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stupidlittlespirit · 1 month

Text

Claustrophobia

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform, smut Tags: Trapped in a closet, Dubious consent, premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, no pronouns but female body described, slight gaslighting, Reigen being a disgusting pervert, female body described and skirt/stockings but no pronouns. Word count: 9,140 (sorry it's so long) My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reader and Reigen get locked in a closet during a job gone wrong, and Reigen doesn't know how to behave. (inspired loosely by @vasiktomis's fic)

Reigen isn’t in the habit of taking solo jobs he can't handle alone. Not anymore, anyway,

He's learned that, quite understandably, no one can be reasonably expected to just drop what they’re doing to serve his whim when he finds himself facing a threat bigger than the boots that he places himself in sometimes. Nowadays, he sticks to what he knows and picks the work that's least likely to result in an untimely death. Without any psychic abilities of his own, Reigen tends to go for the less spiritually-inclined call outs.

When he'd taken this job, he had assumed it to be one of those times.

The client, Kawasaki, had bemoaned a supposed ghostly presence lingering in a rundown property of his, causing damage and defacing the place, and stopping him from renovating the house for new tenants. As loath as Reigen had been to help a landlord, the price of the job had been decent enough to convince him otherwise and so he had taken it on.

Kawasaki’s description during his consultation had sounded like nothing more than squatters or trespassing teenagers looking for somewhere quiet to make out. Serizawa had agreed; broken locks, leftover beer cans and abandoned trash aren’t common signs of spirits and so Reigen had thought little of attending without any psychic backup. If he can manage without Mob or Serizawa, he will. They’re both busy enough, it wouldn’t do to drag them away from their studies or their friends for no reason. Besides, Reigen is confident enough in his own ability to handle things, for better or worse.

Still, he isn’t dense enough to wander into an abandoned den filled with potentially unfriendly squatters and disgusting creepy-crawlies all on his lonesome. Reigen can be stupid, but he’s not dumb. Instead, he had requested (see: demanded) the help of the only other person in the office he knows rarely has anywhere else to be: You.

He’s well aware that you don’t have much going on outside of working hours and you’re usually moderately willing to stretch your legs a bit when the day has been slow. A person can only stand to look at paperwork for so many hours a day, he supposes.

When you’d asked why, exactly, he needed you of all people to join him, Reigen had been blunt: “I’d rather not get stabbed over a property dispute, if that’s alright with you. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye out for roaches.”

According to his expert assessment, the work would be simple: Get in, sweet talk the people inside into moving along, and collect the fee.

Except, as is often the case, nothing Reigen ever does is simple.

When the two of you arrive, the building is empty. There isn’t a single sign of life nor death inside the entire house and he isn't really that surprised. The place is absolutely rotten. Dirty wallpaper peels from place, the once rich-looking wooden fixtures are soft and stained a gross green colour, their usual glossy surfaces dull and sickly, and the interior is so degraded that he's not sure how the landlord intends to salvage the place, regardless of damage done by potential unwelcome visitors.

Sleeping on the street would be preferable to staying here.

“So much for squatters,” he hears you mutter, the beam of your flashlight swinging around the room. It skims from tattered floorboards to broken down shelving, circuiting the room as you turn on the spot in search of the client’s woes.

“Maybe they left,” Reigen says, peering into a side room. “Makes our job easier anyway.”

“I wouldn’t hang around here, I know that much,” you sigh.

“Why?” Reigen smirks. “Not scared, are you?” He can never pass up on an opportunity to provoke you. You’re always a breeze to wind up and Reigen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching your hackles rise. He’s proficient in the art of being a dick, especially when it comes to you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt. “You wish. We should check upstairs at least, just to be sure.”

Reigen agrees, though in his ever chivalrous nature, he invites you to be the first one to brave the weak looking staircase. Each step you take up the rickety stairs is cautious, ensuring you won’t fall straight through the rotted wood and accidentally impale yourself on an exposed nail, and Reigen follows your footsteps perfectly.

It’s even darker up here. The windows are shuttered, boarded up tight beyond a few ripped out panels, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone hiding in the rooms; they’re equally as dilapidated as the ones downstairs. There are remnants of life in the house, though, besides the leftover trash: discarded boxes filled with long-abandoned books and menial belongings, old furniture and forgotten blankets, but they all appear to be as old as the home.

They’re covered in grime and clearly haven’t been touched much. The squatter theory looks weak without fresh signs of habitation, but there’s always the chance people are breaking in to snoop around.

Dust particles catch in the light beams of your torches as he takes you deeper inside, glittering and wispy, passing through the air like tiny little fairies uprooted from their hiding spots. Reigen swallows a sneeze and turns away from you, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dimly, he supposes he should have gotten masks for you both; the last thing he wants is a health and safety insurance claim on his hands if you inhale something gross. “If you see any asbestos, keep your distance,” he warns. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

“Thanks,” you reply, tone so dry it’s practically parched. “What does it look like?”

“No idea,” says Reigen, shrugging. “But don’t breathe it in.”

“Asshole.” He can almost hear you roll your eyes and he bites down on a grin.

The air is much cooler upstairs, icy enough to permeate Reigen’s suit and he suppresses a shiver as you follow his lead down a long hallway.

Despite his confidence in the office that the presence of a spirit here would be unlikely, he can’t help but feel nervous. Downstairs had been gross, but upstairs feels decidedly…. Unwelcoming in comparison. Like something is waiting for you both, hidden in the darkness and waiting to strike.

He knows it’s probably his imagination. This isn’t his first rodeo and usually a spirit makes itself known the moment he pokes around a bit. You’re just paranoid, Reigen thinks to himself, get a grip.

Your voice breaks through the silent air: “Can you feel that?” You whisper, coming up close behind him.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves and Reigen can sense how tense you are even at a distance. He really ought to be a decent boss and offer some reassurance to the least experienced member of his team. You’re not usually the one who’s dragged into spooky places like this with little to no preparation; your expertise extends to paperwork and filing cabinets, and with no Esper abilities to speak of you’re completely exposed to danger. Reigen is too, he supposes, but he’s used to charging into unfriendly dens of danger without much care for his wellbeing.

He should be considerate and give you some warm words of comfort, offer to protect you if all hell breaks loose, yet he knows you’re not the type to cling to him like a frightened fawn and he’d only insult you if he suggested anything of the sort. Instead, he decides he’ll break the tension in a way that only he knows how.

He pauses at your front and you almost walk into the back of him, too busy looking behind you to pay attention. Reigen puts a hand out to keep you steady. “What do you mean?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m not sure,” you say, flicking your flashlight around in the darkness. “The air…. It feels heavy, don’t you think?”

Reigen hums and comes to stand behind you, swapping places and standing close enough that his chest bumps your back. “Actually, now that you mention it….”

Without a word, he reaches past you and motions for you to raise the flashlight a little, and you do as you’re asked, pointing it towards an empty room just off of the corridor. The beam is too weak to fully penetrate the darkness as you point it inside however, and the light barely makes a difference.

“What is it?” You whisper, craning your head around to see if you can spot whatever has caught his attention. The light is swallowed by the black expanse and it makes it seem as though the building is ten times as big as the distance you’ve just walked.

Reigen doesn’t answer your question.

The silence is deafening.

Reigen is so close to you that he can see the hairs rise on your arms in his own torchlight and he’s quite pleased when you lean away from where you’re pointing the light, pressing back against him unconsciously in order to distance yourself from whatever might lurk in the shadows. You might not be the sort of person that needs protecting, but he can’t deny that something stirs inside himself at the thought of you seeking him out for support anyway.

Nothing moves in the dark.

No one speaks a word.

It’s the most perfect set-up Reigen could imagine.

“Boo!”

His hands grab at your sides as he shouts right down your ear, as loud as he can manage. The scream you let loose is close to inhuman and in a pure panic, you lurch away from the source, scrambling aside until your shoulder collides hard against the wall. You swing your torch out violently in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the unseen threat and Reigen dodges the heavy lump of metal, laughing his head off at his wonderfully successful prank.

The watery light lands on his doubled over form, collapsed against the opposing wall in a fit of ugly giggles, his body shaking with the force of it. He cackles at the terrified sight of you, hands still outstretched from where he’d seized your waist. “Your face!” Reigen gasps, struggling to breathe through his fits. “Man, you’re too easy!”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re very admirably restraining yourself from throwing the torch at his head. You look like you’ve had the fear of God put in you, face paling and eyes wide, clutching at the ruined walls like a cartoon cat on the ceiling. The big grin that splits Reigen’s smug face suggests he’s overjoyed that he’s gotten such a reaction from you; he always is.

Furious, you lash out with one foot to kick at his shin. “Fuck off!” you hiss, breathless with fright. “Fucking asshole!”

Still laughing, Reigen nimbly avoids your attempted assault again. He looks far too pleased with himself and as soon as you can breathe again, you flounce off down the hallway and make your way back towards the staircase, leaving him pitched against the doorframe whilst he tries to get his breath back.

The darkness clearly doesn’t seem as frightening to you now that it’s clear the biggest threat in here is your jerk of a boss and you stride back the way you came, ignoring Reigen’s half-hearted shouts for you to wait. He won’t let you get too far without him. Although the house is empty, it’s still run down and dodgy as fuck. The last thing he wants is for you to be so angry with him that you fall down the stairs or cut yourself escaping his mean spirited jokes.

“Wait a second!” Reigen shouts, still struggling to sound completely serious. He scrambles after you, following the sound of your heavy footsteps as you stomp back the way you’d come.

“It’s not funny,” you snap over your shoulder. “Get lost. You can go-!” Your sentences halts halfway through, cut off almost comically, and Reigen is mildly disappointed that you’re not throwing rabid insults his way.

“C’mon,” Reigen cajoles, pushing his luck as he rounds the corner to the landing. “Don’t be like that, I thought you could take a joke!” He’s still got a stupid grin on his face as he comes closer and he takes a breath to say something else when abruptly he realises you’re standing stock still in place.

You look even more terrified than you had moments earlier and briefly, Reigen worries he might have caused permanent trauma “What is it?” Reigen asks, suddenly sounding a lot less jovial. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

At the foot of the staircase, the floorboards squeak and a foreign voice speaks aloud into the damp air: “I thought it was funny.”

He freezes mid-step, one foot suspended in the air. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone he recognises and judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t belong to anyone you know either. A cold and unpleasant sensation slides down the back of his neck, like a fat droplet of ice water trickling along his skin. The heavy, dense atmosphere is back, even worse than it had been when you’d first come up here.

Cautiously, like he’s afraid the room might explode, Reigen edges toward where you’re standing. You don’t look at him at all, eyes fixed on whatever has spoken at the foot of the staircase, and it makes Reigen’s blood run cold again. Very slowly, he ekes his flashlight up from where it points at the floor to join yours and shines it’s weak beam towards the source of the sound. It illuminates the bottom most stair and as he raises it higher and higher, the form of an impossibly black figure reveals itself.

It’s vaguely human shaped, except the limbs are longer than they should be and they’re bent at uncomfortable angles, like it’s stuffed into the space it crouches in. The thing is big enough that it takes up the entire doorway at the foot of the stairs and it seems to almost absorb the light of the torch, watching the two of you closely with a featureless face. No, not quite totally featureless. Rather than have eyes or a nose, or any other defining characteristic, It has a big, horrible smile, made up of crooked teeth that peek out from behind non-existent lips.

Reigen hears your breathing hitch in fear and this time, his responsible boss attitude does take over. He curls a hand around your wrist and inches in front of you, sheltering your body with his. The spirit is big. Bigger than the usual ones he faces off against. With only a bag of salt in his pocket and a hopeful prayer in his heart, Reigen knows he’s limited in options on how to deal with this. There’s no Mob and no Serizawa to back him up. He’s on his own for this one and he really doesn’t want to give you the impression that he can’t handle things by himself.

Maybe he can use the only trusty weapon he has in his arsenal: His mouth. Reigen holds his free hand up in an innocent gesture. “Sorry,” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just, uh, exploring….”

The spirit makes a sound of disgust, like two rusty metal sheets rubbing together, and it begins to crawl up the stairs, inch by inch. “Exploring each other, more like. Why is it always my house you kids come to fuck in?”

Reigen chokes on his tongue, his face burning. “Hey, come on, it’s not like that!”

“Of course you are, you’re all the same.” The spirit’s mouth draws back into an impossibly wider grin. “Why can’t you just get handsy in the car like everyone else?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, though your voice is weak. “No one’s coming to this shit hole to have sex.”

The spirit’s grin turns downward into a furious scowl and Reigen barely predicts what’s about to happen in enough time to yank you away from harm. The grotesque creature launches itself upward, its long limbs allowing it the capacity to make short work of the remaining stairs, and it lunges straight for the both of you with a snarling shout of indignance at your insult of its home.

Reigen manages a shout of warning before he yanks you aside, grabbing your hand in a bruising grip, and he pulls you out of the thing’s path with all the strength he can muster. You have the good sense to let him manhandle you across the landing, abandoning your torch in favour of hanging onto him, and you stagger alongside towards the hallway again.

The creature crashes against the wall at the top of the stairs, the force of its strike knocking over the old furniture that’s been discarded there to grow mouldy and old. The wood crunches horribly on impact and Reigen is always impressed by the way spirits, for such non-corporeal beings, manage incredible ways of destroying their far more material environments with ease. Right now, however, he’d rather not go the same way as that chest of drawers. He doesn’t plan on dying in a place like this and there’s no way he’s about to let you meet a grisly end either. He’s far too fond of you for that.

The spirit has the stairs cornered, which leaves little else in the way of an escape route. Reigen has no choice but to take you deeper into the house and hope to lead the thing around in a circle to free up the stairway. Barrelling down the corridor, Reigen is running blind. He realises he must have dropped his flashlight in the chaos, too, because everything in the house is so incredibly dark that he feels like there’s a bag over his head. It’s almost impossible for him to see where he’s going, there’s no way he’ll be able to get his bearings well enough to loop the property like this.

That is, until a sliver of light from another room catches his eye. Reigen pivots on his heel at breakneck speed and heaves you sideways with him through the open doorway, ever the nimble little weasel. He slams the door shut behind you and scans the room for a hiding place, breathing hard and keeping a tight, sweaty hold of your hand.

“What do we do?!” You gasp, out of breath from both the running and the fear. “We can’t get out, what do we-!”

“In there!” Reigen points across the dim room. On the far side past a broken down bed and several piles of boxes and filthy duvets, there’s a slim little closet. It’s the only thing in here that seems to still be whole and mercifully preserved from the rot that’s infected the rest of the building. It’s the best bet either of you will have at staying hidden.

Reigen doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he lugs you towards it and wrenches open the doors, tumbling inside. Reigen’s back hits the wall as he flattens himself against the interior, his body folding awkwardly in order to fit into the cramped, tight space, and he hauls you in after him. You’re all elbows and knees as you land on him, scrabbling for purchase in a panic, and your body shoves at his while you try and find your balance in the darkness.

He pushes you against the opposing side, his hands clutching your waist to stop you from wobbling and falling right back out into the open, and his legs tangle up between both of yours. By some stroke of good fortune, you have the presence of mind to snatch the doors shut after yourself. They close with a mercifully quiet click! and then it’s just the two of you, panting hard and fast into the dimness as you listen for signs of your undead pursuer.

Several somethings clatter around in the hallway, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a frustrated growl, and Reigen strains to hear if the sounds are moving any closer to the bedroom you’re sheltering in.

After a few long moments, however, nothing comes.

Reigen breathes a silent sigh of relief and then feels you shift in place. You’re virtually painted onto his front, your chest squashed against his own and your face not even half an inch away from his. It dawns on him that this is quite the intimate position to be in with a person he’s supposed to be in charge of, and he feels the cool sweat of adrenaline turn into lukewarm awkwardness.

You tilt your head a fraction to give yourself a bit of room to speak and your lips brush up against his cheek. “What were you thinking?!” you scold him in barely a whisper.

“Huh?” Reigen murmurs back, trying to ignore the sensation.

“We’re sitting ducks in here,” you breathe. “If that fucking thing finds us, we’re dead!”

He hadn’t really considered that. The closet is tiny and dark, only a tiny filtering of pale light from a broken window board across the room reaches through the thin slats sitting just above your heads. It smells like dank old oak and probably a few different cultures of microorganisms. The only thing there’s room for in here is mould and dust. Neither he nor you will be able to escape if the spirit figures out where you’re hiding.

“Just shut up,” Reigen mutters, flexing his hands on your waist. “Stay quiet until it gets bored and then we can sneak out.” It’s a weak plan, but it’s all he has right now.

A few rooms over, something crashes against a wall and you flinch against him.

Reigen can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his own through your clothes, your breasts brushing the front of his shirt, your hips locked with his own. Your arms are forced almost around one another, both of you clinging to the other’s sides. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the chase, or maybe the thrill of escaping yet another near-death situation, but Reigen’s blood feels like it’s catching alight. He’s warming up all over, perspiration beading at his temples, and he isn’t quite sure how to stop it. Were he to purse his lips, he might even accidentally kiss you.

Reigen is technically in charge of you. It’s well known in the office that all of you work side-by-side, however on the paperwork side of things, he is legally your superior. He’s supposed to uphold a certain air of respectability around his colleagues yet when it comes to you, he finds that responsibility getting more difficult by the day. You argue back and forth with him, always ready to challenge his overpowering confidence when it starts to get out of hand, and he can tell you enjoy the verbal sparring as much as he does.

There’s something unsaid between you both, something heavy that’s only been building over time, but Reigen is too afraid to drop his façade of being The Boss Of You to investigate it further in case he’s read the entire situation wrong. If you were to refuse him, to laugh in his face, he'd never live it down. He couldn't handle such a dent in his ego and he'd rather die than admit it aloud.

He does his best to hide it when he chances little looks at you and so far he’s only been caught out on his less-than-professional observations once, by Ekubo. Horrible little fiend that the ghost is, he’d caught Reigen sneaking a peek at your ass as you’d cleaned a cupboard in the staffroom, chatting away to him and none the wiser of his perverseness; you’d been on your hands and knees, half disappeared into the space under the sink, and Reigen had seized the opportunity to drink in a spectacular view of you from behind.

Your skirt had risen ever so slightly too high, revealing the top of your stockings and the thin sliver of the clips that held the fabric in place, and Reigen had lurked silently in the doorway, watching closely and committing the sight to memory.

Until, of course, Ekubo had materialised out of thin air, as he is so often wont to do, grinning lasciviously, and scared the shit out of Reigen so badly that he’d almost tumbled backwards out of the room. Despite the rude interruption, he’s never forgotten the sight.

Reigen knows it's wrong, that it's fucked up that he'd view a staff member, a friend, like that, and yet he's never had the willpower to put a stop to it. Images of you in raunchy positions just like on that day have haunted his mind on late, lonely nights whilst his hand has wandered into the waistband of his underwear of its own accord.

He’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be jerking himself off every night thinking of you stuck under the sink, unable to get away from his curious hands, but he can’t ever feel guilty enough to think of anything else.

Right now, he wishes he'd at least tried. The memories of those imagined scenarios are stirred up by your closeness and he thinks, distantly, that if he'd tried to be a good person for once and made an effort to ignore them then he might not be struggling as much as he is currently. He’s never intended for you to find out about his fantasies and getting caught short like this is probably not going to go down well. He needs to stop thinking about all of this before it gets out of hand.

The sound of floorboards groaning out in the hallway outside makes you startle and you squirm between his legs, straining to look through the slats of the door. One of your thighs rubs up into his crotch, sleek material gliding against his suit, and he’s reminded that you’re wearing another skirt today; the smoothness of your legs means you’re more than likely in stockings again and the memory rears its head. Reigen grunts softly, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he grinds out quietly. “Quit moving.”

Much to his distress, you don't. Rather than obey his command, you use his body to push yourself further up to peek out of the slats and Reigen is forced to tighten his hold around your middle, dragging you back down. If you won't stop, he's going to have to make you. He digs his fingers into your side, bunching them up in the fabric of your shirt and pulling it downward to still you.

“Let go of me, you idiot,” you hiss, attempting to pry off his grip and straighten up. “I can't see!”

Reigen is sure you don’t intend to do it but the motion of your movement forces your hips to rock forward into his and he bites down on his lip so hard that he thinks he's drawn blood. He attempts to move away again, only to bump his knees against the wall under you. Reigen sucks in a sharp breath, ready to snap at you again to force you to back off, until the door to the room you're in bursts open like a group of police officers exercising a warrant. It slams against the wall loudly, the whole thing vibrating with the force. Nose to nose with him, you share a look of panic.

Something lets out a rattle of breath outside.

Reigen leans his head aside to press his mouth against your ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he says, barely audible, and he does his best not to notice the way you tilt your own head to let him fit in closer. His breath is hot against your skin and if he isn’t mistaken, you might even shiver a little.

The creature outside prowls into the bedroom, grunting and growling to itself as it searches between littered furniture for the two stowaways. Its nails scrape on the floorboards, the sound getting louder and louder until it pauses, right outside the closet. There’s a chittering noise that reverberates in Reigen’s chest and just beyond the wood, barely a hands-width away from your heads, the spirit sniffs up and down the seam of the closet. It sounds like there’s something wet caught in its throat, each draw of breath a phlegm filled rattle, and it scratches its claws on the door, seeking out any living forms within.

The spirit smells foul. Its scent is somewhere between death and rancid meat, and Reigen swallows against the saliva that rises and swims in his mouth, trying not to gag. The freezing air on its dead breath ruffles the hair at the tops of your heads and washes you both with the scent.

A swaying cobra, its form moves across the light that filters into the cupboard, turning it murky and dark but not quite removing it entirely, almost as though it’s trying to peer inside despite its lack of eyes. After a few minutes of unbearably intense silence, the spirit seems to give up on sniffing you out. It lashes out at the closet doors with its talons, tearing into the surface of the wood, before turning tail and lurching out of the room to continue its search elsewhere.

The aggressive swipe it takes at the closet makes the whole thing rattle loudly, bouncing the doors inward with force, and you jolt as though you’ve been hit. Instinctively, Reigen turns his head to check that you’re not hurt and at the same time, you turn yourself into him even more, afraid of the thing lurking outside. In the tight space, with barely even enough room to breathe, the motion forces your mouths to slot together. It can hardly be called a kiss; you’re doing little more than exchanging oxygen with one another, yet it’s so close to one that Reigen’s body betrays him almost instantly.

On your breath, he can smell the sugary strawberries you’d eaten on the way over here and again his mind conjures images, unbidden, of your lips wrapped around the fruit’s soft flesh as you’d eaten them in the passenger seat of the hire car, of the smile on your face when he handed them over; a bribe from a stopover at a gas station to stop your complaints about the long drive and an entirely selfish gesture on his part, purely for the reward of your attention (and perhaps, too, for the guilty pleasure of watching you lick your fingers clean when you’d finished).

The thought reignites the heat in his body and almost instantly, all of the blood in his brain sinks to his crotch. Reigen gets hard so quickly that he almost passes out. He isn’t sure where he finds the resolve, but somehow he manages to hold back the tiny little groan that threatens to spill from his throat, instead breathing in sharply through his nose at the sensation. Reigen’s eyes flutter shut momentarily, both in pleasure and in anticipatory fear of the look on your face.

He knows you must have noticed; his suit fabric is cheap and thin, barely a barrier to hide behind, and with your own legs exposed by your skirt there’s no way you could miss it. The weak light allows him to make out that you glance down and then back up to him.

Embarrassment burns on his face.

“It’s my cell phone,” Reigen lies without hesitation, defending his pride before you can even begin to question it. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He knows better than to throw out an insult to protect his own decency, however he’s starting to panic a little more than a seasoned sleuth should be and it has nothing to do with a ghostly presence.

You clear your throat softly and nod, looking away. The smirk on your face only makes his cheeks burn more; you’ll never let this go if he doesn’t act fast and distract you. “Look, we need to make a run for it while we still have the chance,” Reigen says quietly, trying to will away his arousal as best he can. “We open the doors and sneak back to the stairs. Don’t say a word and follow my lead, got it?” He’s being stricter than he usually is, partially to conceal his humiliation and partially because he needs to put his mind to something that doesn’t involve his dick.

“Sure thing, boss,” you whisper back, and Reigen can hear the amusement in your tone. He chooses to ignore it. When you get back to the office though, he’s going to make you clean that damn sink again in penance and he won’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for watching you do it. Maybe this time, he’ll even take a picture for his private collection….

Lower down in the closet, the light is completely swallowed again by darkness and Reigen has to blindly take one hand off of your waist to slide it along the door until his fingers bump against the knob. He takes hold of it and twists, attempting to push the door outward slowly. Except, the door doesn’t move. It doesn’t even budge. Confused, Reigen twists the metal further in case he hasn’t moved it around far enough and tries again. Still, nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, frustrated.

“It won’t open,” Reigen grunts, rattling the doorknob as hard as he dares. He can’t afford to make too much noise and draw the spirit back towards you both, but he can’t risk losing the chance to run for it, either.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding,” you say in a strained whisper. “Reigen, stop messing aroun-”

“I’m not!” Reigen growls, jiggling it again. “I can’t get it- it won’t open!” He applies a little more pressure, wrenching it back and forth a few more times until, after one particularly frustrated yank, there’s a sickening crunch of dead wood and more light pools into the closet via a new, small hole.

He’s ripped the entire thing off.

“Oh,” says Reigen quietly.

You stare at him in utter disbelief.

“This place is falling apart,” Reigen says, immediately protective of his screw up. “It isn’t my fault-”

“You pulled the fucking handle off, Reigen!” Your voice rises momentarily before you wrestle it back under control at Reigen’s rather brusque shhh! “You pulled it off,” you repeat, far quieter this time but still distressed. “We’ll be trapped in here for hours, you idiot!”

You’re right. The only two people who know you’re both here are Mob and Serizawa. Mob is busy with friends and it’ll take Serizawa a little while to catch on that something is wrong. The job is about forty minutes from the office; allowing for travel and the time it takes to complete the work, Reigen can safely estimate that it’ll be a while before your absence is questioned. That means he’s going to be stuck in this stupid little closet, half hard and totally distracted, with you glued to him for a long time.

He tips his head back against the closet wall and sighs, closing his eyes as he tries to wrack his brain for potential options.

Reigen wonders if he should just try throwing himself at the door and facing off with a hungry spirit. It might be more preferable than his current situation, at least.

It’s uncharacteristic of you to be so mute when Reigen fucks up, and after a few minutes of miserable silence he opens his eyes again to check that you’re still there. You are, of course, but there’s a look on your face that Reigen rarely sees you wear. Despite the shitty light, he can just about make out that your eyes are becoming wide, gaze darting around the closet, and he can feel your chest beginning to rise and fall far quicker than normal, just like it had when he’d made you jump. Your breath is coming in fast, short pants and your hands grasp at the front of his shirt.

You’re starting to panic.

Abruptly, Reigen remembers you confiding in him a while ago whilst the two of you had watched some terrible horror movie together, lounging around in his apartment one evening, about how much you disliked the thought of being trapped.

The protagonist had been buried alive and you’d barely been able to finish the rest of the movie, too caught up in the anxiety of the scenario to remember how unlikely it would be for a similar fate to befall you. You’d clutched his arm so tightly that he’d found a small bruise the next morning in the shower and he can still recall how excited he had felt to have a souvenir of your presence….

Focus! Reigen warns himself, straightening up as best he can to force himself back into the moment. Now isn’t the time!

He squeezes your waist gently, a reassuring reminder that he’s right here with you. “Calm down, I’ve got it all under control,” Reigen lies through his teeth, slipping back into his false bluster the moment he knows he’s fucking things up. “We can wait until the spirit goes back to sleep and then-”

“Spirits don’t sleep!” You snap. “I’m not waiting-”

“They totally do!” Reigen replies, annoyed that you’re questioning his ever profound knowledge. “Look, I’m the professional here, you don’t even come out on jobs so why don’t you just-”

“You got us stuck in here in the first place, mister professional,” you say angrily. Both of your voices are stage whispers now, caught between concealing your presence and yelling at one another. “There has to be a safety release in here!” Your body twists viciously as you squirm around, hands flitting across the inside of the closet in an urgent attempt to free yourself from its confines.

Somehow, despite the tiny space, the ferocity of your search manages to turn you around until your back is flat against his chest instead, your body ramming his.

Reigen is torn between biting his own tongue off in frustration at the feeling of you writhing against him and yanking you closer to seek more contact. He drops the doorknob onto his foot, praying the sound will be muffled enough that it won’t draw attention and freeing up his other hand to grab a hold of you before anything more mortifying occurs. He needs to distract you, for his sake and yours.

“Hey, stop!” He attempts to prevent you from going any further, wrapping his arms around your waist and anchoring you down. “Easy, just stay still-”

“Get off of me!” you snap, tilting your head toward him and wriggling against his grip even harder. With every move, your ass bounces off of his lap and Reigen prays to whatever god is listening that he doesn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already has today. The sensation is sinful, like he’s fucking you with your clothes on, and Reigen isn’t sure that he can hold out like this.

“Wait,” you pant, halting your search in the darkness to reach behind yourself for his slacks’ pocket. “Your cell phone, you said you brought it in, right?” You slide your hand down behind your back, right past his midriff, and grope around for the lifeline, palming at whatever you can reach. “Call Serizawa, he can exorcise that thing and let us out!”

Those gods must be laughing at him.

Abruptly, Reigen lurches his body aside, feebly trying to avoid your intrusive touch and acutely aware that his lie is about to be found out. “Stop,” he begs you softly, starting to panic himself. “Please. You gotta stop touching me or I’m gonna-” He drops his hands from your waist to grab yours where they rest, halfway into his pockets and you wrestle with him for a second to try and move him away. Reigen swears under his breath.

The proximity and your wriggling make a horrible, delicious concoction and his body reacts accordingly: Reigen is hard again. He can’t fight it anymore, not with your hands so close to his cock and your breath so hot against his cheek.

What happens next is a complete accident, an automatic move he makes before his brain catches up: Hands clamping down around your waist, Reigen purposefully rolls his hips into the soft curve of your ass, hard enough to gain the exact, exquisite friction that he’s been denying himself the entire time he’s been in here with you. Everything occurs so fast that he just about has time to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a pathetic little sob as he cums, hard, in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, stars blooming behind his eyelids, and pants desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

At his front, you’ve gone very still.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only Reigen’s ragged breathing and the sounds of birds somewhere way off beyond the confines of the house fill the silence, until you finally find your voice again: "Seriously?”

Reigen isn’t a stranger to making an idiot of himself, but this is definitely a new low for him. He knows how much trouble he’s going to be in when the two of you get out of here and he can practically smell the oncoming harassment lawsuit wafting through the stale air. Although, maybe that’s just the scent of his sweaty embarrassment….

Ever keen to save face though, Reigen does his best to play stupid. “What?” He asks, voice frayed at the edges.

“Did you just blow your fucking load-”

“Absolutely not-!”

“My ass is wet, Reigen,” you hiss. “I can feel it through my skirt!”

The thin material around the front of his slacks is soaked through, he knows you can. “No, it isn’t,” he scoffs, denying it without hesitation. “You’re imagining things.”

“Liar.” You tilt your hips back minutely, just enough to rub up on his spent erection, and Reigen breathes in sharply. “I didn’t realise you were so into ghouls and near death experiences,” you whisper, sounding amused in spite of your annoyance.

“It’s not a ghoul,” Reigen corrects automatically, mouth moving independently of his brain. He swallows thickly and shifts in place. “And even if something like that did happen,” he says, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s because you won’t stop moving, it’s only natural.”

“That’s… A pathetic excuse,” you admonish, head tipped back toward him. “Even for you.” Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, however in such close quarters, the motion effectively wets the corner of his, too. Hot spit brushes against his lip and Reigen’s mouth parts almost of its own accord, an automatic reaction to the stimulus. The angle is awkward but your mouths slide together, the slickness of the skin unbelievably arousing.

“S’not an excuse, it’s your fault.” Reigen protests weakly, lips catching against your own as you nudge your nose along his cheek. He knows he should really apologise for his indecency, that he should try to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible, and yet…. That heavy, unspoken feeling that so often follows him around when he’s with you is filling up the interior of the closet like thick cotton wool. Your words are sharp and stinging, but you don’t seem to be as disgusted as you sound. It makes his head swim and his legs feel weak, and in some kind of unfortunate miracle, Reigen can feel his cock stir with interest again already.

“You’re really blaming it all on me? You’re the one who dragged me along to this and you’re the one who got us locked in this closet.” You laugh quietly under your breath at him, disbelieving and more than a little entertained. “God, you’re insufferable.” You press backward again and Reigen chokes back a whimper.

“I told you to stop-”

“Stop what, boss?” you ask, feigning innocence, and fuck does he hate how much you’re able to get under his skin. No one else toys with him like this, teases him. No one else dares to question his leadership or to wind him up until he explodes. No one else except you.

Reigen grits his teeth so hard he swears he feels them creak under the pressure. “If you don’t quit moving around like that, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do next,” he grinds out. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose and he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he’s powerless like this and if there’s one thing Reigen hates; it’s feeling fucking powerless.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” You ask, words heavy with ridicule. “Cum in your pants again?”

Reigen has had enough of your attitude.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want to play dirty? Let’s see how you like it.” He’s been aching to touch you for so long; if this is the only chance he’s going to get, he’ll take it. Reigen isn’t one to watch opportunities pass him by. He wants to grope and grab and feel his way all over you, and he just doesn’t have the willpower in himself to resist it anymore, especially when you’re winding him up like this.

Reigen’s hands drop from where they hold your waist, inching to your hips and down to grope at your ass. It’s just like every wet dream he’s ever had about you; you’re stuck with nowhere to go, at his mercy as he touches and grabs whatever he can reach.

You breathe in sharply at his touch and your back arches, silently seeking his attention. “That’s so inappropriate,” you whisper, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. You don’t mean a word you’re saying. “I should report you.”

“Oh yeah? So do it,” he challenges, pawing at the curve of your backside greedily. “I’m sure they’d love to hear all about how you started it.” It feels like a dam has broken inside him, a flood that he’s held at bay for so long that it’s too overpowering to put a stop to now that it’s begun to overflow, and without your outright refusal, Reigen feels justified in his act. His hips rock forward again and he shudders, his own arousal not forgotten.

At his front, you snicker to yourself at his neediness to chase the feeling and he feels one of your arms snake upward to loop around his neck, your hand clutching at the back of his hair. The action prickles goosebumps along his skin.

“Fuck,” Reigen gasps as he moves, words tumbling out in soft pants. “You couldn’t just stay still, could you? Moving your ass like that, in your stupid fucking skirt and your stupid fucking stockings.” As his hips roll into you, his fingers travel to your skirt to find the tops of said lingerie and he runs his touch up the nearest strap of your garter belt.

You make a soft sound of surprise. “Stockings? How do you know I wear stock-”

Reigen pings the elastic, cutting off your words and making you gasp at the sensation, your fingers tugging at the strands of his hair. Reigen smirks, pleased to finally get the upper hand even if only for a moment. “I’ve seen them before, in the office- drives me fuckin’ crazy, ” he pants into your parted mouth. “Every time you bend over, your skirt is too short.”

“It is? I had no idea….” You pout, lower lip touching his. The words are faker than Reigen’s confidence and it makes him grin.

“I knew it,” he says, ego emboldened. “Tease.”

“Pervert,” you fire back with a smirk, legs opening a little wider as his curious hand trails up from the band of the lingerie toward your inner thigh.

“D’you wear them every day?”

“Only when I know we’ll be alone together,” you confess.

Something about your admission turns Reigen on even more. The thought that you’re only wearing them for him, for his attention, is mind blowing. He can imagine you slipping them on in the morning, thinking of him as you study yourself in the mirror before you leave for work. Reigen squeezes your ass again and uses the leverage to his advantage as he continues to work himself against you, head filled with the intimate images.

His fingers slip up your leg until they brush against the crotch of your underwear, the curve of your pussy hidden underneath. Much to his pleasant surprise, he notices that he’s not alone in his needy desire. He can feel that you’re similarly affected by the closeness, enough wetness seeping through the lacey fabric that he suspects you might have been aroused for just as long as he has. “Look at that,” Reigen teases softly, a smug grin spreading on his face. “Acting so high and mighty when you’re just as desperate for it.” He can’t deny the swell of narcissistic pride that rises in his chest; he’s making you wet. You. The object of his obsession, the person he’s only ever dreamt of having like this. It’s his touch that has you keening and sighing, even if you won’t admit it.

You scoff, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Am not-!” Your protests are smothered in favour of a hushed groan as Reigen’s thick finger nudges past your underwear and slides easily up into your cunt, your wetness offering no resistance at all.

“You were saying?” Reigen smirks, slowly inching his finger in and out, bit by bit. You’re so warm and tight around him, hips grinding down, back and forth in time with his motions. Every movement has your ass rubbing on him and Reigen lets out a shaky sigh as he presses up to meet you.

His dick strains against the fabric and silently, he wishes he had the room to free himself and fuck you silly. Now that he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything but the perverted mess that he is, Reigen ruts against your ass like a dog in heat. The enclosed space feels stifling with both of your bodies heating it up, sweat pooling at the back of his collar as he works himself up all over again. He knows he'll look a mess by the time you both manage to escape this place.

You’ve begun to make pretty little sounds against his mouth, hushed moans mixing with his desperate pants as he works his finger inside you and it’s so obscene that Reigen almost finishes on the spot. You’re both making too much noise and at this rate, you’re at risk of getting killed if the spirit returns to find you both doing exactly what it had accused you of breaking in for. Reigen knows he needs to quieten down and find a way to shut you up, too. In the fraction of free space between you, he nuzzles his mouth to yours. Although what you’re engaged in is amorous enough, the gesture is so intimate in comparison that it makes his heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” Reigen asks, surprisingly timid considering how vigorously he’s fucking your ass.

Debauched as you are, you roll your eyes. “Finally,” you murmur. “He asks.” You sound almost relieved by his request, as though you’ve been hoping he might offer such a thing, and Reigen grins to himself.

When he kisses you, it’s sloppy; messy, unskilled and full of spit. He licks his way into your mouth enthusiastically and sighs at the touch, a trembling breath that whistles through his nose and dampens the skin of your cheek. You grunt at the force but you allow him to continue, coaxing his tongue with your own in an attempt to slow him down. Reigen doesn’t listen. He’s too confident in his own ability to take advice from you and far too excited to calm himself down anymore.

Between your legs, he presses a second finger into you, relishing in your gasp of pleasure. You’re so wet that his palm is quickly becoming slick with your arousal as he pumps his fingers and Reigen relinquishes your mouth with a lewd smack. “Fuck, you’re really into this aren’t you?” He says, bumping noses with you. “So wet and-!” Reigen’s words end in a choked off moan as you let go of his hair and drop your hand to reach behind you, cupping his cock mid-thrust.

You grasp him firmly through his damp slacks and let him grind into your grip. “You’ve got a big mouth, Reigen,” you pant, teasing. “Someone ought to teach you how to use it.”

Your hand is all he needs. Reigen is too greedy to stop himself when he knows his end is near and even if he wanted to, he’s helpless to stop it. He ought to at least try and hold on, to make up for his earlier premature finale and prove that he’s good at this kind of thing so you’ll think he’s somewhat of a decent fuck and maybe even ask for it again, but he just can’t.

A tension builds in his lower stomach, red hot and carnal, and then he’s cumming all over again, spilling into his already-filthy underwear. Reigen shudders violently, seizing you in another clumsy kiss. He almost bangs heads with you as he attempts to cover the pathetic little moans that bubble up out of him by smothering them into your mouth. Reigen’s knees feel weak again and he slumps against the closet wall behind him, breathing hard and totally spent.

You tip back the short distance with him and laugh . “So soon? I was just starting to enjoy myself….”

The back of Reigen’s neck heats up and he curls his fingers. “Sounded like you were enjoying yourself plenty,” he snipes, out of breath but still able to find a sharp-tongued reply.

You choke on a moan and wiggle your ass to encourage him. “I could stand to enjoy myself a little bit more,” you say, cheeky.

Reigen grins. He might be selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, but he won’t leave you high and dry (or wet, as the case may be). “Relax,” he whispers against your ear, cocky now that he can have you at his mercy instead. “We’ve got plenty of time, you said so yourself, right?...”

•••••

In the end, it takes Serizawa three hours to come to your rescue. He exorcises the spirit and frees you both in under five minutes, and when you finally return back to the office, Reigen still has you clean under the sink before he lets you go home for the day.

reader during this fic like

#reigen arataka x reader #MP100 #Reigen x reader #self insert #reader fic #Reigen Arataka/reader #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho reigen #reigen arataka #reigen is gross #reader insert #interaction banners by cafekitsune #smut #reigen arataka x you #reigen arataka x y/n #i hope this is okay bc i hate it #they don't get it reigen im kostrafobic!!!!

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auteurdelabre · 3 months

Text

Please, Mister Miller Sequel: Part 6 BFD!Joel x f!Reader

words: 18k (yeah. That's right)

summary: It's Graduation Day and your parents are here... so is Joel...so is an unexpected visitor.

tags/warnings: age gap, infidelity mentioned, p in v, unprotected sex, angst, fluff, namecalling (slut, good girl, sweet girl), oral sex (f receiving), Daddy-kink in parts, public-ish sex, voyeurism, mentions of childhood trauma, shitty parents, clothes ripping, lovingmaking, reader has hair Joel can grab.

a/n: over 18,000 words on this fuckin' monster. If I don't get some damn good reviews I'm gonna riot. In other news, FUCK the next chapter is gonna be a goddam monster too... unless I break it into 2. We'll see. What do you wanna see happen?

masterlist here

--------------------

You wake on graduation day with a knot in your stomach and you know exactly why. The text you received last night. You pick up your phone, eyes scanning the brief message and sighing deeply.

[MOM]Just got in. See you at the ceremony tomorrow. Be sure to wear the dress.

You look over at that ridiculous dress, a totem of innocence and purity and you want to laugh. Innocent? Pure? What a joke. If only she knew the photos of Joel you have on your phone, or the absolutely depraved things you’ve done with him.

As if you’ve summoned him, a text comes through.

[HIM 💜] Can’t wait to see you, bby.

You smile at your phone. You can almost hear his deep voice, the rasping purr.

Can’t wait to see you! xoxoxoxox

Though after the stress of seeing my parents I’m gonna need a massage.

[HIM 💜] Deep tissue? Swedish? Internal?

Oooh Deep Tissue followed by internal please. Lol.

Sarah wakes soon after positively vibrating with excitement.

"I can't wait to see Charlie!" She shouts, jumping up out of bed. "And I can't wait to travel this summer!"

You force a smile but you can't deny you're envious about Sarah's summer. Yours is bound to be a solitary one living back with your parents. You need to get a job back home to help pay for school in the fall.

Perhaps Joel will come and visit you back home once in a while? Or perhaps tonight will be your last rendezvous? It's hard to think of how it can continue, despite what Joel says. He can't exactly come over and meet the parents can he? And your parents will likely have a very close hold on you, wanting to introduce you to the right people, trying to convince you to switch your Masters degree for something more profitable.

Despite how well off your parents are they have made it clear from the start that you'll make your own way in the world. But that’s fine by you because you have scholarships and you’re a hard worker. Living at home means saving up money. Saving up money means moving out away from them.

But until then, it’s long, solitary days back in Chicago with your family.

Sarah gives a stretch before falling onto your bed with an oof. She sits, knees touching yours and smiling broadly.

“We’re almost graduates!”

“I know!”

And funnily enough out of everything with your parents, it’s not that which upsets you the most. It’s the fact that will be no Sarah to look forward to in the fall. No more giggled nights over cheap beer or joined study sessions helping the other make flash cards.

She’s become a touchstone to you. A person whose Snapchat's and text messages through the summers made life bearable when your parents were too much for you. Whose soup delivered to your beside during sick days at school made you feel taken care of. The roommate who dragged you to parties to make you socialize and subsequently introduced you to Conrad, who for a short while made you very happy.

Without Sarah you don’t know who you would be today.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Sarah says gently, her large eyes teary.

"Same here," you say, trying to swallow the tremor in your voice.

"I can't believe we're just gonna suddenly not live together," she says, chin wobbling and the sight of it makes it impossible to stop the tears that slip down your cheeks.

“I know,” you say and now the tears are free flowing and the words you’ve never voiced come out wobbly. “I’ve never had a friend like you. A best friend.”

Sarah lets out a choked sob and the two of you collapse into a sniffling hug that makes your heart swell. You finally pull back long enough to brush the tears from your eyes, the two of you laughing at how emotional you both are.

"You're gonna be traveling all over South America all summer," you remind her with a watery smile. "You won't have time to miss me."

"I will so!" Sarah insists with a friendly push to your shoulder. “I’m gonna get you something really nice too!”

When you put on the white dress later that morning you're struck that you're the vision of chaste. The lace sleeves, the ruffles, the high neckline. It gratifies you greatly when you pull on the most scandalous panties you own, red completely see through. They tie at the hips and they barely cover anything.

You pull them up over your hips and lower the dress over them. The fabric is so thick they can't be seen, but you will.

And soon Joel will too.

///

By the time the ceremony starts hours later you're almost shaking with nerves under your robe and mortarboard. The rasp of the dresses ruffles at the shoulder make you twitch.

Sarah is seated next to you, her eyes scanning behind you. You know she's looking for Joel and Charlie. You already spotted your parents near the back of the large auditorium looking as dour and bored as they always have.

"Oop there he is!" Sarah murmurs as the Provost drones on at the podium. You glance at her before you allow your eyes to drift in the direction she's looking. And there he is, seated beside a beaming Charlie, is Joel.

Your Joel.

He's so handsome you could cry. His hair is longer and curled, looking so soft you want to leap out of your seat to run your fingers through it. He's wearing a button down and he's grinning at both you and Sarah. When she turns around to face the speaker Joel casts you a sly wink that has you flushing.

You feel his eyes on you through most of the ceremony, and when you go up after to collect your diploma you hear his clapping and shouting of your name over the crowd. To anyone else he looks like the supportive parent of his daughter’s friend. But when you cast your eyes into the crowd and see his beaming smile, you feel the pride from where you stand on the stage.

Soon enough the ceremony is over and you and Sarah are official graduates. You give her a tight hug after you toss your caps into the air. You both give yelps as the caps fly around you, laughing as you find yours before handing her the one next to it on the ground.

"Gonna go find my dad," she tells you as you give her one final squeeze. You nod watching her rush through the bustling array of people in search of the man you cannot wait to hold and kiss.You slip through the crowd until you find your parents still seated and looking at the passing crowds with distaste.

You take a deep breath, swallowing before you approach them with a tentative smile.

"Hello Mom, Dad."

The two of them stand simultaneously, giving you a once over before your mother gives you a detached embrace. She’s likely trying to see if you’re wearing the dress she insisted upon. Your father pats your shoulder companionably.

"Congratulations," he tells you with a thin smile. "Graduation with honors."

"Thank you," you say, surprised with the compliment.

"Not valedictorian," he reminds you quickly. "But I suppose there was lots of competition."

Your mother says nothing and you just nod, wanting this interaction to be over as quickly as possible. You notice now that your father is holding a small wooden box with a bow on it. He thrusts it at you.

"Take this and be sure to take care of it."

"Yes sir," you nod, taking the small box from him. You open it up to see an ornate fountain pen sitting on the velvet. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

It’s hideous and nothing like your style. You don’t even write by hand anymore unless it’s for the word jumble. Just another example of how little your parents know about you.

"We'll go to dinner," your mother tells you. "Afterwards we'll collect your things and you can come to the hotel with us. Our flight is first thing in the morning."

“Oh, I thought I was going to spend one more night here at the dorms,” you say, a bit of panic coursing through you. “To finish up packing and everything.”

That had been the plan. You and Joel would have dinner with your families and then meet up at the hotel he sent you. You can’t do that if you’re with your fucking parents at some fancy hotel near the airport.

“That’s a waste of time and I don’t want to be late for the airport,” your mother says with a frown. “You were to have finished packing last night.”

“I underestimated how much I had to pack,” you defer, trying not to sound as concerned as you feel. “I’ll take a taxi to the airport early tomorrow, I promise. I won’t hold you up.”

Your mother goes to deny this request but your father holds up a hand, making her flinch.

“If she’s paying for her taxi who are we to tell her no?” your father says with a shrug. “Let her.”

Your mother silently stews, shaking her head in a short nod. This entire scene is simply a precursor to what awaits you this summer. Their strained marriage, your strained relationship with them. It’s a nightmare.

Moving back home feels both terrifying and humiliating all in one. You hated being under their thumb, but you can't afford rent and school. And despite what they say, you want to pursue your schooling. It makes you happy. It's a small sacrifice to secure your future.

You nod, head held low. It jerks up when you hear your name being called. You glance over your shoulder.

Fuck.

You feel your anxiety grow when Sarah, Charlie and Joel approach.

'I'm so glad that's over!" Sarah says with a laugh. "I don't want to think about how many people wore this gown before me."

You smirk at this before turning to your grim -faced parents.

"You know Sarah," you say to your them, noting that Joel hangs back a moment, watching the scene.

"Of course, hello Sarah," your mom says as your dad gives a tight smile to your roommate. They've seen Sarah plenty of times in the background of your sporadic video calls home.

"This is her boyfriend, Charlie," you say and the shy Charlie offers a timid wave in reply. Your father is looking over Charlie, noting the slump of his shoulders, the shy way he doesn’t make eye contact. You’re positive they’ll have something scathing to say about him during dinner.

You notice Joel staring at you and then your parents. You try to hold back the flush starting at your cheekbones. His hands are at his side and he finally approaches the group, his eyes on your parents.

"Uh, and this is her dad, Mister Miller," you say softly, unable to make eye contact with him. For some pathetic reason you want this to go well. You want them to love Joel as much as you do.

"It's Joel, sir, ma'am," Joel says, all southern manners as he shakes each of their hands. He brushes by you to do so and you can't help but inhale his cologne, dark and spicy.

"Pleasure to meet you," your mother says with a quick once over of what Joel's wearing. When she sees no obvious designer labels you can tell she's already written him off.

Your dad however is intrigued by Joel's appearance, being the only other man in a group of women. He gravitates towards Joel with a little smile on his face.

"So what do you do, Joel?"

"I run a renovation business with my brother," Joel answers with an easy smile that shows his dimple. You melt. He’s so fucking gorgeous. Your father gives a look of clear disapproval at his answer.

"Just the two of you?"

"Ten years ago it was just the two of us and now we oversee a staff of twenty," Joel answers breezily able to overlook your father's open judgment. He’s a humble man, not one prone to bragging. But you know what he’s trying to do, to disarm your parents, to make them like him. And the thought of why he’s doing that has your stomach spinning delightedly.

"Self made man, I respect that," your dad says nodding and you have to stop yourself so you don't beam with pride over at Joel.

"S'how I was raised," Joel shrugs with humility.

"Same here," your dad says with an approving nod. "Built up my law firm from nothing. Now we're one of the biggest in Chicago."

"Impressive," Joel says even though you know he couldn't care less.

His eyes dart to you briefly before landing back on your father. He’s likely noticing how different you are from your parents. They’re all cold, serious calculation while you are smiles and blushes and easy affection.

"Wish you boyfriend took a page for Joel's book here," your dad says with a look in your direction. "That Conrad was raised with a silver spoon firmly lodged in his mouth."

The smile you had on your face falls immediately. You feel your hackles rise up when it feels like all eyes suddenly drift over to you.

Why are they still bringing up Conrad?

"Conrad and I broke up months ago."

"That's what you said at Christmas too," your mother says with a sniff, digging through her purse for her lipstick. "Then by January it was on again."

Your jaw clenches tightly. This is a classic family maneuver, making you feel insecure in your decisions.

"I'm sure you two will find yourselves back in each other's arms soon enough," your father says not bothering to hide his displeasure at the thought. He covers it with a false laugh that your mother smiles politely at.

"I can promise you I won't," you say with a tone bordering on a growl. You're just thankful you haven't seen Conrad at graduation all day.

"I sure hope not," Joel murmurs surprising you all. Even Sarah glances over at this in surprise and you feel Joel's panic. His eyes widen a fraction before his mouth curls into a displeased line and he shrugs.

"Just from what I heard from Sarah I think you deserve much better."

Sarah shoots you an apologetic expression to which you reply with an an embarrassed half shrug. You’re not upset that she talks about you with him. If anything it’s sort of sweet.

"Anyway I better be gettin,' Sarah and Charlie here out to dinner," Joel says taking your hand in his a moment. "Happy graduation to you."

You feel your heart flutter, willing the blush in your cheeks to die down.

"Thanks, Mister Miller."

He gives you a subtle wink before bidding farewell to your parents. Sarah pulls you in for another tight hug.

"Promise me you'll come out and visit me when I get back."

Your eyes fly to Joel behind her shoulder for only a moment before you're nodding and smiling back at her.

"Definitely."

“If she’s not busy playing around in school that is,” your father laughs from behind you before turning his attention on your roommate. “Sarah, you were studying… what again?”

“Computer Sciences,” Sarah answers hesitantly.

“A good career path,” your dad continues, despite everyone in the vicinity being uncomfortable. “Much better than Anthropology. Might as well be Philosophy for all the decent paying jobs it’ll get you.”

Your eyes are wet before you can stop them. You cringe visibly, gaze on the ground as they always are when your parents are around. They have the uncanny ability to make you feel so impossibly worthless, so misunderstood, so unseen for who you truly are.

You can’t even look at Joel you’re so ashamed. You must look so pathetic to everyone.

"Sarah why don't you and Charlie go get the car," Joel murmurs to her with a gentle smile as he hands her the keys to his rental car. "I'll be there in a sec."

Sarah shoots her dad an inscrutable look before shrugging and taking Charlie's hand and Joel's keys. She casts a worried look at your face before she breaks from your group. You watch them disappear into the crowd before your eyes draw back to Joel and suddenly the levity from his face is gone.

He steps towards your parents, dropping his voice. This is a Joel you rarely run into. An angry Joel that’s quiet voice is more terrifying than a shout or scream. The quieter he gets the more nervous you become and right now his voice is a soft purr.

"Now I'm normally not one to tell a man how to speak to his kid, but you're being downright shameful to yours."

Your stomach swoops in both elation and terror. You want to kiss Joel senseless for sticking up for you, but seeing your dad's brows rise has you staring between both of them in shock.

“What did you just say?” your father asks, convinced he’s heard incorrectly.

“I said you're talkin’ to your daughter shamefully,” Joel says speaking slowly and enunciating as if your father is slow. Your mother gives a small gasp at this, her hand going to your father’s shoulder. He shakes it off, his face pinking all over as he glares at Joel.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Your dad seethes.

Your dad takes a step towards Joel, used to people backing down from him at work. But this isn't his law office and Joel has a good three inches on him, not to mention biceps and broad shoulders that would easily pummel your father to dust.

He pauses when Joel steps forward as well, your boyfriend not backing down a fraction.

"Sarah's known your girl for years and we had the pleasure of having her to ours this Christmas," Joel tells your father, looking thunderous. "She's a delight."

"Not so delightful for her parents," your mother chimes in. "You wouldn't understand Mister Miller. Your daughter clearly has ambitions and-"

"And yours doesn't?" Joel bites back. "Sarah told me she wants to be a professor."

Sarah told him no such thing. It was you who told him during your time together. He looks over at you, concerned that he got that incorrect.

"That right?"

"Yeah," you nod, trying not to smile. Joel looks back at your parents and his gaze turns cold again.

"'Side from that, your daughter is smart and talented and funny as hell," Joel sneers at your parents. "And that's nothing compared to her warmth and her heart. And now that I've met you both I don't know where the fuck she got that from."

You are officially fucking Joel Miller's brains out later. Right after you stop the tears pricking the back of your eyes.

"She doesn't need people like you in her life," Joel continues and you know he's saying this part for your benefit despite glaring at your parents. "She's a strong, independent woman that doesn't need anythin' other than herself. And if you both don't get your heads straight, she's gonna walk right outta your life and never look back and it’ll be your loss."

Your parents can only stare at him and your father, always so quick with a harsh comment or jab is silent. His face is so red it's almost mauve. His hands are at fists at his side. Your mother looks like she's about to faint.

You however feel as if your heart is overflowing with your love for Joel in this moment.

Joel turns his eyes on you and you pray no one can see the burning passion he holds for you in that gaze because it seems so obvious to you.

"You wanna grab dinner with us?" Joel asks you, jaw clenched. You know he desperately wants to hold you, to bring you into his arms.

"No it's okay," you tell him with a gentle smile. "You have fun with Sarah and Charlie."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

You see the concern in his dark eyes, the searing depths of his affection. But he's aware that you know your own mind and so he just nods, giving you a small smirk before he's heading away from you.

"Take care."

The second he's out of earshot your parents are tripping over themselves to talk.

"That rude man!"

"Uneducated idiot."

"Did you see what he was wearing? And the way he spoke? Positively barbaric," your mother spits, readjusting the purse on her shoulder and shooting you a levelling look.

Joel’s broad shoulders are disappearing into the crowd, but as if he can feel your gaze he turns. He sees your eyes searching for him and he darts his gaze to your parents, seeing they’re both facing you. He gives you a gentle smile and wink and then he’s gone, leaving you warm and strangely emboldened.

"I don't want you anywhere near that family."

You turn to face your parents who are still fuming about Joel and for some reason you suddenly see them for what they truly are.

Small.

Joel made them small. So small that it seems foolish you were ever afraid of them at all. So small that is laughable to think that they have any control over your life. You owe them nothing. They give you nothing but pain and a love that is built on toxicity.

And suddenly it's so easy to sever that tie between you and them.

"Enough about that horrible man," your father grumbles. "Dinner reservations are-"

"I'm going back to my dorm," you inject with a smile, feeling strangely light. "You two enjoy dinner."

"Excuse me?" Your father is exasperated with everything that has gone on. You see it in the tired look he’s giving you. “Since when?”

"I don't want to have dinner with you," you tell them, unable to stop your smiling from growing. "Either of you. So you two go on. Enjoy."

You've never spoken back to them like this. Never with this serene calm, this positively cheerful countenance. You feel your phone vibrate in your purse and you just know it’s a message from Joel. The thought makes it even easier to stand there staring them down.

Your parents gape at you as the crowd of students mills past, looking at your beaming face. It's your father that speaks first.

"This disrespect you're showing your mother and I is disgusting," he spits. "Your sister-"

"Heather isn't here," you tell them so sharply they wince. "And I'm sick of being compared to her."

You've never mentioned Heather’s name to them. Not in all the years since your sisters death. You've felt too guilty, too scared.

But no more.

"Hey now," your dad begins, his face falling. "We never-"

"I'll never be Heather and that's fine because I'm me," you say over him. "And I don't need the two of you trying to tell me that's a bad thing."

They both stare at you, your mother's jaw is actually dropped, almost cartoonishly so. You realize that this is it between you and them. They brought you into the world and they've made you regret it ever since. They’ve punished you for surviving that car crash instead of Heather. You're done with them.

You thrust the pen and the wooden box it came in back at your father. He takes it in slow shock, as if what's happening is a dream.

"So go enjoy your dinner," you tell them. "And have a safe trip back."

You take the phone from your purse as you stride from them. They call your name but you ignore them, your eyes are already on the text from Joel.

[HIM 💜]: Same hotel as last time. Room #461. Give your name at the front desk. Come when you can. Can’t wait to hold you, beautiful girl.

///

You sit at the bar of the hotel a short while later. Your overnight bag is at your feet and you're still wearing that stupid dress front your parents because you wanted to rush over here. You'd been so desperate to see Joel, to feel his arms around you, his mouth on your flesh.

But then as you strode into the hotel and saw the trendy looking bar you decided that a drink was necessary. A celebration for how you stood up to your parents. And then something Joel said months ago tickled the back of your brain. A comment that has stayed with you.

“Do you think we could pretend for this week? That I'm not married, that you're not my daughter's friend? That we met in a bar one night and found each other attractive and just wanted to spend time together gettin' to know one another?”

You smile as you sit at the bar; legs crossing before you order a gin martini from the bored looking bartender. You pull out your phone, typing hurriedly amongst the chatting patrons and jazzy music over the speakers.

I’m at the bar downstairs.

[HIM 💜] ??

Come down. Dress nice. Xx

Joel walks into the dimly lit bar minutes later, his eyes traveling the length of the space until they get to your face. The smile that breaks out nearly makes you faint at the sight. But you maintain your composure, pretending you don’t notice him until he’s right beside you.

He’s so close you can smell his freshly applied aftershave and the soap he used to wash this morning

“Hey bab-“

"That seat is free for now,” you say coolly pointing to the leather stool next to you. Joel gives you a confused smile, crooked and endearing.

“Huh?”

“Look like my date is running late," you tell him in a flat voice, taking a sip of your drink.

Joel looks a bit offended at your cool tone and lack of smile.

"But perhaps you could keep me company until he arrives."

Joel's mouth curves into a smirk as he catches onto the little game. His eyes dip down the length of your body before he backs up a few paces. He adopts a more seductive look, his eyelids lowering a fraction.

"Hello there, my name's Joel Miller," he replies in a husky purr as he takes the seat next to you at the bar. "And you are quite possibly the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen."

"I accept the compliment Mister Miller," you say with a calm nod, trying not to giggle at the characters you're both playing. You want to play this out as long as possible. There’s something hot about the people around you not knowing you two are together.

"Call me Joel," he replies gently. He holds his hand to you and you take it, noting how warm his tender grip is, how sweetly he rubs your knuckles with his thumb before gently dropping your hand when you pull back.

"Alright Joel," you reply breathlessly. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Joel assures you, eyes raking up and down your form before settling on your eyes. “Pardon me for sayin’, but your date is a fool to let a woman as gorgeous as you sit here alone for more than a second."

“Quite forward of you,” you say with a cool raise of your brow, trying to suppress your smirk. The bartender comes over and takes Joel’s order, quickly sliding him a whisky before going to attend to the other patrons.

“So what’s a beautiful woman like you do for fun?” Joel inquires, taking a sip of his drink.

"Oh I haven’t had much time for fun. My day today was especially taxing," you tell him, swirling the toothpick and olive in your martini glass in what you hope is a seductive manner.

"Oh yeah?" Joel is practically purring. "Tell me all about it."

"Well, first off, I graduated with honors today."

Joel gives an impressed whistle as if he’s not completely aware. "Sexy and smart? Damn, baby, you're somethin' else."

You grin, feeling your cheeks pink in delight.

"Then my parents started in on me right after the ceremony," you say rolling your eyes. "And just when I was gonna fall apart, my boyfriend just let them have it. He told them off. I've never seen anything like it. My parents just stood there and it was so inspiring that when he left, I told them off too."

"Really?" Joel breathes, his face midway between concern and amusement.

"Mhmm. And it felt amazing. So amazing that I wanted to come to this bar and celebrate." You give Joel a sultry look. "Then you came up to me and well, here we are."

Joel smirks cheekily and you feel his hand come to the back of your bar seat.

"Can I tell you somethin’?" Joel asks, lowering his voice so you have to tilt closer to hear. His full lower lip grazes your earlobe when he speaks. "Every man in this bar is hoping you'll go home with him."

He pulls back, his pupils expanding rapidly. You let your hand fall to his knee, rubbing gently as you give him a grin.

"Oh, I'm very discerning," you say coquettishly. "I won't go home with just any man. He has to be the right type. Older, handsome, smart, sweet... The whole package."

You watch Joel's golden cheeks turn pink at the compliment. He takes a deep pull off his whisky. He leans back in his bar stool, looking at you tenderly.

"So Miss Genius who graduated with honors. What's next for you?"

"I'm starting my Masters in the fall," you say with a proud smile as if Joel wasn't already aware. "Got a really good scholarship too. Just have to work a bit too save up for the rest."

"How're you gonna do that when you're in school?" Joel takes another sip.

"Oh, it's all online," you tell him as you drain your own glass. "A lot of them are now with everyone's schedules and how hard it is to make ends meet."

"It is?" Joel says and you can tell he's dropped a bit of the act. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah I needed it to be online so I can work at the same time," you explain, then your brow furrows as something occurs to you. Joel notices immediately.

"What?"

"Oh it's just... I just realized I also need to find a place to rent," you say more to yourself than anything. The character you've embodied slips away from you and you blink rapidly." My parents sure as fuck won't be welcoming me back with open arms after what I said to them. And even if they did I don't want anything from them."

Joel looks at you a long time, his fingers tracing absently along the bar top. He looks like he wants to say something but he holds back.

"But that's not exactly first meeting in a bar kind of talk," you say, lowering your hand to fall atop his and you let your voice drop to a seductive purr. "Tell me about yourself."

“Whadda ya wanna know, beautiful?”

You cross your legs the other direction, facing him more. You notice his eyes flit to your bared legs and then back to your face.

“Well your accent isn’t from around here so what brings you to our fine city, Joel?”

“Here to watch my daughter graduate,” Joel says with a gentle swirl of his drink. “I’m from Texas.”

“You got anyone special in your life, Texas?”

“I do,” Joel nods, eyes like burning coals. “This girl I’ve been seein’ that I’m just crazy about. Can't get her outta my head."

"The sex must be great," you giggle with cheeks flaming.

"No words," Joel admits with a dimpled grin. "But s'not the sex that does it for me."

"No?"

"Nah," Joel shakes his head. "See, she's real smart. Startin' a Master's degree in the fall."

"Wow."

"She's not just smart," Joel shrugs, taking another pull from the bottle. "She's gorgeous too. Fuckin’ stunning."

He watches your eyes drift to his collar, suddenly shy. This emboldens him, makes him lean closer again until his whisky-soaked breath lands in huffs against your cheek.

"I miss how she smells," Joel continues. "I never told her this but I went to the mall and got a bottle of the perfume she wears. I spray it on my pillow from time to time just to make it feel like she’s there."

"You do not!"

"I do," Joel chuckles. "Never smells the same as when she wears it though."

Shit, you can feel your eyes watering.

"And when I talk to her she's the first person who's really listened. She doesn't just nod and wait for her turn to speak. She's the first partner that's ever really wanted to take care of me."

Partner.

"You're easy to take care of," you murmur. "I assume," you add hastily, not wanting to break character.

"So's she," Joel tells you and his face sobers. "The kinda woman I would die to take care of. But I worry. I'm pretty old-"

"Not old-"

"And she's got a whole future in front of her,” Joel says and the levity is gone from his face. “I worry I’d hold her back from it. Hold her back from a lot.”

It takes all your resolve not to throw yourself into his arms right this second. Instead you give him an impossibly gentle smile, leaning your face closer to his.

“You said this woman is smart,” you reason, feeling your pulse flutter. “I think she knows exactly what she wants. And from what it sounds like, she wants you, Joel.”

Joel gazes at you a few moments, his finger absently tracing the rim of his whisky glass.

"You know you're a beautiful woman," he murmurs in a sultry tone, his eyes lowering seductively. "And this may be forward but I'm staying at this hotel and I'd love to take you to my room."

You smile.

"I'd love that, Joel."

///

You’re in each other’s arms seconds after opening the door to your room. Joel crashes his mouth against your and you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. He licks into your mouth as he stumbles the two of you towards the bed.

He lowers you gently to the floor, giving a lingering kiss to you before the ruffles of your dress rasping against his shirt distract him.

“Such an innocent looking girl in this dress,” Joel muses, his wide hands sliding down the white fabric as he smiles. “Who’re you tryin’ to fool, baby?”

“I didn’t pick it,” you huff a laugh. “They did.”

The amusement is immediately gone from Joel’s face. Without warning Joel’s hands are at the neckline of your dress. You frown up at him before gasping as he rips the fabric brutally. It tears down the middle, exposing your breasts.

“Joel!”

He turns you around, ripping the skirt from it as well. You’re left in tatters of fabric and you watch as ruffles hit the carpet slowly before looking up at him and laughing. He grins at you, throwing some of the remaining lace fabric in his hands onto the floor.

“Joel,” you laugh loudly. “What the fuck?”

“You don’t have to wear what they tell you to ever again,” he promises you. “You don’t have to listen to another goddam thing they say. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You’re your own woman. And when I take you to bed I’m fucking you, sweet girl. Not some virginal doll version of you that they’ve created in their heads.”

You shiver in anticipation as you feel his warm body behind you, still clothed. You feel Joel’s hands come to your waist, holding you.

“My good girl fucks like a champ,” Joel whispers against your ear. “And she loves my cock doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” you sigh.

“She likes fucking in public,” Joel continues, hands coming to cup your breasts from behind. You feel his hips rubbing against your lower back, cock hard and waiting for you. “She gets wet bein’ a bad girl.”

“Fuck, I do,” you whimper, letting Joel take control of your movements as you go boneless against him. “I really do.”

“That’s who I’m taking to bed,” Joel reminds you, pulling the remaining tatters of your clothing off your body until you’re standing in nothing but the red panties you picked out. His eyes are drawn to them, a smirk bleeding over his face.

“And look at that,” he says as his hands slip down the front. “She’s already wet for me.”

“Always.”

He kneels in front of you and unties your panties at the hip, groaning appreciatively as they flutter to the ground. You’re naked before him, and you feel his eyes take in every square inch of flesh. You hear his clothes fall to the ground in a rustling heap.

His mouth is on your pussy before you even register what he's doing. You feel your body tensing before his large hands come to hold your thighs in place.

"Such a pretty pussy," he groans, delving deeper between your folds. You feel your legs begin to tremble. He begins giving you exquisitely probing kisses between your thighs, chuckling when you begin to tremor.

"Please Joel," you beg quietly. "I need your cock."

He gently ushers you to the bed onto your belly before bracketing your hips with his thighs. Joel's fingers move to the back of your neck, curled into your hair. He moves it up, out of the way so he can press long kisses to the bare flesh of your neck.

"My girl loves gettin’ fucked," Joel grunts out above you. "Ain't nothin' virginal about her."

He groans against your shoulder as he slides into you, hips slowly pressing against the swell of your ass. You sigh, allowing yourself to be pressed into the mattress. You’ve missed this. And judging by his poorly stifled moans, Joel has missed it too.

"Such a good girl," Joel coos, coating himself in your copious arousal. "She missed me."

"Uh huh," you whimper out because all of you has missed Joel. Not just your body but your heart, your mind. You can hear him smile behind you as you thrust yourself back on his length.

"Such a pretty girl," Joel murmurs as he pulls out and then slowly pushes himself in again. He kisses the top of your spine, tongue trailing over your flesh as you moan below him. Your wrists are held by him, resting at your lower back. Your face is tilted, cheek on the sheets as you moan, your vision growing blurry.

You can only writhe under him, body flailing with pleasured arches. Silent screams to keep going to go deeper. Nothing is rushed, everything is tempered and slow and deep. He fills you up so fucking well, so achingly patient.

"She likes having this pretty pussy full 'a me," Joel says as if he has to remind you. "Don't you, baby?"

"Yes yes yes."

"Look at you," he marvels as he stares at you. His free hand slides down your spine, petting you like a cat. You smile drunkenly over your shoulder, watching his hips flexing as he continues to drive himself into you. "You need more, honey?"

You can only give a weak nod, going down on your forearms, presenting yourself to Joel to use.

"Yeah, she needs it harder," Joel murmurs, you feel him flexing, cock sliding through your folds as you whine brokenly. Your head falls forward as your face screws up, brows saddling. Joel’s hot breath is at your ear, his voice a husky purr.

“What do you think your parents would say, knowin’ I’m balls deep in their sweet, innocent girl?” Joel murmurs, tongue coming to trace the shell of your earlobe. “What would they say knowing how you sucked my cock and begged for my come that first time?”

Your body twitches in arousal at that.

“What would they say if they knew their precious little girl was on my camera covered in my come an’ callin’ me Daddy?”

Joel continues to move so slowly within you, extending the pleasure to an almost unbearable level as he glides in and out of your drooling cunt. Joel's fingers begin to circle your clit as his cock thrusts into you.

"Baby," you offer, voice sluggish. "You feel so fucking good."

"Naw sweet girl," Joel says running his nose against your cheek. "That's you. You make me feel so goddam good."

You know what he's not saying and it's not just the sex. That being together feels good. That clinging to one another feels good. That just existing in this moment with each other feels so fucking good.

"Needed this cock didn't you?” Joel asks, hips starting to rock into you with more abandon. "Needed me to take care of you."

His hips are slapping against your ass now, making your eyes cheat to the back of your head. The slapping sound is so visceral, so overtly sexual.

"Yes," you manage to articulate.

"Needed my come?"

You can't even answer that, you just let your eyes shut and feel as the climax courses through your body, making you cry out in broken sounds as Joel fucks into you. You milk his cock as you come down, body boneless. Joel continues, his hips driving forward over and over until-

-a knock at the door sounds.

You hear Joel curse behind you, his body stuttering to a stop. You give a high whine, head twisting to see him over your shoulder. His face is red, his forehead dotted with perspiration. He pulls out of you slowly before reaching for his pants.

"Dinner," Joel says raggedly. He kisses you again before pulling back, going to retrieve the tray whilst trying to hide his erection as you hold back a laugh.

“But you didn’t come,” you remind him, as if it weren’t painfully obvious. Joel gives a breathy chuckle before kissing your sweaty cheek when he returns.

“Plenty a’ time for that, baby.”

Dinner is a steak for each of you with a side of fries, salad a charcuterie tray that Joel thought you’d like. You take a seat on the end of the bed with him and the two of you eat, chatting away about Joel’s flight over here and how he feels about Charlie (bumpy and he’s a good kid).

A short while later when everything is digested he removes the champagne from where it sits over ice and offers to pour you a glass. You’re struck by his thoughtfulness, of all the trouble he went to for you.

“Joel this is so sweet of you.”

“It gets sweeter,” Joel says with a grin. He lifts one of the silver trays and you smile when you see chocolate covered strawberries for dessert. Joel pours you each a flute of the champagne before handing you yours.

"To my genius girlfriend," Joel toasts, clinking his glass to yours. "And her extremely bright future."

"To my impossibly sweet boyfriend," you say smiling dopily. “And his huge heart.”

The two of you sip your champagne, letting the bubbles tickle your tongue. He holds the plate of strawberries out to you but you shake your head.

Joel watches as you place your flute down on the floor before crawling into his lap. He gives a soft chuckle before you're nestled in between his legs. He drains his champagne glass, placing it on the side table.

"I want a different dessert," you breathe, urging his large hand between your legs and gently rocking. "Is that okay?"

His fingers curl into you, finding you wet and waiting. Your thighs spread, giving him better access to penetrate you deeper with his fingers.

"Yeah, that's okay," Joel breathes against your skin. "S'your big day, baby. You tell me what-"

Before he can finish the sentence there's another knock at the door. Joel freezes as if remembering himself. He tugs your robe closed.

"Put on some panties," he urges you. "Your other gift is here."

"Another gift, Joel? And one I need panties for?"

"Trust me," Joel winks at you. "Now put on panties like a good girl even though we know you're anything but."

He swats your ass playfully as you sit on the edge of the bed; watching Joel turn the corner and hearing him open the door. You pull on and re-tie your red panties once more, listening as your boyfriend opens the doors to two strangers you can barely make out in the mirror.

"Oh I thought they were sending two ladies," Joel said, his rumbling voice a twinge irritated.

"So sorry Mister Miller, our usual girl called in sick,” a small redhead says with a concerned look. “Gus is all we had available. But I know you specifically requested deep tissue and he is the best.”

Joel pauses and then nods. “Alright then. Lemme help you with the tables.”

All southern manners Joel brings in the woman’s table despite her protests. You watch as the two masseurs dressed in white pants and white t-shirts set up their tables, bringing out lotion and a portable speaker.

“We’re here for your couples massage,” the woman says grinning from you to Joel. “We hear you’re celebrating your graduation.”

“I am.”

“Congrats,” the man – Gus – says with a patient smile in your direction. “You must be glad it’s over.”

“I guess not glad enough,” you laugh. “I start my Masters in the fall.”

The woman is small with large eyes and a smattering of freckles over her nose. Gus is tall with blonde hair and the straightest teeth you’ve ever seen. He comes over to you with a charismatic nod of his head.

"I take it you’re the one who likes deep tissue?"

“Yes.”

"My name is Gus, I'll be your masseur today. Please let me know if you have any problems with the treatment.”

You see Joel eyeing you from where he stands by his table.

“Greta and I are going to step into the bathroom to give you both some privacy to undress to your comfort and slip under the sheets. Any questions? No? Alright then."

The two of them head into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. You shoot Joel an amused look before the two of you undress to your underwear. You can’t help but let your eyes linger on Joel’s broad naked back as he lays himself on the massage table. He sees your peering as he pulls up the sheet to his waist.

“You gonna stare at me all night?”

You give a sheepish smile before climbing onto the table next to his, raising the blanket up to your shoulders before spinning onto your stomach.

Greta and Gus emerge when Joel calls out that you’re ready. The lights in the hotel room are dimmed and your eyes shut. The scent of lavender washes over you, the oil warmed by Gus’ hands. At the first stroke along your back you give a soft sigh, enjoying the feel of your muscles being taken care of.

You sneak a glance to see Joel laying with his eyes shut tightly, looking more in pain than anything. You hold in a laugh before closing your eyes again and surrendering to the calming sensation of Gus’ large hands on your body.

The massage is divine. So much so that you can't help the little mewls and groans that escape you when Gus hits a particularly good spot. You didn't realize how tense you were.

You hear Joel give a few coughs during the massage, but you barely notice. Greta murmurs something to him and he shakes his head. She nods and you hear Joel give a soft groan when she gets to his lower back.

You’re not the only one feeling good and this pleases you greatly. Joel works so hard, he deserves to be spoiled. With Gus' strong palms pressing into your shoulder blades along with the lavender scented oil you feel transported.

The hour goes by too fast and when the masseurs tell you to relax before getting up you want to cry. You wanted it to keep going on and on.

"Thank you so much," you murmur to Gus, your voice dripping with gratitude.

"We'll just step outside so you can get dressed again," they tell you and Joel in quiet whispers. "Please take your time standing."

You make a soft sighing noise before you feel Joel’s hand skimming along your spine. “That feel good?”

“So good,” you groan, allowing him to help you off the table and into the robe. He sashes it for you before giving you a kiss. He walks over to the door, allowing the masseurs to enter back into the room. They hand you both a glass of water that you drink eagerly.

"We hope you enjoyed your treatment."

“We did,” you enthuse sleepily. You feel so good right now, your limbs heavy in a sleepy way.

"Your boyfriend is so thoughtful," Gus murmurs as he packs up.

"Mhmmm," you say with a wide grin. "I'm very lucky."

You and Joel watch them pack up their things before they’re heading out. When the door is closed you flop down onto the bed, your body so relaxed. It feels heavenly to be touched like that, your muscles soothed.

"You liked that?"Joel says in a deep voice.

"Yeah, felt amazing."

"Yeah?" Joel crawls over to your side of the bed, eyes primal. "I didn't."

Your eyes crack open to see Joel inches from your face. His dark eyes are blown black, his mouth curved into a tight smirk. He throws a leg over your waist, straddling you, his weight heavy and pressing you into the mattress.

"What didn't you like, Mister Miller?"

"Watching that man touchin' you," Joel murmurs, eyes on your waist as he unties your robe.

A fire flames in you at the jealous tinge of his voice. You’ve never really known Joel to be jealous. Even with Conrad he’d been more territorial by the end. But having Joel jealous . . . it’s kind of a turn on.

"He was just doing his job," you say rolling your eyes.

"He was taking his time and starin'," Joel says with a sheepish grin. "I saw him."

"You were watching me the whole time? Weren't you just enjoying your own massage?" You ask with a laugh.

"I did both."

You break into a fit of giggles as Joel's face breaks into a guilty grin

"He was just doing his job," you repeat and almost laugh at the petulant jealousy Joel is displaying.

"I know," Joel says with an embarrassed flush over his cheeks. "I just hated watchin' another man touch you and you makin,' those noises for him."

His hands gently throw open your robe, displaying your breasts to him. He makes a soft noise of appreciation, hand sliding up your ribcage to cup them. You shutter when the thumbs drag along your nipples and they pebble tightly under his touch.

"I wanna be the only one making you feel that good," Joel continues, amusement clear in his face when you begin to start squirming under his touch.

"No one makes me feel as good as you do," you assure him, feeling his cock resting heavily on your belly. "No one."

You groan as he removes the robe from his body before pinning your wrists at either side of your head on the pillow.

"Yeah?" Joel cocks his head to the side, smirking. "I think you need to remind me."

"I'll show you every fucking day if you let me," you groan, hips rolling under him.

"Gonna need you to show me now," he says against your mouth.

"Joel you know I don't want anyone else," you tell him breathlessly. "I just want you."

"Yeah?" Joel's smile is genuine.

"Yeah," you nod, "No one fucks me like you do," you tell him. "No one takes care of me like you do."

"I love takin' care of you," Joel admits, palms cupping your breasts again. He dips his head and rolls his tongue over a stiffened peak and groans when you shiver.

You smile gently as he pulls you to a stand beside the bed. He removes the robe from your shoulders, leaving you beautiful and naked for him. He kisses your shoulder blade reverently, his hands slipping down to cup your ass.

He takes a moment to appraise your exposed flesh before he turns the lights off in the room. You wonder what he's doing when he's taking your hand and guiding you to the large window overlooking the darkened city.

"I'm the only one who takes care of you," Joel murmurs as he twists your body around, facing you to the window. "And I want everyone to know it."

The night is dark; the world dotted with streetlights, restaurant bistro lights, the warm little squares of nearby hotel rooms.

"See them down there?" Joel asks, pointing to the people milling down on the ground below you.

Its groups of patrons down several floors smoking and chatting near the entrance to the hotel bar. Several of them are smoking cigarettes or inhaling vapes. One girl shrieks and stumbles on her heels.

"Yeah."

The people below talk loudly, some tossing their heads back when they laugh.

"You think any of 'em has seen a better pair of tits than these?"

His hands cup your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples. You shiver, knowing that when Joel's voice drops to that dark baritone something is coming. He kneads your breasts, his mouth coming to kiss your neck, beard tickling the sensitive flesh there as you sigh. The sound of muted laughter breaks you from your reverie.

"Joel someone could see-"

"Maybe," he teases before nibbling gently on your earlobe. "Maybe not."

His fingers are teasing your nipples into hard points, twisting gently until you whimper. Your cunt throbs, anticipation and fear coursing through you.

"Bet if they can see they're thinking how they'd love the chance to fuck this sweet pussy," Joel continues, hand sliding to slip between your legs, fingers curling into your dripping cunt.

"But they don't get to, do they sweet girl?"

You rock against his touch, desperate for the friction. Your hand reaches behind you and goes to his neck as you lean against him, face tilting to his.

"No," you promise him, head falling against his shoulder. "Only you."

"That's right," Joel rasps against your cheek. "Only me."

Your eyes dart down to the group below and you pray that the darkness of the room shields you. You feel Joel hard and twitching at your lower back. He's getting off on this in a major way.

"Let 'em see what they can't have," Joel whispers against your ear. "Let's show 'em what's mine."

Joel's robe which had been shielding you slightly is pulled back from your body. You stand naked, framed by the large window. Your reflection is there, gazing at you like a sultry twin. You twist away from the cool glass, your cheeks flaming.

"Joel-"

"Shhhh," Joel soothes, kissing the top of your head. "S'okay baby. I got you."

His hand comes to your jaw, forcing you to keep your face pointed to the window. Your cheeks burn but you're so wet. You feel his body pressing into yours, herding you closer to the window.

"That's my girl."

He continues like this, pressing you further against the window until your breasts are flattened against the glass. It's cool, and if your nipples weren't already pebbled they would be now.

You allow yourself to be tilted, shifted, your stance widened and your pelvis pressed against the window. Your eyes remain on the figures below, terrified that they'll look up and see you naked and arched.

You hear Joel's robe fall to the ground and know that he too is naked behind you. His wide hand comes to cup your pussy and you whimper, eyes falling shut. You feel him notch himself at the entrance to your cunt.

"Be good for me, now."

Joel slides up into you, the two of you groaning in unison. He makes you feel so full, so deliciously stretched. His fingers begin to worry your clit, tapping and rubbing as he thrusts into you against the window before withdrawing.

"Joel one of them is looking up," you say, even though the people are far away and they could be very well looking at any of the number of hotel rooms.

"What do they see, baby?" Joel groans, shoulders rolling as he slides his fingers along the slick of your clit.

"They see us," you groan, cheeks flaming.

"Uh huh," Joel coos, cock teasing your entrance. "They see you takin' my cock like a good little slut."

This sentence causes your knees to almost buckle and if not for Joel's body pressing you against the window you would have collapsed.

"I want them to see how good my girl looks when I'm fucking her," Joel grunts out, pressing your body against the glass. Your pebbled nipples smoothed against the chilled surface.

"They can't fuck you. Only me."

You whimper before Joel is sliding all the way once more, making your breath come out in little shudders. He picks up the pace, watching as you crest, and your orgasm washing over you. A small one, an appetizer.

You wonder what the people below will see if they look up. A bit of movement in the darkness? Or a young woman pressed luridly against the glass while a broad shouldered older man pounds into her relentlessly?

"They're watchin' me fuck what's mine."

The possessiveness in his statement hits you directly in your cunt, causing you to moan lowly. Joel pins your hands to the window under his, both of your palms flat as he drives into you to the hilt.

"You're all mine," Joel groans. His chin is on your shoulder, digging there. "Say it."

He thrusts brutally into you, his hips unrelenting. You're momentarily distracted before his voice is in your ear, hot and urgent.

"Say it, baby."

"Say what?"

"Say you're mine. I wanna hear it."

His hips are starting to thrust so hard it leaves you breathless, body jolting against the cool glass. It feels so good, so grounding. He presses all of him against you, your body flat against the window and he fucks up into you. His breath is hot at your temple, stirring the hair there.

"I'm yours," you cry out.

"Again."

"I'm yours, baby," you keen, hands slipping down the window, your body going boneless. Your cheek is shifting against the window, your now damp body squeaking against the glass.

"Louder."

"Yours," you punch out as Joel's mouth sucks at your jaw. Every word is now punctuated by Joel's snapping hips you pelvis smacking into the window. "Yours! Yours! Yours!"

He smells so good. Like sweat and the spicy cologne he wore at graduation and the lingering scent of the lavender massage oil. You want to wear that smell on you every day for the rest of your life.

His breath is hot and damp on your neck, teeth scraping against your jaw. Your breasts are pressed tightly against the glass, showing your naked body off to anyone who can see this high up. His fingers rub your clit in gentle circles, palm pressing into your abdomen.

"Again," Joel groans, his hips slamming into you, arousal soaking his length. You're pinned between his gyrating hips and the window. "Say it again."

"Joel I'm yours!" Your voice is cracking as your orgasm starts to creep up on you. "I'm fucking yours! I have been since Christmas!"

You're getting so close to another climax, you're almost there.

"You only want me and my cock" Joel groans, his hands on your hips now as he fucks you brutally, so much that you jump a bit with each thrust, your breasts rasping against the glass. "I'm the only one who fucks you properly."

"You know I only want you," you tell him. "I only want you, Joel. I lo-"

You hold your tongue despite everything. Joel knows how you feel, he must. But the first time you told him he convinced you it was just a connection, not love. You don't want to be the one to say it again.

He grips the back of your neck, forcing your head back and your mouth to graze his. He looks completely fucked out, shiny with sweat, pupils blown, mouth parted.

"Mine," Joel rasps once before his mouth overwhelms you. His lips slot between yours as you let the pleasure overwhelm your core and tightened limbs. Your cries are weak and converging into whines as he continues fucking you.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he growls against your open mouth. “Fucking mine.”

You come down moments later, body boneless and quivering against him. You feel like you're consumed by Joel, his arms around you, his body against yours.

"I ain't done with you yet," he says breathlessly. Before you can say anything he has you in a bridal carry and he's taking you back to the bed. You gaze up at him with adoration, convinced your pupils must be heart shaped at this point.

I love him. I love him.

He sits at the end of the bed, holding you tenderly in his lap, body pliant and ready for whatever he'll offer you. You just want to be with him, near him, always.

His eyes are roving your naked body, the sight of his turgid cock between your legs. He shifts, watching it slip between your lips, grazing the clit.

"Joel," you sigh if only to hear the sound of it.

He seems to remember himself at the sound, his eyes on yours. They go to your mouth, fingers gripping your chin.

"You ready for more, baby?" He asks you, nose rubbing along your own. "Can I give you more?"

His palm trails over your breasts, down your stomach and grazing your inner thigh.

"Yes," you breathe, eyes heavily lidded. "I want more.”

There is a curl at the corner of his full mouth.

"Be polite," Joel murmurs with a smirk. His mouth trails behind your ear, voice a soft huff. "Ask Daddy nicely, baby."

Your eyes don't leave his face, even as your ass begins to roll over his hard and weeping cock. His mouth is at your neck, kissing and sucking.

"Please."

"Please what?" He mutters against your throat.

"P-please," you whimper shakily. "Please fuck me, Daddy."

Joel groans low in his chest at the sound. He takes your hands in his; drawing them up, up until they're laced behind his neck. He leaves them there, his broad hands making their way down your arms, your breasts as you arch, your soft stomach and then between your legs. He holds your soft inner thighs and parts them widely.

Your head tilts back, leaning against his shoulder so you can gaze up at him. He watches you for a moment, eyes tracing your face before he kisses you gently, tongue dabbing against yours as you settle there on his lap, hands on his at your waist.

And now he hooks your thighs over his own, parting both sets of legs widely until you're luridly exposed. Joel's fingertips make a slow trail along the crease of your thigh until they land at your clit. You make a small whimpering noise before settling back against him, eyes shutting in languid pleasure as your head sags forward.

Joel gently pulls your hair, tugging your face up from where it rests against your sternum. The pull is delicious, your heavy eyes staring up into the mirror above the dresser on the opposite wall of the hotel room.

“You're gonna take it like this," he tells your reflection in the mirror. "So we can both see how good you look when you're getting fucked by Daddy."

You whimper and nod, hand splayed over his. Joel is panting heavily behind you, large, dark eyes on yours in the mirror. Your eyes remain on his in the reflection, watching as he helps to lower you onto his cock. From this angle he feels even bigger. You're so slick that when he thrusts inside you think you’ll take him easily, but his size and the angle makes it a strain to take all of him at once.

"You can do it, baby,” Joel soothes as the stretch makes you wince. You can see the flush over your cheeks, the red in Joel's face and chest. His muscles ripple under his beautifully tanned skin.

"Be a good girl for me," Joel whispers against your temple. "Make Daddy feel good."

///

Tess sees rather than hears the two of you first in the reflection of the mirror atop the hotel vanity. At first she's confused when she sees Joel on the edge of the bed facing the mirror. But then she sees the woman in his lap facing away from him, her knees slung over Joel's as he keeps her glistening sex spread wide.

"That's right," Joel rasps against her temple. "I'm gonna take care of you, baby."

His cock is pressing between the woman's thighs, both coated in arousal as he thrusts. Tess can see his middle and ring finger on either side of the woman’s clit, rubbing gentle circles there.

"You always take care of me," the woman on Joel's lap groans, her thighs flexing as Joel drives himself up between her thighs. "Feels so good."

When the woman lets out a husky moan Joel's eyes shutter but they never break from the woman. The woman's face tilts and Joel's eyes are so full of adoration that Tess feels physically sick. She watches as Joel's hands move to cup the woman's face.

"Never felt this good with anyone," Joel tells her softly. "Never."

"Me neither," the woman whimpers before pressing her mouth to his. They kiss slowly, reverently, lovingly even as he fucks up into her. The woman makes a soft whimpering sound, her body quaking as Joel’s cock slides in and out of her. Joel's face breaks. His brows saddle and his thrusting reaches a fever pitch.

"Keep goin'," Joel is slurring. "Uh huh, you take it baby. This is all for you. S'always gonna be for you."

///

You sigh, feeling him bottom out inside you. He lets out a sharp hiss, his hands moving up your body to cup your breasts, pinching the nipples as you moan. He begins to thrust his cock into you, slowly at first, wanting you to acclimatize.

You watch yourselves in the mirror, hypnotized by the way Joel looks as he’s entering you over and over. The way he has your legs spread so wide, so obscene. The sight of Joel’s cock disappearing into your sopping cunt as he kneads your breasts. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but stuck on your face.

“You’re mine,” you tell his reflection, your damp temple pressed against his cheek. “Only mine.”

You don’t feel territorial like Joel, but you want to hear the words from him. There’s something like satisfaction in having Joel say it.

“Yes,” Joel pants, sawing his cock between your thighs. “Only yours.”

Your hands continue to lace around his neck, holding there as he continues to thrust. Your breasts bounce at every jolt, his large hands coming to hold your hips stationary.

"This is your cock baby," he tells you as he pumps into you. "Only you fuck it. Only you."

Your eyes are on his as he thrusts deep and fast, watching your body bounce on his lap, his broad forearms and shoulders caging you against him.

"Joel you feel so fucking good," you moan, eyes closing as he drives himself firmly into you. "No one fucks me like you do."

"That's right," he purrs. "Because I’m yours and your mine n’ Daddy knows how to make his good girl feel good."

He’s fucking up into you with abandon, his hands on your thighs, keeping them apart. He can’t stop staring at the two of you in the mirror, bodies rising and falling together, slick with sweat, moaning together in some feral symphony.

You feel suddenly shy, your face turning to him, forehead pressing against his cheek.

"No no," Joel commands gently, his fingers gently forcing your face to the mirror. "Look at how good you look takin’ my cock, baby."

His face slides next to you, cheeks pressed together and in the mirrors reflection you can see the stark difference in your expressions. Joel is completely un-tethered, eyes narrowed and his teeth bared in a feral smile as he thrusts into you. It's the view of a man taking what he thinks is his, of possession, of desire.

You on the other hand are completely fucked out, hair falling into your glassy eyes, mouth hanging open as you make inhuman noises, your naked body jolting with every thrust. You're totally gone, your body his to mold, hands barely able to hold onto his own around your waist.

"Oh pretty girl," Joel groans heavily into your hair. "You're doin' so good. Keep goin' just like that. Daddy loves those sounds you're makin' just for him."

"Fuck me harder Daddy," you gasp, bouncing along his cock. "Harder."

He holds your thighs tightly, fingertips dimpling the flesh as he holds you open for him to see in the mirror and fucks into you even harder. He looks lost watching as your cunt swallows him time and time again, thrust after thrust. Joel cups your tits again, squeezing them together.

"Joel," you whine, pelvis tilting back and forth as you continue crying out at the ceiling. "I don't wanna stop."

"We're not gonna," Joel promises, the two of you falling into a rhythm as he flexes into you. "We ain’t stoppin’."

He doesn’t know what you mean. That you don’t want to stop seeing him. You look over your shoulder at Joel and you let out a keen when you see how fucked out he looks. You have never wanted him more.

"Joel,” you groan, eyelids fluttering. "I need to come."

"C'mon an’ be a good girl," Joel urges you; planting a sloppy kiss to your cheek as you two bounce together. "Use your manners."

He's so deep, working so hard that his back is slick with sweat. Your thighs burn as he holds you open but you don't stop, you don't even adjust because the strain adds to it. It makes it feel even deeper, even sharper. His fingers are on your clit again, sliding and rubbing in the way he knows you love.

"That's my girl," Joel croons against your temple, his mouth breaking into a sinful smile against your hair. "So good for me."

"Please Daddy," you moan. "Let me come for you."

You rise and fall together like the waves of an ocean, his arms wrapped around your middle as your arm goes behind your head, fingers clinging to his neck, your forehead against his jaw. Your hips roll over him, sliding back and forth as Joel fucks into you. You stretch your spine out, back arching and face up at the ceiling as you cry out in high, raspy intonations.

///

"Please Daddy, let me come for you."

The woman’s hips flex as she rides his cock. Her chest rises and Joel's left hand moves to cup her breast, his fingertips worrying her nipple. Tess tries to make out the woman's face but her hair is in her face.

"You gonna come on Daddy's cock like a good girl?"

"Yes Daddy," the woman keens.

Tess feels her eyes blow wide at this. She's never heard Joel refer to himself as Daddy, has never had him encourage her to use the term. He's never fucked Tess on the edge of the bed, holding her in his lap and watching their damp bodies writhing together in the mirror. He's never been unrestrained, so recklessly passionate like this.

Tess registers that her marriage is well and truly over not only because the woman is drawing moans from Joel that Tess has never been able to encourage in him in all their time together. It's because Joel has never looked at Tess the same way he's looking at the woman now. The naked look of reverence and desire mixed in one. Never shown himself to Tess like this, never let himself truly let go.

Tess can see Joel's slick cock sliding out and into the woman's bared pussy, deeper and harder with every thrust.

“That’s it baby," Joel whispers against your mouth. "Give it all here. Lemme have it and you can have mine. Look at Daddy when you come for him."

She does, face tilted up to him, crying loudly and bouncing in his lap, her thighs spread wide. Tess sees arousal flooding over Joel's stiff cock still stuffing the woman's tight cunt.

Tess holds in a grimace as Joel grips the woman's hips in his long fingers.

"You like this?" Joel rasps, fingers worrying the woman's clit as she rides him. "Like me holding you open wide so you see how Daddy fucks his good girl?"

Tess watches the woman’s stomach tighten, sees the fresh gush of arousal around Joel’s cock and knows that she’s come. She gives out a shuddering cry of Joel’s name, her fingernails digging into his hands on her hips. Joel watches her face with a look of naked adoration, his mouth curling into a crooked smile.

“Feel good, baby?”

"Yes," she replies and Tess feels her stomach heave when the two share a soft and tender kiss.

The woman says something else but Tess doesn't hear it. The woman's mouth moves to Joel's ear and suddenly he's got her around the waist, holding her against his chest as his cock saws in and out of her dripping slot, the sounds obscene in the quiet hotel room.

"You feel so fuckin’ good," Joel grunts, his voice guttural.

The woman moans, hips rolling. Her palm comes to hold Joel’s cheek. "Wanna make you come, Joel."

And she does. Tess watches Joel’s face go pinched, his hands clutching the woman tightly to him as his hips slap against her from behind. Joel moans, his entire body convulsing a moment before he empties himself into the woman. They both groan at the sensation, bodies so tightly pressed as their hips slowly stutter to a stop.

Tess stares at the woman and Joel, her eyes fixed on the debauched view of his come leaking out of her pussy as she sits spread wide on his lap. Joel's eyes won't leave the woman's face and the woman’s fingers lace through his curls at the base of his scalp.

"I've never wanted someone the way I want you," Joel confesses quietly.

It's not just that comment which infuriates Tess. It's the way Joel's eyes are still gazing into the woman's face. It's an open, loving look without restraint. The woman murmurs something to Joel, something Tess can't hear. And suddenly Tess can't take it another second. She bursts towards them, eyes blazing.

"What the fuck is going on?"

///

You start when you hear Tess ' voice sound out behind you. Instinct tells you to turn around but everything in you stays frozen on Joel's lap as his softening cock slips from you.

"Tess," Joel croaks. "What are-"

He stops himself, realizing that he's still holding your naked body open wide. You know he's hoping the same things you are. That Tess didn't see your face.

Joel snaps into action, he grips the nearby robe and wraps it around you. He slips you off his lap, leaving you shaking on the bed as he pulls on his boxers. He stands between you on the bed and Tess standing watching you hide behind him.

Tess stands at the door of the room, her suitcase in one hand and a hotel key card in the other. In your frenzy neither of you heard the beep of the door as she came in.

"Conference got cancelled," Tess says stiffly. "Thought I'd come surprise you and Sarah. Looks like I really surprised you."

Tess is quiet as you rush off to the bathroom, Joel's come leaking down your leg. You slam the door behind you, leaning against it as you slump to the floor. You can hear their voices outside in the room.

“How did you get in here?”

“I told them my husband was staying here,” Tess hisses back. "Who the fuck was that, Joel?"

"None of your business, Tess.”

You sit against the door, ear pressed even though they're both speaking so loudly you needn’t have bothered.

“Should have known you’d have a little side piece to keep your cock warm.”

“That’s not what she is,” Joel defends angrily. “And you’re not mad at her. I’m the one you were married to.”

“Were?” Tess says choking down a laugh. “Did I miss something Joel? Last time I checked we still were.”

“Tess,” Joel says in a soft voice. “The divorce papers are signed. I don’t even know why you’re here in the first place.”

“I was coming here to see if we could still make it work,” Tess says chagrined. “I have the divorce papers in my bag. I was sitting on mailing them out. Fucking foolish of me when you have a little whore keeping your dick wet.”

“Don’t call her that,” Joel snaps. “I’m serious.”

You wish you could see him through the door. You stand, moving to sit on the toilet, wrapping the robe tighter around you. You clean yourself with one of the towels, feeling sick to your stomach.

“She seemed young,” Tess scoffs. “Now I understand the fascination. Bet you love eating her pussy don’t you? She taste good, Joel? Sweet?”

Joel doesn’t answer and you’re frankly shocked at how Tess is speaking. She didn’t seem this kind of person when you met her at Christmas.

“She just love sucking your cock?” Tess continues and you can feel Joel’s shame through the door. “Does she know you have a daughter about her age?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known her for, Joel?”

Silence. The kind of silence that is more incriminating

Say something Joel. Something. Anything.

And then he does say something. But it’s not what you expect.

“No, Tess don’t-“

The door to the bathroom is thrust open and Tess stands in the doorway, staring down at you. You feel your soul leave your body when her see her register who you are.

"You?" She chokes out. "You?!"

"I'm so sorry," you say and the tears are spilling from your eyes. "I'm so so sorry."

Because you are.

You feel so deeply ashamed with yourself. All the times you told yourself it was a fling and it didn’t matter. All the times you pushed Tess from your mind because she wasn’t there to remind you that you were doing something incredibly wrong. And you feel so much guilt because you want her husband, you love him.

Tess backs into the room, her eyes blown wide as she looks at you emerging from the bathroom, face blotchy and eyes wet with tears.

“I welcomed you into my home,” Tess whispers in horror, her face white. “I cooked for you, I- Oh my God – is this… did it start back then?” She whirls on Joel looking ashamedly at his feet. “How long has this been going on, Joel? Tell me the fucking truth.”

Joel’s voice is low and quiet.

“Christmas.”

“Christmas,” Tess echoes weakly. “You’ve been fucking this little college slut for months?”

“Hey,” Joel says sharply, inadvertently coming to stand between Tess and the bed, shielding you.

“Big, strong protector,” Tess says with a disgusted laugh. She gives you a hollow look. “Until he gets bored of you and finds another college girl to fuck, right?”

“Tess, I know you’re hurtin’ and I’m sorry,” Joel says truthfully. “But you need to stop.”

“Did you fuck her in our bed?”

Joel can’t reply and you feel your stomach drop when Tess shake her head before sneering over at you, giving you a once over full of derision. Then her eyes are back on Joel’s increasingly red face.

“You get that you’re just some older guy she’ll fuck until she gets bored. A story she’ll look back on and laugh about with her age appropriate husband in about ten years.”

"Tess-"

"You feel good knowing you threw away our entire marriage for some college pussy?"

“Stop, please,” you beg, hating the look that’s clouding Joel’s face. That scared, uncertain look. “Please, Tess.”

"Why?" Tess scoffs angrily and you flinch at the way she hisses at you. “You don’t like hearing the truth? How you broke up a family because you wanted to fuck my husband?”

You hate knowing that you’ve hurt Tess so badly. You just never thought she would find out.

“Tess stop,” Joel says and now his voice is that same dark whisper. The scary one that sets goosebumps across your body. “I was the one that cheated on you. Be mad at me.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, I am,” Tess says with a shallow laugh before pointing at you with the key card. "But she played an equal part in this. If she’s old enough to have an affair with my husband, she’s old enough to hear this. You understand that you’re a midlife crisis, right? Most men get sportscars, but I guess Joel Miller’s not like most men.”

“She ain’t that,” Joel tells Tess and you feel the anger mixed with shame radiating off of him.

“No?” Tess’s mouth is curled into a ghoulish expression of amusement. “Why Joel? Are you in love with her or something?”

"Yes."

The speed in which he replies shocks not only Tess but you as well. Your head jerks to the side to face him. His eyes go to your face, the feeling so clear in his gaze. Your heart swells at the sight of it despite everything.

“Of course you are,” Tess laughs cruelly. “Joel Miller the romantic.”

“Tess-“

“You two are just fucking around, ruining marriages and families and I’m supposed to believe this is some love story for the ages?” Tess scowls as she collapses into the chair nearest to her. “Are you fucking deluded?”

You chance a glance over at Joel to see his jaw clenched and his dark eyes far away. Part of you wants to beg Tess’s forgiveness; the other part wants to slap her for making Joel look so beaten down.

"How many others have there been?" Tess demands. You watch Joel's cheeks flame and your stomach drops at the length of time it takes him to answer. Were there others? You never even thought to ask.

"Just her," he finally utters quietly. "Only wanted her."

You realize now his hesitancy. If there had been several you'd just be a number Tess could forget about. But as it is there is only you, which means something more. Tess turns her ire on you now, her light eyes flashing.

"How could you do this to your friend?" Tess demands of you. "Forget about me, how could you do this to Sarah? How could you break up her family?"

You feel sick to your stomach. All the minutes and hours and weeks and months you spent pining for Joel, did you ever really consider the true ramifications? Or the people you would both hurt? Or were you just so intent on having him that everything else was pushed aside?

"Tess, it wasn't her," Joel assures her. "You and I had been unhappy long before Christmas. Meeting her just... It just confirmed how I'd been feeling for months."

“We were married. We were happy.”

"Were we really happy Tess?" Joel challenges. “I wanted more kids and you didn’t.”

“She’s gonna give you kids, is that it?”

Joel ignores this question, can tell without looking over at you that there must be a stricken expression on your face.

"When you weren't at work and it was just us we barely spent time together. And when we did most of the time we'd argue."

"But there were good times," Tess defends.

"I know," Joel nods. "S'why I didn't break things off right away."

You don't like hearing this. Hearing how Joel wasn't sure. Hearing about his life when you weren't there. It makes your face crumple when you hear it. Joel must notice because his face is turning to you.

"But I couldn't forget her."

He goes to reach for you but stops when he hears Tess give a disgusted scoff. Your arms are wrapped around your body, wishing more than anything this moment was over. But Tess isn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

“And what did Sarah have to say about this?” Tess demands. “Something tells me she wouldn’t have been thrilled to see her best friend and her father fucking.”

The dual silence of you and Joel tells her everything.

“Ohhh….She doesn’t know,” Tess says in a mock hushed tone. “Well, maybe someone should tell her.”

You watch in horror as Tess reaches for her cell phone in her purse. Your stomach lurches and you dart forward, ignoring Joel’s hand grazing your waist as you pass him.

"Tess please," you beg, hand outstretched. "You can hate me and Joel as much as you want. But please think of how telling her like this will affect Sarah.”

Tess stares at you, a sinister curl of amusement on her lips. “Like you thought about how it would affect Sarah when you started fucking her dad?”

No, you never thought of Sarah. All you thought about was your own selfish pleasure. How were you so fucking deluded to think that loving Joel would be enough? Tess is one thing – according to him their marriage was already suffering and aside from this moment you never thought you’d have to see her.

But Sarah? Sarah was innocent in all of this. Sarah your only true friend.

“I didn’t because I’m a selfish piece of shit,” you tell her firmly. “But you aren’t.”

“Oh no?” Tess is almost laughing at your solemnity.

“No,” you shake your head. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were the kind of person to do the right thing. And you know that telling Sarah about us like this is wrong. It would break her heart. Sarah doesn't deserve this. She's never done anything to you. Ever."

“And I deserved it?” Tess challenges. “I deserved to have some little college slut fuck my husband?”

The tears are falling down, hot and steady down your warm cheeks. Because she has every right to hate you both. You did something wrong, so impossibly wrong. You shake your head lightly, trying to swallow more of the tears.

“No, you didn’t.”

You feel your cheeks burn with shame and guilt as you lower yourself to your knees, head bowed. You face her, subservient in your stance, ignoring as Joel calls your name. Your fold your hands in front of you, lacing the fingers together as if in prayer.

“Tess I’m so so sorry for what we did. I know that an apology means nothing. It means less than nothing,” you say, debasing yourself. “I understand you hating me for the rest of your life. What we did was fucking wrong, there’s no way around that. I don’t know how to fix it. I really don’t.”

You take a deep breath and try to swallow down the cracking sobs starting in your rib cage.

“But Tess I’m begging you, please don’t tell Sarah. Sarah loves Joel so much, finding out this way would devastate her. She doesn’t deserve to pay for our fuck up. She doesn’t deserve to learn about it like this, please don’t tell Sarah. Please.”

The sobs begin in earnest and you try to swallow them down once more, your chest heaving. When you finally glance up you can see that Tess is glassy-eyed and ignoring you there on the floor.

“I wanna talk in private,” Tess says, looking at Joel. “You owe me that much.”

You continue sitting there on the floor, tears streaming down your face until you feel Joel’s hand gently alight on your shoulder.

"Can you give us a minute?" Joel asks you. "I'll send a text."

For some reason this hurts more than anything. To know that you’re the one being asked to leave in all of this. And yet you nod, grabbing your phone from the nightstand and leaving quickly, tightening the robe around your middle.

///

You’re sitting in the pool area, lying on one of the puffy chaise lounges. It’s been two hours of scrolling your phone and wiping away tears as you try to face away from the families splashing around in the pool.

Joel loves you.

Sarah is going to hate you.

Joel loves you.

You keep waiting for Sarah to call you in tears, screaming at you for ruining her life. When your phone buzzes you feel your stomach jump. You raise the screen to your face with shaking fingers.

[HIM 💜]: She left.

The trudge back to the hotel room is a slow one, your heart heavy. There’s no way Joel is going to want to continue this with you. And you’ve realized now that it’s going to break your fucking heart when he ends things.

You slip past him when the door opens, trying to mask your tears. You go to the bed, looking at the rumpled sheets and your red panties strewn to the side. It doesn’t look like the bed of two people in love. It looks like the bed of two selfish people.

Joel rests a hand on the doorknob, shoulders hunched at his ears. You can see the red at the back of his neck when you look back at him.

“Is she gonna tell Sarah?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Joel says it firmly, without question and you believe him. You want to ask him what he and Tess talked about, but at the same time you don’t want to know. You don’t want to think about how hurt she was.

And now you can’t stop thinking about Joel loving you. He loves you. Love. And you love him. This should be a time of celebration. But instead you stand there, eyes on his feet. Because love won’t be enough. He won’t want this with you, not at such a cost.

You blink back the tears and try to steady your voice.

“I guess we’re over, then?”

You make a motion between your bodies, waiting for Joel’s agreement. When several moments pass in silence you finally raise your gaze to Joel’s. He’s put a t-shirt on, but he still wears his boxers. He looks so vulnerable, despite his breadth and you can see the gloss that has begun in his dark eyes.

"Baby, come here."

Without thought you cross the room and move into his waiting embrace, arms banding around his waist. He holds you tightly to him, your head tucked under his chin. He sways you gently from side to side, his heart under your ear.

“I don’t want us to be over,” he murmurs against the crown of your head. “But I understand if this is too much for you.”

You hold him tighter, the tears no longer flowing. Being in his arms feels so safe and so right. You hate how right it feels in Joel Miller’s arms. If it felt even a tiny bit awful you could turn away, you could walk from this hotel and never give him a second thought. As it is, you feel something deep and eternal for him.

"Did you mean it? About loving me?"

Joel’s large hands move to cup your face, turning your red-rimmed eyes up to face him. He stares at you in that impossibly soft way that only Joel Miller possesses. The kind of way that spells affection in the flecks of honey in his iris, the way that shows adoration in the round of his pupils.

"Yeah," Joel whispers and suddenly he looks like a lost little boy as you stare up at him. "Is that okay?"

It takes everything in you not to cry again. You’re sick of crying. You want to remember how Joel is looking down at you now. How your hands lay against his waist, holding him. How in this moment you’ve never loved anyone more.

"Yes,” you finally whisper back. “Joel, I've loved you for so long."

“I know,” Joel admits, his eyes glassy. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, baby. Was just scared to admit it, I think.”

His mouth finds yours, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as you wrap your arms around his waist once more. There’s no heat in this kiss, just a deep abiding love that you sense with every soft dab of his lips against yours.

“I wanna take care of you,” Joel murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. "I want you to come back to Austin with me. I want you to come stay with me for the summer. Please say yes."

Your stomach jumps in both anticipation and tremendous fear. This is a huge step for the both of you. And you’re scared that Joel is offering this because of how horrible this evening was with Tess. You bring a thumb to stroke his cheek, smiling up at him gently.

“Let’s go to bed,” you say.

Joel blinks before nodding, pressing a full-lipped kiss to your mouth before taking your hand in his and leading you to the bed. The two of you are completely wiped from everything. Still wearing your robe and Joel in his boxers, the two of you collapse into bed. Joel flicks off the light and draws you to him.

“I love you,” Joel murmurs against your forehead. Your heart sings at the sound of it and your mouth curls into a soft, contented smile.

///

You wake the next morning with a strange sensation. A mixture of joy an apprehension as you open your eyes. Joel is already awake, balancing on one arm and looking at you with a gentle smile. His hair is mussed from sleep, the curls flattened on one side. That shouldn’t make your heart jump with affection, but it does.

“Was wondering when you’d wake up. You were out like a light.”

“Shit,” you say, propping yourself onto your elbows. “What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Joel soothes, brushing the hair from your eyes. “I got us a late checkout.”

“Thanks.”

Your eyes drop to the space between you on the bed. A small sliver of waved blankets that in this moment feel like a canyon. You smooth your hands over it, feeling the soft texture. Joel watches this, you can feel his eyes on you. He knows you so well.

“What are you thinkin’ about?”

“About what you asked me last night,” you admit. “About coming to Austin with you.”

Joel grows serious, taking a slow inhale. “And?”

“I’m worried you’re saying it because of everything with Tess,” you admit, fingers plucking the bed sheets absently. “And I don’t want that. I want it to be because it’s something you want, not something you feel obligated to do.”

Joel launches himself off of the bed before you can finish your thought. You watch his broad shoulders bared, his body covered in only his boxers as he knees down, rummaging for something in his suitcase.

You stare at him puzzled when he comes back with an envelope and a small square box. He sits across from you on the bed, his large frame comically child-like in the cross-legged pose. He passes you the envelope first.

You open it, confused when you pull out a long piece of paper until you realize what you’re looking at. An airline ticket to Austin and your name in on it. Your eyes dart in surprise to Joel’s open gaze. He sits with his hands folded on his muscled thighs. He rubs the palms along them a few times before nervously swallowing.

“Wanted this for a long time,” he tells you. “Longer than I wanna admit.”

A smile breaks out over your features. This wasn’t a last minute plan to smooth over what happened last night. He wanted you to come back with him to Austin for a while. Living with him for an entire summer.

“I was gonna ask you properly last night,” he admits. “The same time I gave you this.”

Joel takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger, stroking sweetly before motioning to the box between the two of you. It's a small square box in a color you know too well: Tiffany blue wrapped in a black ribbon.

"Open it."

You do slowly, feeling nervous with Joel's gaze on you. The ribbon drifts to the floor until all you're left with is a small square box with Tiffany & Co embossed on the front. You let your fingers trail over the grooves of the letters.

He wouldn't propose.

No it's too early. It's too much. You can't possibly say yes can you? No, it's insane. His divorce isn't even finalized yet. Your trembling fingers open the box, eyes widening until you see what rests inside.

Relief floods you when you see a delicate silver chain and pendant sitting on the velvet cushion inside. It's simple; a thin x with diamonds in each of the empty spaces and the shape is unmistakable.

A snowflake.

It's on a slender silver chain that sparkles in the light as you remove it from the velvet cushion.

"Here, lemme put it on ya," Joel murmurs, taking the delicate jewelry in his wide fingers. You twist away from him, sliding your hair over one shoulder. You feel him fumble with it against the nape of your neck and you hold in a shiver at the sensation.

"Perfect," be murmurs, tracing a finger along the chain.

"It's just ... This is so much, Joel. The necklace, the hotel, the massage.” Guilt gnaws at your belly. “Did you get anything for Sarah?"

Joel's head tilts slightly as he regards you. "You're worried I didn't get anything for Sarah?"

"I guess ...” you falter. “I just ..."

"I got her a ring made from one that used to belong to her mom. I paid for her and Charlie to stay at a swanky hotel in town for the weekend," Joel promises, kissing the worry from between your brows. "Plus a few other things that ain't your business because she's my kid."

He says the last part in a jesting tone, pinching the end of your nose in his knuckles and squeezing gently a moment. Relief floods you at this admission.

"Good."

Joel surveys you a moment, features drawn. He takes your hand in his, wide thumb tracing the back.

"My daughter will always be my biggest priority," Joel informs you, concern trailing over his strong features. "You never have to worry about that."

"Alright."

Joel swallows.

"But you also need to understand it, too. I need you to be okay with it, cuz that ain't changing. She's always gonna be my kid."

Adoration flows from you as you look at Joel. The difference between he and your parents rearing is so stark it fills your eyes with tears.

"I think that's why I fell for you from the start," you admit without thinking. "Because of how well you love her."

Joel's face is pure sweetness as he looks at you.

"But that doesn't mean you're not a priority too," he tells you with earnestness. "You're my girl."

His large palms come to either side of your jaw, tilting your mouth to his. His girl. How long did you pine over Joel Miller dreaming of a life where you're his? And now you are. Here in his arms, kissing him fiercely.

You break apart, flushed happily. You look back at your necklace, tracing the small pendant before turning it over. Your brows knit together in confusion as you see the engraved letter on the back.

"H?"

"For Heather," Joel tells you shyly. "I just know she'd be proud of you, baby. Maybe even more than me."

And that’s it, the moment you fall so hard for Joel Miller than no one could catch you. Your heart overflows with affection for him as you launch yourself into his lap, holding him. Everything about him feels right as he pulls you against him, his breathing soft and steady.

“I wanna come back to Austin with you Joel,” you tell him with a watery smile. “I wanna spend the summer with you.”

“Are you sure, baby?” Joel asks, concern clear in his features. “I don’t wanna pressure-“

“I’m sure,” you answer, your mouth kissing his jaw, then his lips. You pull back because there is something so engaging about Joel’s eyes. You see everything in the depths of his large, chocolate colored gaze.

"Joel... How do you just..."

"Just what?"

"See me," you say softly. You can’t find another word to describe it. All the things you’ve tried to keep hidden, the secrets, the shame, he sees it all. And he loves you through all of it.

"Same way you see me," Joel offers.

Joel's eyes are so impossibly soft as he stares at you and when you press your mouth to his, he's so warm. You’re convinced that if you cut your veins they would bleed the color of Joel’s eyes, that your heart is wrapped up in his flesh, that you are a part of him and he’s a part of you.

"Make love to me," you whisper against his lips.

You don't know that it's possible considering all that’s gone on in the last twenty four hours. But you need to feel him inside you right now; you need to be as physically close as two people can be.

"Of course," Joel murmurs back his nose gently tracing yours. "Whatever my girl wants."

Any fears that he won't be able to perform are allayed when he brings your thigh over his and you feel his hardened cock at your entrance. You both shimmy out of your under things, kicking them onto the hotel floor. He removes the robe from your body and on his side he holds you, thumb rubbing the plush of your hips. He urges your thigh over his hip and then he slides into you slowly, both of you gasping softly at the sensation of his cock and your cunt meeting in pleasure.

“I love you so much sweet girl,” he tells you. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, eyes locked on his. “I've never really been in love before."

And it's true, you realize as Joel slowly and sweetly makes love to you that you've never actually loved anyone. You thought you loved Conrad but that was an infatuation. He never saw you like Joel does. He never held you like Joel is holding you now.

He holds you like a cherished artwork, like something precious. Like you’re worth something, even though your whole life you’ve been told the opposite.

His mouth goes to your neck, kissing and licking there as you whimper against him. He gently moves you onto your back and you let him take control of the motion. Your hands lace in Joel’s at the side of your head, holding you in place, his body sliding along yours.

"Gonna hold you like this every day in Austin," Joel breathes as he continues to slowly thrust into you deeply from this angle. "Gonna cook for you. Gonna take you on dates. I’m gonna take care of you."

"I want that too," you breathe, mouth over his, swallowing his cries. "Wanna be with you so much, Joel.”

He notices your eyes closed tightly, body rocking gently against his. He lets this happen a few moments, watching as your body begins to flush and your brows saddle. But soon he feels himself approaching his climax and he needs your gaze.

"Eyes open for me, pretty girl," he murmurs and your eyes crack open at his request.

The two of you stare deeply into one another's eyes, the moment heavy. You can see Joel's mouth starting to quiver as he breathes, something he does when he's about to come. He holds you tighter to him and neither of you can look away when your climaxes overtakes you.

He spills into you while crying out your name, you follow soon after with his name half-uttered before your groans of pleasure become too much. You both stay like this a moment, he soft but still buried within you. You kiss fiercely, desire flooding you both at the knowledge that this is only the beginning.

“Better get you to the dorm,” Joel offers. “Gotta pack for Austin… As long as that’s still something you want?”

You see the indecision in his eyes, the continued concern that he’s forcing you into something you don’t want. You hum a soothing noise before you press a palm to his whiskery cheek, watching him go from nervous to calm at your touch.

“I can’t wait.”

-----------

taglist:

@fanficaddictmwah @southernbe @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @604to647 @ashleyfilm @survivingandenduring @weirdoneattheparty @lilipads @cinnamongorll @katiexpunk @emotrash1 @booksaremyfood @mellymbee @ashleyfilm @magpiepills @sptbear @getitoutofmymind

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readychilledwine · 3 months

Text

Cuckold

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

Quick authors note- It feels a little ironic to be using Rhys and Feyre for this kink since one of my favorite Eris lines comes from when he's chasing Feyre and Lucien.

“Right. Rumor has it you two have run off together, cuckolding Tamlin.” His grin widened. “I didn’t think you had it in you, little brother.”

Anyways! Traditionally, a cuckold is a husband or boyfriend of a person who has sex with other people (be it cheating, sex work, separated). In modern kink terms, cuckold, or a cuck for short, is when a man gets sexual arousal through watching his partner have sex with someone else. There is a female equivalent, cuckquean, but I made the choice to focus on poor Rhysie being left out.

This type of play falls into the voyeurism and exhibitionist category but has become a type of play that is having an increase in popularity (and hurt feelings from insecure partners). Part of the appeal of cucking is mental degradation and humiliation, another is competitive drive.

This type of play requires security on both ends and understanding from the third party involved. This typically isn't a type of play you'd want to engage in with a stranger you do not trust, nor someone who is too close to the couple. While all parties are consenting, the first time around this kink can be interesting and cause some potentially bad results if not handled with tack. Open communication and safe words are a must in this type of play regardless of if restraints or anything else gets brought in. The last thing anyone would ever want is a relationship ending over something that was supposed to be fun 💜

💕Peep the Valentines Day List Here💕

💙 Peep Bound by Fate if you haven't since Kaylee makes a brief appearance 💙

As always, NSFW below the cut

Feysand x Helion

Warnings - voyeurism, dirty talk, unprotected sex, surprise third party, Helion's thighs mentioned, post pregnancy body insecurities, restraints

A/N - There's a brief Kaylee appearance. Nesta would have been too jealous, Elain would have gotten shy, Kaylee is just confused on why she's getting to see Helion's thighs on a random Tuesday.

“I would have never taken you for this kind of male, Rhysand.” Helion glanced out the window, overlooking the beautiful snow capped valley Rhysand had hidden for years.

Rhys sighed. “She needs it and I am not against it. She has not felt as confident as she once was in her body, and having not one but two high lords worshiping her may be the answer.”

A single perfect brow went up as Helion shot Rhysand a questioning look. “Did the little heir?”

“Stretch mark scarring, she's a little less toned. I think she looks twice as delicious as before, but she does not believe me.”

Helion nodded, eyes sympathetic and soft. “Motherhood is hard. She's exhausted, she's losing her sense of self, her hands probably do not even feel like her own anymore. It is understandable she feels less appealing to you lately.”

A soft knock on the door had Rhys standing, moving to it with a smile. “Hi, honeybee.”

“Rhysie!” Kaylee paused, eyes locked on Helion. “What are Helion and his thighs doing here?” Helion snorted, looking to the youngest sister with a smirk as she crossed the room.

“Mother above, Kaylee.” Azriel entered behind her. Kaylee had already gone to the bassinet, picking up her cooing nephew. “How long are we taking him for?”

Rhys and Helion shrugged, causing Azriel to pause before grabbing Kaylee. “What's wrong, shadowsinger? Don't want her to get ideas?”

“From you? Absolutely not. Let's go, baby.” Azriel took her and Nyx away before Kaylee could question the impromptu date night and the appearance of the Day Lord. “She's still adorably innocent,” Helion looked to Rhys. “You must convince her to play next.”

Rhys shook his head, eyes wide in fear. “Not Kaylee you'd have to convince.”

Surprising Feyre had been easy. She arrived home to Helion sitting in Rhysand's spot at the table. “Hello beautiful.”

The smile that graced her face was capable of moving mountains. “Helion! What are you doing here?”

He motioned towards the table. “Your mate got a little tied up, asked me to come have dinner with you.”

“Let me go grab Nyx-”

“No need to do that, Feyre. He's with that sweet little sister and her brooding mate.”

Feyre paused, “What is Rhys tied up with then?”

“Currently?” Helion set down his glass of wine, shifting in his seat and uncrossing his legs. “Spidersilk based ropes. We can change that if you would like, though.” It was then that soft tug came, calming her and letting her know that everything was okay. “He's quite pretty when he's bound up. Would you like to see?”

The answer she gave was breathless, eyes fluttered shut. “Yes.”

He stood, taking her hand in his and leading her to her own bedroom. Rhysand glared at Helion from the chair he was tied down to before smirking at his wife. “Hello, Feyre Darling.” He tried to pull at the ropes again before rolling his eyes. “When you told me to ask Azriel to tie me down, I had imagined other places, Helion.”

The lord of day shrugged, hands lingering on Feyre's upper arms as he stood behind her. “You said you watched to watch me fuck your wife,” those hands slid down bringing one of her own to his lips. “You also said you did not know if you could handle it. Restraints seemed to be the perfect solution.”

Rhys leaned his head back, smiling towards the ceiling. “Go ahead then,” he motioned between them the best he could. “Fuck her if she'll have you.”

Soft lips came to Feyre's ear as she stared at Rhys with a questioning look. “You have control, beautiful. If you want me to leave, I will leave. If you want me in your bed, I will be in your bed.”

Feyre released a breath, all thoughts leaving her mind. “My body-”

“Is wonderful, magic, and stunning,” Helion kissed the tip of her pointed ear, relishing in the way she shivered. “You created life, selflessly for the male sitting in that chair.”

Rhysand's eyes had darkened, the scent of his arousal already filling the air as he watched Helion's hands move to the bed of Feyre's dress and soft kisses continued on her ear. “I know you want to, darling.”

“My body-” Helion looked to Rhys and put a hand to Feyre's mouth silencing her before forcing her to walk to the mirror in their room.

“Look at you. Look at every beautiful blessed inch of you.” The command went straight through her, settling in her core as it did. His hands found the ties of her dress. He searched her face for any sign of true resistance and hesitation before pulling and watching the fabric fall. “You are sensational, Feyre. Your new curves fit so beautifully.” Her eyes fluttered shut, body leaning against his for the heat. “Let me show you, exactly how beautiful I find you?”

She nodded, turning in his arms. The first kiss was testing, slow and gentle to see if there'd be more than a soft groan coming from her mate. She pulled apart in time for Helion to lift her, carrying her to the bed and laying her down so her head would hang over the edge, staring directly at Rhysand as he squirmed against the restraints.

He wasted no time, kissing down her neck, smirking at the soft noises he so easily was pulling from her. “So sensitive,” he nipped gently at her pulse point, eyes looking to where Rhys was already struggling. “I'd love to worship you, Feyre, but your mate is already struggling from how badly he'd like to join.”

“Fuck him,” she whispered softly.

Helion couldn't help the feline like smirk gracing his face as Rhys glared. “We will. Later.” He flipped her below him, fingers going to the waist of her panties before bringing them down her muscled legs.

His skilled fingers found her core, running up and down before pushing in. Feyre whined loudly, eyes rolling before snuggling into the bed and pushing her hips back. Helion set a rhythm, pumping those digits into her to open her up , curling them as he needed to and saw fit to turn her into a mess.

He heard Rhys whimper, eyes rolling as his head went back and he knew. He knew Feyre was sending every drop of pleasure she felt down the bond, ensuring Rhysand felt it to. Her own moans began to increase as her hips met every movement of his fingers. “Look at your mate,” Helion commanded. “Look at your mate as you cum on my fingers.”

She fell apart easily, body and mind so ready and wanting for attention. She screamed his name, whimpering softly as she rode a wave of bliss. He worked her through the high through every second of her walls clenching around those fingers. When he finally pulled them out, he brought them to her lips, cock twitching as he got the smallest preview of what the High Lady could do.

Rhysand hadn't taken his eyes off of them. His cock was aching and leaking as he watched Helion remove his pleaded clothing before forcing Feyre onto her hands and knees. She sent him every single second of pleasure as Helion's cock pushed into her, stretching her wider than his did. “Fuck,” Rhys muttered under his breath, pulling and moving to try to free himself and at least work his cock.

She looked so pretty, mouth hung open as she moaned loudly, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. Helion's eyes met his and Rhys nodded, hoping the desperation of needing to watch Feyre be fucked and cum for another male wasn't etched into his beautiful features.

Helion gave her a teasing thrust, cock twitching at the whine that came back from it. “How do you want it?”

“Hard.” The need in her tone made his hands grip the plush skin of her hips tighter.

“As the High lady commands.”

Lightning shot through Feyre and Rhys as soon as Helion began that punishing pace. He was hitting every single one of her nerves, heavy cock stretching her wider than she'd ever been. She looked down, lost in enjoying her pleasure only to have him tangle a large hand into her hair, pulling her head back up. “Look at him. Look at how much power you have over him, at how damn desperate he is.”

Rhys was moving constantly in the chair now, growling occasionally with Feyre's moans of Helion's name. He longed to be under her, licking and sucking her clit as Helion rode her, fucking her into a mindless state of bliss.

As if sensing what Rhysand wanted, Heliha's free hand moved to her core, circling her bundle of nerves with gentle fingers. “Oh gods, yes!” Feyre was so close already all three of them could taste it. Her orgasm was humming in the air, crackling like electricity and fire. “Fuck! Keep going, please!”

Helion looked to Rhys again, seeing the male squirm, back arching off the chair as his jaw arched. A damp spot stained his dark slacks, growing by the second as he watched, as he felt. He began pounding into Feyre harder, feeling her walls begin twitching more and more.

It was as if time slowed when they both came. Mountains shaking, the sky switching from a sunset to full blown night. She was screaming his name while Rhys roared hers.

Helion fell over the ledge seconds later, pulling Feyre close to him as he did so Rhys had to watch as he made a mess of her. He allowed Feyre to lower down to the bed as his high closed.

He allowed her a few moments to breathe before pulling both arms behind her back and forcing her up. He walked her to Rhys before putting her on her knees. “Take his pants off and clean your mate. It's time we cash in on that threesome he said we could have.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

Rhys taglist:

@tothestarsandwhateverend @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avajustreads

Feysand:

@avajustreads

#acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #feysand #feyre acotar #high lord helion #helion spell cleaver #feysand x helion #poly!acotar

198 notes · View notes

akoyaxs · 6 months

Text

Tì'eylan Teaser ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!human!reader ✮ Trope: Friends to lovers ✮ Tags: mentions of sexual partners, talk of sex, size difference, fluff (no smut YET)

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“Tell me,” he says with a small, ponderous frown, as though something had just occurred to him, though you knew this look perfectly well to guess what he was about to say was not some casual thought that slid nonchalantly into his mind. “How have you been taking care of yourself?”

You look wearily up from your beadings to squint at him – all stretched out and full of lazy curiousity on the woven mat of your marui. This is how you often spent the warm afternoons in Awa’atlu; you beading or mixing herbs or cooking or something actually useful, while your friend bothers you.

You were still too weary of actually swimming with people, surrounded by beautiful, tall, slim, lithe na’vi girls, and although Aonung had tried to convince you a million times, those bikinis you brought with you remained secretly stowed away deep in the darkest parts of your marui.

Sometimes at night, you would slip out the walkway of your marui into the cool ocean below, but careful that there’s no one around to see. At least it meant na’vi were absolutely shocked to say the least when they saw just how curvy human bodies could get without your flowy clothing.

“What are you on about?” you sigh. “I’m perfectly healt-”

“I meant physically,” Aonung says casually. “Maintaining yourself sexually.”

Oh.

Your friend did have a habit of being carelessly blunt in his manners, but that was one thing that managed to take you by surprise.

“What do you think?” you laugh, throwing off your disconcertion and far too used to your friend - and all na’vi really - disregard for topics very much taboo for humans to be thrown off by the quite personal question.

“Well…” he shifts closer to gage your expression, a small furrow creasing his brow. “You are the only tawtute here, and I’m sure even your kind have sexual needs that must be met. So how…”

“Do I cope when I get horny?” you finished, raising your brows and wrinkling your nose at him. Aonung nods, throat looking a little tight but otherwise unbothered by the delicacy a conversation like this should typically have. “What sort of answer are you looking for, Aonung?”

He blinks, then shakes his head in a puppyish way and you grin.

“I don’t just take care of myself on my own, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you answer elusively.

You never told Aonung the truth. The truth that you have no shortage of Metkayina men offering to deal with your sexual desires, lost in their own curiosity of human-na’vi sexual experimentation.

And you’d be lying if you pretended you weren’t attracted to them. How could you not be?

Na’vi were nine to ten feet of practically pure muscle, cloaked in beautiful, smooth blue skin and glimmering with pretty glowing tahnì. They were slim and wire, agile and graceful in their movements and talented beyond anything a human could ever possibly possess.

So, discreetly, you would indulge in all sorts of capers. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun.

Sometimes you’d be offered pretty little gifts, clumsily complimented on your human looks and talents, or even simply carried away in heated moments of pleasure and experimentation.

But here was Aonung, nearly your best friend at this point, who just heard your vague answer to his curious question.

You can physically see the moment the connotation of your words sinks into his thick skull, and his eyes widen large as Pandora and his lips part in shock.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you grin, flicking him on the shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to sit all tight and pretty and alone while practically stranded on an island of mega hot people, did you?”

Aonung looks as though he very much did expect that, or at least the thought of you fucking other members of his clan had certainly never crossed his mind. In fact, he looks nothing short of stupefied as he stares at you.

“Who?” he demands, an unmistakable scowl settling over his face.

“Really?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Like I’d tell you?”

“Why not?” he asks sullenly, muscles tense and jaw clenched.

“Because I know you, Aonung,” you smile. “And I know how you act around Tsireya with Lo’ak, and I don’t need your stupid ass scaring away my possible companions.”

“Companions,” he grunts with derisive amusement, before his scowl fixes once again and he furrows his brow once more. “You do know I do not see you as a sister, right?”

“Yeah well… don’t tell me that if I share who I’ve been with that you won’t get mad at them.”

Aonung pauses, and you can see he recognises your point; at the slightest mention of a name, Aonung would be up with the guy pinned up bruised and bloodied.

“So you like na’vi then?” Aonung questions. “Even though we’re double your height and could throw you twenty feet?”

“On the contrary,” you say with a sly, amusing grin, “that’s exactly what I like.”

When Aonung’s face slackens a little in shock, you laugh openly and shake your head.

“But who cares if I like na’vi- they’re hot and muscly, so it’s totally justified in my opinion!” you say with a wide, shameless grin. “The real question is why the guys were attracted to me – if humans are so small and weak looking or whatever else you giants think of us, then why would they want to fuck me?”

“That really is a whole other question,” Aonung sighs, rolling his eyes as though you’re being stupid. “But be honest, what do you think of me-”

He’s cut off by your pillow smacking him heavily in the face, and resurfaces to find your little frown a foot away from his.

“Hey, I was honest with you,” you scowl. “If you don’t want me going back to thinking you’re an absolute dick again- leave it.”

And he does, reluctantly.

All afternoon you can see him itching to question you more about it, burning with the desire to find out who you had been with, still shocked by the revelation that you fucked around with people in his clan, and he never even knew.

But he knows better than to push you, so he stays quiet, watching you work quietly.

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@hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut Please let me know if you'd also like to be added to the taglist :)

#avatar fanfiction #aonung x reader #aonung fic #aonung fanfiction #avatar smut #aonung x female reader #avatar #avatar fandom #avatar the way of water #aonung #avatar x human reader #aonung x human #aonung x human reader #enemies to friends to lovers #friends to lovers #jealousy #possessiveness #teaser

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waves-against-a-cliff · 4 months

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Wanna Try? - Gaz x Reader

Thinking about Gaz in the worst way possible

Thanks to @shotmrmiller for indulging in the brain worms with me.

Content Warnings - DUB-CON. I cannot stress this enough, this is dub-con, pretty much bordering on noncon. Anal, PiV, throat fucking, weed usage, Gaz is maybe kinda lacing the weed. Photos and videos being taken and sent to others without consent!

I've never been high before so; inaccuracies!!

You are responsible for your own media consumption. Don't read this if you KNOW you won't like it.

You had been curious about getting high. You'd never done it before but the way other people talked about, well you were curious. So you brought up with your boyfriend Kyle, asking him about it. He had been open about his personal usage for weed, helps clear his head after coming back from deployment and with the aches in his joints.

So of course he was willing to let you experience the high. He rolled up a blunt and handed it to you, demonstrating the best he could on how to handle the smoke. You coughed and wheezed the first few times but the fuzziness set in almost immediately. "Totally normal love. It's your first time after all."

Your movements are sluggish, it feels like your brain is a static TV. Your tongue feels swollen and heavy, too thick in your mouth. Your words slur like you're drunk and you can vaguely feel Gaz undoing the buttons of your trousers.

"What're doing?" You slur, trying to focus your eyes but find it too difficult so you close them. Some part of your brain acknowledges what he says, even if it's drowned out by the static. He doesn't sound like you do, do you even recall if he had more than one puff?

"Taking care of you. Don't worry."

Vaguely you wonder what can you do? You must've said it aloud because he murmurs something about taking it. Gaz absolutely enjoys seeing how oversensitive you are. Every other sense is dulled down but the way he works your already slick hole open for him. You're overly aware when his hot tongue swipes at your clit but your mouth feels like cotton you can barely moan.

The world spins and you jolt when you feel something push into you. Your nerves are raw, every sensation drawn out and at least tripled. It stings, it burns.

"Kyle," you whine and you feel him slip something sweet into your mouth.

"Chew and swallow dove." He commands and you do as he says, mind numb to the glint in his eyes.

"You can't." You slur.

"You can and will take it."

You wake up sore, it kind of hurts to sit and your memory is fuzzy. You were sure just smoking weed wasn't supposed to give you such fuzzy memories. But Gaz tells you it's normal, it was your first time getting high, what do you know? You suppose that's true and it did feel nice to get out of your head for a little while.

He's pushing you to do another session sometime that week. "You enjoyed it yeah? Let's do another then love."

Convinces you that the reason your throat hurts is because you aren't used to the weed yet. Still, something within your gut is ringing the alarm. That weed wouldn't result in your ass hurting or how sticky your panties are after sobering up.

It's a few weeks later, and several smoke sessions, that you need to use his phone since yours was dead. He handed it to you without thinking and pressed a quick kiss to your lips saying he's heading down to the store to grab a few things for dinner. You can't help but think about how doting he is, how wonderful he's been these last weeks.

It's curiosity that has you checking his gallery app. And maybe a want to find a cute picture he took of himself to use as a new lock screen. Your breathing stops and your stomach rolls when you see his latest videos and photos. Of course there's the usual selfies he takes with that radiate smile but you see pictures of yourself.

Pictures of you looking up into the camera, your lips stretched around his cock and spit dripping down your chin. Eyes glassy with tears and red from the weed. You tap on the most recent video, taken the same day you smoked with him. His hand is in your hair, soft grunts coming from his lips as he pistons his hips against your face. Soft gags coming from you that turn more violent the harder he fucks your throat.

"that's it's dove." He groans and his fist tightens in your hair. You vaguely realize he's coming down your throat.

You slide to the next video. Your ass is in full view of the camera, slapped red and raw. Your back arched as he fucks his cock into your ass. He spreads the cheeks with one hand so he can video it better. Your moaning and mewling in the background that gets louder the harder he fucks you.

"you love this don't you?" You weakly nod your head in response, "love it when your boyfriend uses you while you're high? What a slag." His hand comes down harshly on your ass that results in a yelp from you. You close out of the video, close out of the app and set the phone down.

Just be grateful you didn't look into his messages where he's been sending these pictures and videos to the rest of the task force.

#gaz #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz smut #gaz mw2 #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you

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edelgarfield · 5 months

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gods i haven't seen this parallel drawn before but it is something that drives me insane

everyone knows gortash was sold to raphael by his parents and one can only imagine the awful things he went through. and like i don't think it's too far of a stretch to think that abuse plays a heavy role in what led him to bane, how do you avoid being owned and used for other people's gain? by being the one with all the power and bringing them under your heel.

which is the exact same logic that drives astarion towards ascension. hells, the rite is a contract with mephistopheles, raphael's DAD.

imo gortash is a glimpse of exactly what lies in ascended astarion's future. he's the most powerful man in baldur's gate but he's completely alone. he's sold out and alienated every single person that ever cared about him, his power is the very thing that keeps him from ever being able to trust anyone else, all his allies are transactional and based on mutual gain, and one slip up means a knife in his back. durge, seemingly the one person he genuinely cared about, was taken from him because of the power they held. their affection for him put a target on both of their backs. he had all the power he could ever want and it did nothing to save the person he cared about most.

by the time you meet him, he is far far far too gone imo. i'm not even sure whether he cares about how isolated he is, or if he sees it for the weakness it is. if there was ever a time to convince him to choose another path, it is long gone, now he's too entrenched in his own schemes, that even if he WANTED to change (unlikely), it would spell his death.

if you don't ally with him, his isolation is the very thing that kills him; he believes he has no need of flesh and blood allies bc he has an army of tin soldiers to keep him safe. but once you take out the steel watch he's practically defenseless. he's the most powerful man in Baldur's gate, but you can literally just stroll up to his office and kill him on his own turf and no one comes to his aid. if you do ally with him, it's his ambition that puts the final nail in his coffin, his means to dominate the world turns on him and spells his doom.

and this is exactly what we begin to see happen with ascended astarion. his obsession with power and need for control makes him turn a genuine partnership based on love & mutual respect into one based on control. from party banter, we see pretty much all the companions immediately turn on him. these are people who genuinely cared for him & fought for his freedom, but after watching him ascend they wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. and he doesn't even care! he's so entrenched in his own misanthropic worldview that he only sees the power he's gained & not everything it cost him. the cost of ascension isnt just 7000 souls, it's 7000 souls and the love of every single person who could have ever cared for him.

if astarion ascends how long until he bites off more than he can handle? how long until his enemies realize the best way to get to him is through you? how long until all his allies turn on him? (if you choose to control the absolute, the answer is somewhere between a few days and a few weeks). all the power in the world can't protect you from your own hubris and astarion has it in spades.

whether you view durgetash & durgestarion platonically or romantically I see it as two opposing narratives held together with Durge as the lynchpin. durgetash is abt being doomed by that narrative, two people who genuinely cared for each other but were the wrong people at the wrong time to save either of them. had they met earlier, if one of them had been slightly less entrenched in their roles, perhaps they could have been saved, they could have lived and had something real.

& durgestarion is the opposite, had they met any earlier, they would have brought each other to ruin. two doomed people, once beyond saving, meeting at the perfect time and finding the strength in each other to break their chains, to choose a path for themselves. where before durge failed to save gortash (& every person they ever cared for) they can save astarion now (& all their other companions).

& the real tragedy is by the very constraints of the narrative, you cannot save them both. if durgetash hasn't been the people they were, Astarion would never have his chance at freedom, he would've been consumed in cazador's ritual with no one to mourn him. but in order to orchestrate the events that allow astarion his chance at freedom, gortash is long past the point of no return. it takes MULTIPLE extremely unlikely events and literal divine intervention to free Durge from Bhaal's clutches. The chance of the same happening for Gortash is infinitesimally small.

it's abt the cruelty and chaos of the world, how fate, destiny, and chance intersect to either bind us or set us free. it's abt second chances, walking through the ruins of your past mistakes & choosing to build something from the rubble, it's abt how love & loss are two sides of the same coin, how sometimes the only choice available is to love, & that love won't save you, but it's there and it leaves its mark.

thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #enver gortash #durgestarion #durgetash #bg3 spoilers

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wonysugar · 6 months

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need sugarmommy wonyyyy

i need her too anon, i need ha tew..

okay but genuinely talking,, sugarmommy wonyoung would be so elegant? the rich, cold, collected and intimidating classy ceo that everyone knows and admires? yeah, that’s her. her name, jang wonyoung, would ring in your ears everytime you heard it. you’d grin just from spelling it out in your own head.

but that’s just because you admired her for other reasons.

the way you met her was truly unexpected but so very welcome though, you created an account on some local sugarmommy finding app that liz showed you a girlie’s gotta get her bag somehow. it was fairly average from the start, couple of matches here and there, but nothing really clicked.

that is, until you matched with her, of course.

you already knew who she was beforehand, which kinda made you wonder if this was the real deal? her texting habits made it clear to you, however, this was really her. she was just so eloquent with her words, so.. assertive? you felt hypnotized by simple pixels on your cellphone’s screen, your eyes slightly widening as she called you fancy nicknames like darling and sweetheart during casual conversation. she was so persuasive, you just wanted her to take complete control of your life from the get-go.

and to nobody’s surprise, that feeling just grew stronger each time you went out with her.

she’d always walk into the restaurants, expensive handbags and rings in hand, all because “coming empty-handed to a date would simply be ill-mannered of her”. hell, wonyoung even asked you which country you wanted to visit so she knew where to fly her private jet to next. she spoiled you rotten, really, and she didn’t even ask anything of you for the first few dates, and remained patient and attentive with you. she simply wanted to make you happy.

up until around 5 dates later.

she finally offered to bring you back to her mansion, after confessing that she secretly bought some lingerie she thought would suit you, and that she’d just love to see you try it on for her. yknow, a silly excuse to get you to see how big her house was.

you later figured out that her house wasn’t the only thing that was big!

this woman surprisingly had the most kinky objects in her possession, handcuffs, flogs, ropes, you name it. christian grey style, if you will. wonyoung, so composed and charming when it came to important meetings, yet so animalistic and rough when it came to sex. of course, she started slowly, asking you if you were ready for what was about happen, letting you know of a safe word, etc.

once that was done, she immediately got to work. planting rough kisses all over your body, muttering about how you were her pretty little thing and how nobody else could have you. you were hers, and she made sure to let you know of that.

i mean, you understood that pretty quickly when she roughly pounded your cunt with her probably-expensive-as-shit strap on. you didn’t even know rich people had those, and she didn’t even care if it hurt you. she wanted to fuck you good, and that’s what was bound to happen. her fingers rubbed on your throbbing clit insanely well, you could tell she had an insane amount of experience from the way she leaned into your ear and whispered praises into it. she’d treat you with unlimited amounts of respect anywhere else, but definitely not when she’s in her giant bedroom, stretching you out<33

oh and also, can we please talk about how stern this woman would be? you’d be begging, pleading her to go slower and she’d say something like “i don’t remember telling you that you could speak, love.” LIKE OU?? yes ma’am i am silent

or even in your day to day life?? bringing you to some expensive ass store that sells dresses with price tags that look like they could pass as math equations, you’d try and convince her that it’s too much and that she could you always buy you something cheaper elsewhere and her just shutting you down immediately going “nono, pick one, y/n, i absolutely insist.” like FUCKCK??

#jang wonyoung x female reader #ive jang wonyoung #wonyoung #wonyoung ive smut #ive #smut #kpop gg #female reader #ive smut #wonyoung ive #jang wonyoung ive #anon asks #anon #jang wonyoung

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al9ayf · 15 days

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | raphael x f!tav

｡˚ word count: 13.5k

｡˚ summary: tav and raphael have a history together prior to the nautiloid ship. she is to be betrothed to him, but he has something to take to ensure that she is his.

｡˚ a/n: my first bg3 fanfic so i hope u enjoy !! raphael is my favorite character and i wish u could romance him but oh well. anyway i will probably write more with this specific pair because i want to dive more into this relationship and story. i think it is very interesting.

｡˚ explicit content :: non-consensual (beginning), spitting, blood, p in v, dick sucking, ass smacking, pussy eating, intoxication, stealing virginity

the cold air finds solace in the cracks of your lips, and you would have shivered if not for the wyvern whiskey rushing through your veins. it becomes the warm pair of arms you’ve felt so many times before: like it was your mother embracing you all over again. you feel her hold you from behind and squeeze you tight as if she’s scared to let you go. but you were the one who was so scared. you miss that warmth that she brings you, that gratitude and happiness. and instead of finding it with her, you find it in this near-empty bottle. it gave you that false security and happiness, but it was shameful. it’s sinful how much it makes your cheeks flush and eases your mind. yet despite it all, it relaxes you.

the bottle is in one hand, raised high as you stretch your limbs. your free hand reaches as far back as it can to grasp at nothing before both hands come back down as you quit your groaning and stretching. you finally set the whiskey down on the table in front of you before you can indulge in it any further. you stare at it for a moment, pondering taking another sip, but you turn around and walk away. it was a sinful act—one you shouldn’t be enjoying but cannot help but do. as more time passes and the fear of the absolute taking control over everything creeps into your mind, you feel guilty about not praying to your gods and instead turning to drinking. but you can’t help it, can you? your prayers weren’t being answered. and they haven’t been answered in a very long time.

but tonight you stopped yourself. tonight, halsin had stepped in and expressed his concerns over the habit. he was the one who convinced you to set that bottle down and seek some time with nature. and maybe, just maybe, he was right. maybe that time with nature is just what you need, and not an addiction.

so you walked away from your companions to stand at the lake a few paces away. you occupied your busy mind by embracing mother nature’s gift and taking in your surroundings. but it was difficult to do since it was dark save for the light of the full moon, the fire from your camp, and the lights of the city. your eyes had wandered into the deep woods across the dark waters where no sound came from. it was dark and empty, much like the world around you.

the people of baldur’s gate needed a sober savior, not a drunken one. and tonight, you had somewhat of a clear mind for once.

you groaned and rubbed your face with your hands, specifically your eyes. you rubbed them especially hard and then looked back out at the water. it was peaceful—not a single ripple affecting its stillness. if only your mind could have the same effect. the tadpole is never quiet, and so is the emperor. with every thought that crosses your mind, he feels it. he knows it. but you don’t know if he is actively peering into it. if you were dumb enough, you could say the thrall had no particular interest in you. but you weren’t dumb, and you could tell that he wanted something more than just companionship.

but you couldn’t blame him. you were a very popular suitor for marriage.

you came from a noble family in baldur’s gate before getting snatched away by the illithid. you had a life promised to you granted the fact you would be married off to an asshole. but no asshole in baldur’s gate could ever compare to the one who has since come into your life at the ripe age of fifteen. he was unlike any other—with an attitude rivaling that of the gods and martyrs, and an ego so high it reached the peak of mount celestia. the devil was that man.

you only think of him because you can smell him; the sulfur. when you think of him he always appears, almost as if he’s the emperor himself. guaranteed though, the devil has always had great timing. but you have felt his eyes long enough on you tonight, and it is now that he makes himself present to you. he’s inviting you to converse with him. you turn around to catch where he is standing, but he’s not there. in that moment, you think back to the time you read a children’s book about how the devil loved to play games. and now as an adult, you realize that they only loved to play games they knew they could win. and that is how the devil knew he could win your heart and mind over so easily.

you then feel two warm hands cover your eyes. you don’t move. at first, you suspect it is astarion playing tricks on you, but then remember the only person that knew you were here alone was raphael. goosebumps run up your spine at the realization that he has gotten this close to you without you realizing it, and it makes you flinch. you could feel his smirk forming at the mere sight of you jerking under his touch. the soon-to-be hero of baldur’s gate flinching under the warm touch of the devil? it sounds pathetic after your adventures with gods and powerful enemies.

“my, my, what have we here?”

his voice is loud enough for your ears only to not alert your companions who are only a few meters away. you just so happen to be in a more private spot at the camp where the lake lies, and of course, raphael had to take advantage. too many questions would be asked if everybody saw the two of you together, alone, for they did not know your history prior to the nautiloid ship. it would be more of a nuisance to you than to him.

he removes his hands and you quickly turn around to look at him. it has been quite a time since you last saw him. and although you have changed, he hasn’t. not one bit. not a scratch on his hand, a blood splatter on his face, or a bruise. he is exhilarated, and you are exhausted. but at the mere sight of him, you feel more awake than ever. there is no need for alcohol, nature, or prayers when you have him. and you almost regret comparing prayers to being in the company of the devil; almost regret.

when you first met raphael it was at a masquerade ball held by your parents. they were devout followers of the heavens, and somehow, in some way, he managed to become a close confidant of theirs. of course, your parents never knew who he was, and probably never will. he never had any interest in your parents, but rather in you. you had no interest in raphael either—but that was only when you first met him. your opinion since then has changed, but you refused to admit it aloud to yourself or him. especially not him because it would fuel his big ego even more. even the day before you were kidnapped when he had asked for your hand in marriage, you still would not admit your feelings to him. but why would he want your hand anyway? you are no devil. you are no god. you aren’t a person of importance to him at all. just a pawn in his game of lanceboard, and he was the king.

but when it dawned on you now why he wanted to marry you, it all became clear. when he invited you and your party to his house of hope to accept his deal. when he kept playing nice to win that game of trust. when he spun you back into his embrace, alone, in that dining room of his and confessed to you, and you only, that you were the only person to secure the crown of karsus for him. only then, did you realize he only wanted to marry you to seal you in a contract forever. in a debt, forever. to trick your parents into signing a deal with the devil when they had dedicated their entire lives to their gods. to be one with them in mount celestia. the utmost betrayal would be marrying their only daughter off to a cambion, the heir and child of mephistopheles. and you too, would be the greatest sinner this world has ever laid eyes on. a young woman of god, making love and producing heirs for the devil.

only then did you realize how important of a pawn you would be. a pawn that would reach the end board and become a queen, just to be discarded after checking the enemy king. and after knowing the truth, you did not pray to your gods for help, no. you turned to a more sinful life. killing to save yourself. deceiving others for the benefit of surviving. drinking yourself away and losing any purity you had to you. allowing a vampire to suck your blood, allowing lustful visions of a wizard and druid to creep into your dreams as you try to sleep, and allowing a githyanki warrior to speak to you like a whore in a brothel. when you entertain those actions instead of stopping them, you realize how sinful of a child you have become.

but now, to have the devil have his hold on you? to allow him to hold you like your mother. to let his words rush through your veins as if it were drinking wyvern whiskey. raphael has played tricks and games on you ever since you were fifteen, and now, only now, does your heart succumb to the devil after years of resistance. do you blame it on the tadpole or yourself? when you look into his brown eyes that disguise his true golden, orange ones you see a flicker of fire and trickery. you shiver at the mere thought of when he first presented the idea of marriage to you while your parents happily stood by him. when he had looked at you in that moment and you swore you saw yourself in prison bars in the reflection of his beautiful eyes.

you swore when your parents had agreed to the idea you felt chains wrap around your whole body. back then, you didn’t know that raphael was a devil. all you knew was that he was a cunning man only put there to deceive your parents for whatever selfish reasons he had. you had compared him to the devil once before because all you saw was a man who would own you for the rest of your days. the devil that would ruin you with just one look.

and ruin you he did.

you want to say you hate him. you want to hate the devil and love the gods. to imagine yourself in the embrace of the clouds of mount celestia and lay there in an eternal slumber of bliss and peace. but you have found yourself in hell first. you have found yourself falling for the devil each moment you think of him. his red skin, his fire eyes, and his four horns that lay perfectly perched on the top of his head. and in his human form, a man who knows of only wise things and deceitfulness. raphael knows, and he knows very well, that you are enjoying him with each appearance of his that he makes to you. whether it be a quick whir of the moment with you privately or a public appearance to all. he sees the way you look at him with less hate and with more awe. how you stop presenting yourself with that heroic look of yours and almost bow to his mere presence. how tense you look when he gives you the most attention out of everybody.

nobody knows that you are engaged to the devil. it would cause quite a stir in your camp if they ever were to find out.

that is why when he holds you, you stop resisting. you enjoy it when he flatters you and makes you blush. you enjoy the games he plays. your late-night visits to the vampire’s tent stop, your sinful thoughts of the wizard and druid stop, and the githyanki’s comments come to a halt. for you retire to bed alone now and think only of the devil. you don’t touch yourself because you think acting on it is how it becomes a sin, and just merely thinking about it happening is alright. but you have tricked yourself just like how the devil plays tricks. the greatest sin of all is entertaining the thought of being with the devil in more ways than one.

and you want to blame all of it on raphael, but he has cast no spells on you or devilish incantations or rituals. it was only your behavior that forced you to stray away from the gods of celestia. a behavior only you had complete control of.

so why do you keep doing it? do you enjoy him so much? you do not know him. you will never know him.

“has the little mouse found herself a new toy to play with?” raphael asks, circling you like a cat. has he been watching you converse with halsin all night? his movements are precise, and his strides are long. he stops behind you again, and this time you don’t turn. the more you look at him, the more you feel you sin. you feel a shiver run up your spine when he traces his finger from the back of your neck down to your tailbone.

“don’t touch me,” you thought you said in a demanding voice, but it came out as a broken whisper.

raphael only laughs though at the pity attempt and retracts his hand from your body. you have no right to speak to him in that manner. you, after all, are nothing compared to him. you are just a person whom he will marry once he returns you to your parents back in baldur’s gate. he will have you in that contract before you do anything to get out of it. you will be his, forever, and so he will have his hands on you whenever he wants to.

“that’s no way to speak to your fiancée now, is it?” he asks.

you don’t say anything. you just stare at the dancing shadows of your companions by the campfire in the middle of your camp. how you long to run to them to escape his clutches. and you can. it is so easy to. he is not holding you back, and has even allowed you to run to them. that is why he purposefully stands behind you to play that game once again: the game of tag. the game that you will never win with him because it’s not a game he always wins, but a game you always purposefully lose. you lie to yourself, but in your heart, you want to be in his presence, always.

raphael frowns when you don’t say or do anything, but his frown turns into a grimaced look on his face as he grabs your wrist and spins you around to look at him. you gasp as you bump into his chest, and he grabs your chin to force you to look up at him. you quickly try to pull away, but he holds onto you tighter. he could break your wrist so easily right now, and snap your neck in one swift movement.

“you will face me when i speak to you.”

and you can only nod out of respect. respect? raphael rubs your bottom lip and smiles again. “see, my love? it isn’t hard to listen to me. i promise it will make your time with me much easier.”

he leans in close to your ear and moves his hand that grab your chin to your hips. “you do not want me to punish you so early on in our relationship, hm?”

you are powerless against him. you have fought countless enemies, slaughtered them even. you have fought a chosen of the dead three and killed a god. you have faced the githyanki queen and rid of the shadow curse. but when it comes to the cambion, you are nothing. and maybe you like to be nothing.

it’s difficult when you move your head to look at him. you want to talk but he has you at a loss for words. you can only abide by him. “why are you here, raphael?” you ask.

“why, to see you of course.”

“but why?”

your voice has that hint of urgency—but why? raphael can only smile wider because he knows it’s from your fear of somebody walking in on the two of you. most likely it will be halsin to check on you after you have stayed quiet for far too long. you gulp.

“you’re paranoid, aren’t you? scared that one of your so-called friends will happen across the two of us in a warm embrace. what ever will they do when i tell them that you are betrothed—to me.”

you look away again but then quickly look back up at him. you do not want to anger him, and you do not want him to tease you.

“one feels so exposed out here, raphael…” you murmur. your voice is low enough for his ears only. you were made for him. “please, don’t be loud.”

you beg. you only ever beg for him, and he knows. he watches you more than your companions watch your back. he knows your every curve and every move. he knows what position you like to sleep in, and what food you dislike least when it is time to eat. he knows that one strand of hair that always annoys you during battle, and when you are about to menstruate. he knows everything about you. you have never begged for anything in your life, but when he is with you, you are born anew.

it would bring such joy to raphael for everyone to see the scandalous position you have put yourself in. all it takes is for one loud word to come out of him. maybe step out into the light and bring all attention to him. maybe call out to one of your friends and bring them here to witness your broken self. but he keeps that luxury of your humiliation to himself and his house of hope. neither your parents, servants, nor your friends can experience it—only him. only he is allowed to hear your begging. but my oh my, would it make him smile to see you break down in front of everybody. to see them lose faith in their leader when they watch you beg a devil to shut his mouth. to see you collapse on your knees in front of him like the slave you are.

“a little louder, love, just enough to have your friends wondering what you are doing out here all alone,” he smirks.

“raphael, please…”

he doesn’t do anything. he doesn’t say anything. you can barely raise an octave because you are so afraid of exposing yourselves. but at the same time, he is irritating you to a surprising level, even to him.

“take me to your house of hope, we will talk there,” you almost cry. “please, raphael.”

“louder,” he demands. you cannot say no.

you grab at his collar tightly and look right into his eyes. you want to shake him and suffocate him. you are tired of his games, but you still play them. you are tired of yourself. but even when you threaten to cry, he doesn’t move. why would he care about your feelings? even if you harm yourself in front of him and threaten to kill yourself, he still won’t care. after all, he has told you that there is always another after you to take the crown, even if it takes millennia.

“raphael, please!” you yell, almost too loud for your liking.

you hear your name being called out by a certain someone almost immediately, and you whip your head in the direction of the camp. wyll was coming. was it not loud enough for raphael? you know he can hear the speed of your heartbeat quicken with every second that passes. he’s waiting. he wants to make you panic even more. and as wyll’s footsteps get louder, you tighten your grip around raphael’s clothes even more. your tears gather in your eyes. how could you be so vulnerable and so easily manipulated? it was so degrading.

and right as wyll’s devilish horns peek into your view, you are whipped away just like that with the snap of raphael’s fingers. wyll comes into the darkness of where you once stood only to find nothing. he turns to look back at his companions who are mindlessly doing their nightly routine, then back at where he thought he heard your voice. when the smell of sulfur enters his nostrils, he scrunches it in disgust. the cambion was with you, and now you both are not there anymore. wyll, despite his disgust at the devil, respects what private business you have with him. he will take the night shift if you are not back before sunrise, but he prays you do not do anything rash without discussing it first with everybody.

you find yourself still in raphael’s arms in his house of hope. the room is all too familiar when you step away from him and sit down on a lavish chair, panting heavily. the large portrait of raphael hangs above you, just as he is right now in his devilish form in the room he first took you and your party to. the feast hall now has skeletons riddling it with plates of rotten food. the stench almost makes you gag, but you stop yourself from pleasuring raphael with such a reaction.

he laughs at the pitiful sight of you. you now have freshly dried tears staining your cheeks and a heavy heart. it upsets you even further how you have succumbed to the devil’s doing so very easily every time.

“you really are my favorite client,” he says joyfully. “i enjoy every minute of you.”

“i wish i could say the same,” you say, looking up at him.

“now, now. don’t be like that, my dear. we don’t want such negativity right now, do we? after all, we have much to discuss.”

he extends a hand out to you. you look at it. you take it. and it burns pleasurably in your grasp as he helps you up from the chair and leads you out of the feast hall. you have not once left his fancy and furbished feast hall, but the corridors of his house look just as exquisite. he lets go of your hand the moment you step out into the hallway. in silence, the both of you walk to gods knows where. you are nervous.

“you never answered my question,” you remind him respectfully.

“you have asked many questions,” he said with such tease.

“but to you, only one.”

he stops outside of a door that a servant is peering into. he smiles down at you.

“you cannot outsmart the devil, my dear girl. there’s this little voice inside of you asking: “is this my will, or is it the worm’s?” but you have no answer, and no way of knowing.”

before you can say anything, he snaps his fingers and you are now inside of the room, but on the balcony still facing him. your heart quickens again, and it is only pumping the fuel in his veins.

“i have this picture in my head—of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night, thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams. the good thing is, though, there’s only one little voice you should listen to.”

he grabs your chin and leans in close again. your breath hitches in your throat and you suddenly feel that you can’t breathe anymore.

“mine.”

he slowly backs away yet you still feel breathless. you take deep breaths in and deep breaths out. raphael chuckles.

“but ah, where were we?” he turns to look out his balcony and out into the views of avernus. “about you…”

you go up next to him, still looking at him. he intrigues you more than you would like to admit to.

“do you not have any idea as to why you are here?” he asks.

“no, i don’t.”

“take a look around then, my lost virgin. look and you will know.”

you don’t want to look. you don’t want to know. you want to go back home and hide yourself away from the world forever. you want to fall back into your mother’s arms and stay there until you take your last breath. but you can’t do that. instead, you do as he says. raphael takes pleasure in seeing you obey his every word. as you turn around and start heading into the room, you spot a lavish red bed next to where you are standing, as well as countless paintings of raphael again. behind a screen is a large tub with multiple fountains, and there are lavish items strewn across the room. and that is all. this is a room just for pleasure and nothing else. it clicks in your head why you are here when you think back to what raphael has called you, and why he has brought you into this room specifically. one of the greatest sins of all.

“you’re so very pathetic, love,” he says, now right behind you.

the insult doesn’t sting you anymore. it is the way his hands hold your hips that does, and you step away from him and back yourself up into the bed. it makes him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“you’re an eager little pup, aren’t you?” he asked, coming closer.

you extend a hand out to stop him from coming onto you, and it comes in contact with his chest. he stops for his entertainment, and not because you wish him to. it is a dangerous game to play: trying to tell the devil what to do.

“is that why you came to me tonight? to have sex with me?”

“does it sound so terrible?” raphael asks, placing his hand on his chin. “i will not have the patience or time for your virginity when i claim the crown. tonight, you just so happened to make my day now that you are one step closer to the brain. tonight, i will wreak havoc upon your body and you will find the utmost pleasure in it.”

he mocks you. he mocks you because he knows pre-marital sex is a large sin you can easily avoid. having sex with the devil makes it even worse. the gods will never forgive you, raphael knows this, and it is the only reason why he wants to have your body now. to humiliate you in front of the gods and to ruin you. you know he has another to sleep with who could take on the form of whoever he pleases. he could have sex with an incubus posing as you, but tonight, he wants the real delight of breaking you. he doesn’t care about your faith or your mission. right now, all raphael cares about is destroying whatever purity you have left in you.

you try to push him away but he grabs your wrist easily. “your gods left you the second your mind started to fill with dirty thoughts of me,” he says. raphael grabs both of your wrists and pins you to the bed. he moves them above your head and crosses them to hold your wrists in one hand, while the other grabs your chin again. you frantically move your head but it doesn’t do much.

“they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. and when i look into yours, i see all of your greatest desires,” he says. “but there is one that stays in your mind. it is what you call your strange dreams and your strange thoughts. the image of me.”

he inhales your scent and it excites him. the scent of a virgin.

“no longer will it be strange imaginations, my dear, but a nightmare come true.”

he leans down and kisses you with a force so strong it catches the breath in your throat. you’ve never been kissed before. as a young girl, you’ve always dreamt of your first kiss to be with your husband during your wedding underneath the stars. to look upon his eyes on a beautiful, clear night in the backyard of your palace as you lean in for the perfect kiss. and for raphael to take it all away from you, just so easily as that, forcefully too, was a cruel joke. you want to hate him for it, you really do, but your body betrays your mind and kisses back. you enjoy this. you enjoy his heated kiss and his devilish touches against your skin greatly.

raphael pulls away, but not without biting your lower lip first and tugging at it with his sharp teeth to draw blood. you whine and pull your head back, and he laughs. he moves away again and lets go of you, but you are so flustered and heated from that kiss that you just lay there sprawled out on his bed. raphael smiles.

“agree to be mine and you will know pleasure, forever,” he says. “you will know what it is like to live lavishly in the comfort of my house of hope. under my protection.”

you shake your head. you don’t know why you shake it, but it is mostly because you want him on you again. you want him to bite you like that. to be rough. but then you realize what you just did and what you just thought. and your blood runs cold. these impulses do not act on your own accord… or do they?

raphael smirks again. “maybe if i show you, you will agree.”

he snaps his fingers and your clothes are off. you try to cover yourself immediately, horribly flustered as to what he just did. nobody has seen you naked, except for your servants and now the devil. you curl into a ball but it doesn’t last for long. raphael snaps his fingers again and ropes from the headboard of the bed appear and grab onto your wrists, dragging you to the middle. raphael stands in front of the bed now, but your legs are propped up to hide yourself from him. you are breathing hard and almost on the verge of tears. this isn’t real. it can’t be real. not with the devil!

“tsk, tsk. we can’t have you be like this the whole time.”

he snaps his fingers again and ropes now grab your ankles and spread your legs apart. you yell in surprise and now struggle to hide yourself. it doesn’t work, but raphael is loving every bit of it. you throw your head back into the pillow and squeeze your eyes shut.

“leave me to my gods and heavens, and i will give you the crown of karsus!” you yell. “that is my deal!”

“that’s not how it works, dear,” he says. “your gods have already abandoned you. you have committed far too many sins for them to forgive you. there is no place for you in those white clouds, but there is here. you’re sitting on it already, my little mouse. you have found yourself down here—with me. and that is where you will always be.”

“liar!”

he gets on the bed in between your legs, and you flinch when his leg comes in contact with your thigh. “i have never lied to you, my dear. i have only ever told you the truth.”

he leans over you, hands on either side of your head. you are completely held down. hands held above your head and legs spread apart all for him, and it will only ever be for him. nobody will ever see you like this, and nobody will have you like this. your heart is beating so fast from anxiety and nervousness that you can barely breathe. raphael kisses you again, and you can’t help but kiss back. you lie to his face but the truth is in your heart. you say to him you don’t want him, but you do. your body lights up like a flame every time he touches you. it reacts in ways you never thought possible. raphael knows you want him even if you say you don’t. it’s so obvious.

he stops kissing you and you find yourself chasing after his lips for more. raphael laughs in your face and sits back up.

“the day i met you, i remember everything, i wrote it down,” he says, grabbing your chin with one hand and lifting it.

his tone changes and so does your body language. this was a poem you had written about him after you had met him the first time. a poem you had written over and over and scratched it out for years before finding it again. and when he took you to his house of hope for the first time, and nightfall came, you took out a quill and paper and continued it on your little stool you had in your tent. you finished it in mere minutes, and from then on always carried it around with you in your pack. you want to say you don’t know why you do so but you do know. it’s because you are infatuated with him. maybe that’s when it all started. when your prayers stopped being answered and the only company that you had was him. maybe when your heart wanted him is when the seven martyrs abandoned you. you were damned. but you didn’t want this to happen. you didn’t want to fall for the devil, and yet here you are, not resisting his attempt to take you as his.

“your smile was cold, your hair was fresh,”

he moves a stray strand of your hair out of your face and cups your cheek. his nail is under your eye, and you feel it dig into your skin, warning you not to move unless you want a new puncture wound. you hold very still and listen closely to your poem coming out of his lips.

“your eyes were such a shade of brown,”

he moved his hand away and slid it down your body slowly. you jolted when his finger slipped in between the space of your breasts and stayed there, touching the soft skin. you wanted to look away so badly to hide your shame and embarrassment, but his eye contact with you was so strong you couldn’t. you had to relax under that devilish gaze.

“you press your ear onto my chest,”

he moved his hand to your left breast and squeezed your nipple, hard. you gasped at the pain and tried to move away from him, but the ropes only got tighter around your wrists and it only made you cry out in pain. raphael used his other hand to do the same with your right breast, and its pleasure was so intolerable you couldn’t help but thrust your hips upwards to meet his thigh. you wanted him, but also wanted away from him. make up your mind, damn you.

“you hear the speed my heart will beat,”

he kisses your breast and circles his tongue around it in an unholy way. you sigh in pure delight and throw your head back into the pillow, enjoying it so very much. your cunt aches for any sort of touch or penetration. it tingles your whole body, and yet he only flicks the hard bud slowly. it is a torture but you don’t want to beg for him more than you already did tonight. but this is the devil, and begging for them was a passing time they very much enjoyed.

finally, he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin and you moan for him. you ride the air and toss your head from side to side. he knows what he is doing. he knows the pleasures of the female body. oh, you love it so much. you love the pleasure of sin he brings upon you. raphael kisses your breast one last time and then moves his finger down your body.

“seconds drag like days whenever you don’t want to talk or speak.”

his finger finds your clit with ease and rubs gentle circles on it. you are already wet and have been for quite a while. it’s shameful, sinful, and embarrassing. you shiver in delight under his touch and cry out a moan. you don’t want him to stop. the feeling is too good. a feeling you have only given to yourself, but now feels much better when another is giving it to you. raphael stops when he notices you are enjoying yourself far too much, and quickly moves his hand away.

“raphael…” you whisper, breathless. if this is only a small slither of real pleasure, you cannot imagine what he has waiting for you. for a second, you don’t care whether it be full of pain. you want that carnal release.

“this can be your life, my little mouse,” he says. “a place of protection and pleasure, and of course, most importantly, a place by my side forever.”

you don’t say anything. you just stare at him with half-lidded eyes and a distressed look on your face.

“and if i refuse?” you ask.

he leans in close to you again, still holding that infamous smirk of his. “i find it very hard to believe that you want to refuse me. not when your body reacts so beautifully to my touches.”

his hand grazes your nipple again and you shiver. he only proves his point easily by doing that, and you still don’t want to say anything. raphael is a patient man, you will give him that, but when his patience runs thin and you spot his brows furrowing… you want to run. he has entertained you long enough tonight, and now you will experience his rage. in more ways than one, he will destroy you. he will make you scream his name until your vocal cords have been destroyed. you will beg for his mercy and he will not give it. you will beg for him to stop, and he will not, for you have danced around his deal for days now and tonight was the end of that. he will show you what it means to mess with the son of mephistopheles.

you will no longer be a virgin with wings. no longer will you be a devout follower of heavenly martyrs, but a devoted wife to the cambion. to the devil raphael. to the man who will ruin you over and over again. you will give him the crown of karsus and bear his children, and forever live your life as his slave. and maybe, just maybe, it seems so pleasurable and delightful.

he snaps his fingers and now all of his clothes are off. you become wetter by the second as you take in his body. his cock, thick and large, just waiting to be thrusted inside of you. how will your virginal self ever be able to take that in one night? you have never even slipped a finger inside of you before. fear clouds your eyes and now you are scared to take him in. but raphael doesn’t care about your pain, he only cares about his pleasure.

“look at you, dripping wet all for me,” he rubs his knuckle in your wetness, teasing you. you hum in reply, enjoying the feeling. raphael rubs small circles around your most sensitive areas, eliciting soft moans and whimpers from your moist lips. he is preparing you for what is to come. that is the least he can do for you.

he slides a long finger in you, pumping it in and out slowly just to see your reaction. you shift uncomfortably, unsure of the feeling. raphael smirks and moves it in further, noticing that you had already ripped your hymen (most likely from outdoing yourself in a battle). you moan when he goes past it, finally feeling that pleasurable spot you never had experienced yourself. he suddenly inserts another finger, stretching you out more. it hurts and you tear up from the pain. the pleasure has gone and all you feel now is his fingers roughly hitting the spongey area inside of you.

“it hurts!” you cry, shutting your eyes and allowing your tears to fall. and this is just the beginning as well. you allow him to continue though, not bothering to thrash your body to force his fingers out of you. because the more he pumps and lets you adjust to it, the more pleasurable it becomes.

a pair of footsteps comes entering the room, and you hear a familiar chuckle coming from beside you. you open up your eyes to see what appears to be a younger-looking raphael bent down beside your head, smiling at you sadistically. you don’t give much of a reaction. you only look at him, then at the devil between your legs readying you for the loss of your virginity.

“my, my, what a pretty one,” the fake raphael smiles. “is she the one you speak so highly of? the lost virgin with wings?”

raphael only rolls his eyes at the incubus and then removes his fingers from inside of you. you feel empty all of a sudden, but when he pushes you up further against the bed, allowing the ropes to untangle around your ankles, you see him bend down and spread your legs even further apart. you try to back yourself up but his grip on your thighs tightens. your ankles have been freed, and yet you do not try to kick him. you instead relax in his touch and sink into the fine silks of his large bed.

“i will break her and clip her wings,” raphael says, moving his head closer to your cunt. “i will take her virginity and claim her as mine, haarlep.” he suddenly snaps his head to look at the incubus. “leave.”

his voice was demanding. he wasn’t inviting haarlep to tease him or play with him. he was serious, and with a grin and wave, the incubus left without another word. raphael probably instilled an indescribable fear in him. a silent fear. a hushed one. yet you do not feel any fear from that voice of his. only an ache you’ve never felt before. an ache that leaves you wet.

raphael notices almost immediately, and without a word or warning, dives his head in between your legs and kisses your cunt. you jolt at the light touch and sigh all at the same time. it feels so good.

“you are mine, little mouse,” he says. “do you understand?”

you open your mouth to say “never”, but he places his lips back on your folds and you moan loudly. his tongue laps up your wetness over and over again, and it tickles your whole body. you bite your lip to stop yourself from being too loud, to attract anybody from coming and peeking, but you can’t help it. you moan out his name, and he moves his lips from your folds to your clit and sucks on it.

the sensation was something you’ve never felt before in your life. you tried to shut your legs on him, to stop him from sucking too much but his hold on you is so strong.

“raphael!” you moaned. you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back. he brings one of your legs over his shoulder to spread your legs even further, and it makes it all the better. he only sucks on it more and more and you try to thrash around to get away from him, but it doesn’t work. it felt so good, but it was all too much. it was so much pleasure that at one point, the nerves stopped, and you finally felt it.

you lay back down comfortably and sigh delightfully. raphael pulls away but quickly sticks a finger in you, thrusting in and out at a rapid pace. it feels good too but his tongue feels better, and so does his lips. you whine his name and buck your hips toward his face. he laughs at the pitiful state you’re in. you’re so humiliating when your bottom lip is all pouty, your body responds to his every touch, and the way sweat is already glistening on your skin. your cunt clenches around his one finger tightly, and all raphael can think about is how great it will feel to be in you. to rip apart your insides and finally claim you as his. to convince you, finally, to marry him before you defeat the brain. to have you sign a contract bound in blood, make you one of his, and forever be at his side. to secure the crown of karsus and a powerful ally all in one move.

he slips a second finger in and you squeal, arching your back again off the bed as you start to now cry a little. but he does not care. he knows you want his lips back on you, and not his fingers anymore. but dear, you need to be prepared for him.

“raphael…” you whine again.

“say it.”

his voice is deep and the thrusting of his fingers intensifies. it’s rough and it hurts. his nails scratch against the walls of your cunt and it makes you bleed. you can feel it, but you can’t see it. it hurts more than it brings pleasure, but you don’t want to admit anything. you bite the inside of your lip and lean your head back against the pillow to shut up. you won’t say it.

“little mouse, that won’t work…”

he presses his thumb against your clit and rubs painfully, slow circles on it. you gasp and hide your head behind your arm as best as possible, but the more he does it, the less you can keep quiet. the roughness of his fingers but the gentleness of his thumb breaks out a delight in you. you don’t want it to end. you want more and more. this is all you’ve ever dreamed of.

and you break easily. because that is all it takes for him to claim you that fast.

“i’m yours,” you quietly moan in the comfort of your arm.

he moves his head back down. “say it louder, my dear. say it louder so the heavenly martyrs can hear you from down here, and know that i have plucked one of their angels. they will know how i clipped your wings and stole your virginity.”

he places his lips back on your clit and you yell. you’re smiling. “i’m yours, raphael!” you moan, bucking your hips into his mouth. “forever!”

the ties around your wrists come undone and your hands shoot to his horns, grabbing them to drag him closer to you. you’re moaning louder than ever before, and you believe that the heavenly martyrs can truly hear you. raphael, the cambion, has finally claimed you. and all it took was his tongue.

you grind your hips into his face, moaning as he keeps on sucking on your clit. his tongue occasionally licking at it to never stop the waves of pleasure crashing into you. you want more and more. you don’t want him to stop. you can stay like this, forever, and never want to leave. raphael is right. all you could ever want is here, right in his house of hope. and that all you could ever want and need will be fulfilled by him.

your movements get more erratic the more you feel the pit in your stomach tighten. your movements get faster but sloppier, and you feel yourself about to cum. but raphael stops and moves away. he pushes you away from him and you shut your legs almost immediately, embarrassed as to how he pushes you aside. you see your wetness on his lips and it makes you flustered and your body heat up. but that pit in your stomach dies down, and now all pleasure is lost. you feel defeated and upset. unsatisfied.

“why?” is all you can ask.

raphael snaps his fingers and your places have been switched. now he lays comfortably with his back against his mountain of pillows, while you are at the edge of the bed. you finally can see his erection in all its glory. how your moaning and face fucking lead to this. how his cock will soon be buried inside of you any moment now, and it will be the worst yet best pain of your life. his cock will take your old self away. it’ll take your virginity, and all that will be left of you will be his. and you have never been so eager.

“have you touched yourself before, my dear?” he asks.

you can’t help but stare shockingly into his orange eyes. he was absurd. and so you nod, but then he snaps his fingers again and you find yourself now sitting on his lap. he grabs your throat tightly and moves you back. your last gasp of air leaves your lips, and you grab his hands to stop him from squeezing anymore. you couldn’t breathe.

“you have a tongue still. speak.”

his grip loosens just enough for you to use your words.

“yes,”

“have you ever touched anybody else?”

“no, raphael…”

he smiles at your answer and moves his hand from your throat to your head. he pushes you lower and lower until your face is up close to his erection. he runs his hand through your hair and grabs a thick chunk of it, tugging it to force you to look up at him again.

“then tonight, darling, i will break that. and if you satisfy me enough, i’ll give you the release you so desperately want. but only if you are a good little mouse.”

he caresses your cheek and smiles a little more. “and i won’t stop. you will beg and you will cry, but i will not stop until i’ve had my fill. then, i will ruin you…”

he moves his hand back to your hair and guides your head down to his dick. you don’t know what to do. you grab it so gently and place your other hand on his abdomen as you press your lips to the tip of it. you swirl your tongue around it before licking up its length. he’s quiet though, and it’s unnerving. you quickly take him into your mouth without another thought and start bobbing your head up and down his length. finally, raphael lets out a content sigh and pushes a few strands of hair out of your face.

it makes you wet knowing he likes it. that he enjoys your mouth on him, just as you did with his. you move your hand up and down at a good pace, not too slow nor too fast. you don’t want to tease him but you don’t want to try and finish him fast. you want to know what he likes. you want to explore his body as he does yours. you truly believe in your heart and mind that this will not be the last time you will be on your knees and stomach for him. and you’ll gladly do it over and over again.

he is hot; a cool burning to the inside of your mouth. it burns pleasurably, a feeling that is difficult to describe. you lose control over any willpower to run out of there, and to god knows where. your body melts into the bed as you mindlessly suck on him. you want all of him against you and in you. you take him in deeper and deeper and move your hand faster and faster.

it is quite a surprise how good you were. how fast you were able to discover what made him groan and jolt under your touch. his hands grip your hair tighter than before and you swear with one wrong move, he might take off your head. he is gripping so tight, that you start to feel some hairs getting pulled from your scalp. and it hurts badly. yet, you don’t focus on that. you don’t focus on the incoming headache and instead focus on wanting his release.

you move your mouth back up to his tip and lick it again, fast, as your tongue dives into the little hole and swirls in it. raphael moans and you open your eyes to watch him. his mouth is open and his face is contorted into an expression you’ve never seen before. an expression of pure bliss. your eyes lock with his and he gives you that infamous smirk of his. his sharp teeth a pearly white, and his eyes glowing more than usual. you hum against his throbbing cock that’s still in your mouth. raphael moans at that feeling and leans his head back against the pillows.

“you’re such a good little mouse,” he says in a deep voice. you hear the pant in his words, and it makes you so happy knowing you could leave the devil breathless.

you take him out of your mouth with a “pop” and smile at his compliment. you want to kiss him. to kiss his whole body and worship him like a god. he would soon be one once you deliver him that crown and you could be by his side even if he treated you like a slave. such power in his hands as you live a life of luxury and painful pleasure. it doesn’t seem so bad.

you gather the spit in your mouth and let it drool onto his dick. it drips from your lips slowly, and you use your thumb to rub it all around the tip of his cock, lubricating him more. you move your hand up and down again, watching as your spit slides up and down. raphael’s breathing grows heavier with each stroke, and when you put his cock back into your mouth and take him so deep. that it hits the back of your throat, he moans loudly.

raphael notices how quickly you moved back though, and so he quickly dragged your head back down his dick, forcing you to take more of him in you. you almost choke on how big he is, and how it hurts so bad. you can’t breathe and yet it doesn’t matter. it’s so disgustingly beautiful. you bob your head faster and faster, enjoying the sounds he’s making. raphael starts to guide your head, not allowing you to stop. he was almost there, almost on the brink of release.

his voice gets deeper and his moans are louder. you’ve placed both hands on his abdomen now as you just take him fucking your face. it makes you cry, how badly you cannot breathe, and how bad it hurts the back of your throat. tears run down your cheeks and onto him, and he laughs at the state you’re in again. so cute yet so humiliating.

“swallow it all, little mouse,” he says. it’s a demand, not a suggestion. he doesn’t say what will happen if you don’t, and you don’t want to know. you’ve never done this before and you don’t know how you’ll be able to take him all in.

with a few more thrusts into your face, raphael cums and lets out the sexiest and deepest groan you’ve ever heard. his load is hot and it burns your throat. you try to swallow it all, but there’s too much and it doesn’t stop coming. you moan and try to keep up, but his cum starts to drip down your chin now and down your throat. he pushes you away again and pants heavily. you’re still crying when he looks at you. your chest has his cum on it, and so does your mouth and chin. you look like a mess: a hot mess. and raphael loves it.

you go to wipe his cum off your mouth, but he leans forward and grabs you, kissing you immediately. you moan into the kiss and wrap your arms around him, enjoying it greatly. you can taste yourself still on his lips, and as his tongue forces its way into your mouth, he too can taste himself. and it’s safe to say that he tasted better than wyvern whiskey. a sweet yet tangible taste to it, he had. it was the complete opposite of what he is in nature.

you feel his hands grab your breasts and squeeze them, pinching your nipples so hard they almost bled. you gasped into his mouth and started to grind your hips against his, wanting that sweet release from earlier. raphael laughs in your mouth and pulls away.

“you are pathetic,” he says.

you look up at him with your big eyes and fucked-out face. it catches him off guard as to how beautiful you are. with his cum on your body, the little prick on your lip from where he bit you earlier, the messy hair, and beautiful skin. you are almost as beautiful as him. he can’t help but stare at your glowing features (caused by your sweat and his cum). you see raphael’s face soften, but it goes away as fast as it came.

“i am pathetic,” you murmur. “i am whatever you want me to be, raphael…”

your voice was low and soft. it was sultry and sexy, something he never would have imagined to come from you. and by the nine hells did it make him painfully hard again. he kissed you again to stop looking at your pretty face and to shut you up. he felt his nature soften when you spoke and it angered him how the tables have turned so easily. how that one look of yours made him crumble. you would not pull that sorcery again. not now, not ever. the devil raphael wouldn’t bend to a mortal’s charms, ever.

he moves forward until you’re lying on your back with him on top of you again. raphael doesn’t waste any time by moving back down in between your legs and licking up the wetness that now found its way in between your thighs. he sucks on a spot that was particularly wet and close to your cunt, and you clench at nothing and breathlessly moan. he then bites down, hard, and you yelp in pain. it bleeds now, and raphael licks up the blood like it is the richest of wines. it throbs painfully and you whimper because of it. raphael does not care though.

he places his lips back on your cunt and starts to lick again. he swirls it around your wetness and uses his fingers again to make you reach your orgasm quicker than before. but you have been on edge since then, and having to suck him off while not being able to touch yourself was undeniably the worst type of pain you’ve felt in your life. raphael, now feeling how wet you were with two fingers, painfully thrusts in a third one. he removes his lips and twists and turns it around to see how you adjust.

you cry even harder and have to wipe the tears away from your eyes. it doesn’t even feel good, it just hurts. “stop!” you cry. “it hurts!”

“i need you to be prepared for me, little mouse. pleasure will overcome pain, but only if you allow it to. don’t resist…”

you try to relax, but he doesn’t slow down. you can’t tell if he’s lying or not because you’ve never had anybody do this to you before. it scares you, honestly. but the faster raphael jams his fingers in and out of you without sucking on your clit, the worse the pain is. you cover your eyes and think about praying to the heavens to come and save you. but nobody will come. nobody will listen. you are on your own.

remember, you have lost yourself. everything you are and everything you own is now raphael’s, forever and always.

he hums and puts his lips back on your clit to suck on it again. it makes you gasp and moan, and he doesn’t plan on stopping. you feel that pit in your stomach again. it’s burning hotter than before, and it feels even better. you run your hands through raphael’s hair and run your nails against his scalp. it feels good to him, but his lips and fingers feel even better than a few head scratches. you buck your hips against his face and cry. you’re almost there.

and when it comes, it releases like a tidal wave. you scream raphael’s name and shake under him. but he doesn’t slow down. he only goes faster. you don’t have time to slow down your breathing. you’re sensitive to the touch everywhere and it is starting to hurt. you manage to move away a little, but raphael gets upset and grabs your legs again to drag you back up to him. he is sitting up now, holding your lower body up to his face as he looks down at you with only lust in his orange eyes.

“stop, please! raphael!” you scream, trying to get away again. but his grip on you is so strong, that his nails break the skin and you bleed again. you yell and jolt with each wave of sensation that comes in, and before long, you feel yourself about to cum again. it hurts this time though, and it lasts longer than the other one.

raphael finally lets go of you and your legs drop onto his lap. you’re trying to get control of your breathing again, but your body lays half unnaturally in his lap and your hair sticks to the sweat on your face by your nose, making it difficult to breathe. you close your legs and cry onto his sheets. it hurts so much at the end, but you think about that pleasurable orgasm you have never felt before in your life. if felt like a gift. a new becoming. it was a release you could never give yourself. a release you’ve never, ever had before. and it was breathtaking.

raphael spreads your legs wide open and you shriek. you go to shut them again but he smacks your ass hard with his tail in reciprocation. it stings and you hiss in pain.

“don’t defy me!” he snaps.

you shiver under him. “i’m sorry,” you whimper. you open your legs for him and he positions himself comfortably in between them. this is it. this is finally it. whatever you have left of you will finally be gone... you tear up again and close your eyes, inhaling sharply. raphael leans over you and kisses you softly on the lips, tugging at the bottom lip a little. you kiss back instantly, enjoying the taste of him and you. but then he pulls away to tease you, and you reach your hand up to touch his cheek. his skin is so soft and he leans into your touch like a cat.

“wrap me around your little finger,”

he’s reciting your poem again. it sounds better coming from him than it does from you, but the question arises again as to where he found it and how he acquired it. it was always on you, but you don’t dare to ask him now. he holds your hand with his and caresses the back of it with his thumb.

“wrap me around your wedding ring,”

he kisses your hand and moves it away to grab your hips. raphael uses one hand to position his cock at your slick entrance that was so sensitive and needy. he looks up at you to see the nervous look on your face. and with the slightest movement of his hips, he slips inside of you rather easily. you arch your back off the bed and reach for him, but he doesn’t give himself to you. not yet, anyway.

“your words, they take the shape my body makes,”

he thrusts into you slowly, and you moan.

“isn’t that the scary thing?”

he grabs a hold of your hips with both hands now and helps you find the rhythm. you only feel pain though and he’s barely in. you feel the inside of you burn with pain and rip apart from his cock and it burns with the fire of the nine hells. you don’t want to cry this time. you’ve cried enough and this time you want to keep your eyes open, clearly, and see what is happening to your body.

and he is glorious.

his body is beautiful, and the smooth bucking of his hips into yours is like an instrument. its sounds are beautiful and pleasant, and all nerves and pain wash away when you relax into the bed and let him take you. raphael’s bliss enters your tadpole-occupied mind and all you feel is the pleasure of his dick inside of you. it thrusts at a constant speed with such great precision. from the time you have been here, he makes it seem like he’s known your body for years.

his touches are that of a lover’s, and his care is that of a stranger’s. but with every other thrust, you feel him go slightly deeper each time. his cock stretches you out more each time and you watch it with a lustful look in your big eyes. you’re so intrigued by the sheer size of his dick.

but when raphael sees you enjoy yourself too much again, he always finds a way to ruin it. he suddenly thrusts hard and stops.

“raphael!” you yell in pain.

you feel yourself start to bleed. the pain could be intolerable to most, but you were not like most people. it hurt, badly. it felt like every inch of your body was going to rip. you want to relax, you want to calm yourself down. but it hurts even though he’s not moving. you steady your breathing, or at least tried to, and bathed in the hurt. he slid out slowly and thrust back into you with the same amount of force as last time. you cried and yelled with each time he did it. you bled and bled all over him.

your blood drips onto his bed and it matches the color of his sheets. a dark red that matches the color perfectly, and it was soon forgotten about. raphael roughly grabs your throat roughly again, and you fight against him this time. he slams his lips against yours and kisses you again, and it’s rough. there’s no passion or love; there never was. but he was hungry for you, and his fervent kisses were hard and fast. you could feel your soul drain and belong to him. he moves his head to your neck and bites down harshly, drawing blood immediately. you grab his shoulders but find yourself not pushing him away. you dig your nails into his skin and push him up closer to you.

it hurts. it hurts like a bitch when all you feel is his sharp teeth dig into your skin and his dick takes slow, painful thrusts into you. raphael could use a spell to make it better for you. to not make you so tight and tense but he likes to see you hurt and squirming and squealing like a mouse in a trap. to see how you bleed as you take him in painfully and cry and cry his name and beg for him to stop. he moves his head out of the crevice of your neck to watch the look of pleasure and pain contort on your face and your silent tears cascade down those flushed and puffy cheeks. the future hero of baldur’s gate was so beautiful like this—under the control and manipulation of the devil himself.

and when his fire pits of eyes look into your teary and puffy ones, he starts to go faster. he wants to see you cry more. he wants your pain to turn into pleasure. he wants to see your spirit falter and die.

“i cried the day i realized that lies were hidden in his kisses,”

he continues, kissing your chin right after.

“i was tangled in his arms,”

he brings you up to his chest and it makes it all the easier to hit that spot you enjoy the most. you forget about the pain and arch your back, now drawing his blood and staining your nails red. raphael goes faster and faster, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that drives you crazy. you wrap your arms around his neck and fall into him, grinding your hips each time he brings you down into him.

“raphael…” you moan, shutting your eyes.

his breathing is getting labored.

“i was his mess, his ball of strings,”

he grabs your hair and yanks it harshly, ripping a few strands. you don’t care. you offer yourself to him, willingly showing him your neck that had his bites and the vampires. raphael bites down on the spot astarion took pleasure in biting almost every night, and now covered it with his bite marks. he bites down harder than the previous ones and sucks on it. you run your hands through his hair and moan into his ear passionately. raphael shudders at the sound of your voice.

“i would give him everything,” you moan into his ear, lips hovering over it. “the nine hells and second chances.”

you finish your poem. the poem you had started at fifteen and finished only a few days ago. how your feelings for him were manifesting on a ripped and bloodied piece of paper that he managed to find on your journey to baldur’s gate. when you had written your one-way ticket to hell on your own. and how did you manage to convince yourself that you were still a child of the seven martyrs? how did you manage to keep yourself away from his many advances and sexual fantasies? from the trickery you bestowed upon yourself? you disgusting liar.

you hear raphael chuckle in between his low moans, and you hold onto him tighter. you don’t want to let go of the cambion you find yourself falling for every second.

you clench around raphael when he thrusts faster. you kiss his neck and moan into his skin, feeling the bliss of him. you want to cum so bad and so hard. you want to please him, to not anger him. you trail your kisses onto his chin, and he turns his head to kiss you again. you grab his cheek and slip your tongue into his mouth, fighting for some control. his tongue swirls around with yours and he groans into the kiss. he smacks your ass hard again, and you press yourself against him more. you clench around him again because of it, and it’s enough to almost send you over the edge. you moan into the kiss and pull away.

raphael grabs your chin and forces your mouth open, and you can barely stick your tongue out to meet his. you’re moaning as he sucks on the pink muscle and then spits right into your mouth. it drips down the side of your lips but you lick it. he did say to swallow it all.

“such a good little mouse,” he praises you, caressing your cheek.

you come to love the nickname. it turns you on and raphael can feel it. it’s starting to get difficult to breathe and raphael knows that you’re close. he lays you back down on the bed and spreads your legs wide. he doesn’t slow down. he slams into you like it’ll be the last time he’ll ever touch you. you can see stars when you close your eyes, and maybe his dick is so big you can feel it hit your stomach each time he goes in harder. your body tenses up and you start to cry again.

“i’m almost there, raphael!” you moan. “please, please don’t stop!”

you’re so sweet, so pitiful. he doesn’t plan on slowing down anytime soon. your begging is like a sonnet to his ears and he finds himself finishing inside of you. he stills and releases his hot load into you. you cry and shake, and soon you cum too. you grip the sheets and feel your life escape from your body. a feeling unimaginable; an orgasm so hard and beautiful. your back collapses onto the bed and you start to pant heavily. raphael slips out of you and uses a finger to feel the inside of your cunt. you were filled so much it wouldn’t stop leaking out of you.

raphael gets off the bed and fixes his hair quickly. you watch him, still breathing heavily, as he moves some loose strands back behind his ear. he looks at your body and notices the state it was in. blood and cum was smeared all over your sweaty body. your hair stuck to your face and your lips were bruised and swollen from his kisses. with a snap of his fingers he could take you back to your camp and leave you like that. in another time, he will, but some things needed to be discussed with you first.

your legs were pressed tightly together, likely to keep his cum inside of you. you were already missing his heated embrace and fervent kisses. you reach out a hand to him, smiling a little. his heart warms just the tiniest bit and he goes to grab your hand.

“will you accept now?” he asks, dragging you to him. he picks you up and takes you to the large bath in the room. you are still blinded by your lust for him, and although your body aches and writhes in pain from his relentless fucking, you feel like you can think clearly.

raphael sits you down in his lap in the bath, and you relax into his touch. he shocks himself with his tenderness towards you, and it makes him want to gag. but he enjoys it. he enjoys doing this for you. when your mind starts to clear from the bath, you realize what he has done. and it hurts.

“i was only a girl before you came into my life and manipulated my parents,” you say. “and because of you, i had to grow up fast to protect my family. you act like their friend. you act like you care about them. even i fell for your tricks, raphael, and then i saw you for who you are when you asked my parents for my hand in marriage.”

you think back to that night; the night before you were kidnapped. when raphael had talked with your father via letters to allow him to marry you. and when he had come to your home that evening, and your father excitedly told you that raphael had some great news for you. that you would be betrothed to him, and you saw that flicker of the hells in his eyes. you first blamed it on the trick of the lights, but when raphael appeared after the nautiloid and took you to his house of hope for the first time and revealed himself to you… you knew you were doomed.

“you took everything from me tonight,” you continued. “my privacy, my virginity, my wings… i no longer have any solace or faith in the seven martyrs that rule mount celestia, but in you…”

you turn around and look at him. he has no expression on his face, and it doesn’t shock you. he couldn’t care about your feelings, and you knew that. so why do you lay your heart bare for him?

“i’m alone.”

raphael laughs and it burns a hole in your heart. “it hurts my heart so dearly to hear you say this, my little mouse. i do not need to repeat myself. you may have been a lost virgin with wings, but as long as you stay here with me, in my house of hope, then your wings will regrow.”

you look at him, trying to study his facial features. but they’re deceiving many a time, and so you don’t know what he truly is feeling. all you know is that he has taken everything from you, and now your new self belongs to him. you lean in and go to kiss him but he stops you by placing his hands on your lips.

“enough with the teasing, my dear…” he whispers in that voice you love so much. “tell me what i want to hear. tell me what your heart desires. what you wrote for me…”

your breath hitches in your throat. he moves his hand away to allow you to speak, and you inhale sharply. was it alright to do this? everybody would hate you. but it was okay. as long as you have raphael, nothing else matters.

“i’ll marry you, raphael,” you whisper back. “i want to be yours until my soul ceases to exist. i want to be with you always.”

you lean in closer, your lips hovering above his. still, you look into his eyes.

“i will make you king of the nine hells.”

and you kiss him. raphael embraces you fast and kisses you right back, pressing your body tightly up against his. there was no need for a contract when this was something coming from your heart. you truly wanted to do this. you wanted to be by his side, lavished in sex and diamonds. you want to be his consort or slave—it didn’t matter to you. you were his. and that was all you ever wanted since he first looked at you when you were fifteen. when he introduced himself to you under the guise of a wealthy man. who ever knew you would fall in love with the devil.

—

you return to camp clothed and ready to retire for the night. wyll spots you emerging from the area by the lake where you were last spotted, and runs over to you. he can smell the sulfur as soon as he stands in your vicinity, and a look of disgust arises on his facial features as he looks at you. you don’t even have time to say hello before he says anything.

“you’ve been gone for ages, tav!” he almost yells. you put your hands out in front of you to quiet him down so nobody would ask what the problem was.

“i’m sorry,” you say, but you don’t feel all that sorry.

“what business do you have with raphael?!”

you don’t say anything at first. you only look at him and shake your head, ignoring his question. you go to move past him, but he grabs your shoulder and forces you to stay. you wince in pain and quickly pull back. raphael’s bath helped but he wanted to remind you of his marks and power over you. now that you had promised to marry him once you see your parents again.

“it’s none of your business, wyll.”

“you don’t know what game you’re playing. i swear if you signed a deal with him or—“

“it was nothing like that! we just… have a history together.”

“and you hid it from us this whole time?”

“it’s nothing serious. he just so happens to know my parents and… wanted to ask me a few questions.”

oh, but it was far worse. you had made love to him, professed yourself to him, and accepted his marriage proposal. you would give him the crown of karsus and help him take over the nine hells. it was the worst plot to come from the son of mephistopheles. it was something wyll could not even begin to guess even if he tried. but your sternness and collective demeanor convinced him that it was nothing more than that.

he softens up again and clears his throat. “like what?”

you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. “wyll.”

“i know i shouldn’t pry into your business, but when it comes to the devil, it’s difficult for me.”

you stare at him for a heartbeat before grabbing his hands with yours and squeezing them. you smile at him gently and rub the back of his hands with your thumbs. “whatever we talked about has no concern to you guys. it was a personal matter that didn’t involve you or the tadpoles. i promise you.”

a false promise. wyll had no choice but to believe you and thank you for your “honesty”. as he turns around to head to bed, you drop the smile and make your way to your tent with pain in between your legs. finally, you collapse into your bed and stare up at the fabric of your tent. raphael was in your mind. he will forever be in your mind. he is you, and you are him, forever.

i can’t stop listening to cowboy carter forgive me <3

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael bg3 x tav #smut

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