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penny00dreadful · 1 year

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So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.”

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered.

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.”

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it.

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

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moondragon618 · 2 years

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I kind of regret panic-deleting 90% of my blog L

#idk anxiety got bad ig #bc of certain recent/current events which are not great and rather triggering #past few days have been rough to say the least #I tried really hard to bail completely and like. Reactivate my owl house hyperfixation or smth #it uh. didn't work #c!primeboys have been integrated into the fabric of my being ig bc I just can't let go of them #idk maybe it's a special interest rather than just a hyperfixation? I kind of suspect that I might be autistic so #I won't be posting about them for a while ofc bc that would be in poor taste I think #I hope this isn't coming across as selfish or anything bc I do have full sympathy for the victim(s?) in this situation #and regardless of how it turns out I can't support cc!dream ever again #idek if I can still enjoy c!dream like I used to anymore and I hate that so much #and I had so many ideas I wanted to write yk #I was an absolute lurker until I found this fandom #I love this fandom sm and I hate to see it crash and burn like this #I didn't delete my fic btw. Didn't have the heart to #it is hidden tho bc my ao3 account is still suspended L #maybe when it's back up I'll post a new link. but like untagged ig #idk I'm not sure what to do really #I actually do feel bad for breaking that one analysis post tho sry to everyone who reblogged it and now most of it is just gone #bc I deleted it L #anyway I think I've calmed down enough to not do anymore panic deleting now #so that's my thoughts ig

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

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Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions, and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

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“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.”

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms.

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3.

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms.

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected.

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care.

It also wore off in 24 hours.

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans.

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach.

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised.

The other two were different, they had… other urges.

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data.

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.”

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much.

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long.

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.”

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?”

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased.

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.”

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost.

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?”

He nodded and held his arm out to you.

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen.

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him.

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped.

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him.

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms.

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid.

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins.

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip.

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this-

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red.

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him.

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible.

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time.

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut.

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound.

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense.

Almost.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this.

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name.

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect.

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch.

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret.

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up.

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once.

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum.

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'.

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth.

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist.

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh.

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this.

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating.

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release.

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off.

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release.

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating.

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest.

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side.

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough.

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second.

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative.

It shouldn't take long.

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes.

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run.

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work.

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others.

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful.

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back.

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine.

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick.

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level.

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful.

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core.

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check.

It doesn’t last long.

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in.

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on.

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts.

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got.

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words.

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper.

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going.

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust.

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end.

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change.

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory.

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down.

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure.

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade.

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before.

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless.

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans.

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal.

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears.

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength.

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips.

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength.

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements.

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze.

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either.

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside.

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully.

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control.

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat.

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly.

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip.

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him.

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you.

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him.

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in.

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight, his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin.

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release.

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily.

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat.

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter.

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin.

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly.

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm.

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves.

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-”

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs.

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation.

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you.

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw.

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.”

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time.

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated.

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down.

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?”

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now.

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin.

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath.

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently.

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Happy to help.”

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused.

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.”

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong.

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation.

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul.

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered.

You frown and shake your head, confused.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

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anantaru · 6 months

Text

BONUS KINK — BODY WORSHIP

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

a/n. the last bonus kink is about them worshipping you just the way you deserve <3 and thank you for supporting this year's kinktober, enjoy <3

𖧡 — including — diluc, zhongli, childe, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, all about how much they love your body and putting your pleasure first, very passionate & rough, oral (fem! receiving), fingering

𖧡 — DILUC

the closer diluc got to his mansion, the more he realized that he had missed you this entire day— and he desires you with every inch of his being, in a special way that wasn't temporary but made him believe that love wasn't a hoax after all, and that he wasn't hard to love either, because you made him feel again.

the idea of losing you could truly ruin him.

and sometimes he catches himself become embarrassingly jealous of the glinting sun rays being eminent in the sky, for they can kiss you whenever he cannot.

a primal rush of pleasure shivers through him when he first places both hands on top of your hips, waiting for a moment and dwelling on your warm frame diffusing the stiffness of abused muscles located around his shoulders and chest as he absorbs the vibrations of your tranquil mewls into his aching body.

"i missed you, diluc," you say, "so much," before teasing his shaft with your walls and constricting ever so wonderfully, remembering the shape of his length as you wince at the additional pressure his cock sent straight into your core, clenching your muscles rhythmically that the rest of his body would shiver whilst pressed against your own, your facial expression continuously satisfied with the treatment he always gave you.

diluc clears his throat and attempts to hide the scarlet redness manifesting on his bristling cheeks, "i missed you," he whispers and emphasizes the last word with an octave higher, "been thinking about you all day," before lapping wet streaks over the areas on your neck that he knew were the most sensitive, it was the combination of one bite and a possessive huff on the wet flesh that made you whimper softly on the next thrust— not to forget that your body was simply divine to the red haired, each curve and bend reacting when he pumps you full of his cock, letting it glide smoothy in and out of your warm hole as you moan out his name, your face ecstatic with release.

you knew you wouldn't last very long, and as you continued to be fucked with diluc's precise thrusts consisting of long, slow movements, you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach, your throbbing cunt hot and tight sealed around his shaft as it took every ounce of restraint for diluc to not just cum and release his seed to pulse in hot rivulets on your inflamed walls.

it's almost too much to bear— but alas, that was what diluc craved, and even if he didn't say anything too directly or would admit it to you, he's been secretly hard and painfully throbbing for the majority of his day that consisted of nothing but work on top of work, his pulsing erection unbearably hard and rubbing against the rough confines of his pants as he day dreamed about his current reality.

alas, he was able to feel this now, feel you now— turning it evident that he wanted to please you more than anything else, even if just for a split second.

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

lowermost the brilliant stars ablaze within the moonlight sky and a chilling draft welcoming your frames, zhongli made love to you in an unforgettable matter— and the man has found himself wholly entranced by the fullness of your beauty.

you look up at him in a daze, and your eyes were the first out of many things that drew him into complete obsession, your sultry, lowered gaze in particular— the type that appeared to be seductive without trying as he grabs your knees and hoists them over his shoulders, the new position allowing him to lean forward enough to place a passionate kiss to your dampened forehead before pushing himself deeper.

an icy chill shoots like a cold lightning down his spine when you exhale tremulously once he was fully inside, a proud smirk represented on his darling lips as he found himself pleased by your reactions.

the atmosphere manifests in a sensual tone, tenser, and your heart beat was pounding so fast and loud that it almost entirely dulled out the penetrative sound of your hips bucking against each other in quick, sloppy slaps. your mouth panting and eyes squeezed shut with every new meet of his cock rolling inside of your walls, your arousal sticking to his shaft and marking him sinfully— it's like those sweet traces and his hips bouncing in a steady pace ignited something inside you, your figure melting from heat when zhongli touches the very depths of you.

zhongli groaned inwardly, and by his very nature, seeing you mewl and sob, with your hips swirling up and down his cock to handle more of him, such submission was almost too erotic, and his body responds in a feral perception, his length mapping through every rill and spongy spot that his low eyes and long lashes look down on you with twisting lust, your thighs shifting against each other as his hips rock back and forth against the softness and the feeling of just how good you felt.

𖧡 — CHILDE

"you drive me insane," for a moment, childe let his gaze follow over the soft, glimmering skin on your sensitivity, his eyes lingering on the way your cunt was practically awaiting to be claimed by him— your face contorting in pleasure when he lastly, presses a soft kiss to the pulse point on your clit, licking inside and dipping his head lower.

suckling gently, you writhe and mewl under him, your back arching up a little for an extra amount of contact from his tongue as one large hand skims over the expanse of your chest, palming over your breasts while the other prods at your hole as childe coats his chin and cheeks with a generous amount of your arousal.

"you're perfect," he mutters into your flesh, every nerve in your body quivering when he put you into the deepest sensations of euphoria— a trance of which you do not wish to be freed from, and neither does childe want to stop pleasuring you, on top of being allowed to taste your beauty on his tongue, losing all his strength as he fell head first again, just like he always did whenever he admired what was his.

he lightly traces around the tight opening, fluttering his eyes up to your face before sliding one finger inside, immediately feeling you tense down, then moan out angelically when he scissors you lightly, his tongue leisurely lapping out the very surface of your glistening folds while he keeps a steady pump on your hole, continuing his careful ministrations and pressing his digit deeper, always more, and maintaining the pleasurable torture until you would whimper at him, only the slightest bit desperate, at least that's what you believed it looked like.

you clench your jaw to brace yourself, whimpering softly at each press of his fingers hitting your sweet spots almost a little too good, the next pleasured mewl escaping your aching throat when childe seals his lips on top of your clit before trapping the tingling skin in between his mouth, sucking gently.

"ajax.." you hiss softly, "need to feel you," as he repeatedly enters you with his slender digit, the stimulation overflowing your lower area as an intense burning sensation settles on your wet sex, deliciously limiting your noises so that you're hiccuping in shattered words and phrases.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

"you are deliberately provoking me," there wasn't a realistic possibility for you to keep something hidden from alhaitham, and he observes you thoughtful and stoic, a devious glimmer creasing around his eyes when he pins your wrists above your head, watching your clouded expression contort in pleasure as if you wanted this to happen.

he holds you down effortlessly, and while in any other case, alhaitham wouldn't let you play him like a violin, he cannot help himself but think about how lucky he truly was— or, how utterly enchanting your figure looked even while squeezed underneath his larger one.

to know that you had this power over him was dangerous, to know that he needs you like air to breathe was lecherous, or to know that the pleasure you placed on him concealed his vision with no doubts in his mind.

momentarily, he resists the flourishing desire to pay you back with skilled teasing and a robbed orgasm when he softly soothes one palm over the curve of your trembling body and stifling a groan in his throat when he slides his tip into you, the chaste downward flutter of his long, pretty eyelashes contrasting the strong set of his jaw clenching the second he tastes the hotness of your sex engulfing him.

you take him like he was begging you to, his biceps flexing enticingly as he braces himself up for what's to come when he crowds you with his inches in slow, tantalizing movements, the hot edges of your mewls burning violently through alhaitham's lust as he moans deeply, pushing into you with a hard buck of his hips reaching your softest spots.

you shudder, a harsh bolt of heat shooting through your tensed muscles as you clench your thighs around his hips, your hands wiggling underneath his palm that were keeping them pinned as you arch your back off the mattress, unable to take control of the passion infused jolts yearning for his searing touch as his rigid cock sinks hard enough to sting with a mild pain into you that evidently enough made you unravel into a trembling, dazed mess of a person.

"fuck, ahh," the pitch of your needy moans and whines manifest into crushed tunes with each convulsing thrust into your heat twisting you apart, shuddering and spattering all aver his length as you coat him with your arousal, the liquid rush of intense thrusts hitting you from nowhere as alhaitham throws his head back in ecstasy, releasing your hands from his grasp to fuck you deeper, so you're on the brink of splitting in half from the sheer intensity.

your hands find the softness of his hair as you merely wince at him, absorbed in your own pleasure and reveling on those sweet and personal caresses that felt like his skin was fusing with your own.

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lavender-devotion · 1 month

Note

Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”

“Hold on now–” “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went.

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?”

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”

You had had enough.

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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beardedjoel · 8 months

Text

pretty little wife | morning glory

joel x f!reader one shot collection

part two of pretty little wife — can be read independently series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 summary: 4.3k words — saturday mornings in the miller household are for a few things only, and most of them include joel making his wife come as many times as he damn well pleases. | no apocalypse au, no use of y/n warnings: 18+ MDNI! pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names for reader, cute husband joel, generally extremely submissive reader so if you're into that this is for you! a/n: i'm literally so blown away by the attention the first part of this got like WOW i'm so glad you all loved reading it as much as i did writing it! here's another snippet in their domestic bliss, and stay tuned for some ~interesting~ developments in the next part

i've decided to start a kofi in case anyone wants to consider a small donation to support my work! ♡

As much as you love Friday nights, the day Joel comes home pent up from a week of work and fucks it all out onto you, you love Saturday mornings even more.

Saturdays are for you Joel always says, and he starts this particular Saturday by waking you with kisses on the forehead and a fresh, steaming cup of coffee on your nightstand, one you can smell before you can even see it. He insists that after a long week of making meals, keeping the house spotless, your book club, nurturing your friendships, and keeping up with his insatiable need for you, you deserve one morning that’s completely for you, where Joel is happy to service you in multitudes.

You grumble and squeeze your eyes shut tighter as you feel his lips press onto your cheek again, and Joel laughs at your insolence.

“Know y’don’t like to sleep past eight, honey,” Joel comments as you continue to resist his attempts to wake you up.

“I knoooow,” you whine. “Mostly your fault I was up so late,” you add on, grumbling and recalling the way Joel had kept you up, insisting he keep filling you over and over. From the moment he got home until late in the night, somehow he’d managed to come three times, torturously edging you then making you come between them. Some days you truly wonder where the hell he gets the stamina from, how a man of his age can act like he’s twenty years old some nights. Anytime you ask, he just says that you make him absolutely fucking crazy, nothing more to it. It’s a miracle the two of you found each other, someone that can keep up with him just as well as he can with you.

“You’d like it better if I didn’t fuck you when I want then, hm? Get you all fucked out like last night?” he asks, his voice with a grating edge that’s between a threat and teasing. You make it a point to peek your eyes open at him finally, letting him see the fear in them at that prospect.

“N-no,” you shake your head wildly, eyes going wider as you fully wake up. “Of course not.”

“Thought so,” he says before leaning forward to kiss you, a sly smile dancing on his lips as you look over at him, perched on the bed next to you. He’s laying on his side, propped up on one elbow as he takes you in, his eyes full of mischief as they tend to be in the mornings.

“You know I have to give you a hard time when you act like you did last night,” you tell him, and Joel considers your words with a grin.

“I know ya do. Wasn’t too much last night, right?“ he asks. You always appreciate that Joel checks in like this, especially when he knows he’s gone further than the average day. And last night… he’d shown you just how long his week had felt, and how much he needed to make up for the lost time he’d had working late a few nights.

You shake your head sternly in reply. “Not at all,” you say sweetly, and Joel’s face relaxes before he leans in for another kiss that you gladly return.

“That’s my good girl. Your coffee’s over there,” he says, head gesturing towards the mug, despite every Saturday being the same with your coffee always on the nightstand when you wake up.

“Thank you, baby.” A flash of a grateful smile from you is all your husband needs, and you can see him melt a little bit at it.

You sit yourself up against the headboard, the sheet falling you reveal the top of your silky camisole trimmed in lace, a beautiful mauve color. Joel’s eyes catch on the skimpy fabric, one strap slipping down your shoulder, and he smiles, his eyes shading darker, watching as you reach for your coffee and start to sip on it. It’s perfect, a splash of your favorite creamer just to give it a little sweetness, and you send a grateful thought into the universe that Joel knows you so perfectly well.

“I see that look you’re giving me,” you say, giving him a close lipped smile over the top of your mug, eyes flashing at him with intrigue.

“How’s it different from any other Saturday? Y’know it’s all about you today,” he says matter-of-factly.

You chuckle and shake your head playfully. “Can’t a girl enjoy her coffee for a few minutes?” you tease him, and Joel makes a quiet, nearly growling sound in his throat before sitting up and moving to straddle your legs.

“Y’can certainly try, but you ain’t gonna be able to hang onto that mug for long, or do much of anything but come for me,” Joel says, and you find yourself losing your breath slightly at his words despite hearing much more filthy things coming from his mouth in the time you’ve been together.

“How many times this morning, then?” you ask tauntingly, taking another long sip from your mug before setting it back safely on the nightstand.

Joel’s eyebrows raise a bit before he slides himself further down on your legs, taking the sheet with him. You shiver a little at your skin being exposed to the air, the only thing covering you being your thin camisole and shorts set. Joel takes you in with hungry eyes, the way your body responds to being exposed with a smattering of goosebumps.

“As many times as I want, doll, y’know that,” he says. His fingers find their way to the silky hem of your shorts, passing the material through his fingers and inspecting it for a few seconds.

“Don’t know why y’even bothered to put this on after I was finished with you last night,” Joel muses, eyes traveling up the fabric until he reaches your chest, where your hardened nipples are starting to poke through the silk. “Just gonna take it right off this mornin’. Maybe rip it…” His head tilts cockily as his other hand slides up your smooth thigh slowly, tortuously. You arch your back slightly, lips parted with an oncoming whimper, showing him how much you want it.

“Am I not supposed to wear all the pretty things you buy me?” you retort back, low and still husky with sleep. “And rip this one? It’s my new favorite,” you say with a frown, trying to sound whiny and desperate enough to convince him to spare this pajama set.

Joel has quite an affinity for coming home with new lingerie and sexy sleepwear for you, strolling into the house after work with a boutique store bag, the contents inside shrouded with pretty paper. He’s given you countless slips, bras, thongs, garters, or any style of lingerie he finds that he wants to see you in. You tear them open with equal delight each time, something to replace the things that are ruined in one of Joel’s many other affinities - tearing your lingerie off of you. Whenever you gripe about it he promises to replace it with something even better. So far, he hasn’t failed, always spoiling you with something gorgeous each and every time.

Joel’s head leans forward, burying into your chest, settling between your breasts and inhaling deeply. “I know… you love this one…” he says, breath hot on the dip of skin between your tits, sending your already hardened nipples straining further through the fabric.

“Maybe I can get the same one, should still be for sale.” He begins kissing the soft skin there, goosebumps spreading across your body as his warm lips clash with the curve of your breast. You can feel his hands start to grip the bottom edge of the fabric, pulling it tight, desperate to rip it off of you.

“Better be. And a new set of panties to match it,” you bargain with him, and Joel glances up with a wide smirk, loving when you show him your more feisty side. His head dips back down, tongue finding your silken covered nipple and flicking it a few times before sucking it into his mouth. You arch into him, moans of his name spilling from your lips. He sucks until you can feel the surrounding fabric getting soaked, and you’re writhing wildly under his large frame, begging him.

“Please, baby… I need it,” you whine out, and Joel pulls his head off of your chest, a string of his saliva still connecting him to your shirt for a few moments. His eyes are lustful now, darkened a few shades by your body’s response to him.

“Need what, little doll?” he asks bitingly, almost condescendingly.

“Touch me, Joel.” Please, please, please. You beg in your head, nearly having to stop yourself from reaching between your legs and touching your clit yourself.

“Be a patient girl for me now,” he counters, and you feel your cunt clench around nothing at his commanding words, desperate for him to ravage you in any way he sees fit.

Joel places his hands on either side of your waist, his lips moving to start work on your other nipple, sucking and biting on it through the fabric. When both are thoroughly abused, swollen and aching from his mouth, you’re sure that you’ve soaked right through your panties to your shorts. You can feel your cunt pulsing, aching, the feeling spreading deep within you as you breathlessly pant, your hips twitching in desperation.

“Fine, fine,” Joel says, breathing out an amused laugh. “Let’s see what you’ve got on under here.”

His hands hook around your pajama shorts and yank them down, exposing the cotton thong you’d put on. Maybe Joel had been right, you should have just stayed naked last night - you’d likely be halfway to an orgasm by now if he hadn’t gotten distracted with all your clothing.

“Almost like you didn’t want me to make you come this morning, all this damn clothing in the way,” he tuts, snapping the waistband of your thong hard into your hip. You wince at the sensation but it only serves to make you even more wet for him.

“P-please -“ you beg, barely able to get any other word out but that same one over and over.

“Baby… jus’ fuckin’ soaked….” Joel muses with an amazed sound to his voice. “Even after last night, just a little suckin’ on your pretty tits get you like this? Fuckin’ drippin’ through your panties, little doll.”

You writhe as his fingers toy with your nipple while he talks, the other hand swiping across the front of your underwear to take in just how badly you’re wanting him.

“Yes - y-yes it does,” you answer dutifully, and Joel smiles ear to ear.

“Wet f’me all the time, ain’t you? Ready whenever I need this tight little pussy,” Joel grits out, giving your sopping cunt a swift slap and repositioning himself between your legs, letting his head dip down. You nod wildly in response, murmuring more begs of “please” as he nears torturously close to your warm heat.

“Need a taste of this, bet you’re so fuckin’ sweet right now,” Joel says, his mouth now inches from your cunt. You nearly cry at the anticipation, hips pushing towards him, your throbbing clit begging your body for any kind of relief.

Joel’s surprises you by dipping his mouth to you, but he licks a strip up the outside of your underwear, dulling the sensation for you. You still moan loudly, so desperate to feel any part of him touching you in between your legs. He continues to lick along the fabric, pushing his tongue down hard to reach your slit through your panties before he starts sucking on your clit.

“Wh- my underwear, Joel… please….” you moan out, mostly incoherent now, feeling a dull pleasure starting to build deep inside of you.

“And let all this go to waste?” Joel replies, sucking the fabric into his mouth just to taste what you’d already spilled out for him. “Don’t think so, darlin’.”

You flutter your eyes when his tongue pokes into your entrance, the fabric adding an extra layer of texture to all the sensations that’s driving you absolutely wild. It’s pulling you closer and closer to the precipice, to the edge where you now sit teetering as Joel’s tongue makes contact with your clit again, rubbing your panties against it as he flicks there.

He groans out loudly at the taste of you in his mouth, the way your panties keep getting more soaked between his own saliva and all the arousal you’re gathering there from the way his tongue is moving on you.

“I’m- oh, Joel, fuck, don’t stop,” you whine, hips starting to stutter into him. You arch your back slightly, chasing your high with just a few small jerks of your hip. “I’m so close…” you say breathlessly, frustration boiling in your blood that you’re not quite there yet. You start squirming needily and Joel moves quickly, throwing your legs over his shoulders and pushing back on your thighs so that your legs are pressed close to your body. You can feel even more how much you’re soaked, absolutely dripping as it slides down onto your ass, the sheets below you.

“Come for me, baby, y’can do it, so fuckin’ pretty and wet for me. Be my good little wife and come for me,” Joel praises quickly into your cunt before sucking hard, pulling your clit into his mouth and pressing a finger against your entrance, pushing your panties into it and pumping shallowly in and out a few times.

You snap at his praising words, desperate to do good for him, to follow anything he wants from you and you finally feel the tension in your belly coil so tightly that it breaks, sending you careening into your high.

“F-fuck, oh, Joel, baby,” you whine out with long, low moans, shaking as your body goes taut and vision goes white. You shudder and writhe into his mouth as he keeps a steady pressure on your clit and moves his fingers rapidly on your hole.

“Good girl, fuck, such a good girl, let’s do another,” Joel says as soon as he feels you coming down, and moves quickly, his tongue darting around the edge of your panties and sliding underneath, one finger pulling the fabric aside.

You nearly scream his name, the overstimulation coupled with his now direct contact with your most sensitive parts has you absolutely reeling. You pant heavily, trying to scoot your body away, but Joel’s hold on your legs is tight, his own tension starting to build underneath his sweatpants.

His tongue buries in you, lewdly lapping and slurping at every last drop of your come that he can as he groans in pure pleasure at the taste. He’s getting more aggressive, his need for you climbing as you rush towards another high.

“Fuck, gimme this tight little pussy,” Joel murmurs, his heaving breaths against your skin. He quickly starts to tear your panties, and through your haze you hear the ripping of fabric and seams, laying with your legs still pressed up against your body, held up for Joel to see between your legs clear as day. You feel like complete jelly, nothing reaching your mind but Joel Joel Joel and the pleasure he’s giving you.

He dives back in after you feel the torn panties laying open and limp against your thighs, his teeth nipping at your clit here and there, sending your hips twitching and little yelps flying out for your mouth.

“Need something’ in here, don’t you? Can feel you desperate, squeezin’, want my big fingers in there,” he says, more of a statement than a question, but you find yourself nodding dumbly, figuring that Joel seems to have known best up until this point, so no use in questioning it now.

He takes the liberty of pushing three fingers inside of you, giving you no chance to adjust, pumping them in and out a few times and then immediately hooking them to find the spongy part of your walls. Your breath catches, and you find it hard to get air into your lungs now between his mouth and fingers ruining you in tandem, making you fall to pieces.

You can’t speak, can’t think, can only chase what he’s giving you and let out pathetic moans and mewls and he fucks you with his fingers and presses on your g-spot. You feel tears brimming in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks but you don’t care, not when every bit of you is on fire in the best way, screaming out in pleasure.

“Hold your legs up f’me, need to fuck my fist to this, all these pretty little noises my wife makes,” Joel commands, and you do your best to keep your legs where he’s pushed them to, finding the muscles starting to tremble with the exertion and your quickly approaching climax.

“C’can’t hold on,” you whimper as you feel Joel shimmying on the bed to sit up and pull his cock out with one free hand, the other continuing to pump in and out of you. You peek down through half lidded eyes to see his cock, so hard and raging with need that it sends a pulse of desire straight through you to your aching hole. You need him inside of you, but most Saturday mornings he’s insistent on just eating you out like this until you’re a limp, sweating, crying mess, not wanting to detract from your pleasure by using your pussy for his own.

“Let go, baby, come again f’me,” Joel coos before his tongue circles your clit again and you melt into the pleasure, letting it wrack your body once again. You hear the slap of his flesh against his cock as he pumps it, fucking his fist earnestly as he hears your cries for him while you come around his fingers, squeezing him to keep pressing on the spot that’s absolutely devastating you.

“So fuckin’ addicted to this, gimme another, little doll, help me finish,” Joel says, sounding nearly manic as he pumps on his cock. “S-so good f’me, Christ,” he murmurs as he whimpers a little at the sight of you coming down from your climax and the feel of his own hand wrapped around his cock.

“Wanna feel you, wanna come on your cock, please… p-please…” you whine, completely dazed now.

“Y’know…” Joel struggles to get the words out, “It’s your turn, n-not about me,” he says with a grunt, tugging hard on his cock.

“It’ll make me come, I p-promise, just fill me up,” you tell him, holding your shaking, spent legs open wider, inviting him in. You writhe at the thought of Joel being inside of you, knowing your fully displayed cunt is fluttering and squeezing at nothing right now, and Joel can see every bit of it.

“Please…” you utter quietly, and that last insistence is what sets Joel over the edge. He’s on top of you in a second, wrists grabbed into his hands and pinned next to your head as he uses his body to keep your legs held up and steady before slamming into you. You yell out in complete bliss as he fills you to the hilt without stopping in one thrust, his cock stretching you mercilessly.

“That what you needed, pretty wife? This big cock inside ya? Get it every fuckin’ day, can’t get enough though, ain’t that right?” he says, unable to stop himself from immediately thrusting into you over and over, chasing after his orgasm. You’ve noticed that Joel can have incredible self control with most things until he’s buried balls deep in you, only then does it all go out the window. You love that power you hold over him, despite giving him every ounce of power to take it whenever he wants.

“Yes, yes, Joel, fuck me,” you cry, “harder.”

“Harder? Want me t’ruin this tight little pussy, it’s all mine, all mine,” he rambles on. “Fuck, c’mere and let me fuck you like I own it.”

He grunts as he pulls out of you with a wet pop, scrambling to flip you onto your belly and slamming back in as quickly as possible, cock hitting you so deep your eyes roll back as he presses your cervix.

You can only make wild, completely feral groaning sounds into the mattress as he fucks into you, devastating you as you see your vision spotting with white from the combination of pleasure and pain that he’s doling out. Your entire being feels supple right now, completely given over to Joel as he uses you to reach towards his own pleasure.

You whimper as your hips grind against the mattress, your sore and overstimulated clit getting even more friction than you can handle, and sure enough, you crash into another climax, your body shaking violently as Joel presses down on your back, fucking you even harder as you squeeze around his length and pull a rough, staggered grunt from him while he pumps one last time before spilling everything. Joel comes hard, pressing himself as flush as he can with your body, and you can hear his ragged breaths coming from behind you while he starts to come down.

You both stay exactly as you are, his half hard cock still twitching inside of your cum soaked cunt, both of you struggling to get a grip back on reality. You only now realize just how tear stained your face is, several stray tears still rolling down your cheek and onto the sheets below you.

Joel gingerly pulls out of you, but you stay prone, even as he crawls up next to you, just laying flat and letting his spill drip out of you, loving the feeling of being so used, so messy for him.

You flutter your eyes open to try to look at him, and you know it must be a sight to behold. Joel thumbs one of the tears on your cheek and then pinches it gently, rubbing his thumb along the soft skin there.

“So cockdrunk, look at ya,” he says with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“Mmmm,” you manage to get out, not even sure what you’d say if you could speak right now.

“I’m gonna run you a bath, pretty girl, then we’ll get you fed.” You can only nod in return, still trying to get yourself back to the present moment as you feel the bed move when Joel slips away. You doze as you hear the water running from the adjacent bathroom, and curl up slightly just before hearing Joel pad back into the room and gently shake your shoulder.

“Let’s go, gotta take care of yourself, doll,” he insists, and you mumble as you open your eyes and start to sit up. Joel peels your sticky, sweaty camisole off, tossing it on the bedroom floor and then leading you to the bathroom. The sight and smell in here is heavenly, and you wonder why you’d even thought about resisting getting out of bed for something this incredible. Fresh lavender scents the bath along with a clean, linen scent from the candle Joel lit on the bathroom counter. Inviting steam drifts off the top of the bath and you can hardly wait to dip your foot in and soak down into it.

“Thank you, baby,” you say sweetly, turning to Joel and tilting your head up to plant a kiss on Joel’s lips. He grasps at the back of your head, pulling your head in even closer for a few long, lingering kisses. He licks into your mouth and you moan quietly, your still freshly fucked cunt unsure if it should ask for more right now, or if it even can.

“You’d let me fuck y’again right here, wouldn’t ya? Cum runnin’ down your leg still and everything,” Joel asks you, and you nod bashfully, avoiding his eyeline, knowing it’s the embarrassing truth of just how desperate he makes you.

“Christ, how’d I get this lucky, huh?” Joel answers with a crooked smile. “Get in that bath, sweetheart, y’need to rest now.” He spins you towards the tub and gives you ass a light smack, urging you forward. You chuckle and decide not to resist, knowing he’s right - your body needs a break from the wonderful man that is your husband.

“Breakfast in thirty, mkay? I’ll make your favorite,” Joel tells you, a final kiss landing on your bare shoulder before you step over the rim of the tub and you turn to see him leave the room.

You hiss a little at the immediate heat of the water, but quickly find yourself sliding down into it, a relieved sigh escaping your lips as the lavender reaches your nose and you lose yourself into the bliss your husband set up for you so lovingly.

After soaking until you’re feeling refreshed and bordering on pruny, you step out and see the outfit Joel set out for you in the bedroom, indicating that he’d had a particular preference for what he wants to see you in today. You smile as you hold up a rather non classically sexy outfit compared to your closet full of lingerie and pretty dresses - one of Joel’s old t-shirts and tiny lounge shorts that barely cover your ass. You throw Joel’s choice and relish in the scent of him surrounding you through his clothing, hugging the fabric tightly to yourself. You bound down the stairs eagerly to the smell of breakfast cooking - chocolate chip pancakes by the smell of it - and think dreamily about what another perfect Saturday morning it had been in the Miller household.

joel taglist: @bbyanarchist

#it's official i'm absolutely losing it over husband joel here #fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #x reader

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ghost-recs · 1 month

Note

can we get some bakugou recs 😊😊 (written and smaus pleaseee)

hello hellooo! oh man do i ever have some! you have no idea the can of worms you are opening my friend.

but first i am so sorry for how late this rec is! i wanted to get this done days ago, but the semester has been crazy packed. i'm going to get through all my asks one by one. thank you for your patience! anyways let's get into this !!

Bakugou Recs

Garden of Lungs (Hanahaki) by oweCrew [ao3]

synopsis: you have your whole life ahead of you, a promising future and jobs lined up after UA...but these stupid flowers are going to be the death of you, literally.

i flew through this fic so fast. it was the first time i had every heard of hanahaki disease and oof to my heart. i loved it!

Late Night Calls by fictionpls [ao3]

synopsis: much to bakugou's disdain, you skipped your meals again. tch, he's basically taking care of you at this point.

cute lil fluff oneshot with bakugou as your best friend...maybe more.

Nothing More, Nothing Less by @dekustowel

synopsis: bakugou made a big whoopsies. the only way to get out of it? fake date you, the internet's sweatheart, duh!

this smau idea has a hold on me. i'm a sucker for the fake dating trope. and i mean seriously, it's bakugou! [ongoing...]

Nerd (Affectionately) by @oniku-niku

synopsis: you're in love with bakugou, have been since you were kids. there was no use in hiding the truth. but did he have to be so rude about it??

most of this smau is a big ouch to the heart. but the drama gets heavier as the story goes on and i'm here for it! happy soft ending! :)

Speak by Kikyo851 [ao3]

synopsis: you could not believe that your soulmate was such a crude and violent person...just to spite the universe and him you decide not to say a word to your "soulmate."

soulmate au in which the first words that your soulmate says to you is written on your wrist. this fulfilled my needs of a bakugou soulmate au! so cute and it is complete!

Of Snowscapes & Explosions by sugarbun [ao3]

synopsis: you've been categorized as second to shoto todoroki ever since grade school. after a frustrated vent to bakugou and a few of his cracks revealing some of his own frustrations you realize that maybe you and him aren't so different after all.

guys....when i tell you this fic is the slowest slow burn. i feel like it's so accurate to how bakugou would actually fall for someone. sadly, this fic is unfished tho and hasn't been updated in a couple years�� but you should read it anyways.

cover shot (through the heart) by @andypantsx3

cross posted on ao3 here! cover shot (through the heart) by andypantsx3

synopsis: you're the only one who can deal with bakugou's attitude in the industry. he hasn't found something that bothers you...until he starts flirting with you, hello??

model/celebrity au. super cute fic. i'm warning you this is much spicier than some of my other recs. mdni. (also check out this author's other works. they have a lot of top tier content!!)

Motherly Love by @kweenkatsuki-fics

synopsis: bakugou gives his mom a late night call to thank her. the reason why softens her heart greatly.

super soft lil drabble that just about brings me to tears everytime i read it. in love with bakugou fr.

déjà vu by @cashmoneyyysstuff

synopsis: bakugou thinks back to some oddly familiar memories with you. and one thing always stays the same, you both are together.

oneshot the made my jaw drop. hit me hard in the feels.

untitled oneshot by @honeypirate

synopsis: being paired with your number 1 enemy for a group project proved that the universe hated you. well might as well have some fun with this and make bakugou's life just as miserable.

college au oneshot. i am always down for a good enemies to lovers trope!

risky by @kusaka6e

synopsis: moving from another country to work as a pro hero in japan was not the easiest. and a certain hot headed hero only adds to your frustrations.

oneshot about the obvious grown tension between you and pro hero dynamite.

i hope you find something you like! sorry for the late rec, have a lovely day/night!

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roosterr · 9 months

Text

white flag ✹ ch 6

note: hoo boy, this one's a doozy. didn't mean to project so hard with this one, but fuck it we ball ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 5.3k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: you reach a breaking point with simon, and he finally realises what he needs to do to fix things.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, some light violence, ghost finally getting his shit together, arguing, kitchen floor romance, fluff

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

simon didn't see you at home. in fact, he found out from soap that you went straight to the pub with him and the others. you didn't even drop your car off, which meant you weren't going to get drunk, you were going to avoid him.

it stung – a feeling he’s become quite familiar with lately. but you wanted him to leave you alone, to give you space, and seeing as he had no idea what else to do, he would oblige.

he sits at the kitchen table, across from the chair that's become yours through some unspoken agreement. a random book is in his hands – an attempt to keep himself occupied, but he's been staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes and he hasn't absorbed a single word. you are the only thing on his mind, no matter how hard he concentrates on what's in front of him.

slamming his book shut with a frustrated grunt, he gives in to the fact that he's not going to be able to do anything meaningful until you get home. perhaps trying to talk now that you'd be alone would work out better than his previous attempts.

he intends to go straight up to his room when he leaves the kitchen, but for some reason simon finds himself standing outside the door to your room, peering into the darkness through the gap where you'd left it ajar.

he shouldn't go in, he knows that. from the start he'd promised himself to give you complete privacy – he hadn't even set foot in the living room since you'd moved in, apart from the times he brought you hot chocolate and put you to bed. it was the least he could do, offer you a space to call your own, since you really didn’t have much else.

but simon missed you; he missed being near you, the scent of your shampoo and the laundry detergent you use, just basking in your presence. he wouldn't touch anything, he rationalised, he just wanted to be surrounded by something that was you.

it’s dark, but he doesn't even bother to turn the light on, the hall light through the door illuminates the room enough for him to see where he's going. the armchair on the far side of the room is unoccupied, so he collapses there with a deep exhale.

the solitude must be driving him insane, because when he closes his eyes he can almost convince himself that you’re there with him, sitting across from him with one of his books in your hands. the disappointment that washes over him when he opens his eyes to be alone again isn’t rational, but knowing that still doesn’t dull the ache.

on the mantle, he notices something definitely not left there by him; first, he spots the flowers he gave you, a little wilted and slightly squashed, sitting in a vase that was here when he moved in. he feels a fleeting sense of relief at that, he wouldn't have been surprised if you'd thrown them straight in the bin.

but more interestingly, there's a photo frame, something simon owns exactly zero of, so it must be something of yours. he stands up, his curiosity getting the better of him, and takes the frame gently in his hand. tilting it into the light so the photo is visible, he feels a faint smile tugging at his lips at the sight of a younger you surrounded by your previous team.

you’re grinning widely, making bunny ears behind one of your teammates crouched in front of you, while someone behind does the same to you. as his eyes follow their arm to their face, poking out just above your head, he feels a sharp frown pull at his brows.

it’s anderson.

simon blinks a few times, in the hopes the he was simply imagining things – that his hatred for the man and lack of a good night's sleep was causing him to see things, but no matter how many times he looked away and back again, anderson’s face refused to change.

the urge to smash the photo builds up like steadily boiling water the longer he stares at it, so he places it back on the mantle before it gets too strong. why was he just now finding out you used to work with anderson? it explained why he was so overly familiar with you. was that why you liked him more? you had to be close with him – closer than simon was with you.

were you… involved with him?

the very thought makes his heart sink like a stone. his head feels light as he stumbles back out of your room, the acidic taste of bile rising in his throat.

not a moment after the door clicks shut, simon feels his phone buzz in his pocket, pushing his spiralling train of thought to the back of his mind. he pulls it out, the screen lit up with johnny's name on the caller id, but he doesn't want to answer it.

he lets it ring until the missed call notification appears instead. expecting that to be it, simon moves to shove his phone back in his pocket, but it buzzes again before he can get there.

it's a text this time – more of them coming through before he's had time to read the first. with a tired exhale, he opens the messages from johnny.

you coming pub? 20:23 pm

you should 20:23 pm

sting is here ;) 20:24 pm

no. 20:25 pm

why notttttttt 20:25 pm

cmon just get down here 20:25 pm

seriously i think you should come we need you 20:26

fine. 20:28 pm

let's fucking go 20:28 pm

better run tho be quick 20:28 pm

simon breathes a sigh of exasperation, but grabs his jacket off the hook. he doesn't even bother to change his balaclava for a more socially acceptable mask. whatever johnny's reasoning was for getting him to come to the pub, he was secretly grateful for the excuse to go out and see you – whether he would actually get to talk to you or simply watch you from the sidelines.

✹✹✹

slipping in quietly through the side entrance, simon is relieved to find the pub not nearly as rowdy as it is normally. it seems to be only the one-four-one and their associate unit mixed in with the locals, rather than being packed with soldiers like usual.

immediately he spots price, taking up a booth in the far corner, who raises a hand in greeting to him but otherwise stays put. the gesture draws johnny and gaz's attention to him, both of whom give him enthusiastic waves of their own.

he doesn't see you with them, which prompts him to scour the rest of the pub as he trudges over to his comrades. it doesn't take him long to find you over by the bar, though when he spots anderson unnecessarily close to you, he feels like his heart might just stop.

now that he knows you and him have history, simon feels a pit of hopelessness in his chest that he knows won't ever go away as long as he has to see you be happy with someone else.

it should be me, he thinks, a bitter downturn to his lips under his mask.

"why am i here?" he grumbles when he finally makes it to the booth, choosing to stay standing at the end of the table rather than sitting down with them.

"because you need'ta sort out this thing between you and sting." johnny replies, pushing himself up to stand next to simon and giving his shoulder a firm pat.

simon rolls his eyes to hide the way soap’s words make him flinch. "i've tried. they won't listen to me." he mumbles. he sees price shake his head in a show of disappointment, which only makes him feel even worse about the whole situation. aside from you, the captain’s been the hardest on him for the way he fucked things up, and while the sergeants clearly think he's an idiot, they've done their best to support him.

"then make them listen!" gaz exclaims, "explain yourself, tell them you'd do anything for them," he gestures one hand to where you’re standing at the bar, "tell them you love them!"

"i don't–" he begins to protest as he follows gaz’s hand, but the words die on his tongue when his eyes land on you; the dim lighting of the pub illuminates the way you smile so pleasantly, simon’s heart skips a beat. turning away from you before he becomes too entranced, he shoots gaz a light glare. "keep your voice down…"

"just tell them, l.t." gaz has an easy, knowing smile on his face when he meets simon’s eyes. looking between him and johnny, who wears a similar expression, he lets out a tired sigh.

"you’re a pain in my arse, both of you." he grumbles, massaging the creases in his forehead over the fabric of his mask.

"you're gonna do it, right?" soap grins from behind his pint, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that has simon groaning, but nodding nonetheless. "good lad, i knew you had it in ya!" soap claps him on the back once more before taking his seat again.

before any of them can bother him further, the sound of raised voices reaches their ears from the bar. not loud enough to hear what they're saying, but enough to know that there's a problem.

he's not sure what he's expecting when he turns around; but seeing you pushing a very drunk anderson’s arm off your shoulder with a scowl on your face, simon finds himself stalking over to you before he can even think about it.

"c'mon, we're good together, we have history!" anderson's words are slurred, leaving no mystery as to just how drunk he is. he leans further into your personal space, and simon watches your face scrunch up as you lean away, placing your hand on anderson’s chest to keep him at bay. "you're not seriously into that freak, are you? with that creepy fuckin' mask?"

that makes simon pause. he wanted to rip anderson away from you – of course he did – but he also wanted to hear your response, whether you would denounce him or not.

"oi!" you exclaim, an incredulous tone to your voice. "he is not a freak, don't be so rude!"

the way you defend him makes his heart swell. you also didn't deny what anderson said, and though he knows it's arrogant of him, simon still holds out hope that you don't truly hate him.

with the tiniest smirk under his mask, simon closes the distance, coming to stand at your side between you and anderson.

"sting." he addresses you, meeting your eyes and completely ignoring the annoyed mumbling from the idiot on his other side. "you alright?"

the look you give him is one of surprise and relief, but you don't get to say a single word before anderson is pushing simon's shoulder so they're facing each other.

"lieu‐lieutenant ghost, fancy seein' you here," anderson is clearly annoyed at his intrusion, poking a finger into his chest that gets slapped away just as quickly. "come to show everyone how big 'n tough you are, eh?"

"andy, stop it." you hiss, pushing him back again and stepping between him and simon.

anderson scoffs at you. "why should i? we're not at work, he can't do anything, he's just some random loser." he glares up at simon, a pitiful attempt at intimidation he knows he wouldn't dream of trying if he was sober.

"give it a rest, sergeant." simon grumbles, rolling his eyes at the way anderson puffs his chest out and stands up straighter.

"y'know, sting was right, you're a huge fuckin' arsehole," anderson spits, ignoring the way you try to keep him away when he steps around you be face to face with simon again. "can't blame 'em for not wantin' to put up with you anymore."

simon flinches ever so slightly at that, but thankfully anderson is too drunk to notice.

"that's enough." he growls, his nails digging painfully into his palms.

"no, no! what th'fuck is your problem, man?" anderson shouts, shoving simon's chest – which doesn't move him, but pisses him off anyway. "you think you're so much better than me, but you hide your ugly mug behind that fuckin' mask like a pussy!" his raised voice draws the attention of the other patrons, and an uneasy silence falls over the room as the background chatter halts.

"just fuckin' shut up," simon rolls his eyes again, shifting his gaze over to you and jerking his head in a gesture for you to move. "c'mon."

"and don't even get me started on sting!" anderson continues, pointing a swaying finger in your face which gets slapped away the same as before. "you're so obsessed with them, it's creepy as shit, everyone knows it!"

"i'm not–"

"they must be a fuckin' freak n'all, to be into you, you're both fucked in the head–"

"watch your fuckin' mouth." simon spits, taking the front of anderson's shirt roughly in his fist. he could insult simon until his last breath, but to drag your name into this ignited the flame of real anger in his chest.

"ghost, let's just go." you grasp his wrist, the one holding anderson, and perhaps if simon could focus on anything other than the smug little bastard he's moments away from punching, he might’ve felt the warmth that your touch brought him.

"–that's why they have go to the bloody psy-psychiatrist all the time, they're fuckin' mental–" the moment the words left anderson’s mouth, simon feels every sliver of restraint he had immediately leave his body; the only sound he can hear is the rushing of blood in his ears as his face twists in rage.

"shut the fuck up." he seethes, rearing his free arm back to throw possibly the most satisfying hit of his life; but before he can land it, his arm is immobilised he’s being yanked away from the sergeant.

suddenly price is in his face with a more than disapproving frown, walking him backwards with a firm hand on his shoulder. "get a hold of yourself!" he yells, commanding and abrasive.

simon grunts and pulls price's hand off of him, leaning around the captain just in time to see you deliver a fierce slap to anderson’s face that resonates in the quiet of the room.

anderson’s head whips to the side with the blow, the shell-shocked expression displaying the clear bruise forming on his cheek and his ego. simon had to admit, the sight of that prick with a bright red handprint on his cheek was incredibly gratifying.

"don't fucking talk about me like that." you spit at him, the most intense glare he's ever seen on you creasing your features. simon notices the way it softens when your eyes meet his, as johnny pushes you away from anderson – who's still reeling from the hit, but nobody bothers to take care of him.

he can't take his eyes off of you. it's like the rest of the world has just faded away and you're the only other person left, because right now, you're the only person that matters.

its drizzling by the time you drag him out by the arm. the damp air has a somewhat sobering effect on him as he allows you to pull him along with you.

"i could’ve handled that." you mutter angrily over your shoulder. you're taking him in the direction of the car park, the orange glow of the lamp posts casting shadows on your irritated expression that he finds himself admiring like fine art.

"i'd do it again." simon replies, still having never once taken his eyes off of your form. when you let go of his arm, having arrived at your car, he immediately feels the absence of your touch. he watches you walk around to the driver's side, meeting his eyes over the car and pausing in your tracks.

you hold his gaze for a moment, before looking down and shaking your head.

"just get in the fucking car." you mutter, opening the driver’s side door and disappearing from his sight. he follows suit without question, the car shifting under his weight as he settles into the passenger seat.

you pull out of the car park without another word, your face hard as you pointedly ignore his eyes on you. the silence between is thick, without even the white noise of the radio to break it.

in some way, simon’s glad you chose him over anderson, that you're driving him home rather than taking the side of that idiot. but, then again, he remembers the history the two of you must have, and he feels mildly guilty for potentially breaking up a long-term friendship of yours. not too guilty, though; the guy was a certified dickhead.

when the tension becomes too much, he decides to ask the only question that's been circling his mind like a vulture since he laid eyes on your photo.

"you know him." simon mutters. it's more of a statement than a question, really. "i saw the picture."

he sees your eyes narrow, his own still locked on your profile as you face the road. "you went through my stuff?" you reply, a small frown pulling at your brows.

"no, i just saw the picture." for a moment, he’s afraid he’d unintentionally started another argument, but his words only evoke a deeply exhausted sigh from you.

"he's just one of my old teammates." you reply, the sadness in your voice tugging at simon’s heartstrings. "i thought he was my friend, but obviously i'm not a very good judge of character, am i?"

perhaps that was a dig aimed at simon too, but he can only really focus on how disappointed you sound.

"it’s not your fault. he’s just a twat." he attempts to reassure you, to hopefully make you feel better, but he can't tell how successful it was.

"i know that now, i just–" you huff, cutting yourself off as you pull up outside home. you shut off the engine, massaging your temples with the same frown still on your face. he's tempted to say something more, but no words come to him.

"nevermind, i don't even wanna think about it." you sigh, quickly getting out of the car and slamming the door behind you. he follows behind, the lights of your car flashing as you lock it, illuminating the way your shoulders are slumped as you disappear into the house.

simon figures you'll want time to cool off after what happened, perhaps a cold cloth for your hand that's undoubtedly stinging after such a powerful hit. the memory is enough to make him smile lightly, a feeling of pride blooming in his chest for you.

he creeps upstairs on autopilot, his gaze lingering on the closed door to your room as he passes by.

it's still quite early in the night, so he's not surprised when he hears your door open and shut again downstairs – you going to sit in the kitchen, he assumes.

he wanted to talk with you alone, without the threat of anderson interrupting him again – and now is as good a time as any.

you're sitting at the kitchen table with your laptop open on some real estate site when he shuffles into the room. he stands in the doorway, watching as you continue sifting through nearby flat listings without looking over to him.

neither of you speak. you're not willing to break the silence first, and neither is he.

for a moment, simon just stands there, staring at you. he can see you watching him from the corner of your eye from where he shifting uncomfortably by the door. he half expects you to tell him to piss off, but to his surprise, you stay quiet. taking your silence as a sign that you aren’t, in fact, revolted by his presence, he inches closer and closer to you until he's standing directly next to where you're sitting.

still, neither of you say a word.

a minute or two passes with him looming over you, watching as you scroll through page after page of available flats, a shadowy figure in your peripheral.

eventually you find a reasonably priced listing, and when you click it, only then does ghost speak up.

"you don't need to leave." he says, cringing under his mask at the sound of his voice. he hopes you don’t pick up on how pathetic he sounds. "you already have a house."

"what? what are you talking about?" your eyes remain locked on your screen as you reply, voice flat and disinterested.

simon releases a shaky sigh, his nerve quickly faltering the longer you continue to ignore him. there's a brief pause as you inspect the words on your screen, before simon brings his hand up behind your laptop and firmly closes it. with an annoyed huff you finally look at him, piercing him with a narrow glare.

"you live here." he murmurs, staring intently back at you, fighting with himself to keep his expression neutral, to stay strong.

with me. the unspoken words hang heavy in the air.

"i can't stay here, there's only one bed for christ's sake." you grumble, brow furrowed as you pinch the bridge of your nose. "my back can't handle sleeping on that sofa forever."

"then sleep in my bed." there’s no hesitation in his words; he would gladly sleep on the lumpy sofa-bed if it meant you would be more comfortable – if it meant you would stay. the sound of your chair scraping the floor echoes in the stillness of the kitchen as you stand up, to be closer to eye level with him.

"oh what, and leave you on the sofa? in your own home?" you scoff, shaking your head as you step around him.

"well, yeah. you– i…" he reaches a hand out to touch you, stopping himself just above your elbow before he pulls back. the gesture stops you in your tracks, drawing your gaze back to his eyes. "don't leave." he murmurs, just above a whisper.

your mouth opens to respond, but his words catch you completely off guard. your eyes flit down, and he knows you can see the way his hands tremble at his side. he felt so… vulnerable, a word he never expected to apply to him, of all people, but you had that effect on him.

"just stay…" he whispers, a desperate plea as he squeezes his eyes shut to block out everything except you and him. "please…"

another tension filled silence stretches between you. he opens his eyes again, blinking as he meets your gaze. there's a profound sadness there, dragging your features downwards in a frown that sinks his stomach.

your sigh breaks the silence.

"i can't keep doing this, ghost." you mumble, dipping your head and rubbing your eyes.

"...what?"

"this! one minute you're nice to me, then you're a complete dickhead, and then you're back to being nice again." you exclaim, waving your hands around in frustration to amplify your point. "it’s exhausting."

"that's not– i'm not doing it on purpose." he frowns, the internal panic that arguing with you causes rising to the surface.

"this is what i mean! you're just making excuses!" your voice has a desperation to it that strikes him like an arrow through the heart. you turn sharply away from him, focusing your gaze somewhere on the wall.

"then just tell me what you want, for fucks sake!" he pleads, shuffling to stay in front of you and try to coax your eyes back to him. "whatever it is, i'll do it!"

"tell you what i want?" you laugh wryly, looking back to him with an expression he can only describe as offended. "i want you to apologise to me! i want you to say you're fucking sorry, and i don't want to have to wring it out of you!"

your words ring in his ears, bouncing off the walls and back at him like an echo chamber.

"you have never apologised to me! not even once! after all the shit you've put me through, i have never heard the words 'i'm sorry' out of your mouth!" you scowl at him, your eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall as your voice breaks. "thats all i've ever wanted from you!"

simon can't shake off the stunned feeling your words impart upon him; all this time, had he really never apologised? he'd just assumed that you knew he was sorry, without ever having actually said it.

the answer was practically smacking him in the face the entire time, and he still somehow managed to completely miss it. no wonder you were fed up with him – no wonder everyone kept looking at him like he was an idiot.

he's never felt more like a fucking moron than he does in this moment.

he's broken out of his haze by the movement of you sitting back down in your chair, lowering your head into your shaky hands and taking an equally unstable breath.

"you say you don't know what to do– you keep saying you regret what happened, but you never tell me why!" you briefly lift your head to cry out at him, and he just about sees the wetness on your cheeks before it's hidden behind your fingers again.

he takes one large stride to be standing in front of you again. "i was trying to help! havin' any kind of phobia will get you killed in this line of work. i was trying to help you because…" he speaks with a similarly desperate tone, his hands floating uselessly in the space between you. "be–because i care about you."

"well you could've fooled me." you sniffle, lowering your hands slightly, your gaze staying locked to the floor. "why didn't you just say that to begin with? why bother with the tough guy act?"

"it's not that simple…" he mutters, frozen in place, afraid that one wrong move would send you bolting like a cornered animal.

"why?" you cry, tilting your head up to catch his eyes with your own reddened ones, "what are you so afraid of?!"

simons heart beats out of his chest, the rhythm so aggressive he was sure he'd go into cardiac arrest.

"i'm in love with you!" he blurts, the tremor in his hands increasingly obvious as he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. "...that's what i'm afraid of." his voice is little more than a whisper now, the silence following his declaration only serving to hurt his heart further.

when he peeks back down at you, there's a look of pure shock on your face. your mouth is agape, your eyes flickering between both of his, and simon feels as though you're staring straight into the abyss of his soul.

"and i am sorry, i'm so fuckin' sorry, for everything– all the shit i gave you when you first started, for never givin' you a chance, for screamin’ at you," he continues, his own voice subtly cracking, "i– i'm so… in love with you, and it fucking terrifies me..."

he wanted to touch you, so badly, and with the sheer amount of raw emotion racing through his veins, he can't find it in himself to resist the urge.

simon sinks to his knees in front of you, his fingers grasping your wrists in a featherlight touch and pulling them away from your face with a gentleness he wasn't sure he possessed.

"i– i could've lost you. you could've died and then i'd have to live without you, and i can't do that…" for the first time in a long time, simon feels the sting of tears in his eyes as he caresses the pulse on your wrists with his thumbs, "i'm sorry…"

"simon…" the way you utter him name sends his heart fluttering like a caged bird in his chest. you'd never called him anything other than ghost or lieutenant before now; he never thought he could enjoy hearing simply his name this much.

"i'm so fuckin' sorry, i'll never treat you like that again, i swear." his voice is weak. he presses his forehead to your fingertips to hide the anguish in his eyes. "i'm sorry, i love you, just… just let me down easy, yeah?"

there's another pause, yours and simon's ragged breaths the only sound disturbing the silence.

"why would i let you down?” you whisper from above him. the words send a jolt of shock through him, the implication halting his breathing for a moment as he processes what you mean.

"don’t say that…" he mutters, squeezing your wrists ever so slightly tighter, not quite ready to let go of you yet.

"i'm in love with you, too."

his head snaps up to meet your eyes. "no, you– " he sputters, bringing one hand up to cover his mouth despite the mask still hiding his terrified expression "you can't… you deserve so much better…"

"i don't care what you think i deserve," you wear a tiny smile as you pull his hand away, your tender hold on his wrist mirroring his own on yours.

"i’m– i’m not good for you." he feels the tears building up again, blurring his vision.

"shouldn’t that be for me to decide?"

simon can hardly believe what's happening, when you bring your other hand up to his cheek, caressing his face through the fabric. he still doesn't let go of your wrist.

"i don't… you– i can't–" his tongue can't seem to form the words as he gazes up into your eyes, the kindness and warmth there overwhelming his senses. "i can't be what you want."

"you already are what i want." you sink to the floor as well, lifting your other hand to cup his face with a blinding smile. "i love you, simon."

for a moment, all he can do is revel in the warmth that bleeds through the fabric of his mask from your hands, pushing his face more into your touch like an affectionate cat.

a desperate noise escapes the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering shut. "...say it again?" he whispers the plea.

he feels your lips on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes snap back open at the sensation. "i love you, simon. more than anything." you murmur, shuffling closer when you kneel between his legs and pressing your forehead to his.

simon thinks he could die happy in this moment. to think, all the pain of the last couple of weeks – the last year, really – had all amounted to this, and can't help but think about what and idiot he'd been up until this point; to have waited this long to feel your touch, it was almost unthinkable.

he sighs, his breathing still evening out. "i'm so sorry…" he whispers. he goes to snake one arm around your waist, but hesitates just before touching you. as of sensing his dilemma, you give him a pleasant hum, wordlessly giving him permission to place his hand firmly on your back. he brings you that much closer with it, the feeling of holding someone a novelty to him.

"i'll forgive you, on two conditions." you reply. simon can sense the smile in your voice even with his eyes closed.

"anything."

"one, we talk to each other from now on, properly." you begin, and simon nods as adequately as he can with your forehead still against his. "second, you have to go on a date with me– to atone."

at that he opens his eyes, pulling back slightly and looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "not sure that counts as a punishment, love."

you chuckle, meeting his sceptical gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "it is, because you're cooking."

he chuckles, deep and rumbling in his chest, and drops his forehead gently back to yours, allowing his eyes to flutter closed again.

he'd cook for you for the rest of his life if you asked, if it meant he could stay like this, with you.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @sunshiinegaz , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona ,

@alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness , @madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology (p2 in separated reblog)

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

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egcdeath · 1 year

Text

clean sheet

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: nothing stirs the pot like your ex-husband, gossipy soccer moms, and a weekend-long soccer tournament. (part two of spectator sport)

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon divergent: no apocalypse, implied past emotional abuse, jealousy/misunderstanding, kinda angsty in the beginning but verrrry fluffy at the end, insecurities, there was only one bed, mutual pining, sarah and chloe being menaces as usual

author’s note: this past week has been extremely rough. like, ao3 author’s note apologizing for being gone rough, so i’m just as surprised as you are that i was able to write 7,000 words of a part two to spectator sport. enjoy!

part 3 / series masterlist

Tournament season was nothing short of an absolute pain in the ass. It was a pain in the ass when you were married and able to evenly split your responsibilities, and it’s even more of a pain in the ass now that your ex-husband has decided to participate minimally in all soccer related ventures.

To be completely honest, it seemed like it wasn’t just soccer ventures your ex wasn’t too enthused to partake in, as Nathan had ditched most of his fatherly duties whenever a new, younger girlfriend was in the picture. But that was neither here nor there.

Despite Nathan taking Chloe to her past few games this season—you were completely swamped with work and you had practically gotten on your knees and begged for him to take her to them—he didn’t seem to have any interest in assisting you with tournaments.

That was fine and good. You knew about the events far enough in advance to move some meetings around, block off some time, and cross your fingers and hope that nothing came up unexpectedly in the days prior to your game. Although, what you couldn’t account for was your car completely breaking down on your way back from a bagel shop the morning before you were meant to be on the road for the next three hours.

But alas, the universe had its way of kicking you when you were already down, leaving you biting back tears in the passenger seat of a tow truck as you attempted to figure out a Plan B.

“Please, Nathaniel,” you pleaded over the phone, pacing back and forth in your bedroom as you tried your absolute best to hold the last bits of your composure together.

“I’ve been at her last three games,” it was impossible to miss the sneer in his voice as if his own daughter was the biggest burden in the world. “And where have you been? It’s practically been a month.”

“Where have I been?” you laughed out of anger and at the absurdity of his words. You knew that he knew for a fact that you’d been drowning in work. “Nathaniel. You know how my work has been. Please just do this one thing for your child. It’s the fucking weekend. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“It’s always work with you. You know, this is why I couldn’t be with you anymore. You were always so selfish with your time and inconsiderate with mine,” he sighed dismissively. “And for the record, Claire and I have a reservation tonight. So I am doing something else.”

It was staggering how minimized and powerless he made you feel after every interaction despite how little he actually was in your life. Every time you interacted with the man you thanked whatever forces out there that you somehow found it in yourself to leave.

You huffed and blinked away tears, hugging yourself to attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort. After signing the papers, you told yourself you would never waste one single tear on the man again. You wouldn’t let a little argument like this change that promise.

“Can I at least borrow your car?” you sounded so meek and desperate, but you were running out of options, and with every passing minute you had less and less options.

Instead of responding, Nathan simply laughed at you before ending the call. Humiliated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt about the whole situation.

You angrily wiped away the hot tears that had slipped down your face without your permission and sighed as you evaluated what options you had left. You could take an Uber, but it would be ridiculously expensive. You could rent a car, but Chloe was bound to get stains and dirt tracked throughout the vehicle. Anything else was far too short notice.

You flopped down onto your bed and screamed into your pillow. The stress from your overfilled work week combined with an extremely inconvenient situation was taking its toll on you, but you needed to figure something out.

Maybe you could carpool with someone. Although, you weren’t sure who was still in town, as most of the families liked to leave at the ass crack of dawn. If that wasn’t enough, you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to sit in a small contained space with some of those families for a prolonged period of time.

Maybe you could ‘borrow’ Nathan’s car regardless of what he said. You were sure his new girlfriend had a car–if she was even old enough to drive one–and they could certainly take that car to their ever-important reservation tonight. Although, maybe getting a grand theft auto charge in order to make it to a soccer tournament wasn't your greatest idea.

You were deep in the eye of a brainstorm when a soft little knock rapped against your door, seconds before Chloe peeked her head in.

“Hi mom,” she greeted, completely unaware of the extent of your conundrum. “Sarah can’t find her cleats and wanted to know if she could borrow one of mine. Where do you keep my old ones?”

Joel.

Oh shit, Joel.

Joel who you’d accidentally ghosted after the promise of a date. With work and ex-spousal drama, you hadn’t even had a moment to think about the date. A knot tied in your stomach as you thought about how you’d treated him. He probably thought you were icing him out on purpose.

“They should be downstairs in the front closet under the coats,” you informed her. “You almost ready to go?”

“What does it look like?” she retorted sassily, doing a little spin for you to show off her full soccer attire.

“Alright,” you chuckled, trying to keep it together for just a while longer. “Go find those cleats.”

With that, she was off, and you were alone with just one option.

You dialed the number that you’d only texted once, and bit your lip as the phone rang out. The knot in your stomach tied and untied with each ring of the phone, nausea rattling you as you thought about all the ways he could answer. He’d probably be pissed that you were only reaching out to him now, only when you needed something from him. He’d probably tell you off, just like Nathan, and laugh at you over the phone over the mere prospect of hitching a ride with him.

After three rings, Joel finally picked up, saying your name aloud, as if he was genuinely surprised to be hearing from you.

“Joel, I’m so sorry,” you took a deep breath and attempted to hold back the wave of emotions coming over you. This stupid stressful morning. This stupid stressful month. And stupid you for leaving a good man waiting for you. A good man who was probably moments away from becoming a bad man, like every other one that seemed to appear in your life.

“My car broke down this morning and I don’t have any other way to get to the tournament. Is there any way we can carpool? I’ll literally pay you to take us. I’ll drive Sarah to school for the rest of the school year. Hell, I’ll take her to games too. Just… please.” It felt like you were talking a million miles a minute.

“Hey, take a breath,” he said, clearly picking up on the frantic energy you were radiating through the phone. “We’re heading out in about twenty minutes. We’ll swing by your place. And don’t worry about all that other stuff, okay? Just take a big breath. I’ll see you soon.”

You were flooded with relief as you spoke your gratitude and hung up. It almost felt odd to not have someone go off on you for waiting so last minute to reach out for help, or for not reaching out to them after you said that you would. You were puzzled, and not completely sure what you did to deserve someone like Joel in your life, but you were grateful to have him regardless. Especially now that he was coming to save the day.

Sure enough, around twenty minutes later, a pickup truck arrived in front of your house, and Chloe was sprinting to go sit with her friend in the backseat, still overjoyed from the news that she would be traveling with her friend.

Timidly, you entered the car, still anticipating a stern lecture or even a scolding for being a shitty mom, and an even worse potential partner. “I really can’t thank you enough for this, Joel,” you expressed before he had the chance to speak, hoping that if you expressed your gratitude before he had the chance to yell at you, the blow would be lessened. You kept your eyes down as you sat down and set your overnight bag in front of you.

“Of course. You know, I still owe you a favor after that dinner fiasco,” he glanced over at you and smiled, and some of that fear you had been holding onto began to melt away. Although, you blanched at the mention of the date that you were meant to go on, but hadn’t had the chance to do so. Yet, there didn’t seem to be any malice behind Joel’s words.

“I guess we’re even?” you offered, looking over at the man to attempt to read him as he slung his arm around the back of the headrest and looked through the rearview mirror as he pulled out.

“Yeah,” he said shortly, almost… dejectedly? Maybe you were reading into it too much. After all, his attention was split between you and getting out of your driveway safely.

Regardless of what anyone was feeling, your journey began with the girls in the back chatting amongst themselves and a slightly weighted silence between the two of you in the front while the sound of radio filled in for the lack of conversation between you and Joel.

You spent the majority of the ride looking out your window, deep in thought. You tried not to let Nathan get under your skin all that often, but maybe he was right about the way you spent your time. You’d practically thrown away your shot at any relationship with the man next to you, simply because you were too busy and forgot about a promise you’d made.

You tried to focus on the excited chatter in the seat behind you, and less on the venomous words Nathan had given you over the years, but it was a difficult task. Paired with the fact that you were still waiting for the shoe to drop and Joel to go off on you, it wasn’t the most pleasant time.

After about an hour of driving (and in your case, brooding), you had to make a stop at the gas station, as the truck was running low on fuel. You reached for your wallet and grabbed a twenty dollar bill, then passed it back to the girls behind you. “Go get some snacks for us?”

“Of course!” Chloe cheered, hopping out of the car and racing Sarah into the entrance of the gas station.

Joel was definitely going to go off on you now that the kids were gone. You held your breath as you got out of the car, leaning against the hood of the vehicle as Joel stood by the pump, his eyes fixed on his vehicle.

“I can’t tell you just how sorry I am. About not reaching out to you to go out sometime, and for having to ask you so last minute to take us to the tournament. I’ve just been absolutely swamped with work, and Natha-“

“You’re fine,” Joel cut you off as he acknowledged your apology, keeping his gaze trained on the car. Here it comes. “You don’t need to apologize. Sometimes life just throws a bunch of shit at us at once.”

You nodded in agreement, your breathing picking up as you waited for the condescension or lecture to begin. Yet… it never came. You weren’t sure if he was as upset as you suspected, but Joel was certainly feeling more than he was willing to let on. The lack of eye contact and his slightly off responses told you that much.

“Is everything okay?” you finally asked, trailing off. “You’ve barely said a word all trip.”

“Everything is fine. I’m just tired,” he rubbed his forehead with his hand.

“Well, if you’re tired, I can drive us the rest of the way over and you can sleep. That way you’ll be rested for the game,” you offered, taking a daring step towards him, and setting your hand on his bicep—a peace treaty of sorts. And maybe a hint that you were still interested in whatever sparks had been evident before.

Joel immediately stiffened under your touch, and subtly rejected the motion. He glanced over at you for just a moment before looking back down at the gas pump and shut his eyes. “That’d be great. I’m really exhausted.”

While you could believe that maybe Joel was just tired, there had to be more to the story. The way he rejected your subtle touch and the way he just couldn’t seem to meet your eyes told you that much. Perhaps you underestimated just how hurt he was by you not making plans with him, although it wasn’t like he’d reached out to you to set something up. In fact, the last time you heard from him was the night before the girls’ game following their team dinner.

“Of course. Go ahead and get back in the car, I can take everything from here.”

The rest of the ride wasn’t too long, but you were happy to contribute after asking for such a last minute favor. You drove straight to the grounds that the team was playing on that afternoon, as you were already pushing it on time, and certainly did not have time to go check into your hotel yet.

Your kids jogged off to greet their team and warm up with them, leaving you alone with Joel once again as you grabbed fold-out chairs from the back of his truck.

“You feeling any better now after sleeping?” you asked, turning to look at him and inspect his face for any suspicious expressions.

“Yeah, definitely,” he affirmed, but his words didn’t exactly match what it was you had observed. He closed his trunk and began to walk away, and you followed after him, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.

“Joel, really. You can tell me what’s wrong,” you practically pleaded, part of you still waiting for the moment he would tell you off.

“I already told you,” his tone was defensive, and when he turned back to look at you, the agitation was clearly painted on his face. “Nothing is wrong.”

You were taken aback, but understood that you had crossed some sort of boundary in your continuous pressing of what was wrong. You felt more like a kicked puppy than a lost one as you walked out to the fields behind Joel, setting your chair up close to him, but with a little more distance between the two of you than what you would have preferred.

You didn’t talk much during the game, outside of cheering for your daughters and momentarily celebrating when one of them pulled something impressive off.

Although you didn’t interact much, it still felt nice to be back at a game after being gone for the past few weeks. And honestly, it felt even more nice to be back in Joel’s presence after those weeks, even if it was clear that something had shifted between the two of you.

When the second game began, you were surprised to come back from your short leg-stretch walk to find another chair placed next to Joel’s—and a woman happily chatting his ear off.

A pang of jealousy struck your gut as you observed the two of them. It was no secret that most of the moms (and some of the dads) on the team (and other teams) saw the same things in Joel that you did. But you had absolutely no right to feel jealous, considering the way you’d basically led him on, and you had absolutely no reason to believe that there was anything romantic going on between them.

But you felt unwell anyway.

You urged yourself not to look at them for too long, instead focusing on the game in front of you, but the sounds of their voices and the way their conversation easily flowed was far too distracting. Just the rotten cherry on top of an already shitty day.

You felt ridiculous and childish sitting there with jealousy burning deeply in your stomach as you mentally ran through all of the things you could have done differently. Maybe if you’d texted Joel the night of your dinner and found a day where you both weren’t busy to go out together, or if you’d just said no to taking on a few extra hours, you’d be the one giggling and playing with your hair as you chatted up Joel.

It was official: you couldn’t torture yourself with staying one more moment with the two of them. Instead, you shot out of your uncomfortable little chair, and hauled your jealous little ass over to the concession stand. If you couldn’t go back in time and fix all the mistakes you’d made leading up to today, at least you could stuff your face full of peanut M&Ms until you felt better.

As you focused on tearing the yellow plastic with a little more force than what was necessary, you completely missed Alice—one of the more gossipy mothers on the team—approaching you.

“Hey babe,” she greeted cheerily. “We haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Where’ve you been?”

Your mouth was currently filled with candy, so it took you a second to respond. “Work,” you said in between chewing. “I barely had time to breathe, let alone bring Chloe to her games, so I had to basically beg on my knees for a little help from her father. Speaking of which, how was Nathan?”

“Oh,” Alice paused and looked off to the side, a little too guiltily for your liking. “Yeah, he was fine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, brows furrowed at her strange reaction.

“Yeah! He was great. It’s just…” she trailed off and offered you an awkward smile. “We thought you two were maybe back together. You know, with the whole co-parenting thing.”

Your eye twitched. So the parents of the team were gossiping and theorizing about your love life. Great. That’s probably what was wrong with Joel—word had gotten back to him that you and Nathan were playing house again. No wonder he was putting such distance between you.

“Babe,” you tried not to let the annoyance you were experiencing reflect too much into your tone, “why would you tell people we were back together? Bringing your own child to their sports events is not exactly groundbreaking or relationship material.”

You were now gritting your teeth as the irritation really started to sink in. Joel probably didn’t reach out to you for your date since these fucking real housewives you were surrounded by had decided to spread baseless rumors about you from the moment your ex had stepped onto the sideline.

You were wrong. This was the rotten cherry on top of the absolute dogshit milkshake of a day you’d had.

“I’m sorry,” Alice didn’t sound as remorseful as you wish she did. You knew that deep down, she was enjoying this little game and would be more than happy to spread this information back to her friends. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine, the damage is done,” you sighed, shoving a handful of candy in your mouth.

“Have you seen Joel and Cindy, though? They’re so cute together!”

It was now clearer than ever that Alice was only interacting with you to stir the pot, so you simply put on the best fake smile you could muster and nodded. “Adorable. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go sit back down. I haven’t seen Chloe play in a few weeks, and she was doing so well in the last game, I’m sure she’s doing great now too!”

You didn’t wait for a response before walking off, attempting to suppress all of the feelings you were having with this new information you’d been given. In the three weeks you’d been gone, Alice had convinced the team that you and Nathan were back together, and Joel had already moved on. If you hadn’t cared so much about Chloe’s passions, you would’ve had her quit on the spot. You simply could not handle any more of this soccer parent culture.

Sitting back down in your seat, you offered Joel an M&M, to which he politely declined. You wondered if there was a way for you to casually explain that you and Nathan were not and would not ever be an item again, but then again, it seemed like with Cindy in the picture, the ship of making anything work with you two had sailed.

You attempted to focus on your daughter, who unsurprisingly was doing quite well in the game. You were glad that no matter how shitty your day was turning out, your kin was at least having a better day—and having fun doing it.

You simply went through the motions through the rest of the day, squeezing your daughter tight with a hug when all of the games for the day were finished and telling Sarah about how great of a job she did, then falling back into a somewhat uncomfortable silence on your drive to the hotel.

Checking in had proved to be… a bit of an odd situation. As you pocketed your room keys, Chloe made an odd offer—her and Sarah would share a room while you and Joel would share your own.

It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when your daughters proposed that you and Joel share a room so that they could have a sleepover, but it caught you off guard regardless.

You were hesitant for several obvious reasons, but their room was adjoined to yours, and there was a perfectly nice pull-out bed in the sofa, which meant there was absolutely no need to share a bed with Joel. After some consideration and discussion with the man who would be your roommate for the night, you ultimately settled on allowing it. You would take the sofa. Joel would take the bed.

Besides, it’s not like he’d be spending the majority of the night in the room. After a short conversation, he was getting dressed and going off to dinner with Cindy.

You tried not to feel bad for yourself for too long. You’d already spent the majority of the day feeling bad for yourself, whether it was for the shitty situations you found yourself in, or the way the moms on your team treated your love life like their favorite reality show.

Knocking on the door adjacent to your own, you were happy to see Chloe crack open her door.

“Hi girls,” you greeted. “What do you say to a pajama party?”

“Yes!” Chloe squealed, swinging her door wide open. Conveniently, they were already dressed the part, and were seemingly ready to wind down after a long day of physical activity.

After ordering an absurd amount of room service and having nothing short of a feast with your favorite pre-teens, the three of you sat on the floor under a blanket fort you’d constructed as you played Uno with some random network romcom playing in the background.

It felt like after a long day of holding your breath, you could finally let go of it, winding down with your two favorite children.

“Do you feel like you had a good day today?” you asked, placing a green three on top of the pile of cards.

“Yeah! I missed having you and my dad together at our games,” Sarah remarked, drawing a card.

Chloe nodded in agreement, setting down one of her own cards. “You really spice up our games. I think Joel yells a little louder at us when you’re here. He was pretty quiet when dad was bringing me.”

You tried not to let your emotions show on your face too much in front of the children, but it was undeniably sweet that you being around brightened Joel’s light, even now, when things were a little more awkward between the two of you. You simply hummed as you set down your card.

“Yeah, he kept asking me if I knew where you were,” Sarah drew a card then placed the card back down on the pile. “I think he missed you.”

So maybe Joel wasn’t as mad at you as you thought he was. Asking where you were had to be a good sign, right? Maybe it really just boiled down to him thinking you were back together with your ex-husband, and him not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“I think you’re our good luck charm. Did you see how well we played today?” Chloe asked, discarding a card. “Uno.”

“I think you guys are just good,” you set down a card. “Uno.”

“I dunno, when you were gone we kept losing,” Sarah set down a skip, causing Chloe to exclaim in frustration.

“Our friendship is over,” Chloe announced to Sarah for what must’ve been the third time that night.

“Mean it this time?” she teased.

“I swear!” the pair broke out into giggles as you set down your final card.

“We need to team up on you! How is it that you keep winning?” Sarah asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“She’s a dirty cheater,” Chloe tutted. “Just ask her why we don’t play Monopoly anymore. Right, mom?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “It was a rough patch. I keep winning Uno because you two keep targeting each other. What happened to team work?”

“No such thing in Uno,” Sarah shrugged.

You laughed aloud, feeling some of your stress melting away with the motion, “you guys are too funny.”

Chloe yawned and reached for the pile in the middle of your little circle. “You can’t compliment your way out of this, cheater.”

“Ugh, whatever. I didn’t realize I raised such a sore loser.”

“Takes one to know one!” Chloe jeered.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Well, I think it's this cheater’s bedtime. Can I help you guys undo the pillow fort?”

The girls agreed, and you helped take down the mess of blankets, chairs, and pillows as they began to wind down and settle into bed.

“Goodnight, girls,” you bid farewell as you approached the adjoining door. “If you need anything, just come on over, okay? Sweet dreams,” you blew kisses to both of them before going back over to your side of the room.

When you made it back to your room, Joel was already in bed, the soft light of the television illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. The light from the screen and his pajamas were doing him all sorts of favors, making him look like he walked straight out of your domestic fantasy.

“When did you get back?” you asked as you grabbed your phone charger from your bag and approached the pull-out bed.

“Like, an hour ago,” he shrugged, leaning back against the headboard.

“You should’ve come over and played Uno with us,” you suggested, attempting to get cozy in your makeshift bed as you pulled the threadbare hotel blanket over your legs. “We had a little fort and everything.”

“Didn’t wanna intrude on your girls’ night,” he mumbled sleepily, hugging a pillow as he adjusted himself in bed.

“We would’ve been happy to have you,” you muttered, trying your best to relax in the rather uncomfortable makeshift bed.

Joel simply grunted in response, his eyes now shut. You could only assume that sleep set in quickly, and you’d now lost him to dreamland.

You stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Part of you wished that this whole day was just an awful dream, and that you’d wake up the morning after the team dinner at Joel’s house, able to do everything all over again.

Rolling onto your side, you hoped that the shitty pull-out bed would become even slightly more comfortable, but your hope was to no avail. You sighed softly and closed your eyes, wondering if you started counting sheep, if it’d be any easier to fall asleep.

About fifteen sheep in, Joel’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of whatever sleepy daze you’d been in.

“Hey, are you sleeping yet?” he practically whispered.

“No,” you responded, voice far above a whisper. “The floor would probably be more comfortable than this.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have taken the pull-out bed,” he goaded.

“You wanna get down here and sleep on it for me?”

“No. Well… Would it help you sleep better?”

“Joel,” you huffed.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you listened as the bedsheets began to rustle.

“No, no, don’t do that. Your body needs an actual bed after all that hard manual labor you do. Lay back down.”

“Not if you can’t fall asleep because of that shitty bed. Trust me, I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Now I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

Joel paused for a second, and you assumed he’d finally given up. Good.

Until he called your name once again. “Come up here and get a good night’s rest.”

“No,” you argued, though your sleepy brain was practically begging you to move to the comfier location. “You need it more than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You snickered, “whatever you want it to mean.”

Silence on his end once again. Time to start herding your sheep.

“Why don’t we just share? There’s probably room for three of me on this bed.”

A bold proposition from a man who got back from a date only a few hours ago. A bold proposition that you were probably a bit too enthusiastic to take.

“Fine,” you huffed. “Only to get you off my ass.”

Every part of your body was thanking you as you slipped out of the shitty couch-bed and padded over to the empty side of the real bed. Tentatively, you got in bed and under the sheets, making sure to keep yourself on your side and keeping your back facing his.

“Goodnight, Joel.” you finally whispered.

“Goodnight,” he softly said your name, and you imagined the look on his face. Maybe in a different world, one where you’d gone on a date with him when the offer was on the table, you’d be in bed with him without the argument, with his arm wrapped around your waist as he wrapped you in a warm embrace, or with him hovering above you as you attempted to keep quiet in a hotel filled with guests who were more than willing to speculate about you.

It was nice to have someone in bed with you again. Even if all you had was the heat radiating off of the man next to you, and the sound of his deep breaths as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. Despite all that had gone wrong in the day, and whatever Joel’s situation was with his date, somehow laying in bed with someone else made you feel at ease.

You didn’t have to count any more sheep to fall asleep that night.

When you woke up, Joel was already out of bed, pulling on a hat and slipping on his shoes. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he commented as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “Wanna get complimentary breakfast before it goes away?”

You stretched out as you listened to the proposition, wondering if the phantom feeling of an arm around your waist during the night was real or just a dream. “You know me so well.”

Somehow, the tension between the two of you didn’t feel so heavy that morning. Maybe sleeping in bed together had helped to break the ice, or maybe some other variable was at play. Regardless, you were happy to feel like your relationship had gone back to what it had been a month ago, even if Joel really was beginning to form something with Cindy.

The hotel lobby wasn’t too busy when you and Joel went down. You were certainly grateful, as the fact that you had just rolled out of bed and gone to breakfast was more than obvious to anyone who’d looked at you for more than two seconds.

You were stirring endless circles into your coffee when Joel sat down across from you, sighing as he leaned back into his chair.

“Sleep well?” he asked before taking a hearty sip of his own coffee.

You held back a laugh and exchanged it for the slightest hint of a smile. If only he knew just how well you slept. “I guess,” you admitted. “I always sleep well in hotel beds.”

You were completely uncertain of how to address the bed-sized elephant in the room, or if it was even a good idea to do so. But the lack of coffee in your system and the remnants of sleep clouding your brain had lowered your inhibitions significantly, causing the next words to tumble out of your mouth.

“Thank you for letting me join you,” you involuntarily held your breath after saying so, too afraid to openly wait for his reaction.

“Of course,” he hummed, beginning to stab at some of the food on his plate. “I couldn’t just let you break your back on that couch-bed.”

“Well I appreciate it,” you began to pick at some of your own food, the two of you falling into a far more comfortable silence. Obviously something had shifted between the time of the game and now, but you couldn’t quite place it. Since you were already in the mood to address elephants in the room, you had no issue blurting, “How was your date last night?”

“Date?” Joel looked up from his scrambled eggs with a furrowed brow.

“With Cindy? From the other team?” you took a bite of toast and didn’t back down from the loaded eye contact going on between the two of you.

“Well, it wasn’t a date. Cindy’s married. Happily, I might add. Just catching up with a family friend.”

You were slightly taken aback, but not necessarily in a bad way. Suddenly, you felt silly for all the energy you’d wasted the day prior feeling jealous and bad for yourself, when you didn’t even know the full story.

“Well, what about Nathan? Is he a family friend?” it came out defensive, and you couldn’t particularly blame him for it. Finally some proof that this was what that weird tension had been all about.

Maybe if your mind was slightly more clear, you’d find it cute that you were both a little jealous over each other. Maybe you really hadn’t thrown away your chance at this thing the way you’d thought you did.

“No! I told you, I’ve been swamped with work. Like, getting home so late that I only see Chloe in the mornings and when I tuck her into bed, late. She needed to go to her games, and I knew there was only one person I could possibly guilt trip into bringing her. But I would rather marry the actual incarnation of Satan himself before spending another day with her father.”

“Oh,” Joel said quietly, lifting his disposable cup to his lips and seeming rather deep in thought.

“But you thought I was with him this whole time?”

“I guess?”

“And you still invited me into your bed?” you pressed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“There was nothing inherently romantic or… sexual about that. I just didn’t want you to wake up in pain,” he set down his cup, but continued staring you down.

You shrugged. Solid answer, although you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to either alternative scenarios.

“But even if there was, it’s only because you deserve better than that man. And from what I’ve seen, pretty much any man is better than him.”

“Including you?” you pressed.

“What do you think?” the little smirk he was obviously trying to fight only egged you on.

“I think I agree with you. Except, I don’t love that you just assumed something about my relationship status because one of those human rumor mills told you it. Next time, you wait until you hear it from me, okay?”

“I normally would’ve, I guess I’m just so used to things not working out with me, my brain was just looking for a reason why this wouldn’t work out either.”

“To be fair, not contacting you after saying I’d go out with you is pretty solid grounds for thinking we wouldn’t work out. But at least let me take you on a date before we try to figure out if we’ll work out or not.”

“You still want to go on that date?” Joel asked, sounding more astonished than you would’ve expected.

“What do you think?” you winked, tossing his words right back at him.

Just as your exchange began to wrap up, you were joined by two sleepy kids, who most certainly heard part of your conversation about going on a date. You couldn’t even bother with feeling mortified, too high on the knowledge that you had yet another shot with Joel.

“How was your sleepover?” you asked the girls without missing a beat.

“Fun. We missed you, though,” Chloe sighed as she buttered up a bagel.

“Yeah, Uno’s not the same without you,” Sarah added as she began to cut up her pancakes.

“I’m flattered, girls. We’ll have to have an Uno tournament sometime and get Joel on it too. Mostly so he can witness me beating everyone’s ass at it.”

“Language, mom. And we all know you’re a cheater.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

“I don’t know, I kinda believe it,” Joel teased.

“Not you too, Joel! You’re supposed to be on my side,” you laughed.

Your table fell into comfortable conversation for the rest of breakfast before you had to send the girls off to go get ready for their games. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if you were still dreaming after waking up in this domestic paradise following the terrible day you’d had yesterday, but even if it was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up.

The rest of the tournament went smoothly, with the ice sufficiently broken between you and Joel, and you even joining in on his conversations with Cindy as the three of you sat together. The girls’ team ultimately won, leading to some very happy passengers as you drove back home. As you exited Joel’s car, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and a whispered promise of going out with him soon. To think, when you’d started your weekend, you never would have believed it would end in this manner.

——

“Mom, hurry!” Chloe yelled up the stairs at you, sounding a little more impatient than what you would’ve liked.

You could understand where she was coming from. Following the end of the soccer season, Joel had been quite busy, and Chloe hadn’t been able to see her closest friend outside of school hours for quite some time. If you were Chloe, you’d probably be anxious to see Sarah too.

Hurrying down the stairs with a newfound sense of urgency, you gave your daughter a little side hug.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, understanding her urgency a little too well.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be efficient,” she pulled away from you and checked out your clothing. Sure, it was 6 PM and you were already in your pajamas. Sue you for wanting to come back home after a long day at work and put on your softest cat-printed pajama pants. “That’s a good outfit.”

“Oh, thank you. I was actually invited to Paris Fashion Week, but-“

“You can tell me in the car!” she exclaimed as she scurried off, with you following behind the little slippery bastard.

In the car, Chloe seemed to be acting a little… suspicious. Although, you didn’t pay much mind to it, making small talk on the short drive over to her friend’s house. Her friend whose father you still hadn’t found time to go out with.

“Oh yeah, being here reminded me that Joel had something to tell you,” Chloe announced as you pulled into their driveway. “Come in with me?”

By now, you were slightly suspicious, but the idea of having some sort of confrontation by Joel about you not following through on your word once again overrode your suspicions of your child.

As Chloe rang the doorbell, Sarah swung the door open, smiling at her friend, then up at you.

“Hi, come on in!” she said sweetly, opening the door all the way and leading you inside.

As you walked in, your eyes caught on a makeshift pillow fort—one that oddly resembled the one you’d helped the girls make during their tournament. Cute.

“My dad’s inside. He wants to talk to you. See you later, bye!” Sarah talked quickly, and even quicker than her speech, she disappeared up the stairs with your daughter.

Something was definitely up.

You approached the fort with trepidation, and slowly pulled up a flap, where you found Joel dressed similarly to you in a loose shirt and plaid pajama pants, comfortably splayed out on his back while he seemed to be playing Candy Crush on his phone.

“Oh, hey,” you said awkwardly. “The girls said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Oh, hey,” he parroted back, seeming even more taken aback by your presence as he immediately sat up. “Uh, I actually didn’t know you were coming over?”

Oh.

It was always something with your kids. They knew how to scheme, and they knew how to scheme well.

“That’s fine,” you laughed to yourself about the situation. “I was gonna head out anyway. It was good to see you, and for the record, you clean up pretty well,” you teased, alluding to your similar mid-evening pajamas.

“Wait!” he said quickly, nearly cutting you off. “Sorry, wait. Don’t go yet. Unless you have somewhere else to be…?”

You shook your head and shrugged.

“I mean, obviously our kids set us up again, but we also haven’t followed through on that date yet. So maybe we can do it now?”

“Maybe,” you hummed as you sat down next to him on a mountain of pillows. “What would you want to do?” you asked, gently tapping his leg with your fuzzy-sock clad foot. (Chloe didn’t need to know that what was taking you so long was finding these god-forsaken socks.)

“Well, I’ve been wanting to take you out to some snobby, fancy restaurant,” he began.

“Oh?” you voiced, brows raised.

“But I don’t really think that’s either of our speeds.”

“Agreed. I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’m liking it so far.”

“We also probably shouldn’t leave the girls home alone at night,” he continued to think out loud, his soft eyes never leaving your own. You almost felt like you were caught in a trance by them.

“So what do you suggest we do, Joel?” you asked.

“Well, we have this wonderful pillow fort already at our disposal. Maybe we can order some food and watch a movie?”

“I think sitting in a pillow fort while eating food and watching a movie is my love language. That sounds lovely.”

You two smiled at each other, and you could hear your heartbeat pound in your ears as a warm feeling filled your chest. It had been far too long since you’d felt any semblance of this feeling.

An abundance of Thai food and an argument over what movie to watch later, you were curled up like a cat beside Joel admiring the look of his face under the lighting of the fairy lights that were hung up throughout the little fort.

“Ugh, why haven’t we done this sooner?” you asked, lifting your head out of the dip of his shoulder.

“We’re both too busy,” he murmured, looking away from the television screen to look over at you.

“I’ll literally take sick time off just to do this again,” you remarked.

“I think that’s just the Thai food talking.”

“It was fucking amazing.”

“Told you.”

“But it’s not just the Thai food. I really like you a lot, Joel. I like spending time with you. I like talking to you and arguing about whether a shitty romcom or shitty action movie is better. I like doing mundane shit with you, like putting up fairy lights in a fort to enhance our ‘fort experience’. I like cuddling with you. Has anyone ever told you that you’re basically a human furnace? Anyway, I hate the fact that our daughters had to make an elaborate scheme just to get us together. I wanna make more time for you, because you deserve it. But like, only if you also wanna spend more time with me,” you confessed.

“Of course I want to spend more time with you. And in the spirit of honesty, I really do have the time, sometimes. I guess I just worry that you wouldn’t want to spend your free time with me.”

“Joel, I would sit and watch paint dry on a wall if you were there with me. From the moment you entered my life, you’ve made everything a little better. If I have the time, I’m never gonna say no to being with you.”

He paused for a moment as he seemed to process that information, only coming back with a quiet, “Can I kiss you?”

You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him like no one you’d ever kissed before. It felt like the Fourth of July in your stomach as a moment you felt you’d been waiting for all your life finally came to fruition.

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and felt warm all over. You could go out on a limb and say that as far as dates go, this one was pretty successful, and to think, if it wasn’t for your daughters’ intervention, none of this would’ve happened.

Yeah, you definitely needed to treat them to something.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller imagine #soccer parents au

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

feast of pleasure

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x König x Keegan P. Russ x fem!reader

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: smut; p-in-v sex; anal sex; unprotected sex; foursome - f/m/m/m; fingering; oral - f & m; strong language; dirty talk; gendered reader; gendered terminology

Summary: A simple game; a friendly atmosphere; until one of the masked men asked, "would you rather kiss him or me?"; now spread wide for all three of them, nothing to hide as you submitted to the pleasure they were willing to give.

A/N: Shoutout to @ave661 for making this art. Divider by @firefly-graphics [source]

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

Your body was an invitation, a tantalizing feast of pleasure, just waiting to be savored; skin like silk, invitingly soft, begging to be touched. Caressed. Worshipped. You were theirs to explore and enjoy; to be taken and owned, an object of their pleasure and desires.

Ghost's lips brushed your neck, bruised from Keegan’s possessive assault as he marked you everywhere he could reach, the imprints of his teeth slightly visible. An almost animalistic grunt left his clenched teeth as he took notice.

No one actually knew how you ended up in such a situation. At first, such an idea would go completely over your head, laughing it off; which you did in the beginning, just a silly fantasy, something out of reach for you. The enigma of the masks, the unyielding thoughts swirling inside your brain as you watched them in action, bodies working on autopilot. Movements swift and merciless.

Desperately trying to hold onto your sanity, brain slowly turning to mush as you ground into Keegan’s hips, feeling his hardness over your clothed core. A satisfied grunt left his kiss-bruised lips; hands caressing the exposed flesh of your thighs, fingers dancing deliberately over the hem of your underwear as he watched. Eyes fixated on your face, looking as your lips wrapped around the spongy head of König’s cock, sucking the tip in with hollowed cheeks. Hand wrapped around his girth, pumping the remaining length while the other hand worked on Simon, who was standing opposite König, head thrown back, eyes closed in a blissful pleasure as your fingers danced along his cock. Thumb swiping over the head occasionally, spreading more precum over his foreskin.

Keegan’s tongue was leaving wet patches on your neck, blowing a cold breeze on the heating skin as his hands led you through the motions, his fingers on the small of your back prompting you to grind on him harder.

"Dammit, kitten," his voice was rough around the edges, just like him, "can feel you soaking me."

No one questioned the situation no more; the last one to give in was König, uncertain of the idea the longest.

It all began innocently enough, with every one of you gathered to enjoy a celebratory drink after a successful raid. To liven up the night, someone suggested playing a game of "Would You Rather?". After a few rounds of drinks, the sensation of the alcohol coursing through your veins was palpable; it was Keegan who shifted the atmosphere, going from a simple question to "Would you rather kiss me or Ghost?".

The air became still, tense as you stared at him; the dark pupils spreading over the blue ocean of his eyes, darkening them. König shifted in his seat, gaze watching the amber-colored drink swirl in his glass. Both ghosts, however, stared at you in unison; Keegan curious, Simon daring.

A giggle of nervousness escaped your lips; deep breath in, you felt suffocated for a moment, eyes fixated on the man in front of you; König's eyes glancing towards you, his countenance bowed, creasing his brow in a myriad of wrinkles, his face unreadable.

"All."

Keegan grinned at you, mischief glinting in his eyes as he shot a look at Simon and then König. A silent agreement was made at that moment; something new was about to arise. That was when you found out that your dream, the fantasy, was nowhere near reality. Their kisses; the way they worshipped you; it was all so different, it made your head spiral.

Keegan kissed like a man starved; lips branding yours with passionate fervor, tongue swirling with skillful expertise, exploring the depths of your mouth with each teasing stroke. Hands grasping your throat, the guttural groans shooting straight to your core, heart racing. His presence intoxicating, tongue driving you into complete submission. Hands angling your face to his own desire, thumb caressing the front of your throat; the gentle touch absolute contrast to the rough bites bruising your lips. His touch was raw. Primal. Promising. Keegan shifted you into a pliant state, his touch commanding, handling you in any way he desired, assuring you that in his hands, all your worries would melt away.

Ghost, Simon was a guide; hands grasping your thighs, hips, caressing your curves as his lips moved along yours. Sucking your tongue, a promise of what was about to happen if you let him in; tongue dancing along your lower lip, bruised and abused after Keegan’s hungry assault. Simon soothed the pain, becoming a beacon of comfort and security. A watcher. Observer. He was in control, his moves calculated and sure, yet utterly passionate.

König; sweet and caring. A benign touch of aftercare after the ghosts had their turns. His size betrayed him; a gentle giant. His lips were soft and tasted like honey. Hands caressing your face, thumb swiping over your heated cheeks as his tongue tangled with yours in a passionate dance of devotion. Hesitant to give in at first, even with your eyes begging and Keegan’s encouraging words; "C’mon mate, nothing to be shy about, we’re all friends here, right?" and Simon’s affirmative nod as his hand stayed on your leg, thumb brushing the inside of your thigh.

The ghosts watched in inquisitiveness, wondering if the silent observer would become a willing participant in their little game. Looking into König’s eyes, a wave of sympathy swept over you. Features relaxing as you reached across the small table, hips digging into the edge, you had to almost bend over it to reach his face. Simon’s hand moved to the back of your thigh, his touch never leaving as your eyes scanned König’s face, noticing the pinkish tint on his cheeks, the alcohol rushing through his veins.

"It’s just us," you whispered, feeling his breath fan over your wet lips, "nothing to be ashamed of."

His touch was electrifying, hand bringing your face into his by the back of your neck, fingers digging into your scalp as König enveloped you in his presence. A moan escaped your occupied lips as Simon’s fingertips brushed over the apex of your thighs before dancing over your clothed center; hips bucking into his hand involuntarily.

"You want us, pet?" he asked, tone lazy. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt König’s hands on your face, lips smashed against yours.

A hum of appreciation rumbled deep inside your throat. A hot jolt of energy spread inside your tummy as a hand stroked the exposed skin of the small of your back. Lips brushed against your ear before someone swiped their tongue on the skin behind it; Keegan’s words echoed in your head like a soft lullaby, sending you into a state of pure bliss, "we need words, kitten."

Your heart fluttered, air leaving your lungs as you exhaled in contentment, breaking from König’s kiss. Gazing deeply into Keegan's eyes, you could feel the desire radiating from his soul; his eyes were like a spell, holding you in place and igniting a flame of longing in your core.

"I want you all, all at once, Keegan," you murmured. König’s hand tightened in your hair, the pull straining your scalp as a strong urge to move closer to Keegan overtook your body; drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Then get on that table," it felt like it was just the two of you for a moment; your surroundings faded away as König's hand caressed your hair and Simon's fingertips caressed the apex of your thighs.

Eyes never leaving Keegan’s, body on autopilot, you followed his order. The coolness of the wood against the heated skin of your back, shirt discarded in the process. Simon stood up, gripping your ankle firmly while all three of them looked at your exposed body, eyes traveling over the soft curves, searing you in your place. The chill air gradually grew hotter, completely engulfing your skin in its warmth.

Legs spread on each side of Simon, he took off your shoes and socks, fingertips circling around your ankles as you looked up at König, who was now standing to his full height. Extending one arm toward him, a soft "come here" left your lips in a murmur, a grin on your swollen lips. He stayed still for a moment, the image of you, spread wide on the table, engraving in his memory to be remembered in the future.

Eventually, he crouched down; hand on the table as his lips connected with yours once again, a satisfied whimper sounded from your lips.

Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, quickly igniting a wildfire of desire within you. You heard Keegan talk, sweet words of admiration, but it was Simon's low and rasped tone that lingered in your ears after he had spoken; too indulged in the depths of satisfaction König’s lips had brought you, you didn't care enough to listen. Completely lost in the bliss, your mind on cloud nine, the intensity of the sensations coursing through you increasing with every touch, every caress, every whisper.

A hand sneaked on your hip, giving it a squeeze; an order your body understood. Arching your back off the table, someone’s fingertips traced the clasp of your bra before getting rid of it. One swift movement; practiced, skilled. A mouth on the soft tissue of your breast, another hand kneading the other one, wet lips enveloping your nipple, a tongue swiping over the pulsing bundle of nerves, thumb circling the other one.

Moaning into König’s mouth, his tongue swiped over yours, the rich taste of alcohol mingling with the sweet taste of your saliva. Breaths ragged. Another pair of hands undid your belt, sending a thrill down your spine. Simon’s voice felt distant, yet his breath fanned over your belly button as he spoke in a sultry tone, "lift your hips for me, pet."

You complied, of course. Nothing but respect for your lieutenant. One powerful tug and your legs were freed from the restraints of your pants. Kisses lingered on your calves, the men absolutely stunned by the beauty beneath them. Simon’s tongue swiped over your skin, teeth sinking into your legs; aggressive, primal, possessive. The after kisses gentle, soothing the pain away as you writhed underneath them.

It was Keegan who pulled away first, admiring the irritated flesh of your breasts before his palm laid flat against your soaked center, a guttural grunt accompanied by his lips on your ribs vibrating through your entire being. Hips grounding into his hand, he added pressure onto your aching nub.

The few words exchanged between the men were almost drowned out by your own heavy breathing as you shamelessly moved your hips, chasing the sensation of pressure that lingered between your legs. König's lips were still locked with yours, his hands nowhere to be found as you both embraced in a passionate kiss.

The air was saturated with the musky smell of arousal and sexuality, sending a shiver of delight through your body. As your mouths parted, you could see König's hand wrapped firmly around himself, feeling all the air punched out of your lungs.

Keegan’s touch was electric. You wanted more; a craving that only intensified as you continued to grind against his palm, pushing against his body as your eagerness grew with every second.

That was when you noticed; Simon disappeared. The ghost nowhere to be found, your eyes scanned the empty room before meeting with Keegan.

"Looking for lube," he explained, a sly smile on his face as he sneaked one hand behind your neck, fingers digging into your scalp, "we’re gonna need it."

"Okay," you swallowed, a knot tightening inside your throat as you realized; this was really happening. König’s grunts clouded your mind, Keegan’s eyes staring into your soul.

Bracing yourself on your hands, your lips chased Keegan’s, legs swung to close him in. Reaching your hand to your side, your fingertips traced König’s arm, feeling the hard muscle flexing as he palmed himself in a slow, almost punishing rate.

Keegan explored your body, lips an inch from yours but never touching. Teasing. As you moved forward, he pulled back, stopping all movement. A game of cat and mouse.

"Keegan," you mumbled, lips brushing his. From the side of your view, you saw König; standing tall, cock hard and glistening with precum. Swirling your tongue over Keegan’s lips, his eyes dark and smoldering with passion, the silvery blue of them completely overtaken by the deep, unbridled desire that was radiating from him. A playful sparkle shone in his eyes, though, teasing and inviting you to explore the depths of his craving. His lips were soft and inviting, urging you to continue to tantalize his senses with your passionate embrace.

A cunning grin formed on your face, biting your lips, you wrapped your ankles around his shoulders, his hands closing over your thighs. Reaching to your side, your hand enveloped König, stopping his movement as you licked your lips.

Feeling Keegan's stare, quickly looking up at König, you noticed the passionate craving in his eyes.

A kiss on his head, the sweetness of the precum coating your lips; salty, briny, brackish. A moan left you as your lips wrapped around the tip.

The moment didn’t last long; Keegan’s hands gripped your hips, tugging you forward until the edge of the table scraped your naked back as you slid off. Releasing König’s cock with a whimper, you landed on Keegan’s lap. He was already hard, a groan escaping his parted lips as you ground into him.

"Where the fuck is Simon," you mumbled, hand wrapping around König’s cock as Keegan’s lips searched yours, mingling the taste of you and König with his own. His kiss made your skin burn and your heart race as you felt a wave of desire wash over you; you wanted them all and you wanted them now.

As if being summoned, Simon’s dark and looming figure appeared by your side, handing Keegan a bottle of petroleum jelly.

Your eyes locked with his, heart fluttering as a smudge of darkness framed the mesmerizing, teal blue of his eyes. Simon’s gaze was intense yet reassuring, and you felt a deep, primal need course through you.

Fingers locking on his belt, you tugged; the signal not going unnoticed. Hips circling on top of Keegan, his hands caressed your thighs as you waited; waited for Simon to finally free himself, cock hardening as your fingers wrapped around his girth.

He couldn’t compare to König in length; but who could? Simon was more on the thicker side, your fingers too short to wrap fully around him.

Keegan's lips pressed hungrily against the front of your throat, a breathy moan escaping from your kiss-swollen lips as your hands worked on the men next to you.

Turning to König, you took him in your mouth while swiping your thumb over Simon’s tip, the droplet of precum not enough to lubricate; so you switched, the rich taste of König soon mixing with Simon’s as you sucked his tip in, tongue flat against his underside.

König’s broken English mixed with German as you pumped him, slow and tantalizing, prolonging the pleasure.

"Bloody hell, pet," Simon exhaled, hand on top of your head as he guided your face on his cock. Taking as much as you could, you felt the spongy head hit the back of your throat, closing in on him; feeling him shudder shot fire to your cunt, pulsating for attention as you felt the sense of power over the man, known for his scary, distant demeanor; now completely under the spell of your mouth, the most vulnerable he might ever be.

Mouth back to König, you took as much in as your mouth allowed; which wasn’t a lot but enough to satisfy. Grinding your hips into Keegan, his teeth sank into the skin on top of your breast as his hand laid flat on your tummy before creeping downwards in an entrancing manner.

Hand sneaking inside your underwear, a moan vibrated in your throat, stuffed full of König as Keegan’s finger collected your wetness, spreading it over your aching clit.

"Damn, kitten," he mumbled, sucking on your nipple in the process, "you’re already soaking and we haven’t even started yet."

A delightful feeling spread in your abdomen as Keegan’s fingers spread your lips, teasing your entrance.

Pulling back, you shot him a pleading look, "please."

"What?" he raised his eyebrows, that same sparkle in his eyes as before, "you want my fingers?"

You nodded. Mind hazy. Completely wiped off of any rational thinking as all you could feel were the hands on you, Simon’s grip in your hair slowly guiding you back to him.

Moans of pleasure mixed with grunts of delight, everything felt like a wildfire as Keegan’s fingers explored every inch of your innermost depths, his nails delicately scraping against your quivering walls, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your body like a wave of molten honey.

Your heart raced as Keegan's touch became increasingly more passionate, the sensation of his fingertips teasing and tantalizing you to unimaginable heights of pleasure.

"Fuck yourself, kitten," Keegan’s voice was rough, teeth scraping along your shoulder as he stilled all the movement. Legs bracing on either side of him, you lift yourself up until only the fingertips remained inside; slowly descending back down.

Simon’s grunts turned into groans, a moan escaping his lips once in a while; the sound making you go absolutely feral.

"Fuck, guys," Keegan chuckles as he watched you fuck yourself with his fingers, "she’s dripping, might not even need that lube."

Heat spread in your face as you listened to Simon’s rugged sounds, his head pulsating inside your throat as his fingers tighten in your hair.

"I’m gonna cum," he thrust forward; a gentle, calculated move, "gonna fill that mouth of yours."

Clenching around Keegan’s fingers, curses left his mouth; thumb on your clit, hand on your thigh, an encouraging squeeze here and there.

And then, for the first time, you felt the electrifying sensation of witnessing Simon, the mysterious and alluring Ghost, unraveling in pleasure; his brows intensely furrowed, a delicate layer of sweat glistening on his temples, his lips parted in a blissful moan as he spilled deep inside your mouth, coating your tongue in his bitter release.

Pulling away, you swiped your tongue over his slit, collecting the remains of his cum on the tip of your tongue. Drowning in your own pleasure, swallowing what Simon gave you, you looked at Keegan; eyes wide, hungry as he met your thrusts, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers. Gasping, nearing your own climax, he added another finger, curling them inside to find that sweet spot; to get you to scream for him.

Tightening your grip around König, increasing the speed of your hand, a strangled moan escaped your open, bruised lips. The heat inside your tummy overwhelming as you felt the sensation of pleasure grow. Keegan’s thumb on your clit moved faster, lips circling your nipple as you moaned, the wetness between your legs a delicious sensation.

Hips bucking; Keegan’s fingers continued pumping through your climax, sending surging sensations of pleasure that seemed to last forever.

"Get her on the table," Simon ordered. Withdrawing his fingers from you, Keegan’s arms wrapped around your back; you could feel the wetness on his fingers coat your side as he lifted you up.

Legs tangling in the air, bathing in the blissful ecstasy, he laid you back on the table, discarding the last vestiges of clothing. Your body exposed, vulnerable to his touch, you felt a rush of arousal as he trailed his fingertips over your curves, exploring every inch of you with an intensity that left you breathless.

Looking at König, you whispered a desperate, breathy plea, "Please, König, I need you to fuck me."

You could swear that you saw his cock twitch at your words. His face flushed with desire; he nodded.

"She’ll need more prep for you, my man," Keegan said to König as you reached for the giant, seeing Simon in the corner of your eyes; standing near, arms crossed over his naked chest. He was watching the scene before him; observing. His eyes a calming haven to the storm happening. A guardian; you’d say.

"Condoms?" Keegan took you from your trance, hand palming his own cock as he waited for your answer; shaking your head, whispering a simple "implant", he nodded. Hands running down your hips, he turned you around, tugging you backward until your ass hang in the air.

Face forward, you latched your mouth back on König. Keegan's hand glided along the contours of your back, sliding over the flesh of your asscheeks.

Spreading you apart for him, the hot breath of his desire fanned over your dripping center as he flicked his tongue inside you, the sensation causing you to arch your back and cry out in pleasure, a hum vibrating in his throat.

"Tastes like goddamn heaven," he kissed your opening, standing up. Guiding the tip of his hard, velvety cock to your trembling entrance, tasting your sweet release, he eased into you, filling you with aching pleasure. Inch by inch, he split you apart and built you back together, stoking the flames of desire within you.

His hands moved with a delicate touch all over your body, making their way to your hips, grasping them tightly as he pushed himself further into you. You felt an overwhelming pleasure as your body was slowly filled with his raging desire. His hips pushed against yours as he went deeper, allowing your gummy walls to wrap around him as he moved.

The moment he was fully seated inside, he stilled; relishing in the feeling of being absolutely full, you took as much of König as you possibly could inside your mouth, tasting the sweet, salty skin. His body gently rocked against your face, each thrust sending a thrill of arousal to where Keegan was seated.

Keegan’s thrusts were deliberate and provoking, each one sending an explosive wave of pleasure that made your body quiver with delight; hands moved along your curves, igniting an inferno of passion that threatened to consume you.

König’s groans grew louder as you hollowed your cheeks, tongue laying flat over his slit for a moment.

The room was soon filled with the sound of your moans and your wetness as Keegan rolled his hips against your ass, filling you up with every inch of his cock. Every time he pulled away, your body yearned for him, your muscles contracting around him.

"Gonna fuck that ass of yours, kitten," Keegan groaned between the tantalizing thrusts, "s’that okay?"

Moaning around König’s cock, you already knew the drill. Letting him slip from your warm mouth, you allowed Keegan to do what he wanted with your body.

Pulling away completely, he swiped his fingers over your mixed juices before plunging back inside; spreading your own juices over the tight ring of muscles, he eased the tip of his finger in.

"Fuckin’ hell," a deep, filthy grunt escaped Keegan’s lips as he watched you eagerly suck it in.

Simon’s eyes burned holes into Keegan as he observed his preparations. All while watching your mouth getting stuffed, silently admiring König for his stamina, being able to hold on for that long, knowing well how good your mouth feels, what that sharp tongue of yours can do.

Keegan worked on you, relaxing the muscles enough to allow him to get his whole finger in, coated in your juices, having to mix it with the jelly Simon brought earlier to make it as comfortable as he could for you; two fingers, scissoring you open for his cock to sank in. Soon.

Simon walked over to the table you were displayed on, rough hand running along the curve of your spine as you felt Keegan’s tip probe your ass.

"Ready?" he asked. König stepped back for a moment, letting you take a deep breath as Simon’s hand sneaked in your hair, tucking a few stray, sweat-drenched strands behind your ear as you let yourself be drowned in his eyes.

König’s reassuring words filled your ears, Simon’s stare holding you hostage as you gasped, feeling a sting of pain shoot up your body, chest pushing into the table as your legs involuntary flexed, feet pushing upwards to stand on tiptoes as if your body was trying to run away.

"Careful there, man," Simon said, your eyes squeezed shut, lip sucked in.

"S’alright," you reassured the men around you. Keegan paused for a slight moment, hand sneaking around you to rest on your clit, fingers toying with the pulsating numb of nerves as he sunk the tip in, feeling the delightful squeeze of your insides.

A moan escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as Keegan split you open. His grunts reverberated through you, powerful, rasping growls that sent a wave of desire spiraling through your body until you were burning up with need. His groans seemed to penetrate your core, setting it alight until you were trembling with pleasure.

The moment you felt his hips brush against your asscheeks, you knew; he was fully inside. The feeling foreign yet so intensely erotic. Feeling every inch of him where no one else had ever been.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure. You could barely process the conversation between Keegan and the other men, the words fading away as you bathed in the slow, sensuous motions that he was making. His movements were expertly precise, coaxing out every ounce of pleasure from your body as he moved.

Stopping for a moment, Simon's fingertips roamed over your face before you were lifted up, Keegan still seated fully inside you. Sitting down, you felt him sink in deeper than before.

Resting your head on his shoulder, Keegan’s lips brushed over your ear, his legs spreading yours wide apart. Glistening cunt on display, you watched as König moved in front of you, squeezing his cock in his hand, eyes watching your juices drip onto Keegan’s hips.

König guided his throbbing, engorged cock to your entrance, hands resting possessively on your quivering thighs, squeezing them tight and pushing them apart as he sank himself deep into your welcoming walls. His spongy, swollen tip caressed the top of your cervix, eliciting a trembling moan of pleasure from your lips. Both men stayed still inside you, savoring the moment.

The intense heat of their bodies pressed against yours as the sensation of being so full intensified. One hand sneaking into König’s hair, you pulled the man closer, lips crashing against his, a plea to move escaping your mouth between the kisses.

Keegan's hands were firm on your hips as he began to thrust, slowly lifting you up with each motion before delicately letting you sink back onto his lap. Soon enough, both men found a satisfying rhythm, setting your body on fire, skin tingling with pleasure.

König's body took possession of you, his desire and heat radiating off of him and engulfing you. Eyes opened, you sought the last man available; Simon was standing in your arm’s reach, hand wrapped around his already hard, aching cock, his gaze piercing and unyielding as he looked at you.

You were entranced by the sight of him, feeling his need and hunger for you, unable to resist his allure. Arm reaching for him, he took a step forward, then another, until he was standing next to you, cock alert and right in front of your face.

Licking your lips, you wrapped your hand around the base before your mouth closed around the tip. Sliding your tongue around him, tasting him, you savored the sensation of his velvety smoothness, your eagerness to please him palpable.

Keegan's hand slowly, teasingly caressed your aching nub, coaxing forth an immense wave of pleasure that washed through your entire body. His words of encouragement, laced with König's melodic German, and Simon's shameless gasps of delight added to the intensity of the moment, and you found yourself consumed by the heat of their bodies, the tight embrace of being sandwiched between them. Every movement, every touch, added to the ever-growing pleasure that was coursing through your veins. You felt like you could burst with the intensity of the sensations, and you never wanted it to end.

"Ich kom-gonna cum inside," König grunted, hips buckling into yours.

Everything felt so unbelievably, mind-meltingly good. You moaned around Simon’s cock as the molten pleasure in your belly grew stronger, your body trembling and tingling with the intensity of it all.

Keegan stilled the moment you opened your mouth, Simon sliding out of you as the filthiest moan left your lips, head thrown back; the feeling of König’s load coating your insides awakening your nerves, setting them on fire as he fucked you through the orgasm.

"Shit," Keegan chuckled, "did you just-"

"I think so," Simon agreed, eyes following the glistening bead of sweat trailing down your temple as your whole body quivered, legs trembling; your pliant form completely devoured by the searing pleasure.

A whimper left your lips as König pulled out, leaving you painfully empty. One last kiss, a thank you, before he retreated to the side, leaving you sitting on Keegan’s lap, his cock still deep inside your ass.

You heard Simon talk, another incoherent order being given out. Watching as he laid down, Keegan guided your hips up. Legs unable to cooperate, the man was forced to basically carry you onto Simon’s lap.

Simon’s cock slipped inside you with ease, König’s and Keegan’s remains mixing with his as all three men felt the sensation of your gummy walls tonight, the tight squeeze you were willing to give, the snug feeling of your heat.

Kneeling behind you, Keegan stared in awe at your body, spread out before him, cunt already taken over by Simon; his thrusts deliberate. Measured. Deep. The tip of his cock kissing your walls with each thrust. The delicious sight of him pleasuring you almost brought Keegan to the brink of ecstasy just by watching.

Using another spoonful of jelly, he coated his cock in it before easing back inside. Keegan felt a thrill of pleasure at the sensation of your tight walls gripping him and the sensation of being so intimately connected to you. His pleasure only increased as Simon's hands guided your movements, the speed willfully increasing.

The rhythm of their combined thrusts grew stronger and faster as Simon felt your walls quiver around him, your moans of pleasure echoing through the heated room. His breathing quickened as Keegan rode the wave of pleasure that was building inside him, the pungent smell of sex so ever-present. He felt a wave of bliss wash over him as he moved closer to climax, Simon's groans of pleasure matching your own.

"Fuck, kitten," Keegan struggled to speak, mind spiraling with pleasure as his lips pressed against the skin between your shoulder blades, "gonna fill you up so good."

With one final thrust, he shuddered, hands squeezing your hips as he tugged you back into his hips, seating himself as deep as he could possibly go. A strangled moan left your lips, eyes locked with Simon’s as the man beneath you stilled, letting Keegan ride his high, use your body to the fullest before he got to his own climax.

Sitting back, Keegan couldn’t help but stare; the sight explicit. Filthy. Watching as his own cum leaked out of your ass and dripped onto Simon’s own cock before the ghost slammed himself fully back in. Simon’s hand sneaked at the back of your neck, bringing your face to his in a teeth-clashing kiss.

Rutting up inside your used and abused body, you let him absolutely ravage you; your body becoming nothing more than a ragdoll, overtaken by a wave of sweet and erotic bliss. His thrusts passionate as he claimed your body with every stroke as if it were his own.

His name left your lips like a prayer, arms too weak to hold yourself up as he drove you to another climax. His lips were hot against your skin, sending a wave of sparks through your veins as you moved closer to the sweet release. You felt the wave rise higher with no indication of stopping, until ultimately, a wave of contentment and delight enveloped you, a feeling of euphoria washing over your entire being.

"That’s it, kitten," his lips brushed your neck, bruised from Keegan’s possessive assault as he marked you everywhere he could reach, the imprints of his teeth slightly visible. An almost animalistic grunt left Simon’s clenched teeth as he took notice.

His thrusts became heavier, hitting the deepest corners of your gummy walls as he felt himself nearing climax. His lips pressed against yours again; his hot breath on your skin, hands tangled in your hair as he moved faster.

He moaned in pleasure as he thrust harder, feeling your body shiver as you laid on him, chest pressed against his. He moved his hands down to the apex of your thighs, pushing himself deeper into you. Simon’s thrusts were relentless as if he wanted to merge himself completely with you. You felt your body heat up as his intensity increased, crying out in pleasure.

"Think you can take me?" he groaned. A moan left your lips as you nodded into the crook of his neck. You felt him tense up as his thrusts became more powerful, and he let out a deep moan as he released himself into you. His body shuddered with pleasure as his thrusts became increasingly wild as if he was trying to get as deep as possible.

You felt your body trembling, breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts become sloppier. Shamelessly using the heat of your walls, the tight squeeze of your insides to ride his own high.

"Don’t forget the lady, Lt.," Keegan cheered from somewhere in the room, König’s chuckle following suit; too tired to look around to see where the men retrieved too. Simon’s fingertips danced on your tummy, sliding down before you rolled away from him, a whimper leaving your lips as his softening cock slipped out of your sensitive walls.

"S’okay," you mumbled, fingers grasping his hand to stop him, "I’m good."

"You sure?" he asked, eyes searching your face for confirmation to which you nodded. Closing your eyes, you relished in the feeling of his cum dripping out, already knowing that you were making a mess on the filthy floor of the room.

Simon sat up, hand on your ribs, eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort before he turned his head to the side.

"Keegan, bring me a warm towel," his voice was rough around the edges, "König, a glass of water."

His hand swept away the hair sticking to your face, fingertips dancing along your hairline, "you did good, pet."

A contented smile spread on your face at his words, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks; supporting your back, he help you sit up next to him as both of you waited for the guys to bring what was needed.

"Could do it again, sometimes," you said, head resting on his shoulder as his arm enveloped your upper back, supporting your weight.

"Think you could take it?"

"I think we both know the truth about that."

#könig #simon riley #keegan russ #ghost #cod #smut #moni writes #könig smut #könig x reader #ghost x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #cdmwii #reader x everyone #codghosts #ghosts

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spacebarbarianweird · 6 months

Text

Fever

Summary: During your post-game adventures, you get sick and Astarion takes care of you.

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Tags: hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Thanks @tragedybunny for being an amazing beta!

It's bone-chilling cold. So close to the Spine of the World, the snow and winds prove as merciless as demons from the Abyss. Tears freeze on your cheeks. Even Astarion, wrapped in his fur cape, shivers; the cold seeping into his undead body. He starves. The dark forest is silent, with no animals around to prey on.

"Astarion," you muffle through the thick scarf, "take a small sip, I beg you."

"No," he refuses yet again, unwilling to risk your life. Hunger and cold torment him, but he stands on his feet. Meanwhile, you, a fragile mortal, teeter on the verge of death in this frozen forest. Your back aches despite Astarion carrying most of the load. Your feet are numb as if submerged in icy water, and your throat burns with pain.

Astarion grabs your hand and lets you lean back on him. The nearest village is still miles away, and there's no chance you'll make it till sunrise. Nights are long, dark, and unforgiving. You need to set up the camp; it might be warmer in daylight.

But Astarion desperately holds on to his sanity, which he might lose if he doesn't feed soon.

"Astarion, please. We need to put up the tent. Sunrise is soon. I will just lay by the fire, and you can eat."

"We still have time, darling, and save your energy," he grits his teeth. The starving monster within him looks at you through Astarion's kind crimson eyes.

"Astarion, take my blood!"

He doesn't reply, leading the way through dark woods. If only there was an animal, even a rat. Looking up, you see the dark skies filled with prickly stars.

"What is it, my sweet?"

Suddenly, you realize you haven't been cold because of the snow and winds. You are cold from within. Your heart, lungs, and bones are freezing, much like what Astarion feels every moment since he died. "Oh, fuck!"

You realize you now lie in the snow, unable to move, as the air in your throat burns with ice.

"Wake up, gods damn you!" Astarion's voice is desperate, betraying that he' is scared to death.

You hear the loud thump when his travel sack drops in the snow. Then he works on your belts, releasing your burden. A moment later, and you rest in his hands.

"Love, I need you to stay awake. You hear me?"

But you can't say anything. The cold rips through your muscles, turning into ice, and you lose consciousness, drowning in cold, dark waters.

So cold, so cold. It's a freezing grip of death on your heart, killing you. You think of Astarion, imagining him beside your lifeless body.

… You hear muffled talking and open your eyes. You aren't dead, that's for sure, but there is complete darkness around you.

And you lie under something weighty.

You try to move but can't, your. whole body shivers. You are almost naked, tucked in animal fur like some barbarian child.

The smell wood and herbs comes to you. And fire.

Then you remember the sun. And how Astarion carried you in his hands. Horror pierces your mind along with cold.

He is dead. He didn't make it till sunrise. It burnt him; he is gone. And the village people probably found you alone in the snow and brought you here.

While you think, you realize there are people in the room. Two people, to be precise.

"It's a freezing fever," the female voice says. "You two would have been complete idiots if you'd decided to put up a camp. She would have been dead by now."

"But now—is she ok?"

Astarion.

You have never felt so much joy in your life. He is alive and here, beside you. You can't comprehend how much strength he had to pull to make it with you in his hands by sunrise.

"She needs to take the potion. And then sleep in warmth."

You feel the familiar weight beside you. Then, two hands get you out of the blankets and make you sit up. Your head is spinning, and you shiver, though you notice sweat on the healer's face.

Astarion smiles at you and brings the bottle with the potion to your lips.

"Drink, love," he says.

"The taste is nasty," the healer shrugs. "Make her drink every last drop."

The potion is genuinely awful, burning your mouth. You start slipping away again, and Astarion tucks you in thick blankets.

"And people say vampires are soulless creatures. They should meet you two.”

When the healer leaves, Astarion lies beside you over the blanket. You wish to hug him but are afraid of his cold skin.

"Are you hungry?" you ask.

You hear a chuckle. "You are at death's door, and you ask about me? "Take mine," you insist.

"Tav, darling, I ain't taking a tiny drop from you until you fully recover. There is prey in the woods. I will find it."

You want to say something else, but the freezing hand of the sickness grips your throat. You feel like you’re naked on ice, in the howling wind.

"Love?"

"It's still… cold…"

Astarion sighs and stands up. You want to cry, to beg him to stay, but you can't say anything as he leaves the room, closing the thick wooden door.

You feel like crying, alone, and freezing. The healer curses, "You, idiot, stay inside!"

You hide under the blanket in the fetal position, trying to save warmth. However, it's difficult since the core of your suffering is still within. What if you are dying? And you are dying all alone in this village without a name in the middle of nowhere.

It's been years since you left Baldur's Gate together, and you can't fall asleep without him by your side. Astarion is safety. Astarion is protection. Whatever enemy is out there to threaten your life and freedom, Astarion is always there with his fangs and daggers. He doesn't sleep—only meditates a bit—and he is your guardian when you are most vulnerable.

But now you are alone. Your mind grasps consciousness with the last bits of strength you have. The thick blankets don't let you move, and you lie like you’re in your very own coffin of ice. It's been a long time since you were left alone, but you know it's still dark outside. And then you realize you aren't alone anymore.

Astarion crawls under the blankets and covers your body with himself, placing his head on your chest. He smells like blood, the hunt, and forest. He has already pulled off all his clothes, and you feel his skin against yours, unexpectedly flaming hot.

You can only wonder how much blood he has drunk. Sure, his body gets warm after feeding, and the more living blood he takes, the more alive he seems. But this is different. You can't see him, but you are somehow sure his skin has temporarily returned to its natural living color.

You wrap your hands around him and stroke the scars. Astarion groans and adjusts himself a bit.

"I've been hunting," he says, sounding drunk. "The healer told me there is a bear attacking villagers, starved and angry. I found and drained it."

"You shouldn't have risked it."

"I wanted you to be warm. I know how it feels to have a freezing grip on the heart. It hurts. All the time."

You press him tighter and kiss his forehead.

With him in your hands, you finally fall asleep. You have a strange dream—a summer day in the beautiful mountains.

And there is Astarion beside you. He smiles, exposing his face to the sunshine. You want to tell him to hide, to run away. But he opens his eyes, and you stare at him in disbelief.

They are green, not red.

… When you wake up, you feel hot. Sweat runs down your back, and the blankets suffocate you. You get out of them like a kitten squeezed by its mother.

"Hello, my sweet. You are so adorable with this bed hair," Astarion sits on the floor with a needle and a thread. You recognize his own shirt in his hands.

"How awful do I look?"

"You look like someone who finally got better. But I suppose you could scare away some kids in that village. Maybe I should tell them you are also a vampire. Food or bath?" he asks.

"Food. I am dying of hunger."

"My sweet, don't tell me about hunger." He mockingly kisses you. He returns soon with a soup bowl. You try to take the plate in your trembling hands, but Astarion forces you to sit still like a baby and starts spoon-feeding you.

"Good girl," he chuckles. "The healer said it would take you weeks to recover, and you made it in three days."

"And you have been here?"

"Don't offend me with such questions."

"Oh, don't be angry."

With a full stomach, you feel much better and lie back on the bed, letting your body fully recover. Astarion studies your face as if seeing it for the first time. Then he lies beside you, allowing you to place your head on his chest. His skin is cold again, but it feels more like him.

"What is on your mind, Astarion?" you ask.

"I want to stay," he says. "Not exactly here, but I can't live like that anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Living on the road. I can't do that anymore. You obviously can't either. I... listen… I've never had a home. Never had a place to call my own. I want one. I want one with you."

"Didn't you tell me it would be tediously boring?" you inquire. "I wanted to see what life has to offer beyond the city walls." "Astarion, it will be dangerous. No one would want a—"

You bite your tongue. "Sorry."

"Dealing with a nosey neighbor doesn't sound more dangerous than getting some weird sickness in the middle of nowhere. Besides, we can prove to people it's better to have a vampire of their own rather than be threatened by some unhinged vampire lord.”

"Astarion, I am afraid for you. People hate vampires!"

"And I am afraid for you."

You are both silent. You turn to him and nuzzle his collarbone. He wraps his hands around you. Vague memories return, and you suddenly realize you heard the voices while in fever.

"Don't die. Please, don't die. I need you."

A scared voice of a healer. "You are a vampire!"

"Please help her. I won't come inside. I will stay in the woods. Please, please, help her! She is mortal; she is dying!"

You remember being carried to the bed and a strong smell of herbs. "How did you two end up together?", asked the healer.

"She saved me. From myself. Showed me I have a chance to be something different from what I was turned into. Tell me what I can do. Do you need herbs? Ingredients? I will bring you anything."

And then the face of the healer standing above you. She came to check on you in Astarion's absence, and the feverish mind remembered that.

"You are a lucky to have him, girl."

You caress Astarion's cheek. "Would staying in one place make you happy?"

He nods.

"Then, me too." --

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #astarion fics #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #nurturing astarion #astarion fanfic #spacebarbarian fics #astarion angst #astarion hurt #astarion comfort

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