I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” He smiled before going behind the counter to search for something on the lower shelf. You had to snort at his choice of words.
“Please,” you chuckled. “My Master? Thrilled?” You came behind Qimir, observing as his long fingers grasped a small glass of orange drink and set it on the table. “I don’t think he’s ever shown any emotions besides boredom and anger.”
“That’s because he’s wearing a mask,” Qimir pointed out, pouring the orange fluid into two separate small glasses. “Maybe he’s smiling behind it.” You admired Qimir’s delusion.
“I bet,” you started, waiting impatiently for Qimir to finish pouring the drinks, “he’s actually planning my demise behind that mask.”
Qimir handed you a glass, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Or he’s planning your next big test, which he’ll pretend doesn’t impress him but secretly makes him proud.”
You raised your glass to his, a smirk forming on your lips. “To surviving another day and confusing my Master,” you toasted.
Qimir clinked his glass against yours. “To more victories and shared secrets.”
As you took a sip, the cool, sweet liquid refreshing your parched throat, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. Despite the looming threat of your master’s reaction, Qimir’s unwavering support made you feel like you could handle anything. With a deep breath, you set your glass down and looked at him, determination shining in your eyes.
“Alright,” you said, your voice steady. “I’ll tell him. But if he decides to execute me, I’m holding you responsible.”
Qimir laughed, a sound that felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. “Deal. But I have a feeling you’ll come out of this stronger than ever.”
“Let’s hope,” you sighed, leaning against the counter on your elbows, letting Qimir’s eyes wash over you. “Also, he has to be hiding something.”
“What do you mean?” Qimir asked, a confused expression on his face as he put his already empty glass down.
“What if he’s deformed under the mask?” you let out, your face scrunching at the thought. “Or what if he’s just ugly?” You stared at nothing, not paying any attention to the words you were saying.
Qimir’s eyebrows twitched with amusement as he scanned you carefully. “You haven’t seen his face yet?” he asked, noticing how you played with your ring between your fingers as you stared down at the ground.
“You know I haven’t,” you replied with an annoyed sigh. “Look, I made peace with it, but I’m still curious about what he looks like. I want to know who’s teaching me all these things.” You complained, pushing yourself away from the counter, your eyes glancing at the black curtains over the window.
Qimir leaned back, crossing his arms with a thoughtful look. “I get it. It’s human nature to want to see the face behind the mask. But maybe it’s more about what he’s teaching you than what he looks like.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. “Leave it to you to find the deeper meaning. I just want to make sure I’m not taking orders from someone who might be scarier without the mask.”
Qimir chuckled, stepping closer. “You’ve faced Jedi Knights, completed impossible missions, and survived under his training. Whatever he looks like under that mask, you’ve proven you’re stronger than any fear or curiosity.”
His words settled over you like a comforting blanket, and you felt a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” you turned back to face him, a genuine smile on your lips. Lately, you had noticed the way he looked at you. How his eyes darkened when he thought you weren’t watching. How his arms twitched your way when you walked past him and his intense gaze during your conversations. Like now.
Qimir was your friend, supplier, and occasional therapist. You could always vent to him about your Master, and he listened carefully. Many times, you slept over in his shop, passing out on the floor, exhausted from your tests and missions. You couldn’t count how many times you bled out in front of him and woke up the next day with your wounds bound and healed. You knew Qimir had his own secrets that he wasn’t confident in sharing with you, but some things kept you awake at night, wondering.
Despite his poor hygiene and greasy hair that framed his face in an unflattering way, you found him magnetic and charismatic. Something about him pulled you closer, and you didn’t know what. Between the nightmares and horrors, you were a victim to in your dreams, Qimir showed up to comfort you many times. You were embarrassed every time you woke from them, but the images never left your mind. And whenever you saw him after, you deep down wished they would become true.
Two days have passed since then, yet his intense gaze still lingered in your mind. He let you use his shop as your personal sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the Jedi that didn’t stop searching for you. Each day, you watched them through the window. Three times they've marched past, and twice they've entered, repeating the same questions, their eyes scanning for any sign of you.
Qimir once suggested you could leave the planet, but you quickly dismissed the idea. The Jedi now controlled who could leave or enter the exosphere. You regretted not hiding Torbin’s body, leaving him there to rot. Anger had taken over. You wanted the Jedi to find him. You wanted to shove it in their faces.
The days began to stretch into what felt like weeks, with only the tension between you and Qimir keeping you alert, even though it made time drag. The first night when you jumped out of the shower and had to borrow his clothes, you didn’t miss the way his eyes flew to your legs that the towel didn’t fully cover. Or when you tied your hair into a braid, his gaze never wavered. You didn't mind being observed, but with Qimir, it was different. His gaze made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t decide if in a good or bad way. His touch made you shiver, his presence alone made your skin burn. The only relief was that he wasn’t sensitive to the Force. If he knew what you thought every time you saw his hands or brushed against him, you’d want to drown yourself.
A few hours after you hid in his shop and got drunk together, you both decided it would be fun to practice some moves and fighting techniques, without lightsabers. Minutes later, you found yourself straddling Qimir’s lap, pinning his hands above his head. You knew he could easily turn the tables and have his way with you, but he didn't move a muscle. Instead, he laid there, letting you crush his lap as he circled your face. You remembered it vividly: how his breath tickled you, how his lips were so close that moving an inch would ruin your carefully built friendship. You were grateful for the self-control classes your Master put you through.
Now you were seated on the floor, leaning against the cold surface of the counter, staring out the window. The black curtains were no obstacle to you. You heard Qimir coming out of the shower; he didn’t want to smell like the gasoline you accidentally spilled on him. You held a glass of some beverage Qimir had prepared, both of you slowly getting dizzy from boredom and drinks. Resting your head against the table, you closed your eyes and saw Qimir through the Force. He was still in his small, cozy bathroom, drying himself with a towel. His hair was wet but looked better than it had a few days ago. His back muscles flexed as he raised his arms to dry his hair. You hadn't realized he was so fit under his clothes, and it made you squirm in your seat.
You knew you shouldn’t be spying on him like this, but the only time you had seen him like this was in your dreams, and reality was far more enticing. Your thoughts grew louder with each passing second, one screaming over another.
He was your friend and also worked for your Master. It would be wrong. You knew the consequences it could have on your relationship with Qimir, and you didn’t want to risk it. But the way he looked at you, the way his proximity made you feel, and the thought of his body against yours drove you crazy.
Your Master wasn’t against you having lovers and fulfilling your desires, as long as you stayed loyal to him. But you weren’t sure how he would feel if his two subjects started something together.
“You alright?” Qimir’s voice woke you from your thoughts as he stood in front of you. Only in his pants. You looked up at him, trying to contain your craving as you checked him up. Droplets still falling down his chest as he leaned against the other shelf, looking down at you from dangerous vicinity.
You almost choked on air, forcing yourself to look away.
“Yeah,” you choked on your words, lifting the glass to take a sip of your untouched brew. “Why you ask?” you forced a smile, missing his still wet, glossy chest to get to his face. Your heart dropped as you met with his prolonged stare. Half-lidded dark eyes staring right at you, his silhouette towering over you as he took a step closer, throwing the towel he was holding on the table.
“You staring into distance kind of scared me.” He chuckled, tilting his head as he leaned against the counter, you almost broke your neck looking up at him. He was right above you.
His hand was placed right above his pants that got to caress his thighs first. His skin was clean and wet, scars decorating his abs. His muscular chest was uncovered, free for you to admire. When he spoke to you his voice was low and raspy, different from the one he usually used. Your heart fluttered as you noticed his eyes wondering around you as he awaited your response.
You had to move, you thought to yourself. Pushing yourself against the floor you lifted yourself to your legs, the drink in your hand spilling as your hand twitched from almost falling into Qimir’s arms. You could feel the warmth radiating of off him and smell the shower gel he used. His hair was dripping wet, droplets adoring his sharp collarbones. His nipples were hard from the chilly temperature in the shop, his forearm big and large, holding his body above the table.
“Just, concentrating.” You coughed, putting the glass on the counter. “So,” you woke yourself from your dreaming, turning away from him, trying hard not to stumble. The drinking wasn’t as bad as Qimir’s half naked figure centimeters away from you. You felt faint and your thoughts only got worse, like somebody was putting them in. You felt a pressure, but you were convinced you were doing it to yourself subconsciously.
“Is everything okay?” You heard Qimir asked again behind you, feeling him walk towards you. You could feel his hands lifting, so when you turned back to face him, they brushed against your stomach. You had to fight back a moan.
“Just, the Jedi thing.” You smiled, hoping you were convincing enough, and he wouldn’t suspect even the theme of your thoughts. Resting your hip against the table and crossing your arms against your chest, you put a leisure expression on your face, as your mind raced with images. “It’s stressing me out.” You unnecessary added, trying to stare anywhere but his face or his arms or his exposed chest. He had to be cold.
“It’ll pass in a few days.” He smirked, lifting his arm to rest it against your shoulder. The cold skin made you gasp but not as much as his dark eyes.
“I just don’t want to bother you here for days.” You tried to convince yourself. “You surely have things to do, and my Master will be waiting for the news. I’ll go after sundown.” You didn’t wanna go but you had to inform your Master and the air between you and Qimir started to be intoxicating if you didn’t do anything.
“I’m sure he already knows.” He cocked his head, pulling his arm away but leaving his fingers to tickle your skin.
“You told him?” you wondered, pushing your thighs together as a small smirk appeared on his smile.
Fuck.
“No,” he denied, his eyes leaving yours, to trace them down your body. “But I’m sure he knows. Maybe he wants you to relax for a while.” He implied. You dropped your gaze from his eyes to his lips, your core slowly heating up.
“I would rather still be sure,” you swallowed your saliva, your voice breaking, his body dangerously close to yours. “Aren’t you cold?” you let out, embarrassment washing over you. He let out a chuckle when he saw your hand awkwardly pointing at his bare chest.
“Not really,” he replied, scanning your expression. He knew you were nervous; he knew your legs were about to give up and how you struggled to pretend to breathe normally. He enjoyed every second of it.
“Good, good.” You uttered, nodding along. “As long as you’re comfortable.” You wanted to fall into some deep hole and never come out.
“Are you comfortable?” he purred, closing the space between you two, his hand lifting to your face but not actually touching you. Just hanging there, below your jaw, right next to your neck.
“Why, why wouldn’t I be.” You stumbled over your words, his eyes burning your skin open. You felt his breath against your face, his curtain bangs brushing over your forehead. His feet met with yours, his chest in front of your face.
“You don’t look the best.” He whispered, leaning in, his lips now touching your ears, sending shivers down your spine. You moved your hand to the counter next to you, praying and holding yourself for dear life. “I think you need to relax.” He teased against your ear, slowly moving to your neck.
“I think I should get ready to go.” You panted, but not moving a muscle. His one hand moved right next to yours on the table, fingertips touching yours. You were so frozen by his lips tickling your neck, you inhaled sharply when you felt his hand sneak behind your waist to pull you against him. Your hands automatically pressed against his chest, closing your eyes.
“If you want,” he rasped, lifting himself to face you. You couldn’t recognize him. His eyes were pitch-black dark, animalistic look set in them. His lips were full and pink, not a sign of the Qimir that you talked to few minutes ago. You were breathless, your heart pounding heart against your ribs.
“Do you want to go?” he whispered, carnal lust in his gaze staring right back at you. You felt the wetness between your legs growing stronger with every passing second. “Do you want me to let you go?”
“No.” you answered so fast you felt ashamed. But what followed fulfilled all your dreams and more.
All the useless items and glasses on table thrown on the floor without any of you touching them, to make a room for you as Qimir lifted you up on the counter. You shakily brought your hands into his hair as he dived into your lips, imitating sex. His hands groped your breasts, fondling them and pinching your nipples through the thin fabric of your borrowed blouse.
You felt his hand abandon your face, making its way between your legs, feeling your wetness through the pants. You were soaked. You didn’t miss the smile on his lips when his fingers pushed against your core, feeling how wet and useless you were for him.
You whimpered against his mouth when he pulled away, resting against your forehead as you breathed each other air.
“For how long you were this wet?” he smirked against your lips, his fingers putting pressure against your pants making you gasp. He knew the answer, he knew exactly what you liked and where you liked it. But he wanted to hear it coming from your mouth.
“Since I first saw you,” you muttered, rolling your hips against his fingers for more friction. As soon as you made that movement, he pulled his fingers away to shoved them inside your mouth. You didn’t protest and without hesitation started to circle your tongue around them. His fingers were thick and long, making you choke when he moved them deeper.
“Such a fucking slut.” He growled, his legs spreading yours apart. Your heart fluttered at his words and confirming its statement when you let out a moan, from his fingers sneaking its way under your pants and panties to find your burning clit. You threw your head back, as your back arched, wanting to feel more of his touch.
Qimir watched you with satisfaction spread on his face as he felt you getting wetter and wetter, your body responding to his digits. He continued teasing your clit, rubbing it in circles as his other hand squeezed your breast roughly.
“You want it that bad?” he murmured, his voice raspy and electrifying. He chuckled at your failed attempt to respond, inserting his finger into your soaked hole. He pumped it slow and deep, reveling in your reaction. “No worries now.” He taunted.
Qimir couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he watched you squirm and moan. He relished the power he had over you, keeping you in the dark and letting you believe you weren't being humiliated in front of your Master. He added another finger, scissoring them to stretch you for his cock.
“Let me hear you beg for it,” His eyes gleamed with lust as he towered over you, plunging his fingers deeper inside of your cunt. He curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your g-spot as he pumped them faster. “I want to hear you plead for my cock.”
You had no idea Qimir had this in him, but you were so dizzy because of his fingers fucking you hard, you had no strength to focus on anything else.
“Please Qim-“you shivered, eyes rolling back in your head. “Please I need you inside me.” Your breath hitched, his fingers curling and spreading your cunt.
“Atta girl.” He whispered to himself before pulling his fingers out of you, receiving a vulgar insult thrown at him. He relished in seeing you like this. He dreamed of this every day, wanting you, his pupil, spread open in front of him, letting him take you however he wanted. You were his and he was gonna make sure you understood what exactly that meant.
He smirked mischievously before leaning forward to kiss you deeply, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Once I start, complain all you want, I’m not gonna stop.” He whispered against your lips before breaking away and looking deep into your eyes. He was a totally different man and it made you shiver throughout all your body. Even his energy changed, letting it wrap around you in the Force.
Qimir startled you when his hands landed on your chest, pushing you back so you’d lay open on the counter, legs spread open for him to take. Smiling excitedly, he grabbed your hips and move you closer to the edge of the table, before slowly unbuckling his pants.
“You ready?” he asked, licking his lips before pulling his cock out, already covered in pre-cum. He looked so beautiful above you, his hips so close to yours, his hair falling into his face and his chest raising as fast as yours. You looked a mess, but you were his mess and he wanted to devour you.
Nodding, you made yourself comfortable on the table, its cold surface making you shiver.
Smirking, he positioned his dick at your entrance and slowly thrust himself inside, making sure to stretch you nice and slow, taking his time to make the moment last. He bit back a moan, looking down at you lovingly as you struggled to keep your eyes open and not pass out at his thick cock filling you up.
“You’re doing great so far for me.” He grinned, before pulling out and slamming back in, his movements becoming faster and rougher. You forced yourself to grab the ends of the table to hold yourself in place, Qimir’s grip on your hips being nothing compared to the way he was treating your pussy.
His thrusts became harder, loving the way your walls wrapped around his cock, squeezing him tightly with each thrust.
“You’re finally getting what you dreamed of,” he groaned, lifting your hips to drive his cock deeper before pounding away. “Getting fucked by your Master.”
You cried out when his cock brushed against your sweet spot, not realizing the meaning of his words until seconds later.
“What,” you tried to lift your head up, but the way his grip tightened on your waist to fuck you harder had you failing to catch your breath. Your heart started to pound faster as the realization hits.
He saw your expression change but your body kept replying to his merciless thrusts. His hand moved from your waist to reach for your head, lifting you up, face to face. His forehead was covered in sweat, his long hair curling around his ears.
“You did so well on your last mission, I had to reward you.” He panted, not stopping his assault on your cunt. He read the conflict in your mind, letting you come to your own conclusion.
“You’re,” you trembled, his cock spreading your walls so good you had trouble to even consider the words he was saying, denying yourself.
“You’re such a good apprentice but such a slut now,” he mocked you, his hand moving from your hair to your neck, putting in pressure. “I wished you realized sooner tho. We could’ve had this every little visit of yours.” You cried out as his hand fully wrapped around your neck, his cock never stopping filling your cunt.
“Master, I don’t understand,” you managed to breathe out, feeling his cock start twitching inside your walls. You heard him groan, right next to your ear, at the feeling of your tight hole gripping him. He started to thrust harder, feeling the friction build up.
Resting your foreheads against each other and swallowing each other’s moans, had the both of you sweat, the room picking up your scents.
Qimir reached down, rubbing your clit as he continued to fuck you hard. He could feel the tension building inside of you and knew you were close.
“Cum for me, love.” He growled, his hand never leaving your neck and pulling you closer to him. “Cum for your Master.” He hitched, picking up the pace, slamming into you as hard as he could. He could feel his own orgasm approaching.
His grip on your throat tightened as he fucked you harder and faster, slowly losing control of his strength. He could see the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he pounded into you and squeezed your throat harder. Your hand automatically few to his hand that held you, struggling to breathe but not enough to make you pass out.
“You belong to me,” his voice broke, letting you know he was getting closer and closer to losing it. “You’re mine.” He whimpered into your ear, his hips bucking wildly, driving his cock deep inside of you as he came, filling you up, marking you as his. His paced slowed down to match yours, wanting to feel you cum around him, your walls almost crushing him.
Qimir didn’t move and kept his cock inside you, letting himself and you calm down and try to catch your breath. As you regain your composure, your head against Qimir’s chest, your mind almost exploded with the overwhelming thoughts.
I fucked Qimir.
I fucked my Master.
Qimir was my Master all along.
You wanted to run away, hide yourself and never come out, but Qimir’s, your Master’s arms wrapped around you and your pussy still keeping his cock warm, had you melting, not wanting to move an inch. You were confused, terrified, and thrilled all at the same time. All the times when Qimir disappeared without explanation, all the time he lied to the Jedi or did things only Force sensitive beings could achieve. It all made sense now and clicked together like a puzzle.
But you also realized he had the power to read your thought all along. He could see the impure images, the ideas, and pictures you had in your mind. Your complains and desires. Your fear. But that didn’t matter anymore. You let your Master used you, like the good apprentice you were. You had no idea what would happen now, your heart wanting to jump out of your chest, your skin covered in goosebumps. You were scared but the desire was stronger. And if Qimir ever taught you something was to transform those emotions into power. And you had enough desire to annihilate the entire Jedi order, with Qimir by your side.
#star wars#osha x qimir#qimir#qimir the acolyte#qimir smut#qimir x reader#star wars qimir#star wars smut#starwars#the acolyte#qimir fic#smut
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@shealfa said (inbox):
“we were supposed to go north west, I’m telling you.” folding her arms she glances around the dirt road before motioning that there was no hint of a town in sight. “how many days have we been traveling here? I want to sleep in a bed for a night. I’m tired of being attacked by vampires and all the other creatures, but noooo someone said he knew what he was doing. now look at us! lost! fucking warlocks!l
HE CLICKED HIS TONGUE, arms crossing over his chest as he glanced up at the sky from between overlapping branches of trees. He was quite sure that he had followed the directions given to him by that barmaid in the previous town they had left for what felt like a days ago quite well. However, upon taking note of how…ah…off course he and his companion were, perhaps he might have…misunderstood during his flirting. Regardless, that was yesterday’s news! A minor, unimportant detail! ❝Tch, I was under the impression that you too traveled a great deal. I thought you might at least have some good sense of direction, but yours is atrocious. I think we should just wait for some vampire to attack and then question them about where to go at this rate!❞ Rumor had it that there was a group that hunted in this general area anyway. The kind to use their appearance as a lure to get others to drop their guard right before the illusion shattered and one was met with the eyes of a beast instead.
Unfortunately, none had thought to show themselves, and so he wasn’t even sure that could be an option at this point. Giving a long dramatic sigh, he ran a hand down the side of his face. ❝Considering our luck, maybe some bandits will fall upon us too.❞ Perhaps he should have paid attention in training when it came to…figure out where one was supposed to go when there were trees everywhere as far as the eye could see. As a boy, he had always found such talks so dreadfully dull, attention going in and out whenever such lessons took place. Oh well, that was then, this was now. One could not lament past choices. ❝If we just stick to the road, eventually we will reach our destination. We just…need to find that road.❞
#ozy vc: well maybe u should be better at directions ma'am#shealfa#;v: do not fear the eyes in the dark#;;au (hunter)#answered#;;inbox#;post: beta
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Shotgun
Description: you're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek?
A/n: do I have 10 WIPs? Yes. Do I have requests I'm working on? Also yes. So logically, I started a one shot from a smutty dream I had, that turned into a freaking long one. Enjoy!
Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll feed you to the fishes. Very smutty, a bit of angst, hella fluff! Reader is AFAB, cocky!experienced!Eddie x Virgin!band geek!fem!reader, very slight dub con in the beginning (touching over panties, explicit consent not given), female fingering receiving, dry humping, female oral receiving, p in v protected sex.
❤️Reblogs are what keep me going; they keep Tumblr going, and my little black heart beating. Reblog my work and I'll love you forever sweetheart. ❤️
12.5k words (oops)
Masterlist
"You know you guys can't handle this shit!"
Eddie laughs, nearly spilling the beer cradled in his hand.
Steve rolls his eyes, chucking his beer top into the campfire you guys had set up for the evening, the paint sparking briefly.
"Come on Munson, pass it round, quit being a bitch."
"Yeah Eddie, share the love!"
Robin giggles as she clutches her chest dramatically. Shaking your head, you shift uncomfortably on the ground. It's not that you haven't been around this sort of stuff before, people you weren't too keen on have smoked once in your company. It wasn't even a moral thing, you were just a little scared of the effect. That, and the fact you were sitting right next to Eddie Munson.
Eddie, the guy you've literally been frightened of since you saw him leaping on tables in the cafeteria. That was some time ago, and Robin had assured you he was a good guy. You trusted her judgement completely, hence why you'd even considered going camping with the three of them for the weekend. It didn't help the fact that you were just a band geek, not used to these sorts of get togethers. Hell, your closest friends played chess for fun. This was so out of your comfort zone that you felt like a deer in headlights. Only a week ago you had your first beer, at 21; the proper age. Now you were sucking back a brew in the woods at night, sitting next to the drug dealer of the area.
It could just be the beer talking, but Eddie looks good right now. Every time he shook his mane of hair out of his face it had you biting your lip. He threw his head back when he laughed and the sight of that stretched neck of his had you clenching your thighs, feelings bubbling up that you'd never felt before.
So when his hand reached out and his fingertips grazed you, a blunt pressed between his thick ringed fingers, you gasped, pulling your hand away as if it had been burned.
"Come on, take it."
Your tongue feels thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of your mouth. Words. Think of words.
"Can't you, erm, pass it the other way?"
"No, it always goes to the left sweetheart."
Sweetheart.
Glad the low light hides your blazing cheeks at the pet name, you dip your eyes downward for fear of them exposing you. You played the flute for Christ's sake. This was not your thing.
"I-I, well, I-"
"You not smoked before?"
Robin's voice cuts through the myriad of noises in your head, making you turn violently.
"I just, I never-"
"Look at me."
Those words from him sing through your nerves, making you forget any thought you had, or anticipated. As you turn, Eddie's dark eyes bore into you.
"You trust me?"
No. A thousand times no.
"Yes."
"Come here."
He shifts and gets up on his knees, joint pressed between pouting lips as he lights it again, the cherry blazing almost as hot as your blood right now. You mimic his movements, rising on shaky thighs to kneel in front of him.
"Right, I'm gonna take a pull, and blow the smoke, when I breathe out, you breathe in, 'kay?"
His words are sweet, and a little condescending, an edge of talking down that just stirs up your insides further, guts a puddle.
"Okay."
He cups his hands to his face, gesturing for you to do the same. Raising your shaking hands, you touch them delicately with his. He flips his hands so they are on the outside, cupping yours, pushing them together with a lot more force than you did.
He's close, so close. Your breath hitches in your throat, those deep eyes a couple of inches from yours. Heat radiates from his body, your skin itching almost from its blistering warmth. That could just be from the fire. Or the fire in between your legs.
He smells good. There's weed there, sure, and the beer you've all been drinking, and some aftershave you couldn't place, maybe bergamot? An undercurrent lies beneath it all, of man and skin, that makes your toes curl.
He breathes into you then, the swirling smoke trying to escape your cupped hands.
You inhale deeply, focusing on the feel of Eddie's rough hands, on his touch. You breathe in until there's nothing left and hold it. His eyes don't leave yours, sparkling in the fire light.
The exhale hurts more. Breathing out smoke, you revel in the fact you didn't cough or startle. The feeling of him letting go of your hands is far worse.
A ringing, whooping noise finally reaches your ears, between the sound of your own blood pumping. Robin and Steve are cheering like morons, but your gaze doesn't leave Eddie.
"There you go. Good girl."
Damn.
A sharp intake of breath pulls into your lungs and straight to your heat. The pure shock and desire those two words drew from you have you dropping backwards, butt slamming into the pine needle dusted ground.
"Hey you OK?" Robin's hand on your shoulder distracts you briefly and you flash a weak smile.
"Sure, just went to my head a little, I'm good."
Eddie's hand reaches over you, passing the blunt to Robin. You dare not look him in the eye, fearful that everything you felt was written all over your innocent face. Out of your periphery, you can tell he's facing you. Suddenly the fire was extremely interesting.
Robin has a couple of tokes, and tries a third when Steve waves at her.
"Quit hogging it!"
"OK, don't get your panties in a twist!" Passing it to Steve with a loud huff, he takes it and breathes deep. And promptly coughs his guts out.
Robin and Eddie cackle, and even you can spare a giggle at the irony.
"Told you Harrington. Even the little band cutie took it better than you!"
"Fuck off Munson."
Hell, he knows who I am. And he called me cute.
This is Eddie. Scary, metal head, drug dealer Eddie. Eddie who all of a sudden stirs your insides up and makes your head dizzy. Eddie who you now realise is actually goddamn gorgeous.
Eddie takes a hit and turns to you.
"You wanna try smoking it sweetheart?"
Heart hammering in your ribs, you manage to speak.
"C-can you do, that thing, again?"
His smile is dipped in sin as he scoots nearer to you, and you copy him. Suddenly this seems more intimate, sitting on the ground, twisting to face each other, inches away. He takes a hit and holds it, gesturing at you to lean closer. The way he tilts his head, you could almost believe he's going to kiss you. This time, he cups your face, blowing smoke at you. It's so close his lips brush yours ever so softly.
You're not sure if your inhale was intentional or a shocked gasp, but in the smoke goes.
Did he mean to do that?
One look into his eyes tells you yes. There's a cockiness to his grin, the devil dancing across his face.
So, did he do it because he likes you, or is he just messing with you? Only Eddie knows the answer to that.
You exhale, less than an inch from his full lips. Time stops. That is until Steve and his loud mouth break the spell.
"Come on, get a room you guys!" He practically yells, throwing a twig in your direction.
You snap your head away from Eddie and stare at Steve with wild eyes.
"I-I wasn't, we- we weren't-"
"We weren't? Well, that's a damn shame."
As you glance back at Eddie he's leaning on propped up elbows, looking so sure of himself that it's annoying, bordering on making you angry.
Cheeks flooding with warmth, your mouth forms words without checking with your brain first.
"Y-you know what you are Eddie?"
He tilts his head at you, still smirking, and gestures a hand willing you to continue.
"A cocky mother fucker."
The grin falls from his face as he looks at you in shock. Robin and Steve practically piss themselves laughing at your sudden outburst.
"Shit Eddie you better watch out!" Robin laughs out.
"Yeah, that kitty's got claws dude." Steve agrees.
Embarrassed at your own words, you risk glancing at Eddie. You were expecting him to be upset, angry even. That's not the case; he looks impressed.
"Shit, yeah, I can see that. Didn't know you had it in you sweetheart."
Smiling to yourself, you stretch your legs and wiggle your feet. You impressed him. Your turn for a smug smile.
Pretty soon the high starts to settle in; a warmth seeps through your bones and a tingle spreads from your head into your body. It feels like you're quivering whilst sitting still. Steve offers you another beer but you turn it down, well aware that being too foggy right now would be a bad idea. Especially since Eddie has been creeping closer. Now you're side by side, hips so close any time he moves he brushes against you.
The fire dies down, turning to embers. The beer coat has vanished, leaving you shivering. Steve and Robin are already under a blanket; you can see Robin's eyes are close to closing.
"You ok there sweetheart? Cold?"
"I-I'm O-OK."
"No you aren't, you're shaking."
Without a further word he's taking off his jacket and putting his arm firmly around you. Whatever space there was between you has melted away, sides now flush.
You could say the same for your face. This may well be the closest you've been to a boy. Well, a man. He drapes the jacket over the pair of you, covering your crossed legs and his lap, and rubs his hand smoothly up and down your arm to warm you. Little does he know how much he's warming your insides, each stroke sending a buzzing desire through your limbs.
Steve's chatting away; yet another story about Dustin spilling from his lips when you feel Eddie's other hand snaking underneath the jacket, coming to rest on your thigh.
Eyes wide, you flick your gaze towards him.
"What are you doing?" You whisper urgently.
"Just warming you up sweetheart."
He says it so sweetly, yet it belies the movements of his hand, moving further up your leg to run soft circles just underneath the hem of your skirt.
You can't hear a word Steve is saying, unable to concentrate on anything but Eddie's touch and the whooshing blood in your ears. No one had ever touched you like this, not once.
Robin's shrill voice breaks through the fizzing in your head; once again her and Steve are arguing over something. You might have heard Vickie being mentioned but you can't be sure.
Eddie's hand trails higher, within reach of your panties. Breath catching in your throat, you mean to admonish him but all that comes out is a breathy noise.
"Eddie…"
He rests his chin on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ear.
"You want me to stop?"
You don't answer, you can't. You're frozen, unable to move, unable to make a sound lest a moan escape your lips.
He wouldn't dare, not with Steve and Robin here, would he?
He would.
Eddie runs a finger gently down the front of your panties. The softest touch, a whisper of a thing. Then he does it again, up and down, pressing the cotton of your briefs into your private parts.
You can feel your insides fluttering, a burning settling between your legs, being stoked by every barely there touch. Suddenly, he presses down on something that has you softly whimpering and clenching at nothing. A tingle shoots down your legs to the tips of your toes.
You hear a small noise; it's Eddie chuckling in his throat. It snaps you out of your frozen state and you move to get up.
"I'm going to bed guys."
Standing abruptly, you let Eddie's jacket fall from you as he scrambles to keep it over his own lap.
You turn to your tent and hear Steve and Robin wish you goodnight, and mumble about going to bed soon too.
"Night guys!"
"Want any company sweetheart?"
There he is, sitting with that arrogant look on his face.
"Goodnight, Eddie."
You say it firmly, even though your resolve is as substantial as tissue paper. Stomping over to your tent, you turn on your camp light and sit on your double inflatable bed, hugging your knees.
Now that you're alone you realise how much that weed affected you. You feel airy, light as a feather, fingers and toes still tingling.
It must be the drugs.
You focus on the reality of the situation. You just let some guy touch you down there. Eddie Munson touched you over your panties.
So why weren't you scared? Or angry at him? It's not like he asked. The fact is that no one's done anything like that to you before, and it felt incredible. Left you aching for more. That thought was making you more frightened than anything else.
You listen to the group slowly pad their way off to bed, rustles of clothing, mumbled 'goodnights', and tent zips.
To the left of your tent was the huge six berth Steve had brought for him and Robin. It was fancy, you assume he 'borrowed' it from his parents. On the cusp of hearing there was bickering. You don't know how Robin and Steve became friends, or how they maintained it since they acted like an old married couple most of the time, but it seemed to work. After a few minutes soft snores echoed from the two of them.
No sound comes from the other side, where Eddie had pitched a little coffin tent. You wonder if he's still sitting by the dying embers of the fire. He's probably smoking.
Stop thinking about him.
You undress, only pulling an oversized t-shirt on to sleep in since your big sleeping bag is so warm. You'd bought a double one with your birthday money last year because you hated feeling restricted. It was a luxury but with all the camping you did it just made sense. Snuggling into its spacious depths, you attempt to quiet the raging hormones coursing through your veins.
God, why is he so annoying and smug? It burned you up, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on.
You slide your hand between your legs, pressing hard to try and quench the fire. He did something, you're sure of it. This wasn't natural for you, movements unsure and bordering on clumsy. When you run your finger through your naked folds you whimper, and see how wet you are. Gasping, you explore further, and find that spot, a hidden nub that sends a bolt of lightning to your core.
"Oh fuck," you breathe out in a moan, starting to rub up and down.
"You alright in there sweetheart?"
Oh shit, he's right outside the tent. Was he there the whole time?
"Yeah, what do you want?"
"I'm cold, can I come in?"
No.
"Y-yeah."
He unzips the tent and enters, crouching to accommodate his height. Closing the tent up, he takes in his surroundings, letting out a low whistle.
"Pretty sweet set up you've got here, your folks rich or something?"
"No, I just do a lot of camping with the troop."
"Huh?" He looks confused, falling to his knees to look you in the eyes.
"The girl scouts, I volunteer as a leader."
The laughter that comes from him is loud and rich.
"Fuck, you got that little innocent act down don't you?"
It's your turn to look confused.
"What on earth are you talking about Eddie?"
He scoffs at you, clearly not buying it.
"The cute little band geek thing, helping out with girl scouts. Shit, the whole 'can you do that thing again?' " He mimics your words from earlier and you flush crimson.
"Eddie, I honestly don't know what you're going on about. I never smoked before, I hadn't even had a beer before my 21st last week. I've never even- no one's done what you did, outside."
Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor.
"You're fucking with me."
You shake your head, lips pressed tight.
"Well, now I feel like an asshole." He huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
"Well maybe you should, you never asked."
"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were one of those freaky band kids. You kept looking at me like you were gonna eat me alive, I thought I was in for a rough night." He laughs, shooting a gaze at you.
"Well you thought wrong." You turn your head, arms crossed firmly over your chest.
"I'll go if you want. Want me to leave?"
Yes.
"No."
A smile spreads slowly across his face, and he inches closer to you on his hands and knees, palms splayed on the foot of your air bed.
"So, you want me to stay?"
"No."
"So… should I sleep in the doorway?"
A fair question, considering your answer. You laugh, looking back at him. His smile is softer, much less mocking. It's sweet almost, sanding down your rough edges.
"Yeah, you can be my bodyguard. Protect me from bears and mountain lions and stuff."
He chuckles and climbs over; you lay back on instinct, further away. Leaning right over you, his face is an inch from yours, hair tickling your cheek.
"You know, I could protect this beautiful body of yours better if I was in the sleeping bag with you."
"You don't give up, do you?" You whisper into his skin, sounding braver than you felt.
"It was the sweet and innocent thing, did me in."
He plants a soft kiss to your cheek, brushing your skin, and another, to the corner of your mouth that makes you shiver.
"Tell me to stop."
"Eddie, kiss me."
His mouth is on your then, hot and heavy, tongue begging at your bottom lip. You give him an inch and he takes a mile, tongue sliding against yours with practised movements. Not expecting the full force of his kiss, you suddenly realise you're moaning into his mouth, hands coming to wind into his loose locks.
He breaks away, chuckling at the way you chase his lips.
"You know, you don't kiss like a good girl."
Merely whining in response, you try to catch your breath.
"So, can I get in the sleeping bag? I'm freezing out there."
"Fine, just, no funny business." You point your finger at him, gasping when he licks it long and slow.
"Nothing you don't want me to do." He winks, and pulls his t-shirt over his head.
"What are you doing?"
He ignores you, pulling his socks off and unbuttoning his jeans.
"I'm getting undressed. Why, expect me to sleep in my jeans?"
You merely screw your nose up in response. Stripped down to his boxers, he clambers his lithe body onto the sleeping bag with you, all elbows and knees. Sighing, you move over to accommodate him but he wraps his arms around you.
"Eddie, what-"
"I'm cold sweetheart, just, warm me up a little?"
Your heart is hammering in your ribcage with the realisation that you're entirely out of control of this situation. You allow him to hold you, and hesitantly rest your arm over him. Your head is snuggled into his neck, feeling more comfortable than you had any right to be.
"Eddie, your legs are freezing."
"I know! I wasn't lying, my sleeping bag's shitty."
He pushes his thigh between yours, and you remember a split second too late that you're not wearing any bottoms. Suddenly, his bare thigh is pressed against your naked heat. You're praying to any Gods that might be listening that he doesn't notice, attempting to stay as still as possible.
He's warming up slowly, but you're stiff as a post, trying not to focus on his thigh and the slight pressure it's putting on your most delicate parts.
"So, you gonna tell me what you were doing sweetheart?"
"What?" You whisper into the soft skin of his neck.
"Well, I came out of my tent to see if you were still awake, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning."
"N-no, I wasn't!"
"Quit lying, I can feel your cunt on my leg."
You nearly choke on your own saliva.
"Eddie, you can't just say that!"
You hit him on the chest. He just laughs, dragging your little fist to his mouth to kiss it.
"I can when you're soaking my leg."
Opening your mouth to respond, all words escape you. Especially when he grinds his thigh against your folds. Instead of words, a whimper breaks from your lips.
"Yeah? That good sweetheart?"
The smugness is back, but you can't find it in you to care, not when he rocks his hips and the force of his leg sets loose a roll of pleasure. He's hard, it's pressing into your hip.
A lean arm curls around you, his thick thumb finding its way to your chin to lift it upwards. You stare into his darkened eyes as they dart to your lips and back up.
All resolve is dissolved like ash in the rain as you feel the intensity of his stare and the warmth of him between your thighs. You crash your lips to his desperately, hips chasing friction. When his heavy tongue slips into your mouth you respond in kind, needy and vigorous.
He takes his thigh away and you huff at the loss, but it's not for long, not when that hand of his is stroking down your front, lightly massaging your hardened nipples and chasing down to your stomach. He cups your mound, one finger pushing down on your swollen nub.
"Eddie."
It's a whimper, a plea into his open mouth. Responding by biting your bottom lip softly, he dips his finger lower, circling your entrance gently. His finger slips inside then and you clench around it immediately, moaning at the foreign feeling. It's odd, yes, but it's so good that you cry out.
"Gotta be quiet sweetheart, don't want anyone hearing me fuck you with my fingers."
His crude words are peppering your insides with fire, the evidence of your arousal seeping out of you. Humming in response, you bite your lip, clinging desperately to his side.
He slowly pumps his finger in and out, watching your face. You're slick jawed, eyebrows knitted tight, hips rolling with each thrust of his hand.
"Fuck you're so tight, can barely fit my finger in."
"Eddie, no one's ever-"
"Shhh, I fuckin' know sweetheart. Gonna make you feel really good. Just enjoy it."
He curls his finger inside you, incessantly stroking at something that's making your legs tense up and your insides flutter around him, the heel of his hand flat and hard against that spot again.
"Oh my God!" You whisper urgently, fingernails digging into his sides.
"I know baby, feels good yeah?"
"Uh huh" you manage to breathe out as your eyes squeeze shut.
The pressure collating in your tummy is building and building as he speeds up, finger reaching deep inside. It releases, and flows from you, wave after wave crashing down and washing away everything but Eddie.
You muffle your cries of pleasure in the skin of Eddie's chest, resisting the urge to clamp your teeth into his flesh.
As you come down, he releases his digit with a wet sucking sound that probably would have made you embarrassed five minutes ago, but now it's just inconsequential.
"Still with me?" He asks softly as he hugs you close.
"Barely" You mumble; he chuckles at your reply.
He rolls you on top of him, moving your legs so you're straddling him. His hard on is pressing firmly into your privates, your slick dampening the front of his boxers immediately.
"Eddie, I'm not- I can't have sex with-"
"Sweetheart, you trust me?"
Yes.
"No."
There's that look again, that edge of mocking that isn't making you annoyed anymore, it's making you want to pull his underwear down and slip him inside of you.
"I'm not gonna fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Relax sweetheart."
His hands are on your ass, moving you against him to grind on his rock hard bulge. Your eyes widen, the friction so much better than his thigh.
He lets out a stifled moan, and damn if it isn't the best noise you've heard in your life.
His hands trail under your shirt as you take over moving against him, feeling the shape of him under you. Tugging at the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes.
"Can I- can I take this off?"
All feelings of modesty have fled and you whip your shirt over your head and fling it across the tent.
"Fuck, look at you."
Leaning forward he takes your nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and around.
"Eddie, oh Holy fuck!"
Your movements become faster and sloppy, so he grabs you by the hips to slow you down.
"You know what I think?" He says, in between wet open mouthed kisses to your breasts, "I think you are a freak. You just didn't know it yet." He chuckles darkly, and sucks hard at one of your nipples.
Your moan is loud and bordering on pornographic as you rut yourself against him harshly, all pretence of keeping quiet forgotten as your stomach tightens again in thick knots of pleasure.
"Oh Eddie, I'm- I'm gonna cum oh fuckfuckfuck!"
It all undoes at once as you release and clench around nothing, pussy throbbing with ecstasy. The bones in your body seem to disintegrate, muscles a distant memory as you flop against him.
Eddie's not done.
"Come on sweetheart, just a little longer."
He encourages your hips to move again as you lay on his chest, skin glowing with perspiration. You can only grunt in response and start grinding against him again, the feeling so intense it has you clenching your teeth with pleasure pain.
"That's it, fuck, I'm so close. There's my good girl, just, oh shit, little more."
His praise bubbles through you and you speed up to meet his rutting hips, your slick sticking to the tops of your thighs.
"Feel so good sweetheart, oh shit!"
Lifting your head, you do it just in time to watch Eddie's eyes screw shut, mouth panting open with pleasure as he holds your hips in a death grip. His cheeks and neck are flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing. You press your lips to it softly, leaving feather dusted kisses over his neck and jaw as he comes down from his glowing high.
"Holy shit." He laughs into you, kissing the top of your head over your hair.
"Indeed" your reply is breathless as you melt into his front, attempting to ignore the stickiness.
"As much as I'm enjoying you naked on top of me, I need to, er-" He gestures vaguely at himself with one hand. For a minute you think he's just going to go, but instead he wriggles out of the sleeping bag and whips his boxers down.
You sit back on your heels, mouth agape as he casually cleans his spend with his underwear, wiping at the matted pubic hair. He's big; you could feel him under you but now you're faced with it you fear your eyes may bug out of your head.
Glancing down, you can see some of his cum escaped its fabric confinement; a few drops glisten on your lower abdomen. Curiosity gets the better of you as you gather it on your fingers to feel the consistency, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It's stickier than you thought. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the excess off. It's salty, and strange, but not unpleasant exactly.
When your eyes meet again Eddie looks awestruck, staring at you with the queerest expression on his face.
Embarrassed at being caught, you hide your hand behind your back as if scolded.
"Sorry, was that wrong?"
"No, fuck no," he chuckles, looking away, "just have to stop looking at me like that sweetheart."
"Why?"
"Hell, 'cause you're making me hard again."
"Oh."
You shyly put your head down and settle back down in the sleeping bag's warmth. To your amazement Eddie gets in with you.
"What are you doing?"
"I thought you said I could stay? Or you had enough of me?"
"N-no, I just… well, you're naked."
He laughs hard at that.
"So are you."
Nothing about this seems to phase him, but your mind is swirling around and around. You'd just had your first orgasms ever, and now you're going to be sleeping naked with a man. With Eddie Munson.
He's so much warmer now, skin hot to the touch. Hesitantly, you rest your hand on his chest. He pulls you close, picking up your little camp light with the other hand, fiddling with it briefly before offering it to you.
"Can you switch this thing off?"
You reach and press the button, plunging you both into darkness.
"Night sweetheart."
"Night Eddie."
********************
Early morning light wakes you, filtering through the tent fabric, coating everything in a warm glow.
Eddie is still here, laying on his back, snoring softly with you cuddled to his chest. You'd hate to admit it, but you were glad. Glad he didn't run off in the night. Glad that last night had actually happened and wasn't just your over active imagination playing some cruel joke.
Laying there, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you take a second to really think.
What was actually happening? A part of you is frightened; scared that maybe Eddie sees your virginity as a challenge. Maybe that's why he stayed? You were staying another night after all. Or maybe this is a little holiday romance, something to keep him occupied whilst he's away. You'd had one before at band camp; nothing serious, just kisses and cuddles and radio silence on your return.
What were Robin and Steve going to say? You contemplated waking him up right now to sneak him back to his own tent, but that thought went straight out the window when you caught the sound of their tent being unzipped.
A soft bash to your tent startles you and makes Eddie snort himself awake.
"Hey guys I'm making coffee! Come and join us!"
Robin sings out and walks away to fuss over the fire it sounds like.
Oh Holy shit balls. Hey guys?? She knew Eddie was here. And if she knew, Steve knew.
Eddie smirks down at you as you stare at him with wild panic in your eyes.
"Guess our little secret is out sweetheart."
Before you can say a word he's unzipping the sleeping bag and fumbling about for his jeans, slipping them clumsily onto his legs.
"Eddie!" You whisper urgently. He just chuckles.
"What, want me to cut a hole in the back of the tent? Tunnel out?"
He's got a point.
"Eddie, please just don't-"
"Hey, I ain't one to kiss and tell, relax."
Before you can say another word he's perching a cigarette in between his plump lips and making his way out of the tent.
Fuck.
You pull on your clothes hastily, a skirt and t-shirt, and slide on your sneakers, attempting to untangle some of the messy bed head that had been created during the night.
It's now or never.
You exit the tent, attempting to look as casual about it as you can.
"Morning guys."
Steve smiles at you.
"Howdy cowgirl."
"Hi?"
You return his greeting, utterly confused, but by the sound of Robin shushing him violently and Eddie coughing on his cigarette you can only assume he meant something by that which went over your head. Robin breaks the tension, talking a mile a minute.
"Hey sleepy head! You want a coffee? I just made it over the fire. Crazy! I know it took forever. It'll wake you up. Not that you need waking up you're up and about and it's early! It's not like you had a long night. Well you might have how would I know anyway here's your coffee!!"
Seems you might have gotten a little loud, why else would Robin be breaking the sound barrier? You don't say a thing, just smile gratefully and take your coffee, entirely avoiding Eddie's eyes, and try to wish the blood away from your darkening cheeks.
"So, we thought we might have a swim in the lake in a couple hours when it's warmer, you in?"
Steve asks and you nod, aware your voice right now is not to be trusted.
So, after a little breakfast and small talk about the cold last night, which you put a particular emphasis on to try and explain away your little situation, you all go and change into your swimwear.
In your tent you lay out your usual one piece, the plain black one you always wear with the troop, and the other set. The bikini you bravely bought but never wore, deeming it far too skimpy for camp. But this wasn't girl scouts.
God damn he's already seen me naked, come on, be brave.
Skimpy number it is. You wear it underneath your clothes and grab a towel and a book, readying yourself to join the others.
Eddie and Steve walk ahead, talking obnoxiously loud; something you're quite glad of. At least they aren't whispering about you.
Robin walks side by side with you, practically vibrating.
"Just, whatever you wanna say, say it before you explode."
The voice that exits her mouth is so high pitched you're surprised dogs didn't start barking.
"You had sex with Eddie Munson!"
"I did not!"
"Totally did, we saw you!"
You stop in your tracks, mouth hanging open.
"What the fuck Robin!"
"Sorry, we didn't actually like, see you see you, we saw your shadows, 'cause of the light in your tent."
"We- I- I mean, we didn't, like, have sex, we just- did something else." You settle at lamely.
"Are you going to? He really likes you."
You scoff at that, continuing your walk.
"He's just trying to get in my pants, take my virginity. I doubt he'll even talk to me after."
Robin's hand shoots out to grab your arm.
"Oh, you don't know, do you?"
Feeling utterly confused, you turn to face her.
"What are you going on about?"
"Eddie likes you, he had a crush on you in high school. He was the one that suggested inviting you and nearly killed me when I actually did."
Your world turns sideways in your mind; everything is upside down, thoughts smashed, memories cut to ribbons in their wake.
"Huh? How- what?"
"He was telling Steve like a week ago, I was listening in and opened my mouth as per usual. I tried to tell you, remember?"
You rack your brains trying to come up with answers when a light bulb switches in your head.
"Hang on, you said Eddie wanted me to go before, didn't you? I honestly thought you were just joking with me, I didn't think he knew who I was!"
You reach the tree line and see the two boys a little further on, just on the tiny beach leading to the lake, stripping off their clothes.
"But he was so- so sure of himself!"
"Oh he's always like that. Pretty sure it's an act, he's actually super sweet when you get to know him."
You look up and stare at Eddie in his swim shorts. He'd been naked last night, but with the low light and distraction of seeing his privates for the first time you hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him all over.
He was lean and tall, but there was a broadness to his shoulders and a sinew to his muscles that made him stand out. Tattoos littered his frame, more than you thought he had but the detail was lost at this distance. You were walking closer, still staring at him, when he captures you. Smiling that smug grin of his he holds his arms out as if on display.
"See something you like sweetheart?"
On the edge of shying away, you look down; but then you remember Robin's words. He's the one with the crush on you. Feeling a little braver, bolstered by that thought, you walk closer, a couple of feet away from him, and stop.
"You look really good Eddie."
Pulling your t-shirt over your head, you smile at Eddie's reaction. Clearly not expecting such a bold move from you, his cheeks and neck are flushed pink. For once he seems speechless. You slip your skirt off and away, kicking it to one side.
This leaves you in your tiny baby blue triangle bikini, with delicate daisies embroidered on the hem. For once, your cleavage is fully displayed, and the ties for the bottoms ride high on your hips. You slip two fingers under each tied side and pull them up ever so slightly.
Eddie's eyes dart down and back up again, and you swear you see him swallow thickly in his throat.
"Well, you swimming or not handsome?"
Without a further glance you kick your shoes off and wade into the chilly water.
OK, keep calm, just look at him now.
Risking a quick peek back, you see him standing gormlessly on the sand, mouth hanging open. He looks so dorky, so unlike the Eddie you've seen so far that you giggle aloud.
Steve calls out to him, already in the clear water. He's stumbling into the lake after you then as if a fire was lit underneath him. Robin makes her way in too, and pretty sure you're laughing and splashing each other in earnest, the boys taking turns in dunking each other underwater.
Steve keeps screaming about his hair, which just makes you all laugh that little bit louder. Soon he's moping about it and swims off surprisingly fast. Robin says she wants to dry out and wanders back to the beach to read a little, leaving you and Eddie alone.
He swims straight to you, bodies a couple of inches apart. Suddenly the water doesn't feel so cold, warmed by the heat he seems to pull from you just by being close. That ache is there again, wanting to be filled by Eddie. You try and shake the thought away.
"Seems a little skimpy for a scout leader," he says, gesturing at your two piece.
"Well, I don't wear this one with the troop," you reply, attempting to look blas�� about it.
"So, wore this just for me, sweetheart?"
You shrug, but know your eyes betray you, honesty etched into the look you give him.
"You did, didn't you? That's cute," he responds to his own question, reaching a hand up to hold you by the waist. All of a sudden his breath is in your ear, his other hand reaching up to your chest.
"You look hot by the way, I like the little flowers," as he says it he runs a finger over the hem of your bikini bra making you shudder.
"Eddie," you whisper, meaning to scold him but it just comes out a little too breathy for that.
He continues to whisper in your ear, each word sending a butterfly loose in your swirling stomach. "Wondering if I can stay in that tent of yours again. To stay warm?"
You laugh, turning to face him. "That's not all you want and you know it."
"Yeah?" He comes closer, lips so close to brushing yours, holding your chin between thumb and forefinger. You clench your thighs together as your eyes flutter shut.
"Seems you want more as well," he laughs, pulling back from you. The frown that appears on your face tells him all he needs to know.
As he moves away, his hand drops down, knuckles dragging slowly over your nipple, already pebbled by the water.
"Maybe later princess."
He turns to get out of the water. Furious with how forward he just was you shout after him.
"Eddie, you are such-"
"A cocky mother fucker?" He shouts back, stealing your thunder.
You clench your fists, nearly losing it treading water, and decide to swim away to cool off.
You're finding Robin's words hard to believe. He still seems so confident; maybe his little chat with Steve was a rouse to get you here so he could tease you. If he has liked you all this time, maybe it's just a sexual thing. Seduce the band geek.
When the ache between your thighs is lessened by the burning muscles in your arms and legs you swim back to shore and dry off, laying on your towel to read.
It's like the universe has it in for you today. A few more pages into your fantasy book and suddenly there's a sex scene. Usually, you'd just skim over the 'fruity bits' as your mom called them but now? Now it was as if Eddie had altered your brain chemistry and you found yourself absorbing every word in detail, thighs clenched together almost to the point of pain.
"What you reading?"
You jump visibly and look up to see Eddie couching over you, sodden locks leaving pitter patter drips on your legs.
"Eddie, you're dripping."
He smiles mischievously.
"Am I making you wet, sweetheart?"
You roll your eyes and replace your bookmarker, putting your book down to one side.
"Yes, Eddie, I'm soaking wet for you."
Triumph flashes over your features as you take in his wide eyes; so shocked at your reply he's nearly choking on air.
"You are strange Eddie. You can give it but you can't take it, can you?"
His eyebrows raise and he attempts to cover his flustered appearance.
"I'm just surprised, I thought you were a good girl."
Ignoring your heart thumping hard in your chest at those words, you shrug.
"And here I was thinking it was because you've had a crush on me since high school."
Eddie opens his mouth, and promptly closes it. When he speaks again it's quieter, almost like he's embarrassed.
"Who- how did-"
"Robin."
"Of course."
He stares at you then, all bravado gone. A moment passes where you both try and work out what this means, what the other is thinking.
Eddie coughs and stands up, breaking the spell.
"We're heading back to have lunch, if you wanna come."
He walks off then, not a further glance at you. Wondering if you upset him somehow, you gather your things and head back to camp.
********************
Later that evening, you're huddled around a campfire again having a couple of beers; or, in the case of Steve, several beers. Eddie had been civil, nice even, but there was no edge to him right now. You're not sure if you miss it or not, realising that you had actually grown fond of the push and pull between you, and that grin of his.
He'd disappeared at one point, and returned a little later with his acoustic guitar; beginning playing a little aimlessly, just background music to your tiny circle. He played beautifully; it really was mesmerising to watch his fingers dance over the strings.
"Play me a song, Eddie." You say, before you realise you were saying it aloud.
"Yeah?" He flashes a small smile and you encourage him by placing your hand on his knee.
"OK, just for you then sweetheart."
He breaks into a rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, by the Clash. You're almost certain it's a jab at you because of last night and your failure to make your mind up. You don't mind; listening to the rest of the lyrics you realise you're hoping he means more than just a little in-joke. If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time.
When he finishes you all clap, Robin as quickly as a bird's wings flutters, and Steve just a little too loudly, probably due to too much alcohol.
"Thank you Eddie, that was brilliant." You smile softly at him.
"No problem sweets." He moves to put the guitar away but you wave your arm at him.
"Can I play something?"
A sharp intake of breath rings out from Steve and Robin but you pay it no mind. Eddie looks at you like he's sizing you up. Seems he comes to the conclusion that you aren't just going to pull some rockstar move and smash it on the ground, he passes it to you carefully.
You take it reverently in your hands and get comfortable with it, tuning the G string slightly as it was a little off when you heard it.
An idea springs to mind and you grin deviously to Robin over the fire, a grin which is reciprocated. She knows what you're about to do. The Band Camp thing.
You start to play the very beginning of a song extremely loudly, singly wildly off key.
"Kumbaya, my Lord-"
"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Eddie shouts, lurching a hand toward you to clamp over the fret.
"I'm kidding!" You giggle, prying his fingers away. Robin's laughing and Steve looks like he's about to burst, swaying in his seat.
"OK, no funny business."
"Not unless you ask for it." You wink, and start to play what you had intended all along.
"One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all…"
You lose yourself in the song, the melody. When you were younger you had just assumed it was nothing but a song about Alice in Wonderland. You knew better now, but it was fun to play and it suited your voice.
As you came to the conclusion your eyes fluttered shut and you sang out the last couple of lines like no one was even there.
"Remember what the dormouse said
Feed your head
Feed your head!"
Whooping and clapping finally reaches your ears as you open your eyes. Robin is going insane; Steve is shouting but it sounds slurred. Eddie just looks stunned as you pass his precious guitar back to him.
"You're incredible sweetheart." He looks genuinely impressed, staring at you with such intensity it makes you squirm.
"It was OK, my strumming's a little sloppy."
"But your voice! Jesus Christ, I've got goosebumps. You should sing, like, all the time."
You laugh, swatting him with your hand.
"I think that might get a little annoying."
"I'd love to listen to it all the time."
The sweet moment is broken by Robin gagging loudly.
"Munson that was so cheesy I'm gonna hurl."
He just shrugs, unbothered, and puts his guitar away. You didn't think it was too cheesy. In fact, you're breathless, thoughtless. The ache was settling back in, so deep in your bones there was no willing it away. It was clear; you needed him. Biblically.
As that realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, a soft thud breaks through to you. Steve has fallen backwards, already snoring.
"Well, looks like he needs to go to bed. Give me a hand guys."
Eddie stands up and lifts Steve bodily round his waist. Robin and you hover nearby, but he doesn't need your help after all.
Steve's giggling childishly, slurring words together.
"Don' wanna go bed, wan' sing too!"
"Sing in the morning, big guy."
You help Robin tuck him into his sleeping bag, as Steve mumbles Kumbaya under his breath.
Robin huffs. "I'll take it from here," and quieter, just to you, she whispers, "I'm putting earplugs in, go have fun."
"Robin, I-"
"Shhh you'll wake the baby. Just go, go!"
You leave the tent and see Eddie sitting by the fire, rolling a joint.
"Erm, Robin's going to bed too."
"Oh?" He looks at you, quirking one eyebrow. "Are you?"
"I'm not tired."
That shit-eating grin of his is back, tugging at the corners of his mouth slowly.
You sit down, right next to him, knees touching. He finishes rolling, licking it closed with a pointed tongue you can't help but stare at.
As he starts smoking, you finally let loose what's been on your mind all day.
"Why did you act funny with me? After I said you have a crush?"
He huffs a little laugh, blowing smoke through his nose.
"I thought that was obvious. I was embarrassed."
"Really? I didn't know Eddie Munson could get embarrassed."
He takes another drag and looks away.
"Yeah, well it happens. I don't like people knowing too much about me. Rather come across as mean and scary and-"
"-cocky?"
"Ha, yeah."
It's quiet again, but not a loaded quiet. You feel comfortable, almost enjoying the silence; just the slight rustle of pine needles in the breeze, and an owl hooting far away.
"You want some of this?"
Eddie's touch pulls you back to the moment, rough fingertips grazing you. The touch burns again, but differently this time. This time you melt under it.
"Can you, do that thing?" You ask in a small voice.
He smiles wickedly, straightening his legs out.
"Come here" He says as he pats his lap. You straddle him awkwardly, not sure if this is what he meant, but a firm hand grabs you by the ass and shifts you closer to him so your chests are flush.
"Like this?" You ask quietly, breathing the question.
"Just like that baby."
He takes a long toke and beckons you forward with one finger. When you're in range, nose lightly brushing his, he brings your chin toward him with one firm hand and presses his lips to your mouth.
Stiffening with surprise, you quickly soften, disarmed by his lips. You part yours and he breathes the smoke into you, allowing you to inhale deeply. Breaking away, you exhale the smoke downwards and look into his deep eyes.
"Do it again."
He bites his lip and smiles, flashing his teeth. He repeats the gesture; taking a pull, smashing his lips to yours and breathing into you. He doesn't let you pull away to breathe out; instead he presses his tongue into your mouth. Smoke burns your nose as you submit to him, the kiss becoming filthy and desperate as he grips onto the flesh of your ass.
Finally he lets up, if only to breathe. You're both panting, electricity in the air passing between and through you.
"I like it like that." You smile, hand resting on his chest.
"You keep surprising me sweetheart." He responds, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips.
A fuzziness rushes through every nerve, all of your body crying out, singing for him.
"You know, I don't mind cocky Eddie."
"Yeah? I thought I annoyed you."
"A little. But it kinda turns me on." You respond, rolling your hips into him.
"Oh fuck sweetheart," he roughly grips you, forcing you to do it again, "you drive me fuckin' crazy."
He's on your neck, kissing and licking at you almost tenderly.
"Eddie, please," you whisper, mind abandoning any clarity as he kisses you.
"Please? What do you need, sweetheart?"
How can you answer? What do you need?
"Eddie, I-I need you, please," you whisper into his ear, rocking against his hardening bulge.
He bites down on your neck, eliciting a gasp to spill from your lips.
"Tent." Is all he manages to say, and you stumble upwards on wobbly legs, to lead him to it.
Fumbling for the zip, you just about get inside it when you feel his hands on you gently pushing you forward. A small touch is all it takes and you're falling onto the air bed, knees bending as you collapse face forward.
He's on your back before you can think, firm arms caging you in from behind.
"You need me? Really?"
You nod, squirming underneath him, a small hand curling around his forearm.
"Dreamed about you saying that, fuck." He whispers, lips pressing to your shoulder, "turn around."
You can't find it in you to not comply. Wobbling the mattress, you twist to face him, engulfed in the intensity of his stare, illuminated by the fading light emanating from the fire.
"Say it again." It's soft, but ironclad in the centre.
"I need you Eddie."
"Fuck" He huffs, moving down your torso, pulling your t-shirt up so it kisses the edge of your breasts. He looks up at you with pleading eyes; a look that turns your insides to mush.
"Can you turn the light on? I need to see you."
He sounds so desperate, so in need that you waste no time in grabbing your camp light and switching it on, bathing you both in cool white light.
As he's pulling your top up, you assist and pull it over your head, flinging it to a corner.
"You are really beautiful." He says, drinking you in with his eyes, as a calloused hand strokes between the valley of your breasts. You slide under his confident touches, getting more anxious by the minute.
"Can I taste you?"
You nod, and he unbuttons your skirt, pulling your panties down with a roughness that makes you flinch. You're entirely exposed.
"I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time."
You wriggle underneath him, and reply. "Didn't you get me like this last night?"
"This," he says, gesturing to your revealed flesh, "this is different."
You don't quite get it and want him to explain further, but his lips are on your nipples and all that comes out of you is a heady moan. A firm knee pushes your thighs apart and you bend to his will, allowing him to kiss down, and down, leaving hot pressured mouth trails to your stomach.
When his lips meet the tops of your thighs you cry out his name.
He understands, slipping his tongue between your folds and licking at your clit with pointed precision.
"Oh fuck!"
A chuckle emanates from his throat as he doubles his efforts, flicking and suckling at you in earnest. Thick fingers tease your entrance and one slides into your glistening opening, pumping slowly.
It shocks through your body, setting loose tendrils of pleasure so profound it's almost a religious experience. He prods another finger at you, sliding it next to the first and it burns, making you hiss.
Eddie mumbles platitudes into your pussy, telling you how good a job you're doing, how proud he is, how you're a good girl. His good girl.
The tension is unbelievable, clenching every muscle as your breath comes in short pants.
"That's it sweetheart, sing for me."
The fingers curl, stroking something incessantly inside you that rips a sultry groan from deep within your chest cavity, and without further warning your orgasm washes through. It collects and expands, a force of nature that flies out and collides like stars in the universe.
Your back falls to the air mattress, and that's the only signal you have that it ever left. You feel soaked in your own juices, thighs uncomfortably wet.
Eddie hovers over your face. You're not quite sure when he got there.
"That OK sweetheart?"
You don't reply, you can't. Your response can only be carnal, feeding into the biting, gnawing need that still refuses to lessen its grip on your core. Bringing shaking hands upward, you wind them into his hair and pull his face forcefully towards yours, tongue slipping in to taste your slick in his mouth, groaning at the tangy sweet flavour.
He collapses against you, full weight of his lithe body pressed into yours, but it's not enough. Pulling away and leaving less than an inch of space you voice your frustration.
"Eddie, please, I- I want you. I want you inside me, please."
Eddie shakes his head for a second, then deep brown eyes seek yours for any doubt, and come up empty.
"Are you sure sweetheart?"
The nod you reciprocate with is painfully fast, hurting the muscles of your neck. He looks uncertain, but discards his clothes, kneeling in front of you in his boxer shorts.
"I need you to be sure. I can't give it back."
You let your legs fall further apart, giving him the view of you open and ready for him.
"Please."
Underwear has never been discarded quicker. He has his cock in his hand, sliding on a condom from his crumpled jeans at record speed. A second later and he's towering over you, nose brushing yours and dick lined up to your sopping entrance.
His tip breaches you, so much thicker than his fingers, and you wince. You can tell he's trying to be careful, pushing into you slowly, watching for any signs you want to stop.
You're so full, and he just keeps going. A moment later and you let out a little startled cry as a sharp pain shoots from deep inside.
"You OK sweetheart?" He stops his movements, staring at your face with a worried expression.
"I'm fine, just, go all the way" you manage through gritted teeth.
He slips the last of it deep, deep inside as you yelp at the suddenness. Then, he's still, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers with his over your head, his other arm holding him perfectly motionless above you.
"That's it, you're OK, so fuckin' tight, fuck," he says to you, kissing your cheek. It burns, the feel of him, but a fullness is beginning to overtake that ache.
"You know, I thought you were afraid of me in high school." He half laughs, kissing the tip of your nose. It's such a sweet gesture from the so-called frightening man that you giggle a little too.
"I was," you admit, staring into his deep eyes.
"Then, we come here and you look like you're gonna eat me alive. Then, you're all innocent, and now… fuck, I can't keep up."
You appreciate what he's doing, talking to you, distracting you from the pain. It helps; it's settled into a dull throb and your need from him is outranking it.
"Eddie, you can move."
With a peck to your lips he pulls out a little and thrusts back in, setting a slow and steady pace.
This is so much better than his hands, or his tongue. On every thrust he's massaging at something that makes you moan, again and again.
"You're doing real good sweetheart, my good fuckin' girl."
All of a sudden you feel it, all of it. His lean weight comforting over you, the squeeze of his fingers in yours, the throb of his member inside you, his words. It's all too much. Your eyes gloss over and a tear works its way down your temple.
"Oh shit, you want me to-" He starts as he slows down a little.
"Don't you fucking dare, please, please, I-I need-"
He grins at you; that self satisfied look that turns your legs to jelly.
"What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."
"Harder Eddie, oh God!"
He snaps his hips into you with much more force; once, twice, three times and you scream his name, pussy clenching him hard, every muscle tense. As everything unravels you go limp, whimpering at the pulse that you can feel pounding in your core.
When your eyes finally decide to open, he's leaving kisses as light as a butterfly's wings on your cheek.
"Woah," is all you can say, between breathless giggles. Tears are falling but you don't care enough to wipe them away.
Eddie unlatches his hand from yours and does it himself.
"That was so hot. You need to do that again," he whispers, beginning to grind into you slowly.
"I nearly died Eddie, it might finish me off!"
He laughs back, but doesn't quit; hips still driving into you leisurely.
"What's life without a little risk?"
You stare up at him, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue that you're too nervous to ask.
"What is it?" He asks, brow furrowed, as if you were about to ask him to stop.
"Can I… wait, don't worry."
He does stop then, to put his hand to your face and stroke you with his thumb.
"Hey hey hey, come on, what baby?"
You whisper it quietly, voice small and second guessing.
"Can I try, erm, being on top?"
You're surprised that Eddie's face didn't split in half from the sheer wideness of his grin.
"Holy shit, yes, please."
He winds his arms underneath your frame and flips you so fast your vision blurs, until he's underneath you. You sit up, his cock still buried within, and you gasp at the new angle.
"Eddie, Jesus Christ!"
Palms splayed on his chest, you control your breathing a little. This angle is devastating, pressing harshly against that place inside that has you throbbing around him.
Eddie chuckles darkly as his hands slide over the flesh of your thighs, rubbing back and forth, until they work their way to your hips and pull you up ever so slightly, only to drop you back down again.
"Just like that sweetheart, 'Kay?"
He tilts his head to one side, that mocking tone fuelling the embers of your desire. Rising up on shaky knees you pull off him and slide back down, trying to find some semblance of rhythm. Your clit grazes his pubic hair on one pass and you nearly lose it completely, the feeling sending a bolt of pure pleasure up your spine.
"Oh my God!"
"Yeah? That good?"
You hum and nod, words escaping you, now rolling your hips on each bounce to get that sensation over and over.
Eddie's talking now, watching how much you writhe and whine at his words.
"That's it sweetheart. Wanting to- oh fuck- ride me, on your first time. Oh yes, fuck, just like that- dirty, my dirty fuckin' girl."
"Eddie, oh God, can you, fuck, please-"
"What is it sweetheart? Anything, you can have anything."
His words embolden you, and before you can hesitate your hands are gripping one of his and leading it to your throat. You're not sure why, but you know deep in your core that you need it.
Eddie looks shocked by your moments but quickly recovers, fingers slotting around your throat, squeezing lightly at the sides.
Speeding up, feeling the pressure of his hand on your windpipe, you throw your body into each movement.
"Fuck Eddie, harder!"
He squeezes and you let go of everything, breath leaving you. All composure, all thought. It's just you and Eddie, and his hand, and his cock. Screaming aloud, you fold almost double, collapsing into him with a shocked, delicate whimper.
His fingers relinquish their firm grip, coming to rest on the back of your head in a comforting, tender hold.
"I was right, you are a freak."
Laughing aloud, you have just enough bones left in your neck to lift it ever so slightly. He looks surprised, sure, and really aroused, judging by his hooded gaze.
"Are you not… done?" You ask, as you feel his impossibly hard length still throbbing inside you.
"What can I say, I've got stamina."
That smug face is back, a flash of canines and confidence. You'd roll your eyes if it wasn't so sexy.
No time for a witty comeback though, as he holds you close to him and thrusts upwards with abandon. Colours swirl in your vision as you try to stay attached to reality, focusing on the feel of his skin, the pounding of his rhythm, and the light in his eyes.
"Fuck I'm close, I'm so fuckin' close. You're, oh shit, so- oh God, can't believe you're letting me do this."
Slack jawed and practically dribbling, you let him use you to chase his own release, trying to weakly meet his thrusts. A pulse deep inside is brought to your attention, and it's not yours. Looking at his face, you watch it awash with ecstasy as he holds you tightly and throbs his climax out.
His muscles melt, holding you still but so loosely that the lack of pressure surprises you, as if you were only aware of how tight his grip had been at this very moment.
The only sounds are the nightlife of insects around the tent, and panting, heaving breaths. Sliding off of him in an organic gesture, you curl up into his arms, finally feeling sated and at ease.
Lips are pressed into the top of your head, kissing you over your hair. No words are spoken; none need to be. For a shining moment, this is all you need. To be held, and cared for.
Minutes go by, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before you drift off, Eddie breaks the spell cast over both of you.
"Was that OK princess?"
"That was incredible Eddie."
He kisses the top of your head again, then seems to remember himself.
"Fuck sweetheart, just, stay right there."
Clambering to his feet he pulls the condom off, tying it in a knot and discarding it into a corner to be thought of later. He's back then, spreading your legs.
'Eddie, you can't just-"
"I'm just looking after you sweetheart. You got some tissues or something?"
Furrowing your brows, you point to your wash bag near the foot of the sleeping bag. He paws through it wordlessly, and brings out some tissues and wet wipes.
"Sweetheart I'm so sorry."
"What's wrong?" You ask, panic riding your words.
"I've made you bleed." Eddie looks crushed, so upset at your prior pain, anguish etched into his face.
"It's OK Eddie, it's normal."
"You should have said. I'm so sorry."
You laugh a little, touched by his concern.
"I didn't know! It's alright, it doesn't hurt now."
Placated slightly by your answer, he cleans you both up as well as he can, before slipping into the sleeping bag with you.
A thousand questions perch on the edge of your tongue, but it's so warm, so cosy and right, that your body denies all words for a moment.
When you feel capable of speech you look up at him.
"Stamina, huh?"
He flushes, looking down at your smiling face.
"I may have tactically jerked off beforehand."
"When??" You giggle, fingers flirting over his exposed chest.
"When I went to get my guitar."
"Eddie, how did you know that-"
"OK, OK!" He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles before hiding behind it, "I didn't know, not for sure. You just looked so good in that little two piece, I couldn't hold it in."
"Perv," you respond, but your eyes are soft.
"Yep."
Giggling, you slip into a calm, contented sleep in his arms.
********************
You wake up a little later than intended, no doubt exhausted from last night. The tent feels empty. Upon realising that Eddie's missing a dread settles in your stomach. Bile rises as you sling some clothes on. Maybe he's had his way with you and that's it.
Exiting the tent, you see he's just by the fire, trying to get it going again, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips.
"Oh would you just- come on!" He says as he angrily flicks his lighter, trying to get the wood to catch.
You smile, relief washing over you, and walk over to help.
"I'm begging, come on- oh, sweetheart," he looks a little sheepish as he speaks to you, mumbling around his cigarette. "I was gonna make you coffee and bring it to you but the damn fire won't start."
You giggle, and rearrange the little pile, adding a few twists of paper to the base, and hold your hand out to him. He looks at you blankly for a second, then comes to his senses, placing the lighter in your palm.
With one stroke the papers alight, and starting to catch the rest of the twigs. The couple of logs won't take long to catch.
"Witchcraft."
"Nope, just girl scouts."
"You can go back in the tent if you want, I'll make you a drink."
"Eddie?"
"Huh?" He turns to you, pot of water in his hand.
"Good morning." You smile shyly at him. He grins, placing the pot on the ground and stubbing out his cigarette. Strong arms slot their way around your waist and you fling your arms around his neck, grinning stupidly at each other.
"Good morning. Good night?" It's framed as a question, and you know what he's getting at.
"Great night."
Smiling wider, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Puckering your lips to ask for a proper kiss, you hear a very loud cough.
"Good morning love birds." Robin wiggles her eyebrows at you both. You move to break away from Eddie, but he steals a kiss anyway, and pulls you close to his side, arm firmly around you.
"Is Steve alive?" He asks, looking at Robin.
"Well, he got up in the night to throw up, just glad he didn't do it in the tent. He's dead to the world right now. He's been singing in his sleep you know. Nearly suffocated him with a pillow."
You both laugh at that, and then hear a loud groan from the tent.
Eddie glances at you with mischief and shouts out towards Steve's tent.
"Harrington! Wanna sing for us, big guy?"
"Urgh." Is the only reply. Robin rolls her eyes and busies herself with the fire.
After a while, the coffees are ready; you all attempt to rouse Steve but he's gone back to sleep, groaning whenever you call out to him.
Then, it's just the sad business of taking down your tent. There's a special kind of melancholy reserved for such an occasion; pretty soon there's no sign at all that it was ever there. Afraid that your memories, your feelings, about last night would fade too, you walk over to Eddie who is perched on a stump fitting the last of his things in a bag.
"Eddie?"
"Yeah sweetheart?" He asks, still fumbling with his bag.
Do you still like me? Do you want to see me after this? Was this all a dream?
"Can I get a ride back with you? Steve and Robin are gonna be a while."
You gesture over to where Steve had finally emerged, whining and packing his stuff, tent still upright.
"Sure, anything you need." He flashes a tight lipped smile and reaches to grasp your hand briefly.
The ride back to town with him is chatty, even if it's only surface level stuff. Your rendition of White Rabbit had him fumbling around the glove compartment and pulling out a few older classic rock tapes that you happily listened to; music was a big part of your life, at least you both had that in common. His eyes light up whenever you talk about a band or song that he likes too, gesturing so emphatically with his hand you have to remind him to look at the road.
Pretty soon you're pulling up to a crossroads, except Eddie pulls over instead.
"What's wrong?"
He huffs, smiling at you sadly.
"If I keep driving forward I've got to say goodbye to you, take you home," he admits. Your heart flutters at the admission.
"Where do you live, Eddie?" He looks confused, but points to the left turning.
"Eddie, turn left."
"Really?"
"Really. I was supposed to stay at Robin's tonight anyway."
His grin is downright manic as he pulls back on the road, making short work of the drive to his trailer.
He bundles you out of the van and opens the trailer door, both of your bags heaved over one of his shoulders.
The sight of an older gentleman startles you as he potters around the kitchen area.
"Hey! This is Wayne, my Uncle. Wayne, this is my girlfriend."
Your eyes widen as he gives your name to his uncle and you shake hands with him, the roughest hand you think you've ever touched, but the softest grip.
"Pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm heading out today, so I'll see you two later I'm guessing."
He waves and smiles fondly at the pair of you, and leaves.
"Sorry, thought he would've left already." He explains, pulling you both to the back of the trailer and into what you assume is his room.
Allowing yourself to be led, still feeling shell shocked, you perch on the edge of his bed as he dumps the bags on the floor.
Eddie's talking, saying how he wishes he tidied before he left, how the trailer's not much but it's home, and his uncle…
"Eddie, wait."
He stops mid flow to look at you.
"Girlfriend?"
"Well yeah? I mean, if you want to. I didn't ask, did I?" He flushes pink, hand reaching up to nibble at his thumb.
"I mean, you don't know me, really." You shrink, almost folding in on yourself.
"Hey," he sits down next to you, stroking your jaw with his finger, "I know enough. And I let you touch my guitar. We're practically married now."
Lips press softly to yours, a delicate touch that has all tension flying from your body in a rush.
"Eddie…" You whisper, giving him a butterfly kiss with the tip of your nose.
"Hmm?"
"You smell really bad."
He laughs and grabs you around the waist, pulling you down sharply to lay on the bed.
"So do you."
"A point well made." A response, but you don't move, snuggling deeper into his neck.
"So, I've got an idea. Let's have showers, get into some comfy stuff, and cuddle. Probably got a movie or two we can watch?"
The normalcy of the situation is surprising, but most welcome.
Smiling wickedly, you nip at his neck and whisper in his ear.
"One condition: we shower together."
He groans loudly, hands stroking at any skin he can reach.
"Fuuuck, sweetheart, I've created a monster."
You laugh, and hold him tightly. Eddie Munson isn't so scary, after all.
Taglist (just some people I thought might like this, hope you don't mind!)
@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonfuxks
#ms gexy writes#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie x you#cocky eddie#cocky eddie munson#experienced!eddie#eddie x female reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x fem!oc#eddie x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie x virgin reader#eddie munson x virgin reader#eddie fanfic#stranger things#stranger things fan fic#stranger things fan fiction#stranger things smut
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WHERE ARE YOU TONIGHT? (JASON TODD)
NOTES/CW - mild angst but it's short lived, porn with plot, mutual masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, shower sex, happy ending, the endings a little rushed, i think that's all?
It was the early hours of the morning, and you had been "sleeping" restlessly all night. The worry of something happening to Jason loomed in the darkness every time you closed your eyes. Tiredness weighed you down, but it was no match for the sickening feeling in your gut that came around every time he was a little late coming home. It didn't matter how long it had been since you started dating him; you found that nothing eased the nerves or the ache when you started to overthink about what he could possibly be doing at that moment instead of being beside you.
Hot water runs down your chest, and you crane your neck away from the heavy streams coming from your showerhead. Steam curls up and out of the shower, dampening the ceiling with tiny droplets of water. And the heat doesn't do much for your mind but it does ease the physical ache that comes with sleep deprivation. That's not what you needed right now though; what you needed were the thoughts of Jason dying alone, again, out of your head.
Your hand reaches for the knob and turns it the absolute farthest it would go, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out your surroundings and the familiarity of this space you'd shared with him so many times.
Jason, Jason, Jason. Where was he?
The jarring sound of metal sliding across metal invades your ears and is quickly followed by the presence of someone else entering the cramped space. "Did you hear me? I was calling your name."
There he was.
The feeling of his arms around your waist brings you back to reality. His voice could have just been your head messing with you, but this, him wrapped around you, this was real. "How was patrol?" You say carefully, trying to keep your words, even for fear that he'll hear the distress in your voice. "You're home later than usual." He noses at your neck, and he hums into the skin, water pelting his head and soaking his hair. You bring your hand up to his wet locks, rubbing gently, deciding not to ask again, knowing he wouldn't answer anyway.
His fingers knead at the flesh on your hips as you both just stand there in the scalding hot water. "I missed you." You say, feeling him exhale deeply into your neck and slide his hands further up your body. Large, warm hands find your breasts, squeezing lightly. He breathes in your scent, a comfort to him after a long night of taking out criminals, something to ground him the same way he grounds you. He pinches at your nipple, rolling it around and tugging lightly, and your breath hitches at the stimulation of the lewd action.
"Did you miss me?" You sounded desperate, pathetic even, like you were begging for your life when you really were just craving his affection. He laughs wryly, head lifting from out of the crevice of your neck, and his lips find the space behind your ear.
He presses a kiss to the skin and brings his head down again to nip at your earlobe. "You always ask me that," he says lowly, the bass in his voice reverberating against your eardrum. "I just wanna know."
One of his hands slowly drags down your chest, over the hill of your chest, and you moan at the warmth spreading through your body. "You're too..." he moves further down your torso, "in your head sometimes." Lower and lower, "but it's okay," until it settles between the wet heat between your legs, "I can fix it."
He rubs gently, pointer finger ghosting over your clit, while he presses his boner into you. You hadn't even realized how turned on you were until this very moment, until you were suddenly all too aware of how close he was to you, drenched in water and naked. His thumb presses the sensitive nub between your legs, the added pressure making your back arch into him, feeling his dick dig into the soft flesh of your ass.
"You know I love you, right?" He asks, rubbing small quick circles into your clit, earning a gasp from you. "You do, right?" You swallow hard, nodding your head while one of your hands finds its way to your lonely breast while the other slips behind you to Jason's crotch. "Mmm, that's right, I know you do."
You feel around for his cock, the task made more difficult by the fuzziness clouding your brain from the thick finger that was slowly making its way into your cunt. The size of your hand was nothing compared to the size of his dick; his erection was heavy in your hand, radiating heat and weighing it down, but god, did you need it in you.
You stroke from the base to the tip, using his pre-cum as lube, and he groans into the side of your neck. His thumb leaves your clit as his middle finger joins in on stretching you out. Two thick fingers sit deep in your cunt, curling into your sweet spot, the sensation sending chills down your spine. The pitter-pattering conceals the squelching sounds of Jason fucking his fingers into you and the pornographic moans escaping your lips.
Long, slow strokes of his dick become short and shallow as you jerk him off while his fingers continuously move in and out of you. You attempt to focus on the task at hand, getting him off, but your breath quickens, and you go weak in the knees as your climax approaches. The tingling of your nerves puts you on edge, and you have to refrain from squeezing his dick too hard as you get lost in pleasure.
The water's almost run cold by now, and every single drop should feel like a piece of hail on your skin, but it doesn't. The nearly ice-cold droplets don't compare to the temperature of your body when he's got you riled up like this. Your climax was quickly approaching, and you knew Jason's was, too, by the way his groans and grunts were becoming more frequent. He had started rocking his hips back and forth into your hand, and you were sure your fingers would be painted in cum sometime soon. "I'm sorry, baby," He mutters, "Sorry for what I'm about to do." it comes out breathlessly, and if you were facing him, he'd see the confused expression etching itself on your face. "But it'll be worth it. Promise."
His words are followed by an unwelcome emptiness, one that leaves you clenching around nothing, aching to be filled once more. He withdraws his fingers from your cunt with a pop that you can't hear but definitely can feel, and his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you from jerking him any longer. You turn to face him, ready to object, and plead, and beg on your knees if you had to, but you never get the chance.
His hands cup your cheeks, and he kisses you deeply, your mouths falling into a familiar synchronization. "Feel like I can't fuck you without kissing you first." You finally get a good look at him for the first time since he'd gotten home, hair wet and eyes green as ever, strong features looking especially intimidating in the dim lighting of your bathroom, and muscles earned from years of training littered with bruises he'd ice when you weren't around.
While you find yourself admiring his features, he takes your shoulders in his hands and gently pushes you up against the shower wall. Gripping your thigh, he lifts your leg up and aligns himself with your entrance. He pushes inside of you with a deep groan and stills himself for a few seconds so you can adjust to the stretch. It's a dull pain, an intense throb deep in your womb that leaves your legs weak and you more wet than anything.
He keeps your leg up and places his palm flat on the shower wall, bracing himself before drawing out of you completely and plunging back inside. His hips rock rhythmically, each pump of his cock leaving you holding onto him for dear life. His hand curls into a fist against the wall, and you know he's close, already having been wound up from fucking your hand earlier. He towers over you, wet hair hanging in his face, muscles tensed, as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.
You bring your arm up around his neck, pulling him as close as you can without causing you guys to slip. His breath is hot on your face, combatting the chilliness of the water, and you're hard-pressed not to kiss him, but you couldn't, not when you were so close to release, not when you wanted to see his face when he came.
You bring your hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit, trying to bring yourself over the edge, and he lifts your leg higher and buries himself even deeper. A loud moan slips out of your mouth and echoes off the walls as he hits that soft spongy spot deep in your cunt again and again. Soon enough, the knot in your stomach completely unravels, and you tremble as your orgasm washes over you, his big arms keeping you upright as your eyes roll back.
Your eyes flutter open just in time to see his face contort. Brows furrowed, and jaw clenched as his hips stutter, pace faltering as he's sent off the deep end. His grunts get louder, and he begins to sound almost animalistic until he lets out one final sound, long and drawn out as he fills your guts.
The both of you stand there, catching your breath as the shower rains down on you, skin dripping and water pooling at your feet. Your chest heaves, and your eyes close to avoid drops of water getting in your eyes. He pulls out slowly, giving you time to adjust to the emptiness before gently letting go of your leg and helping you stand up straight. His hand finds the shower knob, turning until the water stops, and you admire him from behind as he steps out of the shower, grabbing a couple of towels.
"Do you get it now?" He asks, holding open a towel, waiting for you to step into it. "Get what?" you ask, using the wall to hold yourself up, legs still weak from Jason being so deep in you just a few moments ago. "Get that I love you?"
His arms wrap around you, tucking the towel into itself before pulling you close and bringing his lips to your forehead. His lips are warm, and he smells nice, like a mixture of soap and gunpowder. Ironic because he didn't wash and will probably hop back in the shower when you're fast asleep.
He looks down at you earnestly, waiting for a response to his question, and you would call him ridiculous, but you know he needs to hear this just as much as you need to hear him say that he loves you in the first place. "Yes," you nod. "I know that you love me."
"Good."
edited this for like four hours so if there are any typos and errors that's just what the universe intended.
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x you#jason todd smut#jason todd drabble#jason todd fic#jason todd imagine#jason todd blurb#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x you#red hood smut#red hood drabble#red hood fic#red hood imagine#red hood blurb
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everybody loves my baby
an historical au | 1930's florist!reader x dilfgangster!rafe (minors dni)✶
tw: v!olence, sex
✶ gangster!rafe, who makes sure everyone knows that you're off limits. Whether it is by gently placing his hand on the back of your soft neck and slowly caressing it with his calloused knuckles, using one of his large fingers to softly trail down one of your arms while the both of you are sitting next to each other in a restaurant, putting his muscled arm around you like a mantle, giving you warmth and comfort, and even taking your hand in his to plant a kiss on the palm as he closes his eyes and sniffs to take in your scent without the care of what others might think of your intimacy. You were his and he was yours, and that was truly all that mattered.
✶ gangster!rafe, who would do anything to protect you. Literally. If anyone ever laid a hand on his pretty little florist, they'd have to go through him, and it certainly wouldn't end so jolly.
"You dared to touch my woman, hm. Well, not so confident now, are you."
he said in a low, menacing chuckle as he shook his head slowly, cornering the man before him in the lonely and dimly lit corridor behind the bar. He had gone to the washroom for just one minute- one minute without you in his plane on sight, and a man walked over to you and started complimenting you before giving you a rose. That wasn't the problem though. When you thanked him kindly and smelled the rose, he pulled his arm up to brush a strand out of your face. And so, he had to take the matter to his own hands.
"Now now, i'm sure you're a good fella and understand that it was just a minor misunderstanding!"
the man quickly said in a pleading tone, obvious fear in his wide eyes, which were easily comparable to a frightened doe's, before proceeding to pat Rafe's shoulder with one of his shaking hands- almost as if they were old friends. Rafe shook his hand away in a swift motion, as if he had just been touched by a rat who had come out off a trash can. He punched the man on his ribcafe after his fake of a charming smile vanished and turned into a dark frown as if he was no longer who he was before. His other hand reached to the other's mouth as the man made muffled yowls of pain. He, however, didn't even flinch once.
"You're damn lucky i'm a generous man, so make sure to take this as a lesson for the future, yes? to keep your hands to yourself? wouldn't want to cut all your fingers off and make a mess on my shirt."
he then smirked almost playfully, his expression once again changing in a matter of seconds before moving his hand up and shaking it, then putting it inside the pockets of his brown pants and using the other in order to adjust his white, high quality long-sleeved shirt. The man was now practically on the floor, whimpering as he crouched against the stone wall behind him as he shamefully covered his face with his shaking hands. It was truly an embarrassing sight. Once Rafe was finished, he turned his back and opened the back door to the bar, tilting his head to the side and staring at him one last time.
"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to more important matters- the wonderful evening I was having with her before you, very rudly I might say, abruptly interfered."
✶ gangster!rafe, who likes giving you nicknames that represent your beauty such as 'dollface', 'peach', and his personal favorite, 'dandelion'. You absolutely adore them too- the way they always roll off his tongue so sweetly, like butter being spread on a slice of bread. He's a man who admires and cares for your body, your mind and very being as if you were a princess or a delicate porcelain vase with beautiful painted flowers.
"Look at you, m' pretty dandelion all dolled up for me." he murmurs as he carefully places his head over your shoulder, blue orbs looking into your eyes through the mirror of your bedroom while his hands found your waist and gently nestled around it. His lips were slightly curved upwards, making the hint of his smile shown to you. One of his fingers traced small circles on your waist, making you let out a small and flustered chuckle as you covered your mouth with one of your hands in a polite manner to hide it. You were wearing one of your newer dresses- a pretty light blue polka-dotted dress that perfectly hugged your figure. This, was one of the many dresses Rafe gifted you in the past two weeks. Your lips had red tint and your cheeks had a faint pink color on them- a little bit of makeup, but not too much. His eyes trailed down, all the way to the contour of your legs and to the white leathered heels you were wearing. in his eyes, you truly were a work of art- like a Renaissance painting that had come to life. Now, he was a man that firmly believed that actions spoke more than words, so as soon as his eyes met with yours once again, he planted sweet kisses on your neck alongside little nibbles. This, was his own way of letting you know that you looked absolutely stunning.
✶ gangster!rafe, who, despite having so much blood on his hands, is always careful with you and tries to avoid showing you his darker side as much as he can. Who doesn't want you to know all the sins he has done, all the people he had killed before, in fear of loosing you forever.
''Y'know how much I care about you, right kid?'' he asks after taking a long drag from his cigarette, voice almost a whisper as he's sitting on the sofa of your living room while you laid next to him, head resting on the armrest and legs over his lap while his free hand slowly massages one of your bare feet. He stared at you, blinking slowly. The sudden of a question made you open your once closed eyes and perk your head up to look up at him with an innocent, confused stare. ''Well, certainly. I always have.'' you replied softly, giving him a reassuring smile before it vanished as soon as it appeared. You sensed that something was wrong. After all, why else would he ask this? ''Why do you ask?'' you continued, now scanning the expression on his face, despite the fact that he was a very hard man to read. He swallowed, but maintained eye contact. ''Nothin'. Just wanted to let you know how much I love you all over again.'' He knew he shouldn't lie to you- that he should tell you the truth about where all his money comes from, how his family got as powerful as it is, what kind of person he actually is. But it was too dangerous. Luckily for him, he was a good liar, an actor- if you may call it that. He grabbed the foot he was massaging and placed it near his lips before he kissed each one of your fingers in a slow, sensual manner. This made you relax and soon enough, you were resting once again, breathing calmly as you felt safe in his presence.
✶ gangster!rafe, who tries to stop by the flower shop every single day to say hello. No matter how busy he was, how much trouble he had gotten himself into, what kind of business he was doing that day, he never forgot about you. Ever.
✶ gangster!rafe, who likes to take you back to where the both of you had first met every once in a while. The place, in question, is les deus magots.
✶ gangster!rafe, who might be rough between the sheets, but is as gentle as he can be afterwards and makes your comfort his prime priority.
you let out quiet mews as he pounded into you, you legs wrapped around his hips as your plush breasts jiggled up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Your plump lips remained parted as you felt out of breath, feeling an intense flutter in your tummy that only got stronger as his movements picked up a speed. It felt so good- too good, in fact. You couldn't help but let out some tears that started to run down your cheeks, eyes closed shut as you listened to his grunts. The bed was shaking, making the crackling sound echo through the bedroom.
''There you go, shhh, you're okay.'' he whispers soothingly as he plants a soft kiss on the side of your cheek, both of you laying inside the warm bathtub. There were scented candles on the bathroom countertops, The lights on the pastel green walls turned off in order to enhance the ambiance of the room. Your muscles finally relaxed, and you felt yourself slowly start drifting into sleep while one of Rafe's hands massaged your shoulders. He seems content, blue eyes full of emotion as he looks down at you, hot breath against your neck and tiny droplets of water landing on your back from his wet and messy hair.
✶ gangster!rafe, who lets you spend his money on whatever you want, no matter what. All you have to do is ask, and he'll give you some cash- no questions asked.
✶ gangster!rafe, who loves the way your eyes brighten up whenever you're at the park and you find a pretty flower. Who later takes it from your little hands and places it on your hair.
✶ gangster!rafe, who gifted you a puppy one day as a surprise .
''So, I got you a little something.'' he tells you while he held in front of you a rather large red box with a big white bow around it between his arms. His tone was blunt, his expression the same as always, yet he was lightly tapping his foot against the wooden floor of your home. You were confused, to say the least, But of course- you accepted it, quickly taking it from his hands- perfectly manicured nails gripping it tightly. It was heavy- very heavy. ''Oh! I wonder what it could be!!'' you said almost in a lyrical shriek, excitement in your voice as you sat down on your sofa, legs crossed while you placed it right next to you. Suddenly, it moved, and your widening eyes drifted from the package to Rafe. ''No...no.. gosh, Rafe don't tell me it's what I think it is'' you murmured, placing your hands over your mouth. You were met with silence. Of course he didn't answer. Instead, he just tilted his head, almost as if he was attempting to hide the sly grin that was beginning to form on his lips. Not being able to control your excitement any longer, you carefully opened the box, taking the upper part away and revealing what was inside. You gasped, and your pretty shrieks of happiness filled the room. Rafe Cameron had gifted you a cocker spaniel puppy. A real puppy- not a plushie. ''Oh my goodness.. oh my goodness! oh wow- I have no words!'' you ran up to him and hugged him tightly- maybe a little too much. The puppy trotted towards the both of you and barked happily. ''Glad to be makin' you happy, peach'' he said before gently taking your chin in his hand to make you look up at him before kissing you on the lips.
✶ gangster!rafe, who wouldn't admit it out loud, but sometimes thinks that maybe.. you really are 'the one' for him...
✶ a/n : GUYS GUYS I DID IT!! I know this is a bit short, but tbh.. I might write more about gangster!rafe in the future :) if anyone wants to request something with him you can feel free to do so too. I tried to include a little smut, but eh.. this was my first ever fic (if you could even call this a fic) so it's probably a bit...meh. Either way, I'm glad I finally finished it, and I hope it was enjoyable to read!!
✶ creds : @amariisflossy for the gangster!rafe idea, @dollywons for the second header
@sinisternymphette 2024
#✦ . ࣪ ׅ aus#✦ . ࣪ ׅ fics#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#obx#obx fic#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#rafe obx#outer banks fanfiction#obx smut#outer banks smut#outerbanks rafe#outer banks imagine#rafe smut#outer banks#outer banks x reader#fanfic#gangster!rafe#gangster!rafe cameron#1930s au#Spotify
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Sunshine
Pairing - dark!Rafe x pogue fem!reader
Summary - Reader has a crush on JJ, but JJ is dating Kie. Rafe decides he wants reader to get over JJ, no matter her say in the matter.
Words - 3k
Warnings MDNI - NON CON, DUB CON, drugging with E, slapping, physical fight (m vs f), dry humping, alcohol use, drug use, rough sex (p in v), degradation, blackmail, very dark Rafe.
A/N: This is my darkest piece I have ever wrote and of course it's for Rafe. He is mean SOB in this, so if that triggers you, please don't read. Thank you to @haven247 for the beta read. I am nervous about writing this dark, but hope you like it. PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS!
Being at a kook party was not your idea of fun, but they had free booze and it was better than a keggar. After the last week you’ve had, you have every intention of getting plastered and trying to forget your crush and best friend was dating someone else.
JJ your best friend since you were 4 and crush since you were 14, was officially dating Kie. And it hurt, a lot. You knew it was coming, saw the writing on the wall, but held out hope it wouldn’t. The only person who knew about the crush, that you knew of, was John B. He was your brother from another mother, and knew you inside and out. You three had been friends so long, you don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. John B has given you hug and told you he was sorry the day you saw them kissing through the Chateau window. He informed you they were dating and you had gone home and cried yourself to sleep. Avoiding them this past week, but couldn’t get around it for this party.
You had watched them dance, laugh, and make out, and were completely ready to vomit. Or wait, was they alcohol? I was in my 3rd concoction of the night and was not feeling much of anything. Well physically anyway.
Anyway, you were in the kitchen getting another drink, when you heard the last voice, you wanted to here.
“Well, well if it isn’t Miss Sunshine” Rafe Cameron sneered as he walked into the kitchen.
“Fuck off, Cameron” I told him, trying not to say more and start something.
“Anyone ever told you have a venomous mouth, Sunshine” he laughed.
“Only to you, Cameron. Everyone else thinks I am adorable and sweet” my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I bet you taste sweet” he chuckled. I turned around and caught him looking me up and down. He showed no shame for being caught. “What’s got you drowning in booze tonight? Wouldn’t have anything to do with Maybank and Carrera doing the horizontal mambo, would it?”
“You’re such an asshole, Cameron” You go to walk past him and he grabs your upper arm and pulls close to him.
“Most girls that talk to me the way you do get punished” he leered, inches from my face.
So, side note, when I drink, I think I am ten feet tall and bulletproof. And tonight was no exception.
“Let go of me you fucking psycho!” I hissed at him, pulling my arm. Unfortunately, he was so much stronger than me, my arm barely moved in his grasp. “I swear to God Rafe, I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”
“Don’t call me psycho and I think I need to teach you some manners.” he growled right before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him.
I instantly started pushing on him and struggling to get free. I bit his lip and he howled in pain and jerked back. I slapped him across the face, not caring this was Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince himself, and no one ever told him no.
He snapped his head back and I looked in his eyes. They were completely black, no amount of blue left, and had a predatory look that actually caused a little fear to creep up my spine. Something else, God help me, arousal shot through to my core and made me soak my panties.
I started to back away and with each step I took back, he took forward.
“Rafe just fucking walk away, leave me alone” I try to sound defiant and flippant, but not sure I pulled it off. His grin was pure evil, reminding me of every Disney villain I ever watched.
*Oh Sunshine, you really shouldn’t have done that” he smirked. I turn to run and get one of the pogues, but he grabs me by my waist and turns me around to throw me over his shoulder.
“You psychotic motherfucker, put me down!” I yell as I punch his back as hard as I can. He just grunts and slaps my ass hard, bringing tears to my eyes and more arousal to leak out of me. My mind was telling me to fight because you hate him, but my body was yelling at me to let him have his way.
He takes you to some room, locks the door, and proceeds to throw you on the bed. He immediately grabs both your wrists and roughly jerks them above your head, causing you to arch your back from the roughness and your tits rub against his chest. The lace bra you wear offered little protection from the friction and instantly your nipples hardened. Rafe chuckles as his free hand rubs over my breasts and pinches my nipples.
“You may not want this, but your body does” he chuckles as his hand slides down over my stomach and to the waistband of my shorts. I continue to struggle, he slaps my bare thigh, causing me to gasp. I know if I looked down right now, there would be a red hand print.
“You’re a feisty thing, maybe we should get you a little more pliant.” He threatens.
I see him reach in the pocket of his shorts, but don’t see anything in his hand when he pulls it out.
“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” I demand trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
“Just a little something to make you enjoy it more.” He smirks as he places a pill on his tongue and grabs my jaw to look at him.
“Open up, Sunshine” he murmurs as leans in to kiss me.
I try to shut my mouth, but the hold he has on my jaw won’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I feel the pill begin to dissolve as he devours my mouth. God he is a good kisser, I can’t stop myself as I whine in the kiss, causing him to moan. He held my jaw until the pill was fully dissolved, then he lets go, but we continued to kiss. Fuck, what was I doing, this was Rafe, I should be biting his fucking tongue off, yet I didn’t want the kiss to stop. He finally pulls away when air became a necessity.
“What the fuck did you give me, Rafe?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the kiss.
“Aww Sunshine, it’s just a little E to make you forget your troubles and help me fuck you without the feistiness.” He smiles down at me. I start to struggle again and hurt him in some fashion. His hold on my wrists and him between my legs really left me defenseless, and he knew it.
“Now let’s get rid of these clothes.” He grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down the middle. I screech from shock, and he continues ripping till it is off me.
“Oh Sunshine, you have some beautiful tits.” He groans as he leans down and latches his lips on one of my nipples. I gasp out from pleasure as he sucks, nibbles and licks my nipples through my bra. Thousands of jolts of delight ripple through my body to my core. I began to feel a zing of energy and mixing that with pleasure, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips up into Rafe.
“That’s it baby, let the drug begin to work. Let me make you feel good and forget Maybank for tonight.” He murmurs as he continues his assault on my tits, his mouth on one and his hand, pulling and pinching the other.
“More” I whimper to him, trying to get more friction. He reached behind me undoing my bra and let go of my wrists, I moved my arms so he can get off. My hands fly into his hair to push more into my chest. He grinds down on me and I groan, I feel the heat build in my stomach.
I have a slight moment of clarity, where I thought what the fuck am I doing, when Rafe rolls his hips and the tip of cock hits the seam in my shorts just right to rub my clit and I see stars. I moan out as I squeeze my eyes shut and let my orgasm wash over me.
“Fuck Sunshine, when was the last time you came?” he chuckles, reaching down to unbutton my shorts and take them off. He stands up, using the opportunity of me in a blissful state, to rid himself of his clothes. I look over to him and see his cock saluting me. My eyes wide at how big he was.
“Shit Rafe, I don’t know what you plan to do with that monstrosity, but it ain’t fitting in me.” I say in wonder.
“I’ll make it fit,” he said as he spread my legs and slapped my pussy. I yelped, still sensitive from my release, but it caused a wildfire to spread through my veins. He slapped it a few more times, rendering me a whiny mess. I tried to hide my face, ashamed at how he was making me feel. I knew the E was mainly to blame, but a part of me knew it wasn’t all the drugs.
“Oh, don’t be shy now” Rafe taunted as he pulled my hands from face and roughly kissing me.
Distracted by his kiss, I didn’t notice he lined his cock up to enter me. He shoved it in my soaked pussy and I screamed in his mouth. The pain and burn from his stretching without prep was almost unbearable. Instantly, tears formed in my eyes and I pulled my mouth free.
“FUCK!” I cried out “Rafe, get out, pull out, it hurts so bad!” I cry but he continues to snap his hips into me, even though I was pushing on his stomach.
“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growled as he grabbed my arm and jerked it above my head, slamming into me faster. I was whimpering, crying mess underneath him. He continued to pound into me, hitting my cervix, lips taking what they wanted from my lips down to my breasts.
“I’ll have you forgetting Maybank after tonight and you’ll only want my cock in this pussy. You’re mine now, Sunshine” he rasped in my ear.
“I hate you” I hissed at him.
Eventually the pain began to be replaced by pleasure, my cries turning into moans as I felt my core heat up and the band began to tighten.
“You keep saying that, but your body doesn’t,” he taunted “you might be venomous, nonchalant, and a raging bitch to the rest of the world, but all you needed was a Daddy to tame that mouth and this pussy. Didn’t you?”
I ignored him, not wanting to agree with him. Suddenly I heard and then felt the smack across my face. I let out a shocked yelp and grabbed face with my free hand. My body betrayed and a rush of arousal coated his cock.
“Oh, you like being slapped huh? When I ask you a question, you answer it, slut” he hissed at me.
“Yes Daddy” I moaned out, before slapping my hand over my mouth, not believing what I just said.
“That’s my good little slut” he teased.
He let go of my hand and reached down with both hands to push my thighs into my chest. I cried out as the new position hit my G-spot and I saw stars. Within seconds, the band snapped in my stomach and I was screaming daddy repeatedly.
“That’s it, you little cunt, cum all over my cock.” He grunted before pulling out and flipping me over on my stomach. He straddled my thighs, pulled my butt up, and shoved himself back into me. I moaned as the new position let him hit deeper. I grabbed the headboard needing to ground myself, as the drugs and orgasm made me feel like I was floating away.
He wrapped his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold, snapping his hips into me at such an ungodly pace. I could already feel another release coming. The drugs had all my senses turned up to an eleven, the burning in my stomach, the tingling in my core, the pleasurable pain every time he hit my cervix. I felt that if I had another orgasm, I would fly off into outer space.
“S’too much, daddy” I whine, trying to push on his stomach. “I can’t do it”
He slapped my hand away and smacked my thigh hard, making me cry out.
“You will take everything I give you. You’re my little cum slut now and you will obey me” he grunted. He grabs my arm and jerks them around behind my back, grabbing both wrists with one hand. With his other hand, he grabs hair and uses both as leverage to fuck me harder.
All you could hear in the room were my ‘uh-uhs’ and our skin slapping together. I was close as my walls begin to flutter around his cock, but he was too as I felt his hips stutter.
“You better cum before me or you’re outta luck,” he panted. “We’re not here for your pleasure, only mine.” He taunts as he speeds up getting closer to his release.
I manage to wrestle one of my hands free and reach down to rub my clit. The added stimulation almost instantly makes me fall over the edge, I scream out and clamp down on Rafe’s dick. My body convulses as I have the strongest release of my life, but the E in my system causes me to keep cumming tears falling down my cheeks as I can’t stop.
“Jesus Fuck” Rafe gasps, “You’re clenching so tight I can barely move.”
He forces his cock in and out of me as he pants and grunts. Slamming into me one more time, I feel his seed shoot out against my walls.
“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hisses. He slowly thrust back into me a few times before pulling out and flip me over. I was essentially a rag doll by this point.
“Oops can’t have any Daddy’s juices spilling out can we?” he smirks, shoving two fingers in me pushing his cum back in me. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist.
“Stop, too sensitive” I whimper out.
“Stop being a whiny slut” he sneers before slapping my pussy a few times. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of me.
“What the fuck” I snap.
“I need something to jerk off to when you’re not around”
He shows me the picture. I look royally fucked out, mascara and tears running down my cheeks, lipstick smeared all over my face, bruises and hickeys around my neck and chest. He grabs my phone and tosses it to me.
“Unlock it” he demands.
I do without any argument. He puts his number on and sends himself a text, so that he has my number.
“When I call, I expect you to answer and come to me” he demands coldly. “If you don’t, then the whole island will know your just my cum slut and enjoy it. I have evidence.” he grins.
I nod, knowing he had me, because the thought of the pogues, especially JJ finding out made me sick to my stomach. He tossed my shorts and some tshirt he found to me.
“Now you’re gonna get dressed, go back to the party and act like nothing happened. Your hickeys were from some random touran.” He instructed. “The whole time you pine over JJ, my cum will be seeping out of your cunt. Oh, and clean your face up.”
I move slowly getting off the bed. I get dressed and head to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and start to cry. I splash water on my face, cleaning myself up, the whole-time sobbing.
Rafe comes in the bathroom and stares at me for a minute. I turn to face him and he smacks me on the cheek, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and leave his handprint.
“Stop crying like a cunt,” he mocked me, “You enjoyed it, I think I counted three orgasms from you?”
“It was the drugs” I argue.
“Sure, sure. The explain why you were soaked before I gave you the E?” he asked.
I’m looked away cause I had no answer, at least not one I was willing to admit.
“S’what I thought,” he smirked “Now get downstairs, before I change my mind and take you home, tie you up, and use you all night.”
I ran out of the bedroom and went downstairs, looking for my friends.
Walking around, I finally found John B and Sarah making out in a corner. Pope was in another room trying to woo a girl with coroner talk, the poor girl looked scared for her life. The last room I walked into, JJ and Kie were on a couch, Kie in JJ’s lap making out. My friends, wait no family, didn’t seem to have missed me.
I walked into the kitchen and made me a drink and walked outside to one of the patio chairs. My phone dinged with a message.
Remember our deal and no one finds out. Although with as worried as they were for you, not sure they would seem to care.
I downed my drink and got up to get another one, tears running down my cheeks.
How the fuck did I get in this situation and what was I gonna do. All knew was I hated Rafe Cameron and I would find a way out.
Tagging some moots:
@princessmaybank @echo-at-the-pond @babygorewhore @drudyslut @rafescokewhore @rafesc0kewh0re @starfxkr @blueicequeen19 @drewstarkeyslut @pankowperfection @maybankskiss @ch4rrykisses
#outer banks#rafe cameron#obx#tw dark content#dark rafe#dark smut#dark!fic#dark rafe cameron#dark rafe x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader
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Hi there, this is my first time sending an ask.
I was wondering if could you do a bear hybrid x fem reader. I really love the concept of a bear hybrid but there's not really a lot of stuff on that.
Thank you, your avid reader
Sure thing anon! I hope this is to your liking! 🖤🥂 Happy reading!
Claimed by the Bear Hybrid
Pairing: bear hybrid x f!human reader
Summary: you are strolling the woods when you meet a bear hybrid who claims you as his.
Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18++!!!, slightly non-con, oral (f!receiving), big 🍆, p in v, lots of 💦.
I've written a second part for this one and you can find it here.
“You’re mine now,” the creature rumbled, deep and commanding.
You forgot how to breathe, your heart stuttering at the sight of the bear hybrid before you. Standing on his two back feet, the massive hybrid towered over you, making it impossible for you to escape. The creature had the build of a very big and muscled man, but his dark fur, size and strength were unmistakably bear-like.
Not to mention that between his legs hung the most glorious cock you’d ever seen. It was as thick as your forearms and long, longer than seven inches—with the angry red head leaking moisture. Two heavy, hairy balls hung from between his thighs, throbbing visibly. An involuntary shiver traveled through you, not at all fearful. He grunted and shifted, his nose smelling the air. Then his eyes, they were completely dark, fixed on you with a hunger that brought back the fear inside you.
Oh, how foolish you had been thinking that a stroll in the woods would be harmless. You were alone with an apex predator in his own habitat, and he was about to devour you, oh the irony… the forest was dense and filled with the sounds of nature and the chirping of birds. It was such a beautiful morning, so unlike your fate.
“Pl—please… I won’t hurt you,” you uttered, terrified out of your wits. “Let me go and—”
“Never!” he rasped powerfully. “You. Are. Mine.”
You barely had time to react before he closed in on you, his huge body dwarfing yours. He was three heads taller than you and that much heavier. A strong hand grasped you as he scooped you up, hanging you over his shoulder. Paralyzed, you shouted and writhed, but no help came as he carried you effortlessly toward his cave.
Once inside his lair, cool air welcomed you to a bed of soft furs. His eyes never left yours as he climbed on the massive bed beside you, his hands gripping your ankles, strong enough but careful not to bruise you. You couldn’t escape. Tears flew down your cheeks as he ripped your clothes apart, his sharp claws removing every layer until you lay completely exposed before him.
“Shhhh…” his voice was soothing. “I will not harm you, little human. You are my mate.”
“Nnn…no.” Embarrassed, you crossed your hands in front of your breasts. “This can’t be! We can’t—”
“You are mine,” he repeated stubbornly. “You tremble and leak nectar for me.”
To prove his point, he spread open your legs, exposing the soaked slit of your pussy. Your plump folds glistened with arousal, and you flushed at the sight. You’d refused to accept what your instinct was telling you, but there was no mistaking it now; the hybrid didn’t want to kill you; he wanted to fuck you. And for some strange reason that made you ever wetter, your heart beating frantically.
Your breath hitched when you felt his callused fingers brushing along your chest. You protested, but his strength was great, and he drew your arms apart, exposing your breasts to him. Big hands cradled each breast, thumbs skimming over your nipples until they turned into hard little buds. You whimpered, tears in your eyes, because each stroke felt good, awakening a mix of fear and arousal. You could feel his strength, his raw power, and it both thrilled and scared you.
“Pretty and soft,” the hybrid muttered as he massaged your mounds and caressed your nipples. “Such roundness.”
It was at that moment that you realized you had arched your back to offer more of yourself to him. He took this chance eagerly and bent down to engulf the entirety of one tit in his mouth. The suction was warm and wet, his tongue rough and textured as it circled your nipple. Lips quivering, you shivered as he stroked and suckled, crying out softly when he alternated to the other mound.
Strong hands moved to your hips, gripping them firmly as he lowered his head between your thighs. He inhaled your pussy, then breathed over it. You shivered all over, especially when his tongue flicked out, licking up and down your folds before delving inside. You jolted at the electric sensation, long moans escaping you as his rough tongue fucked you with primal thrusts. He ate you out, his growls vibrating against your pussy. Hands gripping the sheets, you rocked against him, hips arching toward his mouth.
“Such a soft little cunt; it tastes so sweet, better than honey,” he murmured, tongue spearing your pussy.
“Pl-please,” you whispered, barely able to form the words and unsure of what you were begging for. To stop? To keep going? You were so pleasure-hazed that you had no idea what to do.
He chuckled. “You’ll get more, mate.”
Hands gripping your ass, he brought you closer to his face, spreading your folds as he continued his sweet torment. His snout caressed your clit and you bucked against him, your moans filling the cave and echoing off the walls. Your orgasm tore through you, strong and blissful, surging from your head to your toes, and despite your violent thrashing, his tongue still drove inside you, devouring every drop of your release.
Head falling back against the bed, you opened your legs obscenely, offering your pussy to him. He licked you fiercely, then your inner thighs, then up your belly and your breasts. You whined when you felt the heavy weight of something warm and leaky against your fluttering cunt. You looked down and gasped; your ankles were hooked over his broad shoulders and he was rubbing his cock against your slit, his thick girth looking inhumanly big in contrast to your small pussy.
“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” he growled, his hands caressing your inner thighs. “You’re my mate, and I will claim you.”
“Stop— you’re too big—”
But it was too late. A soft hitch of breath left you when he pushed the cockhead inside. It parted your moist pussy lips and drove inside, inch by inch. You whimpered at the stretch, yet his fullness invaded you without discomfort, bottoming out inside you as his balls squeezed against your bum.
You’d done it. You’d taken him. Wow…
Your thoughts faded when he started moving inside you. Holding your tiny waist in his big hairy hands, he pumped powerfully inside you, watching as his dick spread your lips, then came out covered with your juices. You gripped his arms for dear life, your nails digging into his thick skin. He liked it because he fucked you faster and deeper, each thrust driving you higher and higher.
“Yes, only my mate can take me,” he growled, his cock making your belly bulge. “I’m going to fill you up, claim you, make you mine.”
The bed creaked from his thrusts, your tits bouncing. He licked them up, suckled them in his mouth as he pounded into you, the plap-plap of skin slapping against skin obscenely wet and lewd. Your cries mingled with his grunts of pleasure, your walls clenching and unclenching around his cock as a second orgasm overwhelmed you. He kept fucking you and followed right after with a feral roar, filling you up with buckets of his cum. He pumped for minutes, over and over, until he had marked you with his seed.
Breathless and spent, you couldn’t help but collapse into the sheets that smelled like musk and earth. Your body still tingled from the intensity of your union, your legs weak. You couldn’t believe what had happened. You’d heard of many cases of interspecies mating, and now it had happened to you as well. This bear hybrid was your mate. Your soulmate. He’d claimed you, bathed you in his seed. And even if your bond was unusual and fresh, you felt like being truly home.
“You’re mine, all mine,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck, his breath warm against your skin.
#monster x reader#monster x human#monster x you#monster boyfriend#monster smut#monster fucker#monster x female reader#bear hybrid x reader#hybrid x reader#monster lover#monster fudger#monster romance#monsterfucker#monster x y/n#monster kink#monster bf#monster fuckers#monster imagine#Kate answers
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CW; dark content, gun kink, penetration with gun (v), slight dacryphilia
boothill and gun kink grrrrrr 😼 teases you so much when you accidentally admit that you have a thing for guns and that if it’s with him, you’d feel safe
sits you on his lap, back facing him as he plays with your boobs, squeezing and pinching at your nipples!!! his teeth would be biting nonstop at your neck, leaving red marks everywhere while he teases at your clothed cunt with his gun
rips away your panties easily because he’s literally made of metal 🤭 makes you look in the mirror in front of you as he rubs the barrel against your wet folds!!!!!!!!! cooes at you because why are you so wet for a gun? are you that turned on by a piece of metal? you know it could kill you with just a click right?
he relishes in your fear and embarrassment 🗣️ uses it to his advantage and rubs the tip at your clit, making your hips buck and you whining into your hands! to which he ‘tsk’s and pulls them away >:/ you’re supposed to be looking at the way he plays with your pussy
stuffs his gun into you without warning! and you’ll cry out in terror when you hear the safety click, the sound loud and piercing, ringing in your ears 😧 you’d grab at his wrists and make eye contact with him through the mirror, eyes tearing up as he thursts his gun in and out of you
kisses you on your cheek and tells you it’s okay! don’t worry! as long as you’re good and cum for him, he won’t shoot! he would never hurt you! you’re his everything!
makes you cum so hard on his gun, you squirt 😋 he’d laugh and throw his gun away before sticking his metal fingers into you! he wants to see you do it again, but this time on his fingers!!!!!
#🀥 lan’s writings!#hsr#honkai star rail#boothill#hsr boothill#boothill x reader#boothill smut#hsr boothill smut#hsr boothill x reader#hsr smut#dark content#gun kink
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