#wood shutters lowes

[aorkan]

Charleston Transitional Exterior Inspiration for the exterior remodel of a large, two-story, transitional beige concrete fiberboard home with a hip roof and shingles

[illyrianbitch]

Words of Affirmation

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: Even the Lord of Bloodshed gets insecure sometimes. As his mate, you always know the right words to say.

Warnings: established relationship fluff :)

Word Count: 2.3k

just a quick sweet fluffy piece to make up for all my angst. dedicated to the one and only @sarawritestories

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian would never admit it, but the assumptions of his intelligence bothered him. He was always a brute, a mindless warrior, a soldier— nothing more. He knew, deep down, that his brothers rivaled him in all matters of the mind. They were more collected, more capable with familial matters and court affairs. Simply put, they were smarter. 

And he had accepted that— at least, he told himself he had. After all, he was talented where it mattered. He was a good male, a good friend, a good brother, a good commander— and amazing in bed. So truly, it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did when his meeting with Eris went sour. 

Cassian entered the room with heavy steps, a frown on his face as he began to peel off his coat, each movement slow and heavy with frustration. A part of him hoped that he could shed more than just the layer of clothing, hoped that coming home would rid him of the insecurity that had threaded itself through his ribs.

You observed him quietly, taking in the way his muscles tensed and released with each motion, the subtle clenching of his jaw, the deep exhale. He hadn’t looked at you yet, hadn’t made his classic entrance. On most days, Cass would return home with a huge grin, door thrown wide open as he bellowed out your name with a burning heart.

But he was quiet today. And you knew exactly why– you could feel it through the bond. Cassian was sad. 

Your footsteps were quiet against the wood floors as you slowly walked towards him. 

“Things didn’t go well?” 

Your voice was soft and gentle and the sound of it sent a ripple of relief through his body. Still, he felt heavy. Tired. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he finally discarded his coat onto a nearby chair. “I don’t know how Rhysand does it.”

“Does what?” 

“This whole diplomacy thing, even Azriel. I just… I couldn’t. I'm too stupid for it. Just an idiot.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a heaviness settling on the glowing bond in your chest. You wanted to console him, to fight and kill whatever it was that was unsettling him so deeply. But the thing that was causing Cassian pain wasn’t anything you could fight yourself. It was his own mind, the insecurities he was too afraid to acknowledge. 

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he waved you off with a frustrated gesture.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, his tone heavy with defeat, “I’m just whining. I’ll get over it.”

You frowned, letting out a small breath. 

“No, don’t say that,” you said gently, taking a step closer to him. “You’re allowed to be frustrated. But you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed.

“I’m not?” 

You took in the sight of your mate for a moment, took in his long hair and brown eyes, took in the stubble on his jaw and the way he let out a small breath. You extended your hand to him, voice low as you murmured, “C’mere, honey.”

He hesitated for a moment before he gently took your hand and closed the distance between you, large arms wrapping around your waist as he looked down at you. 

“You are a big ole’ dummy,” you teased lightly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you put your hands around his neck. You felt Cassian melt into your touch ever so slightly, eyes shuttering closed as a small hum left his lips. “But you are brilliant. Like really fucking smart.”

Cassian’s eyes opened to meet yours, somewhat narrowed in skepticality. You rubbed the nape of his neck with your thumbs. 

“I mean, you’re a war general. You’ve commanded hundreds of soldiers, have won countless battles– wars, even. You couldn’t get away with those things as an idiot.”

Cassian grumbled, but you caught the hint of a smile dancing in his stormy eyes, felt the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. A wry chuckle bubbled up from deep within him as he shook his head, his lips quirking up in a brief smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that one, we have Beron and Tam-”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Would you just let me compliment you?” You interrupted with a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows raised as you looked at him. 

A soft chuckle escaped him. “My bad.”

“You are so incredibly smart,” you repeated earnestly, slightly pulling him down and urging him to place his forehead against yours. 

He stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze heavy as he searched for something in your eyes. He seemed to find it as he gave you a small smile. “You really think so?”

You pulled yourself back gently, dropping your hands from his neck to take his in your own. Then, you gently guided one hand to your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch.

“Does it feel like I’m lying?” you asked softly.

Cassian’s expression softened as his gaze flickered to where your hand held his. You watched as a glow of warmth lit up his eyes. 

“No,” he said quietly, “It does not.”

And then he was bringing his hands to hold your face, leaning in to kiss you tenderly, his lips a gentle caress against yours.

He wasn’t sure if he believed it yet, if he was comfortable enough with considering himself to be smart, let alone brilliant. But you, his beautiful mate, the love of his life— you thought he was smart, you thought he was brilliant.

And truly, that's all that mattered to him. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn’t that he was insecure about his looks, no, that wasn't it. 

Cassian knew he was attractive, knew that he was hot and ruggedly handsome. He knew from the looks that he got from females and males alike, from the scent changes that he caused, and the lovers he had bedded. 

But sometimes, when standing next to Rhysand and Azriel,  Cassian would catch himself wondering if he was rough around the edges in ways that his brothers were smoother, more appealing. After all, they were the two more classically pretty males, the more softly attractive and very often audibly complimented. 

And then there was him, the rough warrior. 

Attractive, yes, but pretty? Elegant? Those were never words used to describe him. 

There was a soft glow in your room tonight, gentle shadows casted across the bed from flickering fae light. Cassian let out a deep sigh as he prepared to climb into bed, his muscles aching and head heavy as he shed the remenands of his day. 

You watched him with a tender gaze as you lay on the bed. The faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of your lips as your eyes traced the lines of his face. Cass caught your gaze with his own, a warm hearty brown that made your heart flutter. 

A playful smirk tugged at his lips as he noticed your lingering stare. "You like what you see, sweetheart?" 

You grinned, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you tilted your head. "Always.”

With a grin of his own, Cassian began to crawl towards you. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he closed the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Admiring how absolutely handsome I am?” he said, “How Incredibly sexy?" 

You let out a small laugh as he reached your face, his body hovering over yours. With a gentle hand, you pushed back his tousled hair, your touch feather-light against his skin. A soft sigh escaped him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the warmth of your touch. His lips wore a content smile. 

"So beautiful," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you traced the contours of his face with your fingertips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyebrows knitting together as his eyes scanned your face. You ran your finger along the crease that they created. "Beautiful?" 

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Yes, beautiful. Maybe I don't tell you enough."

He chuckled softly as he leaned into your touch, heart swelling with warmth at your words. There was a new flutter in his chest that he didn’t recognize. For a moment, Cassian felt shy— he wasn’t quite sure why. But he laughed it off all the same. 

"That's a word reserved for you, sweetheart." 

You shook your head, your fingers trailing down his cheek to cup his face in your hands. "My beautiful mate,” you whispered, "My handsome, gorgeous, incredibly sexy, and beautiful mate." 

For the first time in a while, Cass was stunned, unable to respond as quickly as he was used to. Your words held a certain reverence to them, a sincerity that made him melt into your touch— made him melt into your voice itself. Before you, Cassian never knew himself as something gentle, as something capable of softness and sensitivity. But here he was before you, in all of his warrior glory, feeling like a child with a playground crush. And there you were, staring at him like he was the most exquisite thing you’d ever laid eyes on. So when words failed him, Cassian did the only thing he saw fit. 

He leaned in to kiss you tenderly, bringing his lips to yours softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him in closer, feeling his warmth against you as he smiled into the kiss. From deep within your chest, you felt a glow— a deep, ethereal, and overwhelming glow. 

Beautiful, his mind echoed, beautiful. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You let out a soft sigh as you settled onto the couch with Cassian, pushing yourself further into his warm chest as he wrapped an arm around you. You’d spent the night at the River House, drinking more wine than you could handle and eating almost all of Elain's sweet desserts. There was a smile on your face as your eyes closed, your hearing quickly tuning into the heartbeat of your mate below you. 

You frowned when the sound began to quicken, echoing like a drum in your ears. You pushed yourself up, slightly turning your body and placing a hand on Cassian's chest. When you looked up at him, his face was scrunched, his gaze distant as if lost in contemplation.

Cassian wore a specific face when he was troubled, furrowed brows and a downturn of his lips. He wore it was he was sad or frustrated, when he had thoughts that plagued him at night. The face before you was a troubled one, indeed. But it was less rough than the others he bore, more vulnerable.

You slightly tapped against him with your palm. Cassian blinked at the sensation, then he slowly looked down to meet your eyes with his own. You let your chin fall gently on his chest. 

“What's wrong?”

Cassian managed a smile, shaking his head as he brought his hand to run over your hair. “Nothing.”

You frowned. “Tell me.”

For a moment, Cassian’s thoughts traveled again. Mor’s laugh echoed in his mind, wine glass in hand as she pointed at him. You have the subtlety of a war horn. You’re so loud I can hear you across Prythian. I don’t know how Y/n handles it all the time.

"Am I too loud?" 

His voice came out rushed, drenched in a tinge of what you could only describe as worry— even doubt.

A flicker of surprise passed through your features. “What?”

He let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Mor said something tonight, it just got me thinking.”

“Mor says a lot of things. Especially when she's drunk.”

“I know.” He nodded in agreement, tongue running across his teeth before he let out another sigh. “But she had a point tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”

He took a moment to take you in, to trace the features of your face with his eyes. Absentmindedly, he ran his hands through your hair. 

“Maybe I am too loud.”

Cassian's voice was defeated now, lips naturally falling into a frown. The crease between his eyebrows was still there as he peered down at you, hand still caressing your head.

You stared at him for a moment before you responded. "You're so loud." 

A flicker of disappointment crossed Cassian's face. But before the thought could spread through his mind, a soft smile graced your features. You gave his chest a small kiss. “But I love it. So very much.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up, a sense of release evident in his features as his lips curved into a smile. The crease between his eyebrows faded. "Really?"

"Absolutely," you affirmed, your voice filled with a sincerity that made his heart flutter. "My world would be too quiet without you."

Cassian’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently swiping loose strands away from your forehead. “Yeah?” 

You nodded against him, chin still resting on his chest. “I hear everything I love in your voice.”

He smiled, the bond deep within him singing as he stared at you. He felt you tug at it, felt a roll of warmth run through his body— something gentle, something loving. And for a minute, Cassian could have cried at the sensation, could have cried at the way you looked at him, at how happy he felt. 

With his heart swelling, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice filled with a depth of emotion that he couldn’t quite express in words. He hoped that you could sense it, that you would hear those words and know everything he was trying to say— that you would understand just how much you meant to him, how your love filled him with a sense of peace and belonging he never knew he needed.

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, feeling his now steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know,” you said, “You practically scream it from the heavens.”

Cassian let out a deep laugh, the sound reverberating through his chest. You felt his body move from under you, felt as the sound caressed you like a pair of warm hands. 

As his laughter subsided, Cassian pulled you closer to him. “I’ll keep shouting it so you’ll always hear it,” he whispered.

A warmth spread through you at his words, a feeling of love so strong it was tangible through that sacred tie that connected you.

“And I’ll keep listening.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

me not writing angst?? (i’m about to write the most gut wrenching pieces ever) unheard of. but we love a sweet established relationship <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

[harryspet]

well kept [3] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think! Thank you so much for all the feedback so far :)

word count: 4.5k

In which it's your first day working from home with Rafe and you have a new lesson to learn.

well kept masterlist

The Cameron residence was fifteen minutes outside of downtown Charlotte and situated in a large neighborhood where hills and huge oak trees hid all the houses. You didn’t really see his house, only what you could tell was large pond, until the driver was at the end of the mile-long driveway.  When you did, you felt woefully underdressed. Assuming that being inside all day meant you could opt for something casual, you’d chosen a cream knit dress. 

Following Rafe’s instructions, you sent him photos of each outfit you tried on, but he hadn’t told you which ones you could return. It was another blow to your confidence. You began to doubt whether he’d even been serious, but the fear that he might mention it the next day kept you from taking any chances.

Stepping out of the black Escalade, your eyes widened as you took in the architectural masterpiece before you. The house was a striking blend of traditional and modern styles, with a light-colored exterior contrasted by dark shutters framing the windows. A stone chimney rose from the roof, and the three-car garage with wooden doors added a rustic touch.

After your car drove away, a tall and impeccably dressed staff member named Anthony guided you up the stone-paved driveway. From your cheat sheet, you recalled that he was the House Manager. Rafe required a full team: Anthony, two housekeepers, a private chef, a driver, a gardener, and now you—his personal assistant. The inside of the house was as intimidating as the exterior. The expansive foyer featured high ceilings and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. To the left, you caught a glimpse of the formal dining room. Each room you passed was more impressive than the last. Anthony informed you that there were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms.

“I don’t usually work on Fridays but Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you a tour of the house and show you the ropes of house management. It’ll be important for you to be able to oversee the staff when I’m absent and understand the scheduling.”

Once again, it was all too much to take in. Today was your fifth day working for Rafe, and you’d barely survived until now. 

“I want to clarify that what happened yesterday stays between us. That includes Eleanor. Okay?”

That was all he said about his outburst. There was no apology for groping you, for pinning you down on his office couch, or for taking your virginity. If you were to tell the story, you’d have to mention how your body had betrayed you—not once, but twice. But you had said no. You didn’t want to use the word that described what happened to you. You didn’t want to think about it at all.

And it didn’t happen again—not over the next three days. He continued to be harsh, forcing you to apologize for every small mistake, even those you weren’t aware of.

As you followed Anthony through the expansive kitchen, you couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size and sophistication. The kitchen was a chef's dream, with gleaming marble countertops that seemed to stretch endlessly, state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, and custom cabinetry in a rich, dark wood finish. An oversized island dominated the center of the room.

At the far end of the kitchen, massive glass-paneled doors stood, offering a glimpse of the world beyond. The porch was furnished with elegant wicker seating with plush cushions. The space was perfect for elegant parties, with enough room to accommodate at least a dozen guests.

Beyond the porch was a stunning infinity pool stretched out towards the horizon. As you walked closer, to the right, you took notice of a garden. You spotted the gardener, Tyler, who Anthony had mentioned earlier. In simple clothes, the young man blended easily into the scenery. 

“This is where Mr. Cameron will typically entertain his guests,” Anthony said, 

The beauty of the outdoor space was undeniable, but so was the control that permeated every aspect of it. You wondered what hand Rafe played in how spotless it looked. You could almost picture him, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing with a harsh intensity, if even the smallest detail were out of place. It was easy to imagine him demanding that every leaf, every petal, every stone be exactly where it belonged. 

Did his staff ever make mistakes? Did he make them beg him forgiveness like he did with you? 

“Shall I show you the study? It’s approaching seven-thirty.”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. He was kind but part of you didn’t want him to hear your voice shake or your face contort into an uncomfortable position as you struggled to get your words out. 

There would be enough struggling today, you knew that. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s home office was more quaint than you expected. Dark wood panneling decorated the walls as well as floor-to-celing bookshelves. As you made your way around the room, you took note of the picture frames containing images of what you believed to be his family. Here, it seemed he had a heart. The four of them stood on a dock, sun shining down, and his arms were wrapped a young girl with dark brown hair. His smile was genuine and there was darkness lingering in the blues of his eyes. 

Other than the bookshelves, the room only contained his desk, a set of leather couches and a coffee table. The smaller room still managed to exude sophistication but it was far less imposing than you expected. 

The room almost felt intimate as sunlight trickled in through light colored curtains. You were standing behind his desk, glancing out his office window which faced towards the nearby pond. Beside it, sat a gazebo, although you couldn’t imagine Rafe enjoying it. You wondered if he lived here alone as you saw no traces of the other three people in his family photo. 

“Boo,” You yelped as you heard Rafe’s deep voice. 

You placed a hand over your beating heart as you looked toward where he stood in the doorway. Having been deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door opened. He knew that much which explained the amused look in his eye.  

Everything flooded back at the sight of him. The air had already left your lungs. You felt his body pressing down on yours, warm breath against your ears, and that pain between your legs. 

The door clicked shut, making you flinch.

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

It hit you then, you hadn’t greeted him like you were supposed to.

You were taken aback by his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain navy t-shirt, a stark contrast to your heels and carefully applied makeup. You weren’t sure why you were expected to dress up, especially when he looked so casual.

“G-Good morning, Sir,” You crossed the room, his eyes locked on yours. You remembered where he liked you, near the door, ready to greet him and present yourself to him. You hated how your voice always betrayed you, how weak it made you sound. Your only saving grace was that you’d already memorized his schedule for the day, having spent the entire commute looking at your laptop. You recited it to him, including the midday Zoom call he had with Kelce and Topper.

Topper, you had learned, was Eleanor’s husband. Rafe hadn’t ever touched her but the way Eleanor always answered your questions with vague responses made you suspect that her relationship with Topper mirrored your own with Rafe. She hadn’t warned you but now you were suspecting that was because Rafe seemed to always get what he wanted, no matter who got hurt in the process.

You froze the moment his hand reached out to touch you. His fingers curled around your side, hovering just above your stomach but dangerously close to your breasts. His grip was surprisingly gentle as his thumb grazed over the fabric of your dress. You stiffened as his other hand mirrored the first, sliding across to the opposite side of your body. “Eleanor picked this,” he murmured, his brows knitting together as his gaze slowly traveled down your figure. A jolt shot through you as his thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a wave of panic coursing through you.

“Y-You don’t like it?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He clicked his tongue, “Turn around for me.”

You did as he said, “Doesn’t do enough for your figure,” Your heart panged in your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious of your own shape, “Are you wearing the panties I sent you?”

All you could do was nod. Rafe never commanded you to wear the panties everyday to work but you didn’t risk it. Luckily, they were all comfortable despite the lace and cheekiness. 

“Pull up your dress,” He said next. 

You’d spent the last three days in a fog, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand why your body betrayed you. When you were younger, you always asked the universe why you couldn’t speak like the way all your friends at school did. Now you asked the universe why Rafe’s voice made you want to clench your thighs together. Why you had felt empty ever since he’d finished inside of you. Why you wanted to try again, to experience that intimacy again without so much fear. Your life was so simple before but now it felt like it was too late to turn back. 

Your thoughts were too jumbled. Rafe cleared his throat and you realized you were just staring back, “I’m not gonna fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Please-”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me ask again.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’m nnn-nn-not comfortable—”

“Just do it.”

You reached down to the edges of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric to your waist. It was nothing he hadn’t already seen and yet you were shaking, “Turn around. Face the other way.” Like a robot, you obeyed. You’d chosen a light pink color today. 

“Good,” You felt him against you. He pulled your hair back over your shoulder and leaned down against your ear, “Maybe I should make you walk around naked while you’re here, hmm?”

You bit down on your lip, wanting to contain the protest that was about to leave your mouth. You wanted to lean into his touch, to embrace the comfort that would accompany the torture. He brushed past you just as you tilted your head back, “Go make me a coffee,” He commanded. 

He made his way behind his desk and you reached down to move your dress, “Did I say to pull your dress down?”

“N-No, Sir,” You moved your hands quickly to your sides.

“I could make you walk around like that, couldn’t I?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

He tilted his head and you realized you needed to answer. You gave him a painful look. You could say no but what would it cost you, “I . . . I don’t know,” He wasn’t satisfied by your answer, clearly. It was torture to force the words out, “Y-Yes.”

“Right answer,” He said, “Pull down your dress, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but see the irony in the fact that despite that you upgraded to a salaried job, you were still making coffee for the rich and spoiled. The opulent kitchen had an even fancier coffee machine than his office. Your movements as you prepared his steaming mug of coffee were precise despite the turmoil in your mind. 

Searching for solutions, your mind landed on the idea of trying to assert your competence. Sure, you could make a great cup of coffee but the whole point of getting a real job was so that you could have real skills to market yourself. You could be perfect at this job, anticipate his every need, and you could more than an object to look at. 

You re-entered his office quietly after realizing he’d begun his first meeting of the day. Carefully, you set his coffee down on the edge of his desk. He was always so intense, so completely absorbed in his work, and that unwavering focus made you even more anxious. Maybe that’s how you should be, more composed, projecting an air of confidence.

Unsure of where you should settle, you made yourself comfortable on one of the leather couches. You checked your email on your laptop, finding several reminders from Eleanor. You found yourself frustrated by how she picked and chose what information to share with you but you balanced those feelings with the fact that she was often your saving grace. 

She gave you a list of tasks including arranging for a delivery of documents that needed to be signed by Rafe, confirming his dinner reservations for the night, and proofreading the notes you took from yesterday’s meetings. You told yourself by the end of the next week, you’d be able to handle things by yourself, and you wouldn’t have to lean on her so much. You’d have a day, eventually, where Rafe didn’t point out anything you did wrong. 

“I was thinking-” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence. You were so focused that you hand’t realized his meeting had ended. He folded his hands over each other, his eyes on you, “From now on, I want you to wear what I pick for you each day.”

“How …y-you’re not happy with what I’ve been choosing?”

“It’s not about not being happy. Now I have more of an idea of what I like on you,” His voice was smooth and authoritative, “You want to reflect my taste, my standards, yeah?”

You mustered the courage to ask your next question, “Can I-I dress a l-little less … formally when I work at home with you?”

“Less formally?” He tasted the words on his tongue, “You mean, like more casual?”

“Yes, Sss-sir. Like more comfortable.”

“We could experiment with that,” His tone was deceptively light, “On my terms though. Yeah?”

You nodded and were grateful that he hadn’t reacted lightly. He seemed to enjoy that you were asking him for permission.

“You’ll have to wear something different tonight though, for dinner. Eleanor is coming by towards the end of the day to bring you your outfit and take you to get your nails done.” 

“Oh,” Your eyes opened wide, “I-I thh-thhought it was more of a personal-”

“I won’t keep you out forever,” He said, “You got plans or something?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, Sir.”

Rafe worked through lunchtime, so you brought him the meal prepared by his chef, Stevie—an elegant older woman with blonde hair. She had made a pesto pasta salad that looked like it belonged in a gourmet magazine, despite your protests and insistence on eating your own packed lunch. Only after delivering the meal did Rafe grant you permission to take your break elsewhere.

You settled on the outdoor patio by the pool, enjoying the peacefulness of the space despite the distant, steady hum of a lawnmower. For a moment, you didn’t feel out of place. Your dress, though apparently unflattering to your figure, was worth a small fortune, and the gourmet lunch you were now enjoying was a far cry from the PB&J you’d packed.

Thirty minutes later, after finishing your lunch and enjoying a lengthy chat with Stevie, you reluctantly headed back upstairs. Hearing Rafe still on the phone, you decided to explore a bit more. His office was situated in the private wing of his house, and as you meandered through opulent corridors, you couldn’t resist sneaking a glance into the master bedroom. It was cozier than you had anticipated, with tall gray walls that gave it a masculine feel and a plush bed draped in navy linen blanket that created a snug, cocoon-like atmosphere.

Rafe ended his call a minute later and the afternoon wore on. You settled into a rhythm, completing the various tasks that you’d added to your own to do lists and ones he’d assigned to you. You spent some time organizing files in his office. His gaze burned into you, even more when you were turned around, and surprisingly, you were starting to get used to that unnerving feeling. 

He waited for you to make a mistake but you used a hundred-percent of your effort to make sure that didn’t happen. 

The clock inched towards the evening, and the day grew even more quieter, more intimate. “I was looking over your notes from yesterday’s meeting with the board members. I highlighted some sections for you to read back to me,” He waved you over, his voice gruff after a long day of talking. You joined him behind his desk and you moved to lean over and get closer look, but he placed a hand on your hip. The gesture was firm, possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. With effortless strength, like a wolf guiding its prey, he maneuvered you onto his lap, settling you on his thigh. You felt the power in his grip, the unspoken control, and all you could do was comply.

“Rafe–” You started, an desperate attempt at a protest. 

“Start with the first section,” He commanded, his grip tightening. 

“I’ve been working on proofreading them–”

“Sweetheart,” He warned, not needing to add that you were making him angry. You could feel it, the heat coming off of him. 

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to read each sentence. Even if you didn’t have a sentence with a small typo, you still stammered over several of your words. He slid the chair closer to the desk and you yelped. 

“See right here,” He pointed to the screen but that only pressed him into you. You breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate, “This whole section needs more detail. I don’t want to have to ask more information.”

You were taken aback when Rafe actually began to instruct you on what you were meant to do. He spent at least ten minutes walking you through each sentence, explaining how to word your report, and deleted all the unnecessary details you added. He was surprisingly patient. 

“Now, your turn,” he said finally, leaning back in the chair. For a moment, you thought he was letting you up, but the pressure of his hand on your waist told you otherwise. “Fix it.”

You swallowed, hesitating as your fingers hovered over the keys. Ever keystroke was amplified in the quiet room. Doing your best to actually use your brain, you carefully made the changes he suggested. He watched you closely, his hands first placed on your hips but soon one wandered between your thighs. 

“Good,” He said. You could do it again, you thought, and not be so scared. His touch was teasing, a reminder of what he could do to you, all the pressure that built inside of you a spilled over. You could impress him, you could be beautiful, and not turn into a crying mess when he was inside of you. You could be more than a fragile thing to be broken.

Each word was a small victory. It was a battle you thought you could win until his fingers slipped inside your panties and his other hand grabbed a handful of one of your breasts. It was unbearable, and as he made small circles, you found your fingers slipping clumsily over the keys. 

You pressed your palms into his desk, your body tilting forward. A frustrated sigh left your lips, you couldn’t contain it, and Rafe’s chuckle rumbled from behind you, “Do you ever touch yourself like this? Be honest with me this time.”

“Y-Yes,” You whispered. 

“How do you do it?” He pulled you away from the desk, pulling your torso against his, “You use a toy?”

“J-Just my fff-fingers,” You admitted. 

“Like this? How do you like it?” Carefully, he switched between different approaches. He rubbed circles over your clit, smaller ones and then slower, bigger ones. Then he stroked you up and down, fingers slipping easily into your warm hole as he wandered lower, “You put those little fingers inside of you?”

“Rafe, please.”

“Tell me,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Or I’ll stop.”

"I-I don't usually put them inside… ," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I always use my pillow…”

He hummed against your ear. "See how much better this is when you cooperate? You can be such a good little assistant when you try."

You nodded, unable to speak, and let the feeling consume you. He brought you right to the edge, you were seconds away coming undone, but his movements slowed. Before you could register the feeling as disappointment, Rafe was hoisting you off of his lap. 

Moving with sudden determination, your feet were suddenly off the ground and Rafe was carrying you out of the room in his strong arms, “Rafe!” You clutched his shoulders as he carried you down the hall.

You turned your head as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, the heavy thud of the door slamming shut reverberating through the room. With a swift motion, he laid you gently on the bed. The softness beneath you was just as you had imagined, but the thought barely registered. You shot him an incredulous look, your face flushed with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He leaned over you, grabbing a pillow from behind you and placing it in front of you, “Show me.”

You shook your head instantly and moved to crawl away. Somehow, you could let all of his other sleazy behavior slide by but this was an insane boundary for him to try to cross. He’d already been inside you and yet this was a thousand times more intimate. 

He grabbed ahold of your thigh, “You’re so close, sweetheart. I know you want it,” He challenged you, “Probably feels like you need it.”

“Please,” You tried, your voice threatening to crack. His hands found your hips again, slowly positionin you over the pillow. The soft fabric brushed against your most sensitive spot, the familiar sensation making you bite down on your bottom lip, “Rafe.”

“You saying my name like that just makes me want it more,” Balancing on his knees, he grabbed ahold of your face and leaned in to kiss you. You felt the intensity of his desire, how much he wanted this, and it left you dizzy. 

When he pulled back, he looked over you. Your hips started moving in a familiar motion despite your embarrassment. You trembled from the vulnerability, the pounding in your chest, but you chased that high he gave you. It ignited your fire again, and since you didn’t have the full force of his touch anymore, you focused your eyes on him, “Good girl,” He said again and you whimpered, “Look at me just like that.”

You rolled your hips harder, faster, imagining his kiss, his touch, as the tension coiled tighter inside you. His gaze never left yours, his words a constant stream of encouragement and control.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” 

His words all jumbled together. 

“Just let it happen.”

“I want to see your face when you cum, sweetheart.”

“You look so desperate.”

“So needy.”

“You’re gonna make yourself cum, huh?”

“Just because I told you too.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Look at you.” 

The words pushed you over the edge, finally, and you were able to let go. He watched as you rode out that wave of pleasure and his hands found your body again, his grip grounding you. “Fuck,” You heard him say but you couldn’t respond. 

You were too overwhelmed to respond, your mind unable to fully process what had just happened. All you knew was that you felt good, embarrassed, and strangely satisfied that you'd pleased him, all at once. 

When you manage to look at him again, the doorbell rang. 

Eleanor navigated through the upscale nail salon, a palace of white and silvers, with ease, like she was a regular, and this was just an extension of her universe. You imagined this place as an escape for her, from both Rafe and Topper. She secured side-by-side seats near the back of the salon and you followed her lead as she set down her purse and removed her sandals. Her movements were fluid and assured. 

“Have you thought about what color you want?”

“Oh, um, n-no,” You tried to make yourself comfortable in the pedicure chair, “What d-do you think Rafe would like?”

“Maybe something pastel. You can’t go wrong with a soft pink.”

“Is that what you’re getting?” You asked, unassured, as you glanced around the luxurious setting. It wasns’t like other nail salons you’d been to where the technicians and customers talked at whatever volume they liked. It was quiet and each technician wore matching black uniforms. 

“I’ll tell them you want ballet slipper on your nails and white on your toes.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance, “Thank you.”

As your pedicures began, the warm lavender-scented water soaking your feet, two technicians took their places by your sides, working silently as they filed your nails. 

“How are you holding up?” Eleanor asked.

“Fff-fine,” You said, “I’m trying to . . . t-to understand him, I guess.”

“You’ll go crazy doing that,” She laughed lightly, flashing a look that said “poor you”. 

“How d-did you meet Topper?” Her face tightened at your question, “I mean, y-you didn’t say.”

“I’m from the same town as them, Rafe and Topper. Not really the same town, my parents didn’t have money growing up. But I worked at the country club they all went to. That’s how I met Topper.”

“And you started dating?”

“Something like that,” She made a small shrug, “I owe everything I have to them.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of her words despite the lack of detail. Another piece to the puzzle you were trying to put together. Maybe the two of them had an attraction to girls struggling to get by.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She asked and it made you pause.

Your instinct was to mirror her shrug, but you hesitated, wondering if you could trust her with your thoughts. If anyone could understand what you were going through, it had to be Eleanor.  “I-I just ffff-ffeel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only heard good things.”

“A-About me?” She nodded and your lips parted in shock. 

“Yes. I know you feel uncertain right now, but I think you'll be glad if you can stick it out. Topper… he’s a bastard, but he takes care of me. Rafe likes you too. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it, but…” She paused, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s filthy rich. That would be enough for me.”

In that moment, her brutal honesty felt almost like reassurance. You weren’t sure if Eleanor truly grasped the extent of Rafe’s inability to show affection, that his pleasure came from humiliating you, from making you cry. Just as you couldn’t fully know what she endured with Topper. Her words weren't necessarily comforting but at least they felt real.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

[bossbtch1]

Golden Boy of America

Summary : What if Steve Rogers wasn't the revered symbol of American virtue that everyone believed him to be? Contrary to the public perception of his kindness and charm, you've come to realize it was all a façade. Now, you find yourself in a nightmarish scenario—kidnapped and bound, questioning everything you thought you knew about the man once hailed as the golden boy of America.

Pairings : Dark!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Words : 6,9k

General tags : SMUT, 18+, NSFW

TW : dark fic, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, degradation, non-con, dirty talk, oral sex, smut, vibrator, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, overstimulation, breeding kink, forced impregnation

A/N : This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I've been going back and forth, tweaking the story to add a darker twist. I've always felt like there's more beneath the surface of Captain America's heroic façade, he did good and sacrificed everything for the world. What if he's not as perfect as he seemed? And you had to be the one who found out about his true side, his dark side. That's the premise of this one shot, enjoy~

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+.  I don't condone any of this kind of thinking in real life, this is purely fan fiction. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. Please don't read if this content is not your cup of tea, you've been warned.

My masterlist

The sound of a car door slamming shut is the last thing you remember before everything went black. A dull ache in your head is what you first felt when you woke up.

When you open your eyes, you find that your hands and legs are bounded by rope and tape, the coldness of the floor and walls send shivers down your spine. It takes a few seconds for you to process the situation you were in. The first thing that came into mind was where you were, who did this and why? Your memories were all a blur, you can't remember how you got into this predicament.

You hear a door open from somewhere, it echoes in the empty space, making the hairs on your arm stand up. You start to feel anxious and scared as your heart beats loudly. "Hello?" You say and the voice bounces off the walls, not knowing who was behind this.

"Good, you're awake now." A familiar voice speaks out, walking into the room. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape.

"S-Steve? W-What's going on? Why am I here?" You ask him, fear evident in your voice. Steve doesn't answer and stares at you blankly. He's standing right in front of you. "Answer me!" You demand but he remains silent, only looking at you.

"You don't have the right to tell me what to do." He said with a dark expression. 

"What the fuck, Steve!" you said as you were tied to a chair. The ropes were tight enough to not get out of but loose enough so it doesn't hurt. "Let me go, Steve, you bastard!"

He was standing in front of you with his arms crossed and a stoic expression. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked like he was going to kill someone.

"Why should I? So, you can escape and go tell on me? Tell everyone what a bad man I am? Huh?" Steve said as he walked up to you and grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. "You know I can't let you do that."

He kept you in a small bedroom. The wallpaper was torn, revealing the rotten wood behind it. A single bed and a rickety drawer stood as the only furnishings. The window had its shutters closed, allowed no glimpse of the outside world and there was only a single light bulb illuminating the room. It gave a very eerie feeling.

"Steve, let me go." You said in a low voice.

"I can't do that." He said, running his fingers through his hair. "If I do, they will find me and put me in jail."

"Steve, they will not find you. I swear I won't tell anyone." You said as you tried to get up. But Steve came up and pushed you back to the chair.

"Stop. Fucking. Moving." He said in a menacing tone. "You're not the boss here. I am." He said.

"Do you think you can just imprison me like this?" you shouted, your voice cracking with frustration. "What you're doing is cruel and inhumane!"

A chilling smile crept across Steve's lips as he retorted, "Oh, I can, and I will. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. I have my reasons, and I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for."

Your voice trembled with shock and disbelief, "What do you mean I'm not the first? There were others before me? What happened to them? Who are you?!"

"I've always been Steve Rogers, the same person you met and fell for. As for the others, they were my mistakes, and I fixed them." Steve replied in a casual tone as if talking about the weather. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you won't have to worry about that. I won't make the same mistakes twice."

"What happened to them?" you asked, feeling the blood drain from your face.

"That's none of your concern, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about them. All you need to worry about is obeying me."

You couldn't believe that the man in front of you was the same person you'd known. "I will not obey you, Steve."

He laughed as he sat on the bed, "You’re not the Steve I know. You're fucking insane! You're no hero!" You screamed at him, "I saw you kill that man, Steve. You took his life without a shred of remorse."

He shook his head. "Y/N it was necessary. He was a criminal, and it was self-defense."

"No it wasn’t!" you raised your voice. “You had other options, you could have spared his life, but you didn't. You killed him because you're a psychopath!"

He ignored your statement and said, "I told you, you should have never followed me. You've made this very hard for yourself." He crossed his arm, "I warned you, I tried so fucking hard so you wouldn't see any of this, but you just had to follow me."

He was right, if you listened to him and didn’t follow him, you wouldn’t end up like this. You didn't know how to respond.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me next?"

"Oh, please, if I was going to kill you, I would have done it the minute I brought you here." He said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, why would I kill you when you could be so much more useful to me alive."

"Useful?"

"Yeah. I could use some help." He said as he walked closer to you.

"What kind of help?" you asked.

He smirked and licked his lips. "The fun kind."

"Steve, what are you talking about?" you asked, fearing the answer.

He leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I'm sure you'll be a good girl and obey."

You didn't like where this was going. "Steve, please let me go." you whispered, trying not to cry. You were scared, you were tied to a chair and no one knew where you were. You were scared of what Steve was going to do to you.

"You're begging already?" He laughed dryly. "It hasn't even been 20 minutes."

"Please." You sighed and tried to break free from the ropes. "You can't keep me here, Steve. Please"

"I can do anything I want." he whispered, his face getting closer to yours. You tried to lean back, but there was no room. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You shut your eyes.

"You don't want to do this, Steve." You said.

"Don't I?" he asked, tilting his head. "Because it seems like I do."

"Please..." You opened your eyes, you had tears forming in them. You were scared, he could do anything he wanted to you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"You look so pretty when you beg, you know that?" he said, his face inches from yours.

"Steve, don't do this. Please" You begged.

He ran his fingers over your cheek and wiped away the tear that was threatening to fall. "Shame that it had to be like this."

"Steve... I-I promise I won't tell anyone." you whimpered, flinching at his touch. You didn't want him to touch you.

He shook his head. "You've seen what I did."

"It was an accident. We can get out of this," you pleaded, your voice laden with desperation, seeking any flicker of empathy in his eyes.

"No. We can't. This was inevitable. Don't worry, sweetheart. You're going to love it here," Steve declared with an unsettling certainty, his tone almost comforting, as if he genuinely believed the twisted reality he was creating.

"Steve, please. You can't keep me here. If not for you, at least do it for our friendship. Please, let me go"

"This will be the last time you beg, Y/N. I will not repeat myself. You're not going anywhere. This will be your new home"

"It won't be," you insisted, defiance laced with fear.

"You'll see, in time, you'll change your mind." Steve's response echoed through the room, the unsettling assurance leaving you with a sinking feeling of dread as the realization set in that escape seemed increasingly improbable.

The room seemed to close in, the peeling wallpaper and the flickering light bulb casting eerie shadows that danced around the space, creating an atmosphere of both captivity and impending menace.

Your hand struggled against the rope as you watched him. Your eyes wide and frightened. "You see, my sweet Y/N. I've got my eye on you for quite a while. Maybe after I've had my fun with you, I'll consider letting you go. Who knows" he smiled at you, his hand caressing your lips. You felt sick.

"Don't you dare touch me" you hissed, jerking your face away from him. His eyes flashed with anger for a second before it was gone. 

"You don't have a choice" he chuckled. He took hold of your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, his lips a breath away. "I will enjoy making you scream and beg for mercy."

You felt his hands trail down your neck and down to the top of your shirt. He looked up at you before ripping your shirt open, making the buttons fly across the room. You gasped as you felt the cool air hit your skin. You were left in your bra, the thin lace fabric the only thing protecting you.

"Don't" 

"Don't what?" He grinned and pulled your bra straps down, exposing your breasts. You tried to cover yourself but you couldn't. You were still tied to the chair, and he was stronger than you.

"Please. Just stop" You felt tears roll down your cheeks.

"Oh, honey. This is just the beginning" He took one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it, making you gasp in pain. He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push him away, but he held onto your wrists and kept you in place.

"Stop! Please, Steve. I'm sorry!"

"No. I don't think you're sorry" he growled as he moved to your neck and bit down. He sucked on the sensitive skin, making sure he left a mark.

"Stop!" you exclaimed, trying to push him off you. He chuckled at your efforts, then next he was moving his hands down your waist and stopping at the top of your jeans.

"Now, be a good girl and stay still. Wouldn't want to ruin such pretty underwear, now would we?" he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down. Your breathing sped up and you started to squirm.

"Steve, stop, please, I'm sorry, just let me go, please" you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes. You couldn't believe that he was doing this.

"Stop with the dramatics, princess. It won't change a thing. Just sit back and enjoy, it'll feel better if you relax" he cooed, pulling your jeans down to your ankles. You felt a sob escape your throat as he looked down at you, his eyes looking hungry and lustful.

"Please, don't do this, Steve, please"

"Shh, princess, I'm going to make you feel good, okay? But, first, I gotta take these off" he murmured, reaching for your panties. Your breathing stopped, and you felt yourself shake.

"Steve" you whimpered, shaking your head. Tears were falling down your face, and Steve was wiping them away. 

"Such a pretty sight. You're gonna look so pretty covered in my marks" he whispered as he leaned down and started to suck on your neck. You let out a strangled moan as you tried to move your head away from him.

"Get off, you creep" you groaned, trying to kick him away. He didn't seem fazed and just held your hips down. He was much stronger than you, and the more you struggled, the harder his grip became.

"That's it, baby. Squirming like a little slut" he murmured, moving his hand down and under your panties. You shook your head frantically, trying to kick him away again.

"Don't touch me, please" you begged, closing your legs tightly. He looked up at you, his blue eyes darkening with lust. "Steve, get off me!"

"You know, I've seen the way you've looked at me. Like a piece of meat" He was right, you couldn’t lie, you were attracted to him ever since you first saw him. Who wasn’t attracted to him? He was kind and gentle. Even right now after you found out who he really was, you still feel attracted to him. You knew you shouldn’t be. 

“You’re disgusting!” You spat in defiance, you were in denial. 

"You say that now, but I'll have you screaming my name"

"I'll never scream your name, you pervert."

"We’ll see about that, princess.” he murmured, kissing down your stomach. You shivered as you felt his warm breath fanning over your stomach. You didn't want him this close. 

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but why are you already wet huh?” You were shaking your head, trying to get him to stop. But it felt so good. 

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but you sure are wet, darling. So, what is it, hm? Tell me, are you wet because you want me or is it something else?” He pushed a finger inside of you, making you gasp. He began pumping his finger in and out, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck. I've always wondered what you would feel like. So tight and warm." He continued pumping his finger in and out of you, and you tried to hold back a moan. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was pleasuring you.

"Scream my name, princess."

"Never." You said through clenched teeth. 

"That's fine, sweetheart, I can do this all day." He smirked.

You could feel his finger moving inside of you, hitting the spot that made your legs tremble. You tried to hold back a moan, but he knew what he was doing.

"Oh fuckkk," you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"That's right, princess, be a good girl for me" he groaned, moving his fingers inside you. You moaned, feeling him thrust his fingers in and out. He moved his lips back to your neck, biting and sucking. He added another finger and curled his fingers inside of you.

You let out a small moan, and he smirked. "Come on, princess, you can do better than that."

He added a third finger and thrust them faster, making your hips buck. He was moving his fingers faster and faster, and you could feel yourself getting closer.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping. Your body betrayed you.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you, and you felt a pressure building up.

"P-please, st-stop, I don't- I don't w-want" you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"What, princess, don't wanna have some fun?"

"No, I-I don't want th-this"

"Stop lying to yourself, princess.” He said as he kissed your cheeks. “You're so pretty like this, Y/N. All vulnerable and defenseless"

"I'm not-"

"Oh, baby, I know. But don't worry, I'll make you feel so good."

"Fuck, Steve"

"That's right, baby, moan my name. You sound so beautiful." He laughed and continued thrusting his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers went deeper, hitting your g-spot.

"Beg me, princess. Beg me to make you come.” he said, moving his fingers faster. Your breathing sped up as he added a third finger, stretching your hole. 

"Screw you!" You refused to beg him, not giving him the satisfaction.

"You will. You'll beg me to make you come, and then you'll beg me to fuck you. You'll beg me to use your body until I've had my fill."

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. He began rubbing your clit again, causing your legs to shake. You could feel your climax approaching, and you didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. "I can feel how close you are. Say it, princess. Beg me."

Then when you were about to cum, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You wanted to cry. "No!" You panted, trying to catch your breath.

"Not yet, princess. You know what I want, princess. Tell me." He purred, licking his fingers clean. You knew what he wanted, you still refused.

He laughed. "You're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

You were so confused. You didn't know what he meant. "You're gonna make me show you just how bad you need this."

He got up from the bed and walked over to the closet. He opened the doors and reached inside, pulling out a bag.

"What is that?" you asked, nervously.

He turned and looked at you. He opened the bag and pulled out a long, thin, pink vibrator. Your eyes went wide, you began to tremble. You were terrified. He was going to use that on you.

He held the vibrator up to your face and pressed a button, making it hum. You shook your head at him, "Steve No!"

He walked back over to you and crouched down in front of you. He ran his hand down your thigh, before spreading your legs, "Such a pretty pussy, princess." he murmured, tracing a finger along your folds.

He put the vibrator between your legs, pressing it against your clit.

"Fuck! Don't!" you moaned, trying to get away. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer to him. "Oh, princess, you're gonna cum on this. Then, you're gonna cum on my cock. And, after that, you're gonna beg me for more."

You let out a sob as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel yourself getting close again. "Please, Steve."

He pressed the vibrator against your clit harder, making you moan. You didn't want him touching you there, but you couldn't stop the pleasure. "Tell me what you want, Y/N"

"Steve, I can't. I don't want it, I can't, please"

"But, you do, princess. You're already wet for me. You want this."

You shook your head, trying to get away from the vibrator. He held onto your hips, keeping you still. He leaned forward and licked your nipple. He sucked your nipple, making you arch your back.

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator, causing your hips to buck. He let go of your nipple and moved the vibrator lower, rubbing it against your entrance.

"Fuck! Stop, Steve. I-I can't. It's too much!"

"Oh, baby, this is nothing. Just wait until I start fucking you."

You were getting closer, the pleasure almost unbearable. "Steve, please. Stop. Please. I can't. I'm gonna-"

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator. "Say it. Or I'll make this last even longer. I'll keep you here all night, and the whole time, I'll be inside you."

You moaned and closed your eyes. "Please… Steve…”

He chuckled. "I like hearing you beg, princess." He turned the vibrator off and moved it back up to your clit. He slowly pushed it into your tight cunt.

"I can't…."

He smirked, "Oh, baby, we've just gotten started."

He turned the vibrator on and fucked you with it. You arched your back and moaned. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up. You let out a whimper as he kissed you, hard. He pulled away and licked your neck. "You're such a slut for me, princess. You will love it when I fuck you."

You shook your head, trying to get him to stop. "Please, Steve. Stop."

He ignored you, thrusting the vibrator deeper inside you.

You were about to cum when he suddenly pulled the vibrator out. "Steve, please, I need-"

Everytime you were close to cum, he would turn the vibrator off,  making you frustrated and horny. "I can do this all day, princess."

You couldn't take it anymore, "Please Steve! Please let me cum, I can't take it anymore, please" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. You really needed to cum so bad, he was edging you so hard.

You hated yourself for begging him. He kept the vibrator pressed against your clit, and with his other hand, he began fucking you with his fingers again.

He grinned, "What's the magic word?"

"Please…."

"Wrong answer, princess." He chuckled and stood up. He turned the vibrator on and started walking towards you. He held the vibrator against your clit and rubbed it in slow circles. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs."

You took a deep breath and slowly spread your legs, revealing your dripping cunt. “Good girl.” 

"Yes, oh god, Steve, please." You were moaning and panting, trying to hold off your orgasm, but he was making it impossible. "I can't hold back much longer, Steve, I'm so close. Please don’t stop." You were moaning, you didn’t care for anything, you needed to cum. 

But the moment you were about to cum, Steve stopped again, and removed the vibrator.

"Steve! No! Fuck!" You screamed, tears pricking your eyes. "What the fuck! Let me cum!"

He laughed, "So desperate. How long has it been since someone touched you like this? I can tell by your reactions that it's been a while." He turned on the vibrator again, “You will cum on my cock, now beg me to fuck you."

You were shaking, crying, "Fuck you, Steve. I'm not doing that."

He laughed, "Oh, I think you will. You're so desperate, Y/N, so close to the edge. You'll do anything to cum." He slowly undid his pants and stroking his cock in front of you. 

Your eyes widened as you stared at his length, you didn't think it was possible for a man to have such a huge cock. But, the sight of him stroking his cock was making you even wetter, and you couldn't help but want him to fuck you.

"Tell me you want me, tell me how much you want my cock."

"Steve, no. Please." You tried to close your legs, but he put the vibrator between them, spreading your lips and pushing the vibrator inside.

"If you don't, I'll just leave you here. Alone. Unsatisfied."

You were quiet, you shouldn’t want him, you should hold a little longer but he was being so good to you. It had been long since a guy made you felt like this. 

"Come on, princess. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you want me inside you. Tell me how bad you want my cock." He grinned as he kissed your clit, “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want. I’ll fuck you better than any guy you know. I’ll make sure you will never be more satisfied than being with me again."

His words sent it toward your clit, you clenched your pussy hearing him said that. You were frustrated, sobbing, you needed release, and you didn't care about anything. You were going to beg.

 You caved in, "Fine! Fuck me, Steve. Please fuck me. I need your cock, please!"

He leaned forward and kissed you. He bit down on your bottom lip, and you gasped. He chuckled, "I bet you'd let me do anything right now, wouldn't you, princess?"

He turned the vibrator back on and started fucking you with it. You were crying and moaning, begging him to let you cum. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "Fuck, please, Steve, fuck. I'm so close, I'm gonna cum. Fuck."

"Cum for me, princess.” 

You came screaming, your whole body convulsing. You were shaking and sweating, your body aching from the pleasure.

He turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of you. He kissed your cheek, "Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you, princess."

You were panting, trying to catch your breath. "I hate you."

"You don't mean that, baby. You're just a little overwhelmed. It's okay."

You looked at him, his eyes were soft and gentle, but you knew he was crazy. You were still tied up, helpless, and completely at his mercy. He was going to use his large cock to fuck you, and you couldn't do anything to stop him.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you. I promise."

He started to untie you and you were confused. Was he letting you go? You tried to scramble to ran away from him but you didn’t get far, he wrapped his arms on your waist lifting you. “Steve! Put me down now!”

He ignored you and brought you back to the bed. He put you down and pinned you, using his body weight to keep you still. "Don't think this changes anything."

He kissed you, hard and hungry. You tried to push him away but it was useless, he was too strong. "Fuck, baby, you taste so good." He kissed down your neck, biting and sucking as he went. He stopped at your breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and the other in his hand.

"Steve, please..."

"You want me to stop, Y/N?"

"Yes!"

"Well, that's too bad. Because I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. And you're gonna love every minute of it. You're my girl, Y/N. I'm never letting you go.” 

"No, please...don't...stop...don't hurt me, Steve."

He smirked, "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."

He let go of your wrists and reached down between your legs. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. "God, you're so wet. So wet and ready for me."

"Stop..."

"No. I'm not stopping, princess. You're going to come for me, just like you did with the vibrator. And then, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you all night long."

You tried to wiggle away from him, but it was no use. He was too strong. You tried to kick him, “Princess.” He warned, you stopped your movement, his tone made you scared. 

He then smiled, “Good girl.” 

You were trapped, at his mercy. He was going to hurt you, he was going to fuck you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were his.

He slipped a finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're gonna feel so good on my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you even more. He kept pumping them in and out of you, making sure to hit your g-spot every time. You could feel another orgasm building.

"Oh God...oh fuck, Steve...please..."

"Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

"No...don't stop...fuck, Steve..."

"Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want."

"I want...I want you to fuck me."

"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. You're gonna come for me, aren't you?"

"Yes...oh God, Steve...yes...I'm gonna cum." He fucked you faster, harder, his fingers pounding into you. You couldn't hold back anymore, you threw your head back and screamed his name as you came, your whole body shaking with pleasure.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. You’re so beautiful, princess.” He didn't stop, he kept fucking you, his fingers buried deep inside you. You couldn't believe how good it felt, you had never been fucked like this before.

He kept rubbing your clit, prolonging your orgasm. You were panting and moaning, trying to catch your breath. "That's it, princess. That's it. Just like that."

He moved down and spread your legs wide open. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking wet."

He licked your slit, tasting your juices. You moaned as he lapped at your folds, sucking and licking like his life depended on it.

He pulled back and looked up at you, "You taste so fucking good, baby. I could eat you all day long."

"Oh, god...please, Steve..."

"Please, what, princess? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, fuck me, Steve."

"Fuck, I love when you beg, princess."

His cock was rock hard, the tip leaking precum. He grabbed the base and stroked it a few times before positioning himself between your legs. He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the tip through your folds, coating it in your wetness. "Fuck... Steve… It's not going to fit."

"It'll fit, princess. I promise." He slowly pushing inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. It hurt, but the feeling of him stretching you was incredible. He was so big and you felt so full. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. So wet. Do you like my cock, baby? Do you like the way it feels?"

"Oh god, Steve. So full." You moaned.

He started moving, thrusting into you. The pace was slow and steady, letting you get used to his size. "God, you feel so fucking good, princess. So fucking good."

It hurt at first, but the pain soon turned to pleasure. You were moaning, begging him for more. "Steve...faster..."

He grinned, "You want it faster, baby? You want me to fuck you faster?"

"Yes...please...faster..."

He quickened his pace, pounding into you. He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Fuck, yes, Steve!"

"That's it, baby. Scream my name. Scream my name as I fuck you."

"Oh, god...yes...please, Steve... harder!"

He groaned and started slamming into you, fucking you hard and fast. "Fuck, baby. You're such a slut, begging me to fuck you harder."

You were lost in pleasure, moaning and screaming his name. "That's it, baby. Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

"So good, Steve...it feels so good...I love you fucking me, Steve."

"Yeah, you do, don't you? You love being fucked by me huh?" He growled and pounded into you, harder and faster.

"I love it...please, Steve, more..." He felt so good inside you, you should've hating him, but all you wanted was more. You shouldn’t want him but fuck no one ever fucked you this good. "Yes, Steve, oh god, yes. Please fuck me."

"Yeah, baby, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard. I'll fuck you until you can't walk." He began thrusting his hips, fucking you hard and fast. He sped up his thrusts, slamming into you harder and deeper. You were lost in the pleasure, not caring about anything else. All that mattered was him and how good he made you feel.

You were so close, you could feel your orgasm building. "Steve...I'm gonna come."

"Yeah? You gonna come, baby? You gonna come on my cock?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, you are. You're gonna come all over my cock. You're gonna come for me, baby. Come on, princess. Come for me." He then went to sucked your neck and then bit it, hard. "Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself come. Rub that fucking clit while I fuck you."

You obeyed, reaching down and rubbing your clit. It only took a few seconds before you were coming, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back.

"Fuck, yes, princess. That's it. Come for me."

You were coming down from your high and he was still pounding into you

You moaned and came, your body shaking with pleasure.

He didn't stop, he kept fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. You were so oversensitive and it was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. "Oh, God, yes, Steve!" He slammed back into you, his pace relentless. "You like that, princess? You like me fucking you?"

"Yes! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop!"

He reached around and rubbed your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come for me, princess. Come for me again. I want to hear you scream."

You were close, you could feel your orgasm building again. He pinched your clit and that was it. You came, screaming his name. He continued to fuck you, not slowing down at all.

"God, I love it when you scream, princess. Keep screaming for me."

You were barely coming down from your orgasm and he was already pushing you towards another one. You couldn't take it, it was too much. You were oversensitive and it was almost too much. He leaned forward and kissed your neck, whispering in your ear, "That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all."

"Steve, please...it's too much...it's too much..."

"Shh, princess. I know. I know. But you can take it. You can take it, can't you, baby?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, I know. I know you can. You're my good girl, aren't you?" He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. "Now, say it. Say you're my good girl."

"I'm your good girl." 

"Fucking right you are." He said and went to fondled your breast while he pounded into you, his pace unforgiving. His trusts became erratic, you knew he was close.

Then you remember, he didn't wear a condom and you weren’t on birth control.  "Please pull out! Don't come inside of me, please! I’m not on birth control!”

He stopped, but didn't pull out. "You're kidding, right? What's the point in fucking you if I don't come inside of that tight pussy of yours? I'm gonna fill you up, make you mine."

You started to panic. "Please, you'll get me pregnant. Please don't come inside of me."

"No, you're mine now. And I'm gonna breed you, just like you deserve. You're going to give me what I want and you're going to take it."

"Please, don't come inside of me." Your breath came in gasps, you couldn't hold back your moans anymore, even though you were crying. You tried to push him off, but he didn't let you, didn't stop fucking you.

"Please, please don't. I'll do anything you want. Please just pull out, I'll let you fuck me every morning. I'll be your good girl, please just not inside." You were sobbing now, but your cunt was dripping.

“Your body says otherwise, princess.” He picked up his pace again. Fuck, you like this, don't you? You're so wet. You want to have my babies, don't you? Fuck, yeah, you're a good girl, begging for my cum."

He felt you trying to pull away and he slapped your ass, hard. "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're going to stay here and take my cock. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you." He moaned, his thrusts were becoming more desperate, his hand left your waist and moved to your clit, rubbing hard.

You whimpered and he slapped your ass again. "Don't fight me, princess. Just let go and enjoy it. You're already mine, and now you're going to have my baby. We're going to have a family, Y/N. You're not leaving me."

You gave up, your body submitting to him. He was in complete control and there was nothing you could do. He kept fucking you, going even faster and harder. "There you go, baby. That's it. Let me take care of you."

Your pussy started to contract and you screamed, a wave of pleasure rolling through you. "Yeah, fuck. I knew you'd like this. Fuck, you're squeezing me, that's it. Take it, take it all, be a good girl and take it."

He moaned and pumped into you harder, until his hips stuttered and his cock pulsed.

"Ahhhh!" You cried as he spilled his seed inside of you, filling your insides. He groaned at the feeling of you, warm and wet, squeezing around him. He let go of your wrists and wrapped both his arms around your waist. 

When he was finished, he stayed inside of you, breathing heavily. "Fuck, that was great. Best sex I ever had."

 When he pulled out, you felt his come dripping down your leg. "We can't waste this, can we?" He thrusted his finger into you, gathering his come. You were still shaking, not able to comprehend what just happened.

He shoved his finger into your mouth. "You'll be a good girl, won't you? Now clean my fingers.”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, you were too exhausted to do anything, just opened your mouth and let him shove his fingers down your throat.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you and the baby." He whispered. "You'll be the perfect mom."

"Oh, no. We're not done yet." He grabbed your face with his clean hand, and pulled you into a kiss. He pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, tasting his cum. "You're such a good girl. Now, I'll give you a reward."

He got down on his knees and pushed your legs apart, then leaned forward, licking your clit. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive skin, but quickly bit your lip, trying to keep quiet.

He looked up at you. "Don't worry, honey. I love the sounds you make. So sweet. Keep making those noises for me." He moved his tongue over your clit, slowly, teasing.

He licked and sucked at your clit, while you moaned, the sensation almost too much. "I know you're sore, honey. But I wanna hear you come on my tongue. Be a good girl and come for me, can you do that?"

"Yes."

He continued sucking your clit, and moved his hand down to your pussy, pushing his fingers inside. He moved his fingers in and out of your pussy, slowly, but it was still too much.

"Please, Steve, make me come."

"That's my good girl." He moved his fingers faster, sucking harder, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your moans were louder, your whole body felt hot.

"Steve, oh god, oh god, I'm coming."

You felt him smile against your clit, his tongue moving faster, sucking and licking. Your moans became screams, your legs were shaking, you felt the pressure building in your belly, your whole body shaking. You came hard, squirting on his face.

"You taste so sweet." He got up from his knees, his cock hard again, and pressed it against your pussy.

"Please, not again. It's too much. I-I'm too tired. I can't...I don't have any more energy." 

"I can give you energy, princess" He pushed into you, and you screamed, the feeling too intense. He pulled out and then slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and moved his hips in a circular motion, the pressure in your belly building again.

You sighed, you didn't have any energy left. Steve had been non-stop ever since the day he took you, he didn't give you a single moment to rest. You were always filled with his cum. "You'll enjoy it, princess. You always do."

He started to thrust up into you, and you felt your orgasm building. "Oh, God, Steve!"

"That's it, baby, scream my name."

"Steve! Oh, God, Steve!"

You came, clenching around his cock. He groaned, and you felt him spill inside you, his hot cum filling you up. "Fuck, baby, you're so good."

He kissed you, and you could feel him getting hard inside of you again. "No, Steve, please. I can't..."

"Yes, you can, princess. I know you can."

He started to move again, and you knew you were in for a long night.

You couldn't help but moan, you could feel his thick length filling you up. His cum was still inside of you and it was a warm feeling. You were so tired and he could tell, "One more time, princess, and I'll let you sleep."

He was so big, and he hit all the right spots. You couldn't help but moan, it felt so good.

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his cum, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You moaned as he thrust deeper into you. He was so big and it felt so good. You were lost in the pleasure, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered was him and the way he made you feel.

"Say you want me to come inside of you."

"I want you to come inside of me, Steve."

“Beg me.”

“Please, Steve. I want your cum. Please fill me up.”

"Good girl." He kept his rhythm, the feeling of his cock inside of you was too much, but it was so good.

"Come for me, be a good girl and come for me."

Your body was shaking, you felt his cock throb and fill you up again, and then you were coming, your legs trembling, your moans loud.

"Fuck, yeah. You're such a good girl, so sweet, coming for me. So tight, fuck. Such a good girl."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you. He held himself above you, watching your face, while he fucked you. His cock was still inside of you, twitching, the feeling so intense.

"And don't you forget it. You're mine, and no one else is gonna fuck you. Cause you're mine, and I'm gonna keep you pregnant, giving me all the babies I want."

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his mark and seed, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You didn't have a choice, he wouldn't let you go. He'd fuck you every day, until he had knocked you up. You didn't even want a baby, and he didn't care. He'd do whatever he wanted. You had no choice but to obey him. But he made you feel so good and gentle with you, you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You had given up, the police weren't going to find you. No one was. You were his prisoner, his plaything. And he was going to keep you forever.

But, in a twisted way, you didn't mind. Because he was always there for you, taking care of you, fucking you, loving you. You had never felt this way about anyone before. And deep down, you knew you were falling in love with him.

"I love you, Y/N. And I'm gonna take care of you, and our baby. Forever."

"I love you, too, Steve."

FIN

A/N : So what do you guys think? Let me know in the comments, I want to know about your thoughts! 

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Command Me 1/2

knight!benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader //

oc!brandon stark x strong!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother thinks it’s best you marry sooner rather than later and betrothes you to a man you’ve never met from the north. The only say you have in your life at the moment is picking out a sworn protector. Your marriage leaves you unhappy and unfulfilled and Benji has no problem helping in anyway he can. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, mentions of murder, arranged marriage, wine, age gap, marriage duties, unhappy marriage, moon tea, cheating, oral(f receiving), p in v, bit angsty ngl

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel, no explicit detail of oc!stark and y/n intimate moments

Word Count: 5.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

My ears start ringing as my mother’s words start to float around my head. I focus on my breathing as I feel like I’m gasping for air. The council members nod around the table as I can hear the blood pumping throughout my body. She places her hand on mine and looks to me expectantly. 

“What?” I shake my head confused. 

“I asked if you wanted to travel back with Cregan to meet your betrothed.” she says with a smile that tells me I’ll have a scolding later. 

“Absolutely not.” I take my hand from hers and place it in my lap. 

“That is fine, Princess. My uncle won’t mind coming down here for you.” he offers me a smile that doesn’t seem genuine. 

“He shouldn’t since he’s my king consort.” I scoff. 

“Y/n.” my mothers tone low and warning. 

“I await his arrival in anticipation, my Lord.” I nod my head and push my chair back against the stone. If looks could kill my mother would have me stringed up against the council chamber walls. I walk out of the hall and practically start sprinting out of the castle. 

“Princess!” guards shout after me as I take a horse from the courtyard and gallop into the city. The city folk move out of my way as I race to the pits. I abandon the horse outside and call for the dragon keepers to wake my dragon. The ground begins to shutter as my dragon emerges. 

“Hello my handsome boy.” I coo as he pushes into me. I admire his black scales that simmer the brightest lilac in the sun and begin to mount. Once my clips are in place he’s running us out of the pit as we both share the sentiment to get out of this city. As we fly over Kings Landing my dragon gives a fearsome cry and we shoot off to the Kings Wood. 

The breeze flows through my hair and I finally feel some relief. I lean down and hug my dragon as he offers me a deep rumble. I beat my mother by two years for youngest dragon rider. I was five when I first mounted him and he brought us about the city giving high pitched screeches at the common folk. Ever since then we would disappear for a week or more to just fly and explore.

She would send countless parties in search of me but we quickly found caves that would keep us hidden. She’s learned where I go now so I decide to just stick to the Kings Wood to avoid the yelling I’m sure to receive. We land in the cover of the tree canopies by the lake and sprawl out in the sun. I rest my head on his tail as he buries his head into the tall grass scaring away the mice and bugs. 

“I can’t believe she would marry me off to some old northerner.” I sigh looking up at the clouds. My dragon offers me a deep chuff. 

I hear the high pitched dragon call before I see him. As Caraxes comes into view I sigh at her sending him. She knows that we butt heads like bulls so I’m not sure what she’s expecting from this. Daemon lands and begins to walk over to me and my dragon raises his head and bares his teeth. 

“Relax, mother would kill me.” I pat my dragons thigh chuckling and look to Daemon expectantly. 

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re not my child.” he chuckles as he approaches. 

“I don’t know why you would think that. You never raised me and still don’t.” I look up to him from the ground intent on staying where I am. 

“Fair enough,” he sits on the ground and looks to me with a taunting smile. 

“What?” I snap sitting up. 

“Your mother wants you back at the Keep. She wants you to pick out a sworn protector for yourself.” he studies me as I roll my eyes. 

“As if I’ll have a choice in the matter.” I push myself up and my dragon rises behind me. I mount him and leave Daemon behind at the lake. When I land back at the pits my mother is there waiting for me with a furrowed brow. The carriage ride back to the Keep is silent and when we stop in the inner courtyard I try to run off to my chambers but she stops me. 

“What’s wrong?” she searches my eyes. 

“I don’t want to marry some second son from the north who I’ve never met and you think allowing me to pick a sworn protector will fix that?” I rise my hands at a loss. 

“Into the Keep now.” she says lowly and I see the eyes on us from around the grounds. She brings us into her solar and I huff sitting on the couch. 

“You remind me so much of my younger self.” she hums with a soft smile. 

“Mm,” I nod my head wanting to be back with my dragon or in my chambers. 

“You may find love with Brandon.” my mother tries to hide her wince. 

“So that’s his name. How bland. Brandon the Bland I should call him.” I groan throwing my head back against the couch. 

“Y/n I worked hard to make this match. You will treat him with respect. He comes from an honorable and noble house.” her voice starts rising. 

“I don’t care if he’s noble,” I shake my head angry. “I don’t know him, I don’t want him,” I feel tears start forming and I wipe them away frustrated with the world.

“Sweet girl,” 

“Don’t sweet girl me.” I rise from the couch. “I’m tempted to get in my dragon and flee to where you’ll never find me.” I run out of her chambers and straight into Jace. I push him back and he calls after me. 

I seal myself in my chambers and let my tears flow freely. I don’t care about a husband or a sworn protector. I don’t care about the crown or ruling. I hear the whispers everyday about who my father is and how dark my hair is. I don’t want to be ridiculed for the entirety of my rule especially with some man who doesn’t even know me. 

“I’m not here to baby you. Get up and let’s go.” Daemons voice comes from the other side of the door. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” I yell back through the wood. He pushes the door open harshly and grabs my arm pulling me with him. 

“Your mother has been inviting these knights here for well over a moon. You will not embarrass her.” he says through his teeth pulling me down the stairs. I start to push and hit his hand off as the servants in the hall advert their eyes from our spat. We stumble down the rest of the stairs and we stare at each other waiting to see what the other does. I go to pull my arm back and he pulls me closer with a scowl on his face. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” I spit out at him. 

“You’re causing a scene.” he tugs me along to the hall and as we enter all of the knights turn to look at me. I push Daemon off of me and look over the men before me with a raised chin and a death glare. 

“Leave.” I wave off Daemon and the men before me look at the ground as if it’s the most interesting. 

“Step forward if you’re from Kings Landing or the Queens guard.” I hum and a handful of men step forward. “You are dismissed.” I nod them to the door and they look at me with their mouth agape and I look at the five remaining men. 

“If you are from the north step forward.” two men slowly step forward. “You are dismissed.” I look over them unamused. 

“You three are the only remaining.” I offer them a serpentine smile. “Tell me why I should choose you.” I take a seat and watch them look at me. 

“I am a Dornish Swordsman and trained along side Ser Criston-“ 

“A mistake. You are dismissed.” I wave him off and place my head in my hand bored. “Next.”

“Princess,” the man older than Daemon nods his head. “I trained this young man here. He was recently knighted and easily my best student. Anything and everything he knows, I taught him.” he sounds proud. 

“So the most obvious choice is him then? You’re old and withering and he’s young,” I look over the man next to him who only seems to be a handful of years older than me. “Did you even come here to try for a place as my sworn protector?” I look over the old man. 

“I- Princess, I’m-“ 

“Enough,” I wave him off. “You’re dismissed.” 

I turn my head back to the man in front of me and tilt my head. I study him with squinted eyes and can see that he has the muscle required for this job. He’s easy on the eyes which will be a welcome reprieve if my betrothed isn’t. He stands with a puffed out chest and confidence pouring off of him and I rise and walk in front of him. I look up to him and he nods his head down to me. 

“Tell me your name.” I look into his eyes and smile when I see no fear. 

“Ser Benjicot Blackwood.” his voice flows through my ears like honey. 

“Mm a Riverman,” I smile. “I’ve had some great times in taverns outside Raventree Hall when I was on the run.” I chuckle thinking back. 

“On the run from what, my Princess?” he offers me a soft smile. 

“My life and duties.” I shrug. “It looks like you’re the last knight standing Benji.” his spine straightens at the name. 

“It seems that I am.” he nods chewing his lip, the only sign that he has some nerves about being dismissed. 

“Then you shall be my new sworn protector.” a smile pulls across my face as his shoulders relax and he returns my smile. 

“Y/n,” my mother bursts into the hall in a rampage. 

“I’ve chosen Benji.” I turn to her with a smile and she looks him over. 

“You didn’t even give the other men a chance.” she seethes. “Why must everything be like this with you?” she sighs shaking her head. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today is the day Brandon gets to Kings Landing and I try to convince the maester I’m sick and can’t meet him. He knows my antics and deems me healthy. I’m being tied into a gown as pins are being stuck into my head holding my braids in place. I kick my handmaidens out after hours saying I just needed a moment to myself and I’ll be down shortly. 

“Are you ready, Princess?” Benjis voice comes through my doors. 

“Can you come in?” my voice soft and he slips into my chambers leaving the door open. 

“What can I do for you, Princess?” he looks over my dress and I see him swallow before his eyes make his way to mine. 

“Did you see him?” my voice hushed. 

“I did.” he nods standing up straighter. 

“Do you think he’s handsome?” I pick at my nails. 

“I don’t know how to answer that.” he says clearing his throat. 

“Benji,” I whine. “It’s simple. Does he look old and decrepit or does he look like you?” his eyes snap to mine and I smirk at him. 

“Your betrothed is waiting for you, Princess.” he turns to walk out of my chambers and I sigh and walk to his side. 

As we make our way down to the main hall I groan and drag my feet. Benji chuckles and slows his pace to stay with me. Over the past moon I’m thankful everyday to this man for traveling here to become my sworn protector. He jokes with me and keeps me company. He is also handsome which I never cease to remind him as his cheeks tint. 

“If I asked you to kill my betrothed would you?” I whisper to Benji. 

“It is my duty to do anything you ask of me.” he nods his head and I smile. 

As we walk into the hall my stomach drops as my eyes land on Brandon. My mother can’t possibly be serious. This man has to have almost two decades on me. I find my mother and I scrunch my eyebrows at her and begin walking to her. 

“Princess,” a gruff voice stops my feet as I turn to Brandon who is looking over my body like a starved man. I step back into Benji and he steadies me. 

“You’re Brandon I presume?” I raise my eyebrow looking up to him. 

“I am.” he grabs my hand much to my horror and places a wet kiss on it. 

“How kind.” I hope my disgust isn’t written over my face. 

“Y/n,” my mother’s worried voice calls me over to her side and I’m practically sprinting to her. 

“I would rather die than marry that man.” I hiss to my mother. 

“That’s enough. You will be married by the end of this moon and that’s final.” I feel so stuck and I turn and see that Brandon is walking back over here. 

“Could I offer you a walk through the gardens, Princess?” Brandon offers me his and I stare at it and look to my mother who nods encouragingly. 

“Sure,” I sigh. “Benji let’s go.” I nod my head for him to follow. 

“Your dog doesn’t need to come with.” Brandon chuckles and I cement my feet. 

“He is not my dog. You will treat my sworn protector with respect or I’ll have him take your tongue.” I look over Brandon who is smiling. 

“Feisty, I like it.” he smiles grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the hall. 

It takes all of my strength not to rip my arm out of his hand. I lead us to the gardens and the silence is anything but comfortable. I look at Brandon out of the corner of my eye and see his years written on his wrinkled forehead. I shiver of disgust runs through me as we enter the gardens. He leads us to the nearest table and sits down and I take a place across from him. 

“You are more beautiful than Cregan lead on.” he hums licking his lips. 

“Did he say anything else?” I drawl looking him over. 

“That I would probably have to wear you down a bit but that’s not an issue, I have great stamina.” he winks at me and I know there’s no hiding the horror on my face. “Mm tell me, do you still have your maidenhead?” his smile makes me feel disgusting. 

“Is that anyway to speak to a Princess?” Benjis voice just short of a growl. 

“She’s to be my wife, boy.” Brandon looks over him and turns his eyes back to me. “Well do you or are you sullied?” 

“I do.” my voice barely a whisper as I feel my cheeks heat. 

“There’s one plus.” he leans back in his seat and looks me over. “I thought you Targaryens were supposed to have silver hair?” he tilts his head. 

“The Gods are mysterious.” I clench my jaw. How could my mother do this to me? I know I wasn’t the easiest child to raise but she can’t possibly think I will be willing to wed this man. My heart starts to beat rapidly and I’m getting overwhelmed. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” Brandon narrows his eyes at me. 

“Benji can you take me to the maester? I feel faint.” I reach for his arm and he’s bending down and helping me to my feet instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” Benjis voice is rushed as he searches my face. 

“I’m hot and I just can’t breathe.” I all but gasp as we make it into the Keep. 

“Just a bit further, Y/n.” he keeps a steady hand around my waist and on out for me to hold on to. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I sigh in relief as we make it to the maesters chambers. 

“Princess what’s wrong?” the maester helps me lay on the bed. 

“She said she’s overheating and her breathing was heavy.” Benji says brushing my hair back. 

“Were you doing something strenuous?” the maester asks as he fills me a glass of water. 

“No, I was just-“ 

“What’s happened?” my mother bursts into the room. 

“Mother,” my voice breaks as I reach out to her. “Please, don’t make me, please,” I start crying and Benji and the maester look worried. 

“What do you mean sweet girl?” she shushes me kneeling at my side. 

“I’ll be better,” I hiccup. “Don’t make me marry that old man, please, mother.” a tear slips down my cheek. 

“Leave us.” she waves her hand at Benji and the maester who are shutting the door behind them quickly. “What possibly could’ve happened?” she sits back looking over my state. 

“He made remarks about bedding me and he made remarks about who my father was.” I sit up looking to her with pleading eyes. “Mother please,” I feel the tears start to well up. 

“Just give it a chance. Maybe he was just excited to see such a beautiful young woman.” she offers me a smile and I sigh knowing I don’t have a choice. 

“I will keep Benji with me. I don’t want to be alone with Brandon.” I shake my head furrowing my brows. 

“Of course you two shouldn’t be alone before you wed.” she nods her head. 

“I don’t want to wed him mother, please.” my voice breaking again as I continue to plead.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It feels as if there are rocks in my stomach as I’m twirled around the dance floor. Brandon pulls me back against him and dips down to my ear. His tongue trails along the outer shell and I try to pull back but he holds me firm. When he lifts his head he chuckles at my red cheeks and the crowd claps as our dance ends. 

“Go get a drink and stop being so uptight.” I slip into the crowd trying to keep a smile pinned on my face as I head to find wine. Gods know I’ll need it for tonight. I can’t believe my mother made me go through with this. 

The servant offers me a fresh glass and congratulations on my marriage and I smile and nod. I walk to the outskirts of the crowd and try to calm my nerves. I focus on my breathing and let the hall and celebrations fade away. 

“I wanted to tell you that you look absolutely divine, Princess. I know it’s not my place but I needed to tell you.” Benjis voice is barely a whisper as I turn to him. 

“I wish I wed you tonight.” I feel the tears form and ready to fall. 

“Princess,” Benjis voice strained. 

“I know,” I shake my head wiping my eyes. “Just don’t leave me, please.” my eyes pleading. 

“Anything you ask.” he nods his head. “I am sworn to you.” 

“Thank you.” I finish my glass of wine and head back over to Brandon. 

“Feeling better?” Brandon pulls me against him.

“Much.” I smile trying to pretend I’m not repulsed at his touch. 

“The Princess and I will retire for the night.” he announces loudly and there are rowdy cheers that follow. I feel like my legs are about to give out as he starts to pull me off the dais. I search frantically around the hall for Benji even though I know he can’t stop what’s to come. 

“I’ll escort you both.” Benji comes behind us as Brandon chuckles. 

“Do you expect to witness the act itself too, boy?” Brandon roars out a laugh. 

“No.” I say quickly. 

“Embarrassed, my innocent wife?” I feel my cheeks heat and I bite my tongue deciding to stay silent. We stop outside of his chambers and he pulls me inside sealing the door leaving Benji on the other side. 

I knew what tonight was going to entail but I had hoped he would’ve been more kind and caring of my needs and wants. I performed my duty as best as I could but it didn’t make it any more enjoyable or less painful. He pulls me up from the bed and pushes me out of his doors leaving me in the halls in my slip holding my wedding dress. I look down at the stone floor as it cools my bare feet. 

“Princess?” Benjis voice is soft as he stands in front of me. 

“Can you please take me back to my chambers?” I whisper continuing to look down. 

He pulls his cape off and wraps it around me. I drop my wedding gown outside Brandon’s chambers as I cling to the cape. As we start up the stairs I wince at the pain between my thighs. We make it to my chambers and a sob of relief bubbles out of me. I turn towards Benji to thank him and see that his jaw is set and he looks ready to murder someone. 

“I need you to command me to stay right here. In this exact spot. Or I will walk down those stairs and make you a widow.” I can feel his temper rising around us and I’m tempted to let him make me a widow this very second but this isn’t a decision to be made in haste.

“I need you here with me. I need you to find a servant to bring me water for a bath and I need you to do something with discretion.” my voice hushed as I look around the halls. 

“Anything.” he nods his head searching my eyes. 

“Go to the maester. Offer him good coin for his silence. Say you had a lapse in judgment and slept with a maid and you need moon tea. Please Benji, I can’t have his child.” I beg. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Brandon pushes me outside of his chambers again and I see Benji clenching his fists. He falls into step beside me as we walk silently back to my chambers. I gave up on wearing slippers to his chambers because the cool stone on the walk back helps ground me. This has been happening once every fortnight for the past three moons and I either have Benji or my personal handmaiden retrieve my moon tea. 

“I’ll be back with the tea.” Benji says lowly leaving me at my chamber doors. 

“Benji I don’t need,” I stutter. “He made me suck-“ I shake my head feeling my cheeks burn and I hear him deeply inhale. 

“Princess,” his voice like gravel as his eyes slide to mine. 

“Can you just come in with me?” my voice barely audible as I hold my door open. He sighs and follows allowing the door to shut behind us. 

“What can I do for you?” he stands at my doors back ridged. 

“I just need you to be here with me,” I sit and he claims the chair furthest from me. “Do you find me repulsive now that I’m sullied?” I don’t mean for my words to sound as pathetic as they do. 

“I could never find you repulsive.” he replies quickly. “I think you’re the most ethereal being I’ve ever met.” his voice laced with reverence. 

“Why do you think my husband wants to cause me so much pain? Or is that how it’s supposed to feel? I don’t have anyone to talk to.” I fidget my fingers and hear his sharp inhale. 

“It wouldn’t hurt if he was worshiping you properly. He’s a fool he should have his face buried,” he stops himself and finds his composure. “I’m sorry, please forgive my words Princess.” 

“The only place his face is buried is my neck as he ruts into me. I used to try to think of someone else in hopes that it would make it more pleasurable but when that didn’t help I just learned to keep my eyes squeezed shut and toss out a couple fake moans.” I should feel embarrassed to be divulging this to Benji but it feels so relieving to talk to someone about it. 

“He should be able to tell the difference.” he shakes his head as I see his knuckles turning white from his grip on the chair. 

“I don’t know I can be convincing.” I allow myself to chuckle.  “Yeah, so good,” I moan followed by a whimper and I burst out in giggles as Benjis head snaps up to me. 

“Has he made you come?” his dark eyes search my face. 

“No.” I shake my head as my blush revives on my neck. “He just uses me and throws me out of his chambers. I could live with it if I at least got that relief but I just get to walk back to my chambers and go to bed.” I sigh leaning back in the chair. 

“Can I, I want to,” he bites his lip turning away. “I should let you rest for the night.” he starts to stand. 

“Say it.” I nod my head prompting him. 

“Can I make you come?” my heart skips at his words and I nod my head quickly. “I need to hear you say it.” his voice wrecked. 

“Can you please make me come, Benji?” I bat my eyelashes at him. He rises from the chair and stalks over to me. He towers over me before he kneels before me and begins to trail his hands up my legs spreading them. My cheeks burn as my core is exposed to his face and he looks up to me with hooded eyes. 

“Has he ever kissed you here before?” he asks propping my legs on his shoulders. 

“No,” I shake my head gasping at the coolness of his metal armor on my calves. 

“May I?” he looks up to me as he places soft kisses on the inside of my thighs. 

“Please Benji,” I reply breathlessly. 

He licks up my slit and my chest heaves. His tongue circles my neglected bud and I push my hips into his mouth. Whimpers pour from my mouth as he pulls me flush against his face. He moans into my center as my hips grind against him. I brush against his nose and I moan loudly burying my hand in his hair holding him close. I continue to buck against him as he laps at me. 

“Benji, I-“ I sob as pleasure washes over me and his tongue continues to work me through it. He pulls back and looks up to me with a smile on his face. 

“Those moans sounded nothing like what you did before.” his words laced with confidence. 

“I want to come again.” I say still trying to catch my breath. 

“As you command, Princess.” he dips back between my legs. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Benji is walking me back to my chambers after a particularly rough night with Brandon. I’m starting to loathe my husband more than I thought possible. Benji follows me into my chambers and seals the doors behind us. 

“Your handmaiden should be back with the tea shortly.” he sits on a chair in front of me trying to gauge my emotions. 

“Would you still kill him if I asked?” I look up to him and he nods. 

“Just say the word.” he searches my eyes. 

“Maybe we use poison or something so they won’t know it’s you.” I nibble on my lip trying to come up with a plan. 

“It’d have to be one that would make him suffer. He doesn’t deserve an easy way out.” he shakes his head working himself up. 

“Your devotion never ceases to amaze me.” I look to him and stand as there’s a soft knock at my door. “Thank you.” I smile at my handmaiden and click the door shut once again. I drain the contents of the cup and join Benji on the chairs again. 

“When do you want him dead?” his tone low as he watches my slip rise up. 

“As soon as possible. I can’t take it anymore.” I sigh stretching. “You can say no because I know where I just came from but can you make me feel good Benji? I want to forget everything.” I slide my eyes to him. 

“I will always want you.” he starts to rise from his chair. 

“I need you, Benji. Show me how good it can feel.” I plead as I pull him over to the bed. 

We start to remove his armor and when I finally lift off his shirt and feel his bare chest I groan. He pulls my slip above my head and leaves me bare before him. He pulls me into a kiss and I melt into him as our chests mold together. I unlace his trousers and he begins to kick them off. We fall back onto the bed and I feel his hardness pressed against my leg. I buck against him waiting for him to push into me. 

“There’s no rush, I’m taking my time with you.” he kisses down my neck and between my breasts. He licks across them and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I gasp as he swirls his tongue around my hardened peak and my nails hold onto his back. He chuckles and moves the next to offer it the same attention. 

“Benji,” I gasp as he grazes his teeth across my nipple before pulling up. 

“There’s a lot of pleasure I can show you, Princess.” he kisses down my navel and I buck my hips in anticipation. “Do you wanna come?” he chuckles pressing my hips into the bed. 

“Please Benji,” I cry out as his lips attach to my bud. 

As he circles his tongue I feel his fingers glide through my wetness and I squirm. He slips two fingers into my core and I whine squeezing my thighs around his head. When he curls his fingers I feel my high building in my lower stomach. My whines become more high pitched the faster he pumps his fingers. 

“Benji right there, yes,” I gasp as I come undone. He slowly comes back up my body trailing soft kisses. “I need you in me.” I wrap my legs around his waist. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any point.” his eyes look to mine and I nod kissing him softly. 

He slowly pushes in and I whimper at his stretch. He slowly rocks his hips into me as I mewl clinging to him. He rolls his hips and a broken moan falls from my lips. The difference is absolutely mind blowing. The pleasure he is pulling from my body has me feeling as if I’m flying through the sky. 

“How does it feel, Princess?” Benji rasps as I clench around him. 

“I’m so full of you, Benji.” I gasp holding him closer. He starts to pump into me at a quicker pace and my eyes roll back. His fingers find my throbbing bud causing his name to fall from my lips like a prayer. I pulse around him losing myself to my pleasure and I feel him begin to fill me. He slides out of me and pulls me against his chest kissing my face and smoothing my hair. I feel safe and loved in his arms.

“I’m gunna kill your husband tomorrow.” he promises as he rests his forehead on mine. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I capture his lips as we get lost in each other once more. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

Part Two

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n

[sirenmoth]

Warm Winter

Werebear x Human!Reader

Synopsis: Your teddy be- i mean werebear partner doesn't like you out in the cold

Cold weather was a given living so far out in the woods, winter was when it got bad with the mountines of snows and skin biting blizzards, below freezing temperatures and scared fresh food other than meat and canned rations. Keeping a ental note to try and make and indoor greenhouse somewhere in the cabin to grow fresh produce when the spring thaw arrives. The small cabin as big enough and sturdy enough to keep the harsh elements of a mid november snow storm out, through the wind crept in through what cracks crevices it could find, another mental notes of what needed repairs.

Your partner slept more during these months to conserve energy, curling up on a makeshift bed of fur pelts and stolen camping equipment. You, however, didn't have that biological need to sleep for months on and off, becoming restless staying in bed all day. So you built a routin for the colder months, put in place when the sun starting setting earlier over the dusted white treetops and frozen over lakes. Keeping as quiet as possible, as not to disturb the ball of nesting fur in the bedroom. You saved the outdoor activities and chores for the warmer seasons, those usually consisted of fixing and repairing the damange the winter war has done, building up the little fort the two of you call home al over again, hoping it can survive another battle against the elements.

The cabin didn't have a lot of rooms, just a bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom, not much but it's home. You always leave the bedroom for later, giving it a deep clean in the fall before your partner goes to sleep and in the spring when your partner wakes up.

The first thing you do is start a fire, the small woodburner in the living is enough to provide heat for most part in the cabin, a massive wood pile sat beside it, another one sat in the kitchen by the stove. All lovingly chopped by your partner before they decided to crash for the winter.

Next you start on the kitchen, checking the food preservatives in the pantry and marking down what was running low and what was due to be expired soon down on a clipboard they brought a year years back when you asked if they had another to keep records for food during winter, knowing your partner it was from a campsite of unsuspecting campers who didn't know or didn't care they were in a bears' territory.

Picking up a bucket and broom on your way out, wanting to dust and sweep both the living room and kitchen. Thankfully the place stayed clean throught most of the colder months due to your being the only one active. Walking over to the bathroomand putting the bucket in the tub, the sink was too shallow for it, and walking back out to pick dust the shelves and organise. A quick glance outside, the snow has picked up into a light blizzard, white specks dances around in the air in rapid movments, the landscape now a frozen white desert. It was going to be a rough night, silently you prayed the cabin could stand up against it and keep you both warm and safe.

Finding a new place at the moment is less than desirable.

Retriving the bucket from the bathroom and turing off the tap, it was barely half full but everything needs to be conserved during the winter season. A loud bang rang out throughout the cabin, startling you, nearly making you drop the bucket. The source of the noise was one of the indoor shutters that flew open from a strong gust of wind, hastily you put the bucket down and , as quickly as you could, placed it back in its place, hoping no heat escaped.

An errie quite falls over the space, listening for movement, waiting to see if the noise distrubed the snoozing mass. A low growl emitted throughout the small space, the beast was awake and fully aware of a certain human missing from the nest. The sound made you froze, stopping the sudden repairs on the window shutter.

"I'll be there in a minute." you call out, finishing securing the shutter in place and closing it, latching it shut. Turing around you come face to face with the recently awoken werebear, grumpy and tired their sleep was interupted, standing hunched over in the door frame, staring you down. "I was just cleaning, I was going to come back to bed once I'm done." You attempt to explain.

Your explaination does very little as you're lifted up into the air and over their shoulder, dragged back to the bedroom, all chores supposed to be done be damned.

A strained groan leaves your throat as you get dropped with force onto the makeshift bed, then a heavy, hulking figure practiaclly collapse on top of you as soon as you make contact with the pile of fur and equipment. Smiling, you put up a fake struggle, squirming around to try and break free. Another growl is heard, a warning to stop it, still you continue to movie, trying to find a comfy spot. A strong paw traps you, pinning you down by the waist and pulls you in, close enough to feels your bears' warmth but not enough to suffocate you in their fur.

"I had work to do. Who do you think maintains this place while you sleep?" You poke at the soft pile beside you, which grunts in response, too tired to properly respond to your sarcastic remark.

"Mhm, I love you too." another grunt in reply. Rolling over to cuddle in closer, sighing contently, pressing your face into their chest. Feeling them curl around you like a personal heater, a furnace, keeping you warm from the cold. Sleep once again entered your mind, knowing you're not going anywhere any time soon, you let it.

Hopefully you'll be able to get everything you missed done tomorrow, along with what is also planned for that day. Knowing you hace your work cut out for you. Right now you let youself be effectively trapped and pinned to the bed, you decide staying isn't so bad, beside you need rest for the double work you've got set up for tomorrow.

[quickiesgirl]

Hard To Resist - Joel Miller

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Established Relationship, Morning Wood, Handjob, Blowjob, Short Fic, My Shitty Writing.

Kinktober 16 - Wake Up BJ

The morning sun peeked through the hanging curtains as you gradually opened your eyes and adjusted to the brightness that filled the room. You pulled the covers up slightly and snuggled back into the strong pair of arms that held you in a loving embrace, one wrapped around your waist while the other lay beneath your neck and the pillow. 

Lustful memories of the night flooded your mind. Seconds felt like minutes as the two of you grappled for each other and began peeling off articles of clothing. You had the whole house to yourselves and took that to your advantage after date night. 

You suddenly lose thought when you feel his morning erection bulging prominently into your ass. The same one that’d been pounding you from behind nearly hours ago, forcing you to ride out your fourth orgasm of the night into your fifth.

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and began teasingly grinding your hips back into Joel, pussy growing wetter by the second, leaving a trail of warm arousal on his skin, listening as he grunts softly in your ear. 

You slipped out of his grasp, careful not to wake him while you lay your hands on his chest, slowly rolling him onto his back and sneaking to the end of the bed, where you reside between his round, hairy thighs. The soft sheets slid down the curves of your hips, uncovering his naked body to your admiring eyes. 

Joel looked incredibly peaceful in his slumber, undisturbed with his relaxed body forming perfectly into the mattress, his broad chest rising and falling with ease, and facial muscles relaxed with his slim lips puckered slightly. 

You grabbed the base of his large, heavy cock and lower down, pressing a gentle kiss against his mushroomed-shaped tip, swiping away the bead of pre-cum with your tongue, hearing him growl in his slumber. 

You take your flattened, saliva-soaked tongue and gradually lick up the underside until you reach the head of his length, where you delicately trace your pointed tongue back and forth, along with your slick, lips grazing into his skin as you simulate his sensitive glans, teasing him endlessly with this action. 

Joel shifted against the mattress with his cock twitching from the feel of your pursed lips placing kisses down his protruding veins, to his firm, heavy balls before you gently scooped them into your mouth and suckled lightly. You lace your hand around his member, pumping him a few times while your other one keeps his thighs open for the time being.

Pleasuring noises began to fill the bedroom as his hips shutter beneath your touch. You let off with a wet pop, wrapping your mouth around his tip and engulfing his dick in heat that felt absolutely incredible. Saliva coats his cock while you lower yourself down. Taking every inch until your nose is buried into his pubic mound, gagging lightly when his head strikes the back of your throat. 

You cover your arms over his squirming hips, lashes fluttering up at the handsome man as you watch him begin to stir awake. Your cheeks suction around him, feeling his veins pulsate along the underside of his length while you bob your head up and down. 

Joel blinked his heavy-lidded eyes open with a slight haziness before an intoxicating moan escaped his lips, “Oh, sweetheart, oh, fuckin' christ…” 

He gazed down at your beautiful self and cupped the back of your head, stabilizing himself before raising his hips off the bed, thrusting his cock into your mouth. Cheeks hollowing around him one last time before strings of his sticky, sweet cum cover your tongue, swallowing every single drop with a pleased hum. 

With a warm smile, you looked up at the older man with that piercing gaze, hands snaking up his stomach while he caught his stolen breath and settled into the mattress. 

“Well, good morning to you.” He spoke in that low, morning voice as you crawled up and laid upon his warm chest, heavy arms lacing comfortably around your body with his softening cock against your plush thighs. 

"Morning, handsome." You murmur, grabbing his scruffy, graying chin and tilting his head to the side, allowing yourself more access to place small kisses and bite marks on his inner neck.  

"Don't get too comfortable there, darlin’," Joel warned, grazing his fingers along your lower back, feeling your skin prickling under his touch and your body squirm ever so slightly.

"Why do you say that?" You ask, feeling his calloused hands grab your hips firmly and his knee tuck between your thighs before swiftly rolling you over. 

You gasped, eyes broadening as you looked up at the rugged man hovering over you, pressing into your heated core while he leaned down, purring in your ear sensually, "Cause I'm ‘bout to devour this sweet little pussy." 

Joel Miller Smut Taglist: @cutesyscreenname

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

[lovlidollie]

ik you're in a kenji zone but I still can't get over Feyd soooooooooo

Feyd always expects you to come and paint him before he goes to arena. What would he do if you forgot to show up to paint him one day?

savage

pairing ; feyd x gn!reader

wc ; 1.2k

cw ; slightly gore-y description at the end

rating ; general audiences, perhaps slightly suggestive at the end ?

author’s note ; oh no don’t you worry !! feyd is still on my mind 24/7 :3 him and kenji are both my husbands ehehe also wtf this is such a good prompt i love the way your mind thinks ! i don’t particularly think this is very good but i hope you like it anyway 😞 not proof read ^^

feyd is uncharacteristically loud. usually he’s quiet, like a viper, sneaking up on you when you least expect it. he’s calculating and cold, likes to observe before making an important decision. before his fights he’s more often than not calm and collected (well as much as he can be anyway). he’s confident, he knows he’s going to win so what’s the point in worrying? this time however, he’s murderous. he’s yelling and breaking things. he’s barking orders at the maids, veins on his neck protruding dangerously. feyd’s eyes are narrowed in contempt, mere slits as they flit about the room almost in panic. he isn’t able to stay still, can’t look at the same place for more than a second.

the battle’s already been postponed by fifteen minutes and while the general public is too scared to push him, his uncle is not. it wouldn’t be long before the baron is floating down into the staging area, hissing orders and forcing him to get on with the show.

his heavy leather boots stomp against the ground, and he grunts. he’s given you the absolute honour of painting him before his fight and you simply decide to not show up? are you not aware of the hundreds that would die to be in your place? did you not know about the dozens he had to feed his harpies in order to keep them appeased?

“where is she.” feyd growls, low and furious. not a question, more so a threat. the maids tremble in a corner, trying not to look at him or at the three bloody bodies piled on the ground. they’d pushed him too far, tried to paint him when he’s made it clear that only you have his permission to do so. his blades were through their hearts before they even noticed what they did wrong.

like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, he doesn’t just walk into arena. no, the pre-battle painting is tradition. it’s important. and you not being here to do it for him is disrespectful. feyd is seething, teeth grinding together so hard it makes the maids flinch. the sparring knife he has in his hand cracks as the wood splinters. he grunts and throws it against the wall, shards of metal and hard wood ricocheting.

where. the fuck. were you. you never not showed up. feyd’s made sure of it, cleared out your schedule and ensured that you’d have the best guards on the harkonnen battalion to escort you. you always came.

the cries and screams of “feyd-rautha!” get louder and he feels his head pound. a headache begins to build at the base of his neck as the his adoring fans stomp harder. an animalistic noise is ripped from his throat and his eyes shutter close, neck rolling in an attempt to calm down. oh he was going to kill you. he was going to rip you apart. he was going to ruin you. he was going to-

the doors to the chamber fly open and there you are. there you fucking are. panting and struggling to catch your breath, your wide eyes zero in on him and you gulp, forcing stuffy air into your lungs. the hair on your arms stand up with static when you see the ferocious expression plastered on feyd’s face.

“i-” you try open your mouth to explain your absence but you can’t speak. he’s enraged, anger pulsing through his blood. feyd’s mouth presses into a tight line and he snarls at you. his teeth are blackened and he looks like a monster.

“quiet.” it’s harsh and a jarring difference from how he normally speaks to you. the room seems to buzz in silence. you shrink back. you have a reason for being late, you really do!

feyd stalks backwards, never taking his eyes off you and snatches the small carafe of thick, viscous liquid from a table. his gaze trails your figure slowly, checking you inconspicuously for injuries, trying to figure out what the fuck took you so long. he strides towards you and you fight the urge to spring back and runaway. you didn’t like him when he was like this. he was scary and vicious, a savage beast.

he glares at you as he thrusts the carafe into your chest, a silent order. you’re smart and say nothing, shaky fingers reaching out and taking it. feyd’s chest ripples when he turns around. he can’t look at you right now, doesn’t think he can stomach it before he’s roughing you up. you see the way his biceps flex with barely restrained rage.

you work quickly, already deeply aware of how far the fight’s been delayed. it isn’t your best. the lines are messy and crooked, splatters spread over the expanse of his wide back because of your trembling. he’s silent the whole time, taking in great heaving breaths. adrenaline is running through him, he’s itching for a fight. needs to feel blood against his skin and the roar of applause in his ears.

when you’re finished with his back you move in front of him. you’re shorter, barely reaching his shoulders. feyd grunts and you sense him roll his eyes. you work faster, dragging inky oil over his obliques and down his nipples. you barely restrain a shiver.

the second you mutter a soft “done,” and your fingers leave his chest, feyd rips himself away from you, shaking his head. he feels his heartbeat thundering and it’s making him restless. you think he’s a lot like a cornered animal right now.

he dresses quickly, throwing his armour on haphazardly. his chest plate is crooked but you don’t have the courage to say something. feyd marches down to the entrance to the arena, not even sparing you a second glance. he doesn’t bother with his dual blades. he’s after gore tonight, blood and guts and agony. you’re shaking, tears welling up in your eyes as you think of what he’ll do to you.

you sniffle just as he pauses at the door. a low, demeaning laugh leaves his lips, guttural and raspy. you shrink into yourself, feeling humiliated.

“chambers.” he mutters after silence takes over. the implications are clear. you are to meet in his chambers the second the fight is over, when no one else will be around to hear what he does to you. you start growing anxious, sweat beading on your forehead.

feyd doesn’t wait for a response before he’s walking through the doors, cheers overpoweringly loud. you don’t make your way to the stands, too afraid of what you’ll see.

(the fight is one of feyd’s longest. instead of playing around with them for a bit and then killing them almost instantaneously, he lets one of his opponents scamper to the edges of the arena while he deals with the other. feyd prances around him, like a leopard, toying with his prey. when he pounces, it’s with his mouth, teeth tearing into his carotid and ripping it out. he’s fuelled by pure anger and adrenaline, nails clawing at his rivals’ chest and face. feyd turns the first body into a mutilated, bloody mess, so destroyed that he’s barely recognisable. he makes the other opponent watch before stalking after him and doing the same. when he finally, after hours of battle, shows up at his chambers, he’s covered in blood and intestines. and there you are. pretty, innocent you, perched in his bed for him. oh, you were in for it.)

[sunlightmurdock]

okay apocalypse dbf!jake will not let me go again so- I need the confession 🙏 I need the tear-stained first kiss after an attack, with too much adrenaline and too little care for the inappropriate age gap

EEK me either me either me either ! I’m so insane about him rn

And I feel like this particular attack would be a big one. Resources are running low and Jake won’t leave you up on that mountain by yourself, so he has no choice but to bring you with him. He has done what he can, preparing you for this.

It scares you, even when it’s just all pretend with him. He’s not as kind when he’s training you. Even as you’re crying and telling him to stop it, that you don’t want to, he’s yelling and insisting that you aim straight and breathe — that these things won’t stop no matter how much you cry, or scream, or beg.

He doesn’t mean to be cruel. It would be far more cruel to leave you unprepared, to let something happen to you.

This is a low stakes run, but you can feel that he’s unhappy having you here. It’s itching at you that maybe it’s because you couldn’t hit that target last time. He had tied a thick tree branch to a length of rope, pushed hard, and let it swing. Your first moving target. Not so much as a chip in the wood. You’ve got a pretty big knife, one that could tear muscle from bone— he won’t give you a gun.

You know he’s focused on protecting you, it’s an awful feeling to think that you may not be able to do the same for him, especially after all he has done for you so far.

It’s a gas station, back off of the road, early enough on that it hasn’t yet been completely raided. Heavy metal shutters cover the windows, but Jake makes quick work of the padlocks on the back door. The power has all gone out by now, it’s just the light from your flashlights to guide the way. Jake is two paces ahead, close enough to jump back and pull you behind him if he needs.

It’s eerily quiet. You’re stuck to him like a shadow as he surveys for danger, and ultimately decides that it’s okay.

Keep away from the doors and windows, stay where I can see you. Dejected and feeling more uselessly childish than you have in a long time, you sweep the shelves and take what you can while Jake does the same. Continually, he checks over top of the shelves to see if he can see the top of your head.

It’s going too well, it tricks you both into thinking that this is going to be easy. You’re focused, on your knees and rummaging through the medicines to take everything you could need. You don’t even notice the noise that you’re making. Jake doesn’t mind the rummaging sounds, it means he can hear where you are without needing to watch.

But then, so can the employee who took such care to fortify this place before he took swallowed back a cocktail and pills the second that he saw his home in flames and his undead mother staggering around on the news footage. He made himself comfortable before he passed. His shoes and his jacket are in the back room. His socks are almost silent against the linoleum as he staggers around the corner.

He’s tall, and skinny, and hadn’t hurt anyone in his entire life. But he’s close enough by the time you spot him that his height gives you no room to stand up. His eyes are wide and gorging, the sockets sullen and lifeless. You haven’t seen one of them so clean before, part of him still looks human. His lips are pulled back, animal, growling weakly as he reaches for you and tumbles forwards.

Jake hears the scream and he swears that he’s going to be too late. Even just across the floor of the gas station — it takes seconds for one of those things to get their jaws around you. He’s sick to his stomach, his gun pulled and the safety off, uncaring about if the sound draws attention for miles around.

He rounds the corner and spots the puddle of dark, thick blood first. His heart sinks to his stomach, until he realises that it isn’t yours. You push the corpse back, off of you. Your knife is plunged through the socket of its eye, it’s dead. You take one look at Jake, and crumble, tears pouring from your eyes as you stare at your blood soaked hands.

“Shh, I’m here. Shh, shh, shh. You’re okay,” Jake whispers, sinking to his knees and pulling you off of the floor, cradling you in his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t see it— it was —“

“I know, sweet girl,” Jake whispers, rubbing soothingly at your back. He presses his lips together and kisses softly at your temple. “You did so good. You did it. You’re alright now.”

Again, Jake kisses your temple softly, hugging you closer. His weight and his smell, his strong arms wrapped around you. All of it almost makes you forget where you are. Blinking back any more tears, you turn your head as he kisses at your temple again. This time, you’re looking at him as he pulls back.

Tears soaking your lashes and your cheeks, staring up at him. Jake’s throat feels thick, his mouth suddenly dry as your fingers press into his arms. You are okay, you did it. He’s here. You sit forwards first, and Jake’s met with the exact thing that he has been trying to stop himself from thinking about for these past few weeks. Your lips are just as soft as they look, and your hands pawing at his arms make him melt into you.

Before all of this, Jake tried so hard to fight it. You’re so much younger. Your father would have never approved. Now, he supposes — it doesn’t matter. What matters, is keeping you safe, and he’s so glad that you’re safe.

His hand grabs firmly at the nape of your neck as he presses closer, deepening his hold on you, kissing you firmly.

[undertheorangetree]

Our Gentle Sin

The Inn

Summary- A winter storm brings about an opportunity at a local inn.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Dry humping. Fingering. Handjob. Porn without plot.

Author’s Note- Fair warning this is only the first 600ish words out of 4k. Read the rest on AO3 if you like it, the link is down below :)

find the series masterlist here

dividers by firefly-graphics

When they finally came upon the inn, she felt as though she could have cried in relief.

In the year she had been travelling with Uhtred’s men, she has learned that it is a miracle in and of itself to sleep below a roof. Usually, they slept under the stars when they were travelling, huddled around a low burning fire with one hand clasped around a sword. But a mid winter storm- howling wind and spitting, icy rain- had been enough to send Uhtred fleeing into the nearest inn.

It is a quaint little place, though she has few to compare it to. Clean and sturdy with a fire burning hot enough to fill the room. A tavern sat half filled on the main floor with a handful of rooms staring down at them from a balcony that encircled it. Finan laughs when he sees it, not quite believing their good luck before slapping an excited hand against Sihtric’s arm, turning to grin at both she and Osferth. She mimics his smile before shaking the ice from her hair, hearing Uhtred mutter how he will go and inquire about a room, the others sounding their agreements quietly.

A rough hand steadying her head causes her to look up, meeting Osferth’s shy smile. He brushes what is left of the ice from her hair gently and though one could mistake the red painting his cheeks as chill from the night, she knows in her heart it’s a blush. He always blushes when he touches her.

Uhtred makes his way back to the group before she can say anything, Osferth’s arm brushing against her own as he turns forward.

“Two rooms left. You may fight amongst yourselves over who sleeps where, I am going to get a drink.”

He leaves it at that, turning back to make his way toward the barkeep after throwing them the keys. Finan catches the keyring in one quick hand, twirling it around his finger.

“I will share with Osferth,” she announces after a brief pause. “I have no desire to listen to the rest of you snore all night. I should like one night of peace.”

“You say that as if the baby monk does not snore as well,” Finan teases, though he still begins working one key free of the ring.

“He is much quieter than you lot. And takes up far less room besides.”

Sihtric snorts a laugh as Finan hands the key over. She snatches it quickly, bidding them both goodnight before making her way to the stairs. Osferth does the same before he is scurrying after her, falling in step beside her once they are on the balcony. She scans the doors until finding their own, slipping the key in and unlocking it.

The room is not terrible. A fire is already burning in the hearth, setting the room alight with a pretty red glow. The bed is nicer than she would have thought, though she can smell the straw the mattress is stuffed with even from where she is standing. The window has been bolted shut, but she can still hear the storm raging outside, the icy rain pelting itself against the shutters. It is simple, the room, but it is warm and it is dry and for that she is grateful.

A soft click rings through the room as Osferth locks the door behind them and then she is on him, half pinning him against the thick wood, both arms slinging around his neck. He makes a shocked noise against her lips but his hands close around the curve of her waist without a moment's more hesitation.

Read the rest on AO3

[charnelhouse]

I know this is self indulgent AF and probs you won’t even want to get to this when we’re all still howling at the moon about zombieland Joel but I would really love to know about the happy ending him on the farm 💕💕

A/N: Joel Miller x F!Reader. Oral. Age gap but not defined.

Joel tastes her at blue dawn. The pale threads of morning slipping beneath the wooden shutters of their bedroom. He can smell winter outside–pine and burnt wood. The smoky bite of last night’s fire touching the corners of their bed. 

“Shit,” she whimpers, fingers caught in his hair. She fists it hard when Joel licks deeper. Her knees digging into his ears, her hips bucking beneath his chin. He may be older, but he still knows how to get her off.

He introduces a finger and then a second. He marvels at how hot she gets, the interior of her body swelling with a fever that makes her sweat and ache and sing Joel Joel Joel.

He thrusts to the knuckle before curling them strategically. She moans.

“That’s it, baby,” he says before pressing an indulgent kiss to her inner thigh. “Ride it out.”

There was a time before when they were only violence. He remembers her covered in blood and fueled by survival. It’s aged her in a way. She’s still beautiful, but marked. A scar slithers down her belly and Joel catches himself stroking it more often than not. 

Remember when I almost lost you? Remember when you saved me? Remember. Remember.

“God,” she cries out when he fucks his fingers up. He twists his hand so he can press his thumb to her clit and she’s soaked. It’s all wet between her thighs and she can go on like that forever. It’s that youthful energy matched with how in tune she is with him. It is like they’re made of the same material though sometimes he feels unfit to claim her or care for her like this. 

You should find someone your own age. Someone who isn’t growing so old so fast. 

Say that again and I’ll kill you, Joel.

He worries about her. He worries about what she’ll do if he dies or if he can’t get around, as well. 

Then I’ll protect you. Make up for all the times you kept me safe. 

You’ve saved me plenty, honey. 

He moves up her body, bracing one arm beside her head while his hand continues to work her into a frenzy. Her lips part, a sheen of sweat glossing her brow. He grins down at her, studying the way her expression wrinkles as he drives her toward pleasure.

“Look at me,” he orders and, immediately, she opens her eyes. She stares back at him, lashes fluttering as she makes a hungry, low noise at the back of her throat. “Good girl.” 

He feels her come around his fingers, clenching in soft, hurried spasms. He keeps his fingers inside her, slipping them deep before drawing them out in slow strokes. She’s dripping and he slides easily. Finally, she seizes his arm, nails biting into his flesh. 

“Too much?” he asks and she nods, mute and overwhelmed. 

“I think you could go again,” he argues before he’s climbing back down to the end of the bed. He presses his face against her, licks a stripe up her cunt that makes her shiver. She pulses like an irregular heartbeat. “Joel,” she sighs. 

It’s music to him.

[starphasedd]

Morning songs

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader (nsfw)

Ao3

He was so quiet and gentle about it–something you never really imagined of him.

You didn't wake until your muscles were starting to tighten; a string pulling painfully tight in your lower stomach and curling hard. It was now a very familiar feeling since you and Simon started seeing each other.

You woke slowly, feeling the dragging pressure of his big cock being repeatedly buried inside you. Though he wasn't rough, his girth still stretched you somewhat uncomfortably in the beginning. It was an aching pain that very quickly faded into a pleasure no other lover has ever been able to give you.

He thrusted into slowly, cautiously, as if he could break you. And maybe he could–last night he was particularly rough with you. He pounded you into the mattress with great force, holding your smaller arms above your head with just one of his hands. He made you cum twice within ten minutes. And after he finished inside you, he cleaned you with his tongue. In fact, he licked your pussy for hours. You felt bad; but you ended up passing out while he licked you.

You wondered how he could kiss and lick you for so long–how he could possibly enjoy it that much. But then you remembered his mask. No wonder he enjoyed your juices for so long. He had been deprived of taste for most of his life.

You vaguely remember talking to him as you fell into your slumber.

"Sorry, Si….I'm–I can't keep my eyes open…"

At that point, you didn't realize he stopped licking you to climb over your sweat glistening body. He learned down, bracing both arms on either side of your head, and softly began to trail kisses up to your ear.

"Can I have you in the morning?" He whispers into your ear, his deep baritone sending chills down your spine.

"Anything." You moan softly, turning to place a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He mmm'd low in his throat, and that's all you remember.

The memory slowly came back to you as your orgasm began to crest. Then, you were registering your surroundings.

You were in the swamps at a safehouse. There was a single sized mattress underneath you, the only thing separating you and Simon from the wood flooring. You were on the porch where there were no walls, only a thin screening to keep the bugs out. Fog surrounded the cabin, and you marveled at the beautiful sound of the crawdads singing in the distance. The air was moist and warm as it stuck to your skin.

One of Simon's arms was underneath your head, and the other pressed flat to your tummy as he lazily thrusted into you. It only took a few moments of full consciousness for your orgasm to finally hit after waking you up.

You thrived and moaned in his arms. He tightened them when he knew you were finally awake. His large body wrapped around your back, and he lifted one of your legs to get better leverage. His nose dug into the nape of your neck, and you reveled in the feeling of his hot, labored breaths on your skin.

His fingers dug into your skin as he began reaching his peak, and you pressed your ass back into him playfully. He groaned at that.

After only a few more minutes, he was shuttering to a halt; bottoming out inside you as he filled you completely full of his seed.

His chest heaved back and forth violently as he tried to catch his breath. His lips pressed to the skin of your neck. You could feel a gentle tug at the corner of his mouth when you pressed back again him once more, squeezing everything out of him that you could.

His hand presses down on your tummy where his hard cock is still seated comfortably.

"Never wanna leave here." He speaks softly. His finger presses down on your skin to meet the tip of his cock inside you.

You turn your head towards him and slowly melt your lips to his.

"Then don't."

@astratheodora @meand-allmy-alteregos

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus was born into a royal family. He never knew his carrier and his sire always hated him. One day his sire informs him that he is being married off to Megatron and Soundwave in order to end the war.

Rodimus is upset because he's heard all sorts of horror stories about the Decepticons growing up. He doesn't want to bond with them. His sire gets mad and he learns that his carrier was sent away after his sire found out they give birth with their tanks and that he has the same thing. He is pawning him off to the Decepticons because no one else will take him and it's either them or a brothel.

Learning his own sire thats always hated him sold him off to the Decepticons who were a notorious barbarian and wild kingdom with a history of vicious battle practices and punishments should not have been as much of a surprise as it had been.

Maybe it wasn’t the being sold off that was surprising but the way his sire emptied his tiny chamber with fire like a cleanse and stripped him to a sheer gown cheap shareware wore in the brothels he frequented since getting rid of his carrier, another surprise he had not known, was the surprise.

Being grabbed and stripped down for all to see was shameful and scarring on his processor but for his sire to say he was glad to be rid of him after spitting on his fabrics was a new low even for his sire.

“I’ve finally rid this kingdom of the last filthy tank pest and now good fortune can finally befall us with you gone. First your disease of a carrier that I rid to the wilds and later watched be torn apart by beasts when they came back for you. And now I’m finally rid of you. A stain on my bloodline and kingdom.”

He couldn’t view clearly with the smoke and coolant leaking from his optics as his sire smashed the crate closed and sent him off on a one way shipping container that would later be burned for use by the decepticon faction.

Much like himself.

He could only lay on the wooden planks and sob to himself as he realized he was on a slow shipment to his torment and death. He would suffer a fate of pain much like carrier who’d been discarded like rotten meat in such a delicate state to the literal cyber wolves.

His forehelm kissed the rough crate giving him scratches along his face plates and wood rub as tears and smoke seeped his optics. The pungent scent did little to assuage the change of city to deep wilderness and by the time he stopped mourning over a creator, the only creator, who loved him and risked their life to get to him.

He was at the outskirts of Decepticon territory where the boarding guards grabbed his crate and spoke in a foreign language his processor did not know.

The em field of confusion gave him the impression none knew he was inside and he was correct in his assumptions since most sent the offered conjunx in royal finery with their creator by their side. If he were worthy of such traditions he wouldn’t be here at all and allowed to roam the castles doing as he pleased while training to take over the thrown like the few royal families from his stories allowed their sparklings.

But that was nothing short of a sparkling tale.

This was real.

And his reality was unsealed by clawed servos a few hours later inside what seemed to be a cabin kept warm by a large fire.

He shuttered his optics closed, arms tightening around his exposed nozzles as his stabilizers hiked up to hide his exposed reproductive array. He couldn’t seize the cold shivering and chatter of his denta but he could try blocking out the horrified gasps and sounds of heavy pedes rushing off as tentacles leered above him.

He wasn’t expecting a soft blanket to cover and wrap around him. The warm, delicate, tentacles that lifted him from inside the crate and gently checked him over was also an optic opener.

Deep purple, black with hints of deep blue along with gray entered his bleary optics and the foreign language yet again reached his audials that came into focus.

He didn’t understand what they were saying to one another but he knew the field of disbelief and anger when it burst forth and presented itself in a physical manifestation of clenched servos and he was not ready to mentally handle the torture they would give him.

“Wait! I’ll make it easy! Just please don’t!”

He kept his optics down from meeting glowing red and the black visor that he couldn’t see anything past and tilted his neck cables to show submission. He was shaky in his movements as he forced himself to hold the position and lower the blanket but tentacles stopped him and the fields were hidden from his sensor net.

Rodimus couldn’t comprehend exactly what that meant or what they wanted from him since he knew he was sold for whatever they desired from him and seeing as his sire always spoke of him being nothing more than brothel material he figured his conjunx selling would basically be the same purpose.

“Mistake: anger toward sire. Intention: to have as conjunx, equal conjunx. Slave: you are not.”

The purple and deep blue mechs voice module was deceptively deep and an odd soothing capability that made Rodimus almost believe what he was saying.

“My conjunx is correct. We asked for your servo in conjunx ritus. Not to be sold and treated like this. May we know who did this to you? We shall send word to your kingdom and hunt down the scoundrels who’ve defiled and hurt you as such.”

The command and seething yet restrained emotions that swam in the other mechs vox told Rodimus this was the leader of the decepticons who lead his armies to ruin the cities and kingdoms that dare stood in his way. This was the kings conjunx who stood right by his side and conquered in equal just as he did.

This was the pair his sire sold him to.

Two mechs he couldn’t hope to defend himself from no matter the kind words they try to imply nor the care they show now…they were mechs in power just as his sire…one wrong move…

“I can freshen myself and become presentable. There is no need to worry or concern. I am fine.”

“You are most certainly not,” the king burst forth.

The purple mech held out a quiet servo to the king and took a clip step closer making Rodimus vents hitch.

“Wash racks: in need of. First aid: inside as well. Come: it will help.”

The slender mech used his tentacles to tighter around his frame and lift him further as he carried him easily to the wash racks that looked beautiful and cleaner than the rooms of his old kingdom. Not dirtied by polluted metals or filth. Carved, smoothed and crafted along with the earth and holed with warmth.

It made him less anxious as a solvent was ran and he was quietly directed to where everything was located before being given a key that locked the room from the inside and he was left in private where he stared at the closed door for a klik too long then rushed to lock it and stand with his back plates to it. Gaze searching for a way out only to stutter his vents with each realization that hit him.

He didn’t know where he was.

This could be a trick.

He could be surrounded.

His sire would not take him back.

He was all alone with no currency, no farming skills and no trade skills nor craftsmanship.

He was slagged and stuck here.

‘Frag,’ he sobbed outwardly, as he slid to the floor, balling up to hold himself just as he once did in the kingdom as a sparkling when locked in the dungeons.

‘Frag!’

He did not hear the quiet that rung out his sobs nor the promise made between two kings to destroy the rule of Rodimus’s sire who sold off his own creation when they only wanted his servo and spark after being graced with his kindness all those years ago.

[starzfallen]

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Contains: baby fever and reader on her period

Nsfw!!

This is an request!

Y/n was laying in bed cramping badly due to her being on her period. She tosses and turns in her soft bed. Jack was out during a mission. Y/n got up from her bed and made her way out of the room and onto the cabin floor.

She walked to the kitchen and her feet pattered on the hard wood foor. She grabbed a glass and poured some water in it. She chugged the water and once she finished she saw the cabin door opening.

Jack was in his rut, and y/n looked at him. She knew Jack can sense her ovulating. They both made eye contact.

"Well well well...isn't it slutty y/n." Jack said. His voice gravely and low. With a hint of danger in it.

"Yeah..look jack about what you said..about wanting kids with me..-" y/n paused and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you being like for real..?"

Jack looks at her with a hint of pride. And he walked over to her. His tail swaying and he bent down to her level. He leaned in closely to her ear and whispered.

"Of course I'm being for real princess.. you make me want a baby with you so badly...stuff you till your full of them." He spoke and brushed his fingers through her hair.

Y/n felt all the heat rush between her legs. Jack seem to take notice of this and picks her up by her thighs and walks into their shared bedroom. He gently puts her on their bed.

"If only you understand what you are doing to me." He spoke with arousal and desire.

Y/n was wiggling in her spot, her body on fire. Jack crawled on top of her and he lifted up his mask, his slippery tongue slithering out of his mouth, exposing all of his sharp teeth. He licks a stripe on y/ns neck. Y/n shuttered. Jack chuckled deeply.

He kissed her neck softly. Slowly making his way down. Y/n let's out little moans, feeling Jacks soft lips touch her delicate neck. Jacks big hands slid under her shirt and played with her perky breasts.

Y/ns breath hitched in her throat. She subconsciously grinds on jack. "No no princess..you have to wait." Jack said, one of his hands gripping her hips to make her stop. She let's out a whimper.

Jack lifts up her shirt, exposing her red lacy bra. He smirks and leans down and bites the fabric. He looks up at y/n with a deep desire. Jacks length in his pants grew with each second, wanting to be let free and spread its seed.

Y/n breathes swallowly. He takes off y/ns bra and saw her perky breasts. Perk up to his touch. He grabs one and massages it. His finger touching the nipple and making it harden under his touch. He let's out a low growl. Y/n panting and wanting things to speed up.

Jack connects his mouth to y/ns left nipple, sucking it. Y/n moaning and gripping the bed sheets. He detaches and kisses down her stomach. He looks up at her and she nods her head. He pulls down her pants and underwear. Seeing that she was wearing a pad.

"Oh~ so the little slut is on her period? Wanting to be breed don't you?" He teased and has his clawed finger trailing down her thigh. She nods.

Jack quickly takes her sex into his mouth, tasting her blood on his tongue. Y/n moans and her hand instinctly went down to his head and shoved him more into her sex. She moaned as jack laps her folds with his long tongue. Y/n cries out in pleasure and Jack pulls away. Wiping any blood on him.

"Can't wait to fill you in with my babies.." he unbuckles his pants and took them off along with his boxers. His cock sprung free and precum dripped out the the tip. Y/n cunt got more wet.

Jack leans forward and towers over y/n, moving his cock between her folds to lube himself up with her blood. He teasingly rub his tip on y/ns clit. She moans instantly. Jack can't wait any longer and pushes inside of her. He started getting developed into the heat. He started snapping his hips against y/n, buring his cock deeper into her.

"J-jack!~" y/n moaned out. Jack grabbed her throat and leaned closer to her neck, his breath hot on it. "Gonna breed you. Make you carry my babies." He spat out. His hips snapping faster and faster. The room filled with the bed creaking and wet sounds.

Y/n started becoming cock drunk and was letting out series of moans. Her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Jack growls and pounded harder. Y/n was crying from pleasure. She tried to get away but Jack kept her in place. "Where do you think your going?~" he spoke with a dark tone.

He started going harder. Y/n eyes roll back and her back arches. Jack is hunched over her. Fucking her pretty little brains out. Y/n is in total abliss. Her legs on jacks shoulders while she was in a breeding press. She can feel him deep inside of her. She can feel him everywhere in her.

Y/n cries out and feels her stomach tightening. Jack can feel her cunt getting tighter around his massive length. She yells and squirts everywhere. Spraying her juices everywhere. Jack continues fucking her. The bed making a creaking sound and seeing y/n being shoved back and forth. Or how her cunt is swallowing his whole length. Being greedy and wants his cum in her womb.

Jack speeds up and starts feeling the knot tighting in his stomach. He does one final thrust and buried himself deep into her. His hot creamy white ropes going into her womb. "Make me a daddy." He spoke. He finally calmed down and pulled out. Seeing his cock covered in blood.

"You're cleaning this up."

[blueywrites]

out to play

part one of the cottage: a beastly collection

werewolf!eddie x fem!satyr!oc, 8k

collection tags: all installments will feature monsterfucking unless otherwise noted. 18+ only.

story tags: 18+. established relationship, primal play, rough consensual sex, unprotected sex, scratching, biting, blood, pain, overstimulation, knot emergence, aftercare. 1st person pov. includes physical descriptions of the OC named Juniper/Junie.

here it is - my little writing break passion project! while this will not become a full-blown fic, I do have another nonsequential part already planned, and I am very open to contributing more to the monsterfucking universe 😌. If you have any ideas, let me know!

enjoy 🥰

In the wood, about a three-quarter mile by meandering path from the nearest village, there is a cottage. It is nestled among the alders, having been fitted into a small clearing like a creature smooths and flattens the ground to establish its resting place. This resting place is fringed on all sides by wild bramble, tall goldenrod, and soft ferns, which insulate it from any who may wander its way without being meant to. 

The cottage is quaint. It has four walls made from large stones of varied shapes and colors, a mish-mash of protection borne by the earth. Its windows are shut up tight by wooden shutters, and it is topped by a thick thatched roof to keep out the bitter wind. Its chimney is cold now; firewood lies in a dwindled pile near the modest garden out front, ready to be stored away for the season. In the small clearing where the cottage dwells and in the forest beyond, all is still quiet— the honeybees are sleeping, and the birds have not yet returned from their migration south. But the clover is beginning to emerge again. Dew has replaced the frost. And today, the air is sweet with the promise of springtime. 

We are out to play.

Only the barest rustle gives me away as I weave between the alders, step delicately over ferns, and skirt the thorny brambles with equal parts caution and swiftness. My hooves skip lightly over low brush, nearly silent; I take care not to be noticed as I pick along, weaving a meandering path through the wood for some time. I continue drawing farther from my cottage and its clearing until, guided by some intuition, I allow myself to slow and pause near a felled tree. 

My soft ears flick, searching for tell-tale sounds. I scan the awakening forest, trying to catch a tell-tale glimpse of that which I’m evading. Yet, all is still. For some long moments, it is just me and my breath alone in the wood, and the prickling awareness that keeps me wide-eyed and alert to every sight and sound begins to wane. I relax; my bunched muscles ease, no longer ready to flee at the merest suggestion of danger. It is safe here now.

I take stock of myself. My bangs are mussed, and a blind attempt to tame them yields what is most likely lackluster results. Still, as I lift my thick braid from my shoulder, examining what I can see of its end, it seems to have held its shape. This consolation is quickly overshadowed as I move down my body and realize something with my dress doesn’t feel right. I smooth my hands down the linen, frowning lightly as I try to figure out why it is pinched and pulled uncomfortably around my midsection. That mystery is quickly solved when I reach behind me, unwedging the hem where it has bunched above my tail. 

In my escapade through the wood, my furry rump has, apparently, been exposed for all around to see. I am bare beneath the dress, having donned it only for modesty’s sake in case I were to encounter someone unexpected here— perhaps a villager who’d wandered too far from the road, or some curious children following the stream too deep into the forest. Though, since I’d chosen a frock short enough to keep me unencumbered as I run, I’m now realizing that it might be more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe I won’t bother with the dress next time. What’s the point? No one ever comes this far in, anyway—

There’s a subtle crackle nearby, and instantly, my prey-mind overwhelms me.

With a squeal of fearful delight, I take off at once, bounding into the brush. Knowing he’s been exposed, my hunter abandons stealth, and his pursuit becomes obvious now. Pounding feet race over old, crumbling leaves. Branches rustle and snap as they’re pushed hastily aside, almost close enough to brush me. When a familiar raspy cackle kisses the end of my braid, adrenaline bursts like goosebumps along my skin. I squeal again, but the sound subsides into a girlish giggle as I feint from him and dart to the left. With great commotion, the sounds of Eddie’s pursuit falter as he scrambles to adapt and continue after me. 

Bits of my hair fall free from the braid. No longer neat, they feather my cheeks, blowing in the wind I create with my escape. I feel that wind lift my hair and ruffle the hem of my dress; I feel the ferns and the grass crush under my hooves, and I grin. My heart throbs as I race through the wood, thumping wildly with the euphoria of the chase.

In the winter months, we could not indulge in this game of predator and prey. The snow was too harsh on the soles of Eddie’s feet, and he always refuses to wear shoes, only relenting when I insist he wear them on our forays into town. Even with his tough skin, the threat of frostbite is daunting. Plus, though I am sure-footed, Eddie is more so; and as I would make every attempt to escape him, there’s always a chance my hooves would skid on hidden ice. I did not want his feet to freeze, and he did not want to risk me hurting myself. With these concerns in mind, we spent the winter occupying ourselves with other activities. But now that the ground has thawed and spring is here — on this, the warmest day in many months, sweet and fragrant with that new emergent growth and pregnant with supple dew instead of biting frost— I begged Eddie to play chase with me once again. 

He’d seemed hesitant at first to oblige my request. His hand had cupped my cheek, broad and callused, his fingers tipped with blunt nails I always file short for him. “Full moon’s tomorrow, Junie,” he reminded me, searching my face. “You sure you want me to chase you?” 

I nodded, my eyes bright and eager, and he relented quickly. Being cooped up without the release of the chase had been difficult for both of us. Eddie was too pent-up to put up an earnest argument, and I was too aflame with the promise of play to care about what time of the month it happened to be, though I knew that Eddie would likely be rougher than normal because of it. Eddie always gets a little wolfier in the days leading up to the full moon, something he and his friends jokingly refer to as ‘pre-lycanthropic syndrome.’ I know that he is more easily excitable, more feral, when his transformation is imminent. Today, as he pursues me with the intent to capture, the thought of that is quite thrilling.

That thrill spurs me on now as I redouble my efforts to escape. No longer do I try to be silent as I flee— the only priority now is to evade my mate for as long as possible, to fuel the stirring in his blood and mine. But at this first test of true exertion, I find my joints are stiff, still creaky from disuse. I had, after all, spent most of my time curled up within our cottage this winter, tangled in blankets with Eddie near the fire. Reading, dozing, fucking, nuzzling, murmuring, grazing, only to doze again and repeat the process day after day. We did this all within the comfortable nest we’d made for ourselves, wiling away our time until the spring finally returned. 

I know I will become more limber the more I frolic; I need only to warm to it. But being what he is, Eddie needs less time to adjust after a long, lazy winter. From the corner of my eye, I see one of his broad hands sweep towards me, tipped with wicked claws longer than they typically are when playing this game. Those claws snag and tear through the side of my dress, and though I do not slow, the scratch blooms like a chilly sting across my ribs. 

That pain only excites me more. I feel my arousal stir, mixing with the impulse to flee from that which is chasing me. I gasp for breath, my muscles burning as my body chooses which way to go in a flickering haze of instinct. My eyes dart over rocks and logs, ferns and bushes, moving only a split second faster than my hooves follow. 

I don’t think too hard about where I am running. There is no way to evade Eddie forever; the chase always ends the same way.

And end it does. In a field of blooming heather, Eddie finally catches me. There’s a sudden heavy weight upon my back, a lurch, and then firm arms snatching me tight around the waist as I careen toward the ground. The impact dazes me, and I lay limp as we roll. The landscape becomes a blur of purple-tipped stalks until Eddie pins me down by my shoulders, looming over me. 

When my doubled vision clears, all I see is him. 

Eddie’s curls brush my clavicle, tickling my sweat-dewed skin, mixing with my braid which has finally fallen entirely to disarray— dark oak on pale wheat. My breath burns ragged in my lungs as I gulp deep breaths of air, staring up at my captor. I can see his gaze is fixed on my throat, where he my pulse is pounding beneath the thin skin there. Hungrily, he eyes me, panting out his exertion, revelling in the sight of his prey beneath him. And now that I am caught, there is no thought of escape— instead, I melt beneath him, laying pliant as I drink in each beloved feature of the one who has won me. 

Eddie’s handsome face betrays his arousal— dark eyes wide, pupils entirely dilated, nose scrunched, mouth open in a grimace of feral delight. He is wolfier than usual, as he warned me he might be. His ears are pointier, tufted with fur; his teeth are longer, especially his canines. Both the top and bottom sets look wickedly sharp where they frame his deep pink tongue, which wags with each heaving breath— not quite lolling from his mouth, but close to it. I can see that it, too, is rougher and longer than it typically is when we play chase. The thought of what he might do with it now that he has caught me makes a wicked thrill bloom low in my belly.

Eagerly, I devour more of my mate. I trace reverent eyes over his corded neck, his broad shoulders, his heaving chest, his nipples tight from excitement, the sparse hair between his pecs, which is denser now with his partial transformation. My breath begins to quicken as my gaze sweeps over lean, angular limbs, a soft belly that conceals a powerful core, and a trail of thick, dark hair leading down from his navel beneath his britches. Those are tented impressively, and I shiver at the sight. Unconsciously, I draw my tongue along my bottom lip. I throb between my legs as I anticipate the reveal of his straining cock.

As the sight and scent of my arousal grow more apparent, Eddie becomes evermore excited, descending further into the animal part of his nature. With muscles coiled and quivering with tension, he wraps large hands around my bare shoulders, pressing me down to the earth and squeezing, as if urging me to stay there. His claws begin to dig into my skin. I can feel the cold sting intensify as his grip tightens enough to make blood well up around each sharp tip. 

But the bloodletting is not frightening. It just makes me submit further to him. My eyes remain wide and doe-like as I gaze up at him adoringly, and my plump lips part just slightly. My mouth pools with saliva as I imagine him slipping in there— his thumb, his tongue, his cock, anything would do. My soft, fuzzy ears flick with anticipation at the thought, and my thighs press together, an ineffectual attempt to soothe the ache inside until Eddie takes care of me. I am his prey: helpless, docile. Entirely at his mercy, and so utterly happy to be so.

Typically, Eddie would now divest me of my clothing, perhaps by shimmying the hem of my dress up my body, or by untying the bows atop my shoulders and letting the dress fall away. 

Today, our play is not typical. 

Eddie rises up onto his knees, towering over me as the sun glints off his wild curls, casting an auburn halo at their edges. A small sound escapes me at the sight of him— proud, powerful, imposing for the wicked smirk that crooks his plush lips and the white tips of savage fangs that peek from between them. He would be a terrifying sight to behold if not for his eyes. Even when he is overcome with lust, and Eddie’s eyes are wide, frenzied, pitch-black with his desire, when he looks upon me, there is a softness in their corners, never overtaken by the violence he is capable of. 

That softness is there when he pins my legs with his powerful calves, pressing tight so I will stay still and flat beneath him. When I do not resist, Eddie takes up the bottom hem of my dress and begins to rend it apart, exposing my flesh for him. I keep my arms curled in the heather above my head, watching as his claws make quick work of my clothing. It does not bother me to have my dress destroyed; the sacrifice is worth it to see how Eddie relishes in the sight of me pliant and obedient beneath him, allowing him to destroy my clothing. 

The fabric tears unevenly, parting in jagged strips. I hold perfectly still as the fur of my legs is revealed up to the top of my pelvis, midway between my mons and my navel, where it transitions into skin. He continues up my body, and the ripped fabric flutters down like the kiss of a bird’s wings on my skin. Rip, and my navel is exposed. Rip, and my ribcage emerges. Rip, and my breasts fall free, with little pink nipples the color of ripe watermelon. Cool spring air kisses them puckered, and the sight pulls a low rumble from Eddie’s throat. It is clear from the gleam in his eye that the sight has tantalized him, reminding him of the other place on my body that is so brightly-colored. 

I know before it happens what the sight will have him do.

Sure enough, Eddie’s warm knees are suddenly no longer crowding the outside of my thighs. I look down the plane of my body to find him discarding his britches with impatience, and then all at once, Eddie seizes me with needy roughness. My bare back drags against heather flowers made abrasive by the sudden motion. The feeling is unpleasant, as my skin is far more sensitive than my fur. Yet I do not dwell on it, more arrested by the way Eddie is parting my legs as he hefts me onto his lap, lifting my lower body easily, tilting me up until only my shoulder blades are pressed to the ground. My inner thighs stretch tight around his waist as he pulls me close to him. He plants me there, with my ass resting on his muscled thighs. His broad, clawed hands squeeze at the rolls of tender fat that mound up at the outer juncture of my hip and thigh, covered by soft, bristly fur. I sigh at the feeling, thinking about how Eddie often draws his nails through my fur. Whether blunt or sharp, I relish in the feeling of my mate doting on me that way. And I know he loves the breathy sounds of contentment I make when he strokes up and down my legs, scratching lightly as I stretch and preen and lilt into his loving touch.

But Eddie is not interested in tantalizing me with light, delicate touches today. Instead, his gaze is locked on the place between my legs where my fur parts to reveal bare flesh. It’s the deep, watermelon pink of my pussy— the same color as my nipples, but soft like the skin at my inner elbow, puffy and supple. 

I feel a familiar rush of pride at the way Eddie’s panting mouth waters, tantalized by my sex. Drool glistens, gathering underneath his tongue as he salivates at the sight of me. I feel the rough pads of his fingers carefully spread my sticky lower lips, angled to keep his claws from catching my delicate flesh. I hope that he will lift me high and swipe that hot rough tongue through my folds. My fingers crawl along the grass in anticipation, reaching for the strong knobs of his knees. I want to hold them, to squeeze them in my grip when he buries his face in my pussy, ravenous for the sweet taste of my arousal.

But Eddie surprises me. Instead of lifting me to his mouth, he slots the underside of his hot cock against my heat. Pinching my plump lips closed with his thumb and index finger, he creates a tight space where he can rut along the length of my pussy without entering me. 

I gasp at the first thrust along my slick, sensitive flesh, and Eddie grunts in satisfaction to hear it, rumbling deep in his chest. He is being quieter than usual— that is, he typically talks more than this, but it seems that with his transformation so close, he’s caught in the haze of his baser nature. He is communicating with his body and his sounds, and so, I decide, will I. I tip my chin and hum happily for him as he drags his cock along my hot slick pussy with one long, slow thrust, and he rumbles back in reply. Again, he drags himself along my heat, and my hips squirm in his lap; he answers with one more slow thrust, as if he’s savoring the feeling of teasing my body in this way. And then Eddie begins to grind against my sex with a rough, staccato rhythm, rutting with sharp jerks of his hips that have me throwing my head back against the soil, moaning out my pleasure. He gathers my slick with his fat cockhead and catches my clit every time he ruts forward— there’s a spark of fire at the end of each thrust, and I whimper as that delicious feeling begins to build in my lower belly, enough so that my tail begins to twitch, a tell-tale sign of my pleasure. 

The little brushes of my tail against his hairy thighs show him how good he’s making me feel, and as I think about how it must look, him using my body like this, it flicks even harder, more insistently. But my mate does not indulge in what I can only imagine, though he could easily watch himself rut in and out of my pink lips if he were to tip his chin. Eddie does not look down to see the way his cock grows sticky with my gathering arousal. Instead, his wide, dark eyes remain fixed on my face, taking in every detailof my expression, feasting on my enjoyment. It’s as if the only sustenance he could ever need can be gained by the sight of me beneath him— my lower lip clamped between my teeth, my glazed eyes locked on his face, my expression so clearly transfixed by him, so entirely enamored with him. 

Eddie sees the way I’m looking at him, and the corners of his eyes soften even more. He grins down at me fondly, but the movement of his body does not soften with it. It only intensifies. Each inhale becomes a huff, each exhale a grunt as he ruts harder along my heat, hard enough that his hairy balls start to slap against my ass. He maintains this faster speed only briefly before I feel his grip falter and his cock lose traction in the increasing slickness. But Eddie adjusts quickly. He finally looks down at the place we are nearly joined and watches as he pinches my slick, puffy lips tighter around his slippery cock, adjusting the angle of his hips to compensate. And once he regains his pace, Eddie ensures that it will not happen again. He abandons his grip on my hip to reach higher up, grasping handfuls of the flesh at my waist to pull me up against him. 

It’s a commanding hold that ensures our slick, heated bodies remain pressed together tightly, as tight as can be without one of us being inside the other. Eddie grinds himself against my pussy, undulating his hips in a slow roll he is clearly enjoying, and I’m enjoying it too— enjoying the teasing pleasure of his cockhead catching against my clit, enjoying the sensual scratch of his wiry bush rubbing against the soft fur between my thighs, enjoying the way he gnaws his bottom lip and regards me through his eyelashes, his stare unwavering. I’m relishing in all of these things, yet before long, it is no longer enough for me. I begin to yearn for his next thrust to catch his head on the rim of my entrance. I want his cockhead to snag there, to pause for a moment as it threatens to breach me. Until all that is needed is the slightest cant of Eddie’s hips for his cock to ease right into my aching hole and stretch me open at last.

My pussy flutters at the thought, as if trying to entice him with the promise of its grip. When he doesn’t seem to notice, I begin to coax him with a slight rocking of my hips, biting my lip to try and stay my protestations, to resist the petulance rising within me. But when he ignores the language of my body, I am forced to make myself known. 

My whine is a high, needy thing, quiet at first, then repeated with increasing strength and desperation until he cannot escape me.

This Eddie cannot ignore, and his eyes flick up to mine. His face is beautiful and rugged, his expression animalistic. That plush top lip is half caught in a snarl and those dark eyes are half-lidded, with eyelashes that almost flutter as he works his cock with my soft body. As my whining increases in pitch, I watch a flicker pass across those dark eyes— smugness, or knowing, perhaps, though Eddie doesn’t yet acquiesce to my request. 

But I have caught his attention now, and having caught it, I know he will yield to me. Eddie may be the predator between us, but I have learned that what he truly desires is to give me what I want. Even if Eddie winds me up for his own amusement, in the end, he is too soft, too devoted to deny me for long. 

So I play into my strengths. My brow pinches pleadingly; my lower lip quivers, pouting out for him, flushed darker from having been bitten and chewed on as I tried to maintain patience. I look up at him, doe-eyed and weak as I sniff and wriggle, whimper and whine. Please, I implore him with my eyes, still neglecting speech. Please fuck me.

That flicker of smugness in Eddie’s eyes is replaced by a deepening of umber to gold, accompanied by a gradual flush that raises high on Eddie’s cheekbones. He is moved by watching me beg for his cock, and there’s no way for him to deny it. 

As soon as that understanding passes between us, it’s as if a string has snapped. Without warning, Eddie wraps his massive hands around my hips and, with an ease that is equally startling and arousing, he flips me over. 

Ever conscientious, Eddie continues holding me around the middle to keep my chin and shoulders from slamming into the ground too hard. But I wouldn’t have cared. Not even if he’d been too far gone and I’d found my teeth scraping fresh, fragrant grass. My moan of anticipation is almost a bleat as my hands press the heather flat beneath me. When I feel Eddie nudge at the inside of my knobby knees with the outside of his, I scramble to assume a position he can mount me in. I arch my back and spread my knees, sticking my ass high in the air. The breeze caresses me between my legs, a cool kiss against overheated flesh, though even that brings little relief when I’m aching this way. 

When that slight breeze is suddenly interrupted, I know that Eddie has moved to kneel tall behind me. His claws bite into my furry hips as he grasps me, his grip tighter than it has been yet today. The ache inside lessens as flutters of anticipation replace it; my heart throbs the whisper I hold back from voicing. Finally. Finally. Finally. 

Imagine, if you will, the nature of my mate. Roguish, playful, and so mischievous, I sometimes can’t decide whether to kiss or smack him. I know this— I relish in his wild cackle and his manic grins, most of the time. So perhaps it should not have surprised me when Eddie’s cockhead presses against the thin skin below my entrance, sliding down, down, down with even pressure before skating right past my entrance and pressing against my sensitive clit instead. 

Despite the promise of this new position, despite the way I’m arched and ready for him, Eddie chooses to rut himself along my pussy again, teasing me more. From this angle, he has more to reach, too, in his efforts to torment me. He slides up, up, up again, and I feel his cockhead slip between my asscheeks; the underside of his thick cock rubs along just the rim of my entrance and over my puckered hole in slow strokes that do not satisfy me. 

Of course, I whine again. The sound is more rough, less sensual, almost a growl of frustration as if in some pale imitation of Eddie himself. And Eddie has the gall to chuckle. It’s a rumble in his chest, but lilted, almost a purr until it breaks at the end into the familiar sound of Eddie’s raspy laughter. My tail is wagging now— not in desire, but in impatience, with jerky flicks that convey my displeasure. I dig my blunt nails into the earth, trying to endure my mate’s teasing, but I am quickly passing desperation, approaching feralness.

I will need to play dirty.

I coordinate my plan with the slow withdrawal of Eddie’s cock. When his cockhead lifts from my lips, I widen my knees, lowering my ass slightly in preparation for what I will do. And then my next shift comes all at once— exaggerating the curve of my spine, pressing my shoulders flat to the ground as I reach behind me. Stretching my arms as far back as they’ll go. Grabbing handfuls of my inner thighs, inching my fingers inward, searching for flesh beyond the fur. When I find that smoothness, I turn my head. And with my cheek smushed to the heather, as the flowers smear the apple purple, I look back at Eddie, arresting his attention to my hole as it stretches when I pull my sticky lips apart to entice him. “Eddie,” I whimper, high and throaty and sweetly feminine, abandoning my attempt to match him in wordlessness. “Please, baby, I need you.” I tighten my fingers. Divots form as my plumpness mounds up around them, and I stretch open my hole a little farther. “Need your cock, Eddie. Please.”

Rough, quick, filthy, more wolf, more man, any which way— I don’t care how Eddie takes me, as long as he takes me now.

When his powerful thighs press to mine so immediately, I let go of my pussy lips, quickly raising my hips and tucking my hands under me again. I can’t see his face anymore, but this is it. I know it. And it’s such a relief to be stretched, to be split open when he enters me at last. We both whine simultaneously as we feel my pussy yield to him, welcoming him in with a lewd squelch, hugging him tightly. 

So tight, and wet, and warm, only for my Eddie. 

I hear him rattle a sigh of relief as his cockhead pops in. I imagine the way his face looks— eyes closed, lashes brushing his cheeks, head tilted, neck stretched, wild curls dipping down his powerful back. Eddie is finally fucking me open with short, shallow strokes, growing slowly deeper until at last he’s plunging all the way in, nudging up against the end of me. And now that he’s seated fully inside, I want it hard and rough— I want so badly for him to beat into me until my brain is fuzzy and my legs are trembling. In my wanting, I begin to rock back into him, moving myself on his cock in defiance again of the dynamic we have set for our play today. 

Eddie allows me to assert myself for a short time before squeezing my hips again, holding me tight with a warning growl low in his throat. I’ve let you have your fun, that rumble seems to say. Let me fuck you now.

I am eager for Eddie to take the lead. Perhaps overly eager as I show my earnest submission, whimpering and humming as my hips jerk to a stop halfway sunk down on his cock. There, I hold still, turning my face and smushing my cheek to the crushed flowers again. I want Eddie to see my thoroughly docile expression, my innocent eyes, my downturned ears. My small tail falls slack, and if he were closer— if he were pressed all the way up inside me— I would trace a soothing pattern with its tip along his soft belly, hoping he would accept the gesture.

Eddie smiles, a slow grin full of heat and satisfaction, and I uncrick my neck as I see that he is not upset with me. The relief mixes headily with my arousal, and I press back into his touch as he grabs palmfuls of my ass, fanning his fingers in my soft fur. I feel him spread my cheeks, hear him hiss as he sees the evidence of my desire for him. He plays with me— pushing himself slowly in to watch my cream gather thick around my entrance. I can feel it beginning to mat the hair that frames my bright pink lips, and I imagine my arousal dragging sticky along his thickness, coating the hot flush of his skin and his throbbing veins as he inches out and back in, over and over. I know he will do this for as long as he likes. I am happy to let him, to be the plaything he has caught, stretched out on his thick cock. 

And almost better than the way Eddie is making me feel is the evidence of his own enjoyment. Little absent sounds of satisfaction murmured under his breath. His claw-tipped fingers flexing, grabbing, groping. The increasing desperation behind his thrusts as his pace begins to quicken. The brush of his soft belly against my tail as he begins to curl his body over me, seeking more leverage. Lost in the feeling of my squeezing heat.

Those little sounds soon subside to panting, and I lose myself in my own pleasure until something wet and warm drips onto my spine. One drop. Another, catching the first. Combined, they crawl down the slope of my back, slipping toward the nape of my neck. As they dampen my hair, I feel them chased by a new drop— a third, and then a fourth. 

I realize what it must be: Eddie’s drool, dripping from his open jaw onto my back.

The feeling of his spit— the knowledge that I have him so drunk on my pussy that his mouth is just hanging open in absent enjoyment— makes me flush warm with giddy pleasure. A warm spread of happiness in my chest; a sparkling, tightening heat low in my belly, like embers of a flame. I seek to grow that burn; unconsciously, I roll my hips, rubbing Eddie’s tip inside me.

As if in a coordinated effort, Eddie juts into me sharply just as I roll my hips. The effect is is startling— he ends up slamming in to the hilt so roughly that I feel his balls squish up tight against my inner thighs. It’s almost painful, but in the best way as I’m wracked with a sudden burst of intense pleasure. The feeling is dizzying, overwhelming, as if I’d been shot through with electricity, hoof to head. It punches a moan out of me, one loud enough to stir the wood around us; my pussy flexes and flutters on his hardness, my puckered hole winks, and my tail stiffens straight up, quivering from base to tip. 

Such a visceral reaction from his mate must speak to the beast inside Eddie. He crowds me into the ground, belting his arm around my waist, squeezing me to his chest. His heavy warmth envelops me— tight, tight, so tight and sticky with his sweat and mine. The hold presses the breath from my lungs, which I regain quickly as I gasp as bright pain blooms in near the base of my neck— Eddie’s curls spill across my upper back, barely a warning before his sharp teeth sink into my shoulder.

I cry out, squealing a broken sound as he begins to rut hard and fast into my cunt. Suddenly, all I am is sensation, every nerve awakened as I flood with adrenaline and arousal. I feel all of it at once, and somehow each sensation so distinctly: Eddie’s balls slapping against my furry mound, beating an even rhythm. His corded throat rumbling as he hums around my flesh in his mouth. His warm breath fanning me as he huffs through his nose. And then the feelings converge into the sharp, cold agony of his teeth in my shoulder and the hot sparkling pleasure of his cock plunging into me. 

The potent combination drives me quickly to overstimulation. I reach back and fist my hand in his wild mane of curls. And even though, as Eddie rocks his body into mine, each tug makes his teeth dig a little more into my shoulder, my fist just tightens as I endure the onslaught of sensation. 

Tugging so viciously on Eddie’s hair isn’t meant as a complaint, but his decision to bite me was clearly impulsive, and perhaps he interprets it as such. He releases me quickly, and there’s both relief and disappointment in the loss of his teeth. Relief and disappointment in my conscious mind, but at this juncture— so overwhelmed by sensation— instinct takes over. By instinct, my body drives my actions. It hunches my back to lower my hips, which retract and squirm away from the intensity of that stimulation, afraid of my coming orgasm as much as it yearns for it. 

I act on instinct, and so does Eddie; as I shift away, his predator-brain activates. I hear him growl— an intimidating sound meant to make prey freeze. I do. And I find my tail snatched in a commanding hold and tugged hard.

My furry knees drag against the crushed heather as I’m pulled back into the curve of Eddie’s muscular body. In one motion, before I can make a sound, he uses my tail to lift up my hips and sink his cock into my gaping cunt. I gasp again, and it chokes off into a pained moan as Eddie sinks his teeth back into my shoulder. 

Eddie might be consumed by his predator-brain, but he does not rip through the muscle. The action is not to devour, to consume, but instead to keep me still, to take my pleasure no matter how overstimulating it might be. He holds me there with his teeth in the meat my shoulder and his hand fisted around my tail, fucking with feral, single-minded intent into my cunt. He wants me to fall apart beneath him; he wants to possess me entirely, to work my body to the point of shattering pleasure. 

And Eddie will get what he wants. My heart pounds as he bullies my cunt, unrelenting in pursuit of my orgasm. My breath puffs out in little vocal squeaks, which grow more and more desperate and broken until the feeling finally surges up, powerful and dizzying and utterly unstoppable as it overtakes me.

It’s a euphoric release from a build-up so intense it had been approaching agony. I shudder, jerking as it crests and breaks inside me, and then pleasure is all I know. 

In the moment, I am not conscious of it, but my cunt clamps down on him, squeezing hard— almost possessively— around Eddie’s cock. Almost instantly, his grip on my tail eases, softening when he feels it twitch and quiver erratically as I begin to cum. His teeth release me, and he growls again, but this time it is warm— possessive, satisfied as I writhe beneath him, caught in the throes of the blinding pleasure he has given me. My brain is blank, fuzzed completely stupid as I cum. 

Slowly, I come back to myself. Eddie is still draped over my back, and I’m beginning to bow under his weight, my muscles weak and slack in the aftermath. Sensing my exhaustion, Eddie pulls out and turns me over, and I remain limp as he manipulates me onto my back. My chest is heaving, my body shaking, my cheeks hot, my eyes heavy-lidded. Dazed and absent, in a state of total bliss. I only realize I’d been screaming out my ecstasy when I swallow, and my throat feels raw. 

With as much gentleness as he can muster, Eddie folds me in half. My legs fit into the crooks of his shoulders as he bends forward over me, bracing his palms in the dirt alongside my shoulders as my hooves hover in the air, tickled by the soft fur that tufts his ears. Eddie is a sight— wild, sweat-drenched curls, pink chest, a vein popping in his forehead. There’s desperation in his brow, the darkness of his eyes, and the pinch of his plush lips. I whimper as he enters me again, still achingly hard; I stare into his eyes as he begins to fuck into my sopping cunt, squelching into me with audibly lewd strokes. He fucks me slowly now, savoring the way my pussy hugs and grips him, the way she sucks him in greedily every time his hips draw back. I can’t help but stare up at him with such utter, mindless devotion, and that devotion is mirrored in his expression. Despite his need, Eddie clearly wants to relish in the feeling of me pressed beneath him as long as possible, and I can see how he’s fighting himself as his nostrils flare, his lips press pale and thin, and his brow begins to twitch, that vein throbbing now as he stubbornly tries to hold back. 

Eventually, though, even that Munson stubbornness isn’t enough to prevent Eddie’s aching balls from their release. He’s pressed in deep, and I feel them brush against me as they jump and tighten. Instantly, Eddie is pulling out of me, dipping down, leaning all his weight on one elbow as he fists his cock desperately with his free hand. I look into his fluttering eyes, feeling his cum begin to paint my lower lips as he shudders and bucks into his own touch. When I cup his face, Eddie rolls his cheek into my palm, and then he whines. Confused, I watch as his eyes scrunch tightly shut; he keeps bucking until his chest is heaving and he’s panting fast, grunting on each exhale. A curious feeling blooms in my chest as he trembles, still fucking his fist; I stroke back his hair, concern turning to fascination as he tears from my grip and abruptly sits up, towering over me and throwing his head back in a strangled howl. I drop my aching legs and prop up on my elbows, reeling as I look down my body to see the swelling at the base of Eddie’s cock, so bulbous it’s visible behind his fist as he strokes himself. And then his hand grips my thigh tight as his howl turns to a long, low groan of relief; he nestles his fat cockhead between my puffy lips to cum on me again.

I realize that this must also be because of his imminent transformation— his knot, this second release. His hot mushroom head pulses as he paints my clit with hot spurts of his cum. Eddie cums, and he keeps cumming, enough so that I can feel his spend drip down my entrance, collect in the rim, and then spill over onto my fur on its crawling path toward the ground. It’s the messiest we have ever been. I can feel how matted my fur is around my entrance, tacky and coated in his spend and mine. He’s still stroking his cock slowly, and I can see that the motion is inadvertently spreading some of his cum over his shaft, thick and slightly opaque as it sticks to his flushed skin.

Eventually— after quite a bit longer than usual when he only cums once, which apparently is not always the case, I realize with a little thrill of excitement— Eddie stops cumming. He sighs in relief, his shoulders sagging. And in the aftermath, I want to scramble to my knees and take him into my mouth, to explore that new aspect of his body revealed to me.

But Eddie has other plans. 

Despite his clear fatigue, he lifts my hips carefully before I can make any moves to get up; my knees spread as he bumps one gently with his temple. As I give him access, Eddie leans down until his mouth meets the juncture of my spread thighs and begins licking my fur clean of his seed and my slick. 

I am a little envious that he gets to taste that mixture of us, but after a few strokes of his tongue, I sigh, relaxing bonelessly in his hold. It soothes me how gently he licks me, and it feels so nice that I don’t even mind waiting to explore his knot. I hum contentedly as his rough tongue drags warm and wet over my fur in long, gentle strokes. And once my fur is clean, he licks between my lips, all over my puffy pussy, dipping into my entrance too. His chest rumbles as he tastes my sweetness mixed with his tang, and I can feel the vibrations in the backs of my thighs as he enjoys cleaning me. My tail quivers happily, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to my mound before setting me down again.

As soon as he lets me down, I right myself in a sprawl of limbs so I can crawl over to him. Eddie must think I am looking to cuddle as I usually do after we make love, because he lounges back with easy confidence, propping himself up with an elbow and opening his other arm in invitation. But I am not ready to cuddle; instead, I want to explore his knot. 

I climb over his leg and settle to his side near his hip, ducking my head, my eyes fixed between his thighs. Cautiously, with a twitching nose and flicking ears, I draw close to his slowly-flagging erection, looking at his swollen base with unfiltered, wide-eyed curiosity. He huffs tiredly in amusement, and spreads his hairy thighs further, allowing me to sate that curiosity. 

It is hot and sticky— I can tell without even touching it. Eddie’s body always runs hot, but the heat radiating from this new emergence is more potent than I’ve felt from him before. Timidly, I begin to touch his knot with light brushes of my fingertips, ready to flinch back should it make any sudden moves. It feels stiff like his hardness, just as unyielding, though mounded up in a supple curve rather than a hard line. 

His thighs tense when I lick it, and I realize it must be sensitive. But though he grunts and his muscles draw taut, Eddie holds still, letting me lick up the vague tang of his cum from his velvet skin until I’m satisfied. When I have had my fill of his taste, I rest my cheek on his wiry bush, looking up at him. His brown eyes are warm, the line of his brow eased as he meets my gaze, and with fond gentleness, Eddie strokes my hair. He draws his fingers through the strands, lightly scratching my scalp as I hum. But when his fingers skim the base of my throat, pushing back the hair there, they freeze at the same time I register an ache. It’s the bite I am only just starting to remember as my post-orgasmic daze begins to fade.

Eddie whines, high and distressed, his eyes no longer hazy but now sharp with concern. “Junie,” he croaks, and my name is the first word he’s said since we left the cottage. He reaches for me, and I let him pull me onto his naked lap so he can examine my wound. He prods around it lightly with his fingertips, and I feel my skin is sticky with blood. I scrunch my neck, tipping my chin to try to look, but it’s too close for me to see, and that just makes it hurt more. Eddie grunts in protest, and I sigh when he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing my face away from the mark. 

I stare up at the alders, letting him fuss over me. I know he’s done when Eddie whines again and nuzzles me, pressing his nose against my neck in contrition. 

“Told you I’d be too rough, baby,” he whimpers. “I’m so sorry—” 

The words are mumbled into my skin, but nonetheless, I frown to hear how Eddie sounds almost beside himself. I take his face, stroking his cheeks and then his ears, rubbing them lightly between my pinched fingers in the way I know he likes. “I’m okay, Eddie,” I say quietly, letting him tend to me. Carefully, so carefully, I feel Eddie’s tongue brush over the punctures, and I keep rubbing his ears as he begins to lick the wound he left on my shoulder. 

I am not concerned the way Eddie is; I know it will heal, and faster now that he’s coated me so thoroughly with his saliva. But Eddie still insists on carrying me back to our cottage. He leaves his britches and my tattered dress discarded in the heather. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his strong and steady heartbeat, which lulls me into hazy contentment until I crack my eyes and see stone walls and a thatched roof— our familiar resting place. I let my eyes slip closed again, and even so, I sense the moment he crosses the threshold.

Inside is warm, smelling of fresh herbs and our combined musk. I am filled with peace as he lays me in our bed, curling around me, keeping me safe with the heat of his body. My wolf and I are thoroughly worn, thoroughly sated. For now, at least. I am eager for what more we can get up to as the weather grows fair, and the birds and bees return.

thanks for reading! please let me know if you enjoyed it! 💙

[eupheme]

Wolf Song | Day 13: Bonfire

joel miller x f!reader

Rated M - 1.8k

Tags: canon-typical violence (blood, injury, use of guns, mentions of knives, implied death of an antagonist by Joel), hurt & comfort, quiet and hopeful (mutual) pining

Three times Joel builds you a fire. (And three times you tell him ‘thank you’.)

He curls like the wind around you - unable to track his next move as he sets up camp for the night. The ache in your feet persiting even as you stand in place, eyes tracking him as he stows the bags, clears the ground.

His own darting up and into the darkness, time and time again, as he arranges a small pile of kindling on the packed earth.

Knocking you out of your worried thoughts with the sound of his voice, rough and low.

"Get a fire started, girl."

Joel pulls a cord from around his neck, tossing it your way. Sliding through your fingers as you just barely catch it, fumbling.

A chip of flint and a worn bar of steel sit at the end. You hold it helplessly, glancing down at the wood in the quickly-dimming light. Crouching, anyways - though your brain has gone blank, the pieces cold in your hands.

Looking back towards him, where he stands - hands bracing on his hips.

"I-", You start, shaking your head, and he frowns.

A look you've gotten quite a bit - a permanent crease between his brows since you started traveling with him yesterday. You hadn’t needed a fire last night - you had walked through until the sunrise, stopping in the morning to sleep.

Trying not to take offense, to read too into it.

He didn't have to be nice to you. He just had to get you where you were going. You had saved and bargained for the best, and he is what you got.

Joel makes a sound, a low sigh in the back of his throat, before crouching close next to you - the bag on his shoulder thudding against the ground. Wordlessly tugging the cord from your grasp, angling the steel near the edge of the kindling.

Curving over the pile, his bulk blocking the bit of breeze from between the trees. You watch closely, as he grips the bit of flint - striking it against the bar. Knowing that he's showing you, thinking that he's expecting you to understand. Trying to soak in the way he holds both pieces, commiting them to memory.

A tiny spark leaps from the steel, making you gasp. Another few strikes, and there it is again - the red-white gleam shining against the tinder.

"Cup ‘round it, with your hands." He tells you, and you're shifting next to him - hands curling around, sheltering the budding flame.

His head ducking, so he can blow on the spark, coaxing it to life. A leap in your chest when it catches, the small flicker as the bits of dried grass and twigs start to curl and burn, the smallest trail of smoke rising into the sky.

“Thank you.” You tell him, relieved and embarrassed and almost thankful when he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Joel hands you the cord instead, pressing it into your palm. Before he claps your shoulder, the slightest squeeze before he stands.

"Not bad, girl."

The paracord slips around you neck, hanging heavy. Hands come up, palms facing the small flame, reveling in the heat.

Where you're unable to help the small smile, the tiny bit of warmth that has nothing to do with the fire.

———

You bite back as gasp as he lowers you to the ground, an aching, thudding pain shooting up your thigh.

Easing your leg out straight as he moves to shut the door of the abandoned house, throwing the lock, peering out the shutters before he closes them with a sharp click.

Watching, as he checks the rest of the room methodically. You do your best to help, arranging your back, inching closer to the stone hearth.

“Don’t move.” He hisses, low and rough - and you’re jerking, still on edge from before.

It was - would be - hard to forget tonight.

You had thought you’d be safer, when you stumbled on the small group of people. Fellow travelers, and Joel had regarded them with heavy skepticism and unease when you realized you were traveling the same way.

But he had agreed to share the road, for a time.

Days passing easily, and you were starting to loosen up. Chatting a tiny bit at meals, feeling the security in numbers.

That feeling long gone.

Disappearing when you got the small town. Half-way through the overgrown downtown when a group of runners intercepted the group - leaving you all to scatter.

You and another traveler - a man that joined the party recently - sticking close to Joel as he barked orders. Gun drawn, urging you away from the alley, towards a safer space on the road.

A trio of runners catching the call, splitting from the pack to shamble down the narrow path towards you. The fear like acid in your throat, forgetting the knife at your belt, your feet tripping over the pavement as you turned.

The man that was just ahead of you, now behind as you headed back. The runners were fast, with their reaching arms, the rattles from their chest, the panting wails - but he was faster - barreling past you.

His own terror bleeding into his senses, turning him hard and cruel. Survival instincts taking over as he passed you - a leg kicking out with focused intention.

Striking you hard in the thigh, your own cry joining the infected as you fell, hands scraping against the pavement. Ensuring his escape, knowing they’d be distracted by you.

It was a big fucking mistake.

Because he had forgotten about Joel.

Forgotten that you were traveling together.

A shot had rung out, and the man was downed, clutching at his knee. A leg, for a leg.

Another three shots, and the runners joined him.

Fury etched Joel’s features as he descended - a fist that slammed into the man’s face, the sickening crunch of bone. You had turned away, trying to block out the sounds with hands clapped over your ears. The thud of the hits, the groan that petered out to just sounds. Dull noise.

Not wanting to see his wrath, not wanting to examine the complicated twist of emotions in your chest. You had concentrated on the pain in your leg instead, trying to stretch and bend it to check the damage.

A shadow loomed over you, as you reached for your belt. But it was just a hand - cautiously extended. The knuckles split and bloody, fingers rough and calloused when your palm fits into his.

“It’s okay, honey. You’re okay.” He told you, in a tone more gentle than you were used to. Helping you to your feet, an arm looped around you for balance.

Not looking at the man, as he led you away. You don’t know whether he’s dead or alive, and you think - maybe it’s better that way. To not know.

Now - at the old house he found, on the outskirts of the town - he watches as you shiver. The temperature dropping at night, the adrenaline finally leeching from your system - the combination has you shaken up.

Fingers reach for your neck and you let them, the cord plucked from around it - carefully lifted from over your head.

He builds a fire from shattered furniture, bits of found wood and cloth. Coaxing it into being with sure and strong movements, until the heat is warming you, a tingling in your fingers and toes.

“We need to take a look.” Joel tells you - as he crouches by your side. It’s something you’ve been dreading. Another thing you wish it was better just to not know.

A flush in your cheeks as you unbutton your jeans, pushing them down to your knees - but it treats it like it’s nothing. His gaze on the bruises forming a hands-width above your knee, fingers that gently touch and probe the wound.

“Lucky it weren’t your knee.” He comments, and you’re agreeing, fingers curled in his jacket - a sharp intake of breath through your teeth as a finger presses a little too hard.

An apology, the first you’ve ever heard, slides from his lips as you ease your pants back up. Nothing to fix when there’s just a bruise, though his eyes are snagging on the raw skin of your palms next.

Wordlessly rummaging through his supplies for his canteen of water, a bit of clean cloth. His hand swallowing yours as he wipes the scraped-raw flesh near your thumb - where you took the brunt of your fall.

Unable to help the comparison, as you watch. How his hand is in so much worse shape than yours - but here he is, his movements careful. Tender, almost.

Working in silence until he’s satisfied, until you can take over.

“Joel?” You ask, as he stands - readying to do another check of the room before you settle in for the night. “Thank you.”

A pause as he regards you. And then, a nod.

And you think - as you curl up, finally warm - maybe you even saw a tiny bit of a smile.

———

It’s late when you wake, shivering. The slice of sky through the dusty window showing it’s not quite morning - stars still lingering.

The last few morning had brought frost, clinging to your boots, your arms swinging as you walk to stay warm. But now - the cold seems to leech into your clothes, sinking into your bones.

You stir, the bit of blanket shifting and bringing in more chill as you lift onto an elbow. Glancing at the long-dead fire - the lump that you know is your traveling companion just to the side.

By now, you can rekindle it. The blanket clutched around you as you give it a shot, the flint striking steel. The chatter of your teeth as you try again. And then again.

A shifting, behind you - hand coming to cover yours.

You had tried to be quiet, but Joel could be pulled from sleep at the slightest of sounds.

“I got it.” He rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.

Bringing it back to life as you inch closer - rearranging your things. A soft sigh as the flames start to flicker, as you curl up again on the concrete.

There’s a shuffling as he moves - moving his things as well. Sliding them behind you, carefully easing himself into the space. A respectful few inches away, but still creating a wall that will shield you from the vast chill of the room.

Until you’re flipping, rolling onto your side to face him. Closing that tiny gap, until your knee is bumping his, and he’s parting his thighs to make room for your legs to entwine with his.

It’s a small, slow thing. Sharp eyes carefully watching as you ease into him - until the cold tip of your nose brushes his throat, and he’s making a low sound.

For a moment to you think he’s going to move you. But he doesn’t, an arm curling around you instead, palm pressing between your shoulder blades.

Close enough now to smell the leather and smoke that clings to his skin, a soft sigh as you finally begin to feel warm again.

“Thank you.” You murmur, sleep already tugging at you.

Missing the press of his cheek against your head, the softest sound of his inhale. The words, breathed out into the night to join the stars.

“You’re welcome, darlin’.”

[dilfcember masterlist]

(Tags - @andrewrussgarfield, @luxuryberzatto)