so you guys know how ppl post smutty twitter vids as imagines of characters or people? well, thats what im aiming for here except it’s links to VA audios that sound similar to alex teehee.
note that these are different VA artists, but lmk which ones sound like him to yall i am super curious!!
alex soundgasm!links
enjoy <3
EonAudios:
whiny, begging, subby alex
waking up next to alex
friends to lovers (a bit of spanish)
be daddy’s princess
gone for too long
alex misses you
alex instructing you
sweet aftercare
Others:
rambling edging alex (deleted): i loved his audios)
Maeker enjoys very few things, but you his wife is something he will always enjoy
Targaryen!reader x Maeker Targaryen
Word count: 1,825
CW: MDI, 18+, arranged marriage smut, professional brat tamer maeker targaryen, targcest, oral (f!reciving), established relationship. As always half proof read! slight talk of childbrith, and some exhibitionism. a lot of swearing - its there love language , so is bickering as foreplay.
Maeker had very little patience in life, he found frustration in everything. But one thing he had found he could tolerate was you.
Of course, at first, your very presence annoyed him, he did not need a second wife, especially when that wife happened to be the very niece who had spent most of her life annoying him in everything she did and found great joy in it, too.
The marriage had been arranged after your return from the free cities, returning all grown and all the more Eger to annoy the uncle she had not seen in a decade, and yet that annoyance had somehow turned into him, bending you over a desk, his aim to spank your disobedience out of you, only for him to somehow find himself buried in your tight cunt.
Your father walking in on it had led to a marriage, a quick one, luckily, as your belly had quickly swelled, and not nine moons after your arrival home, you found yourself birthing a silver-haired babe, whom you named Aegon, or Egg as you fondly called him.
Nine years later, and two more children, you had settled into your life as Maeker's wife with ease you had never expected.
His sons had become the main annoyance in his life, and you, his pretty wife, who had once loved to goad him more than anything, and still did, though he had grown to adore it, was now the one thing in life he no longer detested.
He had a set routine, wake up, admire his wife, spank her when she comments on his age, go to breakfast, be annoyed at his sons and then go about his day thinking about when he would next get to have his favourite meal.
You.
How he loved to bend you over and feast on your cunt, his greatest stress relief.
Any minor inconvenience, and he found himself falling to his knees and burying his face in your warm heat.
A meal he had been without for two weeks now, as he travelled to the stupid tourney at Ashford at his father's behest.
He had left you and regretted every second he wasn’t by your side, a fact that annoyed your father and brothers greatly, not just for the fact that he spoke of you at every turn, but for the fact that without you here, everyone and everything seems to personally offend him.
Their annoyance at him grew even more so when he learnt his sons had gone missing.
“Fuck me”, he exhaled, his anger ever present “Delayed… they're not delayed”, he rolled his eyes at lord Ashfords stupid theory.
“Do not curse our gracious host,” his brother, ever the perfect prince, said.
“I said 'fuck me', not 'fuck him', it’s not his fault our father bade us attend this miserable circus”
“Might we discuss this another time?” Baelor spoke, trying to move on from Maekers ever growing frustration.
“No, we cannot, you try telling my wife I lost her son, she’d have my head” A frustrated hand fell across his face, and a small chuckle echoed from Baelor's lips.
“I say we go hunting”
“Daeron has done this before…” The words faded into the background as he looked out of the window to see another arrival of House Targaryen at the tourney.
“They’ve only been missing a day, no doubt…” Baleor's words once again faded as he caught sight of your unmistakable silver hair, hair he had so many times wrapped around his hand.
“When the tourney is over, perhaps”, he dismissed, slumping in his chair, waiting for you to show and release your wrath. You had no doubt heard of their disappearance, how he was unsure, but you had always had a way of knowing everything, dragon dreams you claimed. He called it a freak of nature.
A strange hedge knight showed before you did, though your footsteps loudly echoed through the castle before whatever the half giant half man finished his rambling.
“Very well set, you are grateful. Now fuck off!” Maekar demanded, just in time for you to storm into the room.
“Why the fuck have I just learnt that my son is missing?” You questioned your voice, echoing that of a raging storm.
“You must forgive my brother and daughter, their sons have gone astray, and they fear for them”, Baelor, always the peace, Maekar pleaded.
Ser Dunk, or whatever his name was, looked at you, bowing his head and speaking softly, clearly trying to offer some comfort, “of course. Umm, I trust they will not be found dead”
A scoff left your mouth as you looked at your husband, a glare on your face.
“Who the fuck was that?” you asked after the knight had left, your glare still fixed on your husband even as you made yourself comfortable in a seat across the room from him.
Your father sighed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, something he often did when left in the same room alone, as you were too.
“A hedge knight,” he replied, a sigh leaving his lips, “you are meant to be at home,” he sighed, before looking at your husband, who had not taken to marching, the glare stuck on your face.
“Fuck sake”, Baelor spoke as he rose to stand, a deep sigh escaping him, I shall leave you to whatever kind of foreplay this is”
Leaving the room, you found yourself alone with your husband after two long weeks.
He had left a week before you did. Your father was right in the fact that you were meant to be at home, the last tourney you had attended did not go well, to say the least, and since then, you had been “strongly discouraged” from attending another. And then there was the fact that you had been ordered by the maesters not to travel so soon after your last child's birth. A fact you had made clear was ridiculous, and made no plans to follow, and clearly haven't.
“How did you get here so fast?” Your husband questioned, his gaze less of a glare.
“I rode!” You scoffed, “obviously”
“Don’t take that tone with me, wife”
“I’ll take whatever tone I want with you!”
“You aren’t supposed to travel, let alone make a two-week trip in a week!”
“How did you know I did it in a week?”
“I didn’t”, he gloated, his eyes hardening. He moved to stand up and prowled towards you. “Did you miss me? Wife?” He spoke as he approached, your chest began to rise and fall, and the blush that began to creep up your neck at the heat in his eyes.
“Suppose I did, what does it mean to you?” Your hands reached for your skirt, moving it to bunch around your hips. A groan left his lips at the sight. Your legs parting, revealing the slick between your legs.
He fell to his knees before you, his hands reaching for you as if you were the answer to all his prayers.
“My pretty little wife”, spoken like a prayer “, you missed me, didn’t you?” he cocked his head, his hands reaching to part your legs more, your cunt on full display for him.
“Your hand reached for his, guiding it to where you needed him.
“Two moons cooped in Summerhall would drive anyone mad”, you began, as Maekar’s finger circled the bundle of nerves that had been neglected for two long weeks.
A moan escaped your lips, “your presence was the only thing that made it bearable” Another moan echoed as his mouth finally descended on your cunt.
Your hands reached for his hair, pulling slightly as his face buried itself in your cunt, his tongue swiping up the length of your slit.
“Gods Maekar”, you moaned, your eyes flittiering the the archway of the room, anyone could walk in at any point, there was no door granting them privacy. And with the way their conversation carried early, you were sure the entire castle could hear you.
A thrill riffled through you, a desire to get caught. Just as you had so many times before. Maekar had never been able to keep his hands to himself when it came to you, and neither could you.
Maekar's tongue lapped at your cunt like a man starved. He savoured the taste of you, worshipping you as he lapped at your heat, his fingers twitched slowly towards your cunt, entering you in one rough motion as his mouth moved to suck on your clit.
Your moans echoed across the room, his fingers matched the pace of your tongue, fucking into you leisurely, as he savoured every second he had feasting on your cunt.
“Fuck, please”, you begged. You could feel your peak approaching, but Maeker loved to tease you, his fingers pulling from you slowly, your peak retreating as quickly as it approached.
“Say you missed me”, his voice muffled slightly, as he remained buried in your cunt, a long, slow and teasing lick placed across your slit.
“Never”, you breathed, your hand reaching to tug his hair towards your heat.
He moved back, you both groaned as he denied you the pleasure you both craved so deeply, “say you missed me, or I stop,” he teased, his finger circling your clit, in a way that gave you no relief to the ache in your core.
Your scoff echoed as your moan did, you slumped form striaghting in your chair as you tugged Maeker back to where he belonged, your cunt.
“fine…I missed you, now make me come”, you ordered, your grip on his hair only tightening as you pulled him against you.
Your legs wrapped around his head, so tightly you weren’t sure he could even breathe.
His tongue lapped your heat, your peak approaching faster than before, his tongue fucked in and out of you, his nose nudging your clit in perfect rhythm. Every nerve was on fire, your body filled with endless pleasure as you finally came, your body slumping back as a loud moan tore out of you, so loud you were sure the endless crowd of knights outside could hear.
You slumped black in your chair, your legs collapsing and your hand losing around Maekers hair. He collapsed against you, his hand reaching for yours as he breathed you in.
A moment of silence passed between you, your breath catching up to you.
“Seriously, Makeer were the fuck is my son?”
“How the fuck should I know?” his head was still leaning against your body, his fingers playing with the rings of your fingers.
You yanked on his hair again, forcing him to look at you, “well you better get up and find out” tugging his hair one more time, and placing a soft kiss to his lips, before pushing him from your lap and storming off.
“I missed you too,” Maekar shouted as you tossed him your middle finger.
tags: noncon, tentacles, sex pollen, degradation (use of slut/bitch), humiliation, exhibitionism?, dacryphilia, creampie, overstimulation, pwp, brief mention of death
summary: Having Naoya come to your rescue has its consequences.
a/n: please read the tags before diving in. nao is horrible and mean as always. <3 wrote this in a caffeinated frenzy bc of course i did. dividers by @/adornedwithlight
crossposted to ao3
You’ve pissed someone off. That has to be it. What was the offending act? You’re not too sure. But you know it’s gotten you somewhere you don’t want to be: alone on a mission with Naoya.
The tension is thick, almost palpable with the silence shared between the two of you. He doesn’t seem to be one for small talk, not that you think he’d be a pleasant conversationalist.
Today’s mission takes place in a cave off the shore, a common place for teens and drunk partiers to partake in a test of courage. The water’s calm at this time of night. The only sound that fills your ears is the crunch of sand underneath your shoes and waves gently running onto shore before fizzling away as it recedes. Maybe you’d be one for long walks on the beach if it wasn’t with a special grade one asshole.
“What’s the plan?” you finally ask.
“Plan?” he asks back with a very irritated tone to his voice, as if he’s talking to a child. At this point you’re ready to hunt down whichever shitty higher-up forced you on this mission in the first place.
“Yeah?” you reply back, dumbfounded. Despite all his talents and prestige, you would assume he had something, anything in mind. Maybe you expected too much.
“Kill the curse and go,” he says simply, as if speaking it deems it true. Part of you wonders how many missions and curses does one have to defeat to amass that type of confidence? But then you remember who you’re talking to and come to the conclusion that he’s mostly just a cocky asshole.
“You’re not setting down a veil?”
“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow at you in annoyance. “Why would you need one? It’ll go down in a second anyways.”
Well, you were right about him being unpleasant to talk to. The rest of the walk is silent until you make it to the cave, neither of you particularly enthused to reanimate the conversation. The two of you follow the dark passage, illuminated by a line of suspiciously lit torches. The sound of water along the shore slowly diminishes until it’s replaced with wet drips from the condensation running off the stalactites.
As you make it deeper into the cave it gets warmer, against your expectations.
“Something isn’t right.”
“Yeah, no shit. That’s why we’re here,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.
Your pace slows as you make it further in, carefully taking the time to examine the environment around you. The cave only gets hotter, the scent of something floral lingering in the air. As you take another step, something slick and wet rubs against your leg.
“Zenin,” you whisper, quickly lifting your foot up from the water to confirm nothing is on it, “did you feel that?”
“No,” he scoffs again, as if anything you say has no value to him, “it’s probably some seaweed or something.”
All your senses are on high alert, but Naoya looks as unphased as can be. If anything, he looks annoyed that the cursed spirit hasn’t bothered to come out yet.
The temperature is too much for you to handle, as you take off your jacket to throw it over your shoulder just for a little bit of respite. Sweat starts to bead on your skin as you do your best to keep yourself cool, flicking away the droplets and fanning yourself.
And just a moment later, there’s a bit of pressure on your shoulder before your jacket is whipped off of you.
“Oh, come on,” you groan.
“Why the complaining?” he coos, smiling as he takes in the view of your bare arms and shoulders, “this is the best you’ve looked all night.”
“Pig.”
“Bitch.”
Rolling your eyes, you continue forward, jacketless and irritated. Maybe you let your emotions get the best of you, huffing and aimlessly traveling deeper until you realize you’re alone. The heat is unbearable, pierces through your skin and rushes down to your core at the worst possible moment.
Everything happens all at once, too quickly for you to react in time. Something grabs your legs and holds them tight before spreading them apart. Another slick appendage appears, forcefully pulling at the placket of your blouse until the buttons pop off and the fabric tears apart with a crisp rip. You attempt to break free from its grasp, wrapping every ounce of cursed energy you can muster into your fingertips, only for more slimy tendrils to appear and restrain you.
You’ve lost count of how many tentacles are holding you apart as another creeps up your thigh winding around your flesh like a vine. The end of it pulls on the hem of your skirt, adding more force to it until the fabric tears. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you thrash around to no avail. If anything, all your struggling only helps the appendages grab a better hold of your body, one of them wriggling down to your clothed pussy. It slowly slips under your underwear, and you flinch at the intrusion.
The floral scent from earlier returns, much stronger than before. It fills your lungs until it’s too much, making your head feel light and dizzy. Your skin burns hot with every breath in, a burning want growing in your cunt. Before you know it, your body is acting on its own, desperately rutting your hips into the tentacle’s grip to relieve the growing tension in your core.
“I take back what I said earlier, this is the best you’ve looked all night.” You barely notice Naoya when he finally finds you, looking with amusement in his eyes, a sick grin on his face at your state of undress.
“Oh fuck off,” you’re barely able to get out, and even when you do it doesn’t have nearly as much bite as you want it to. You sound tamed — defanged and declawed.
“Alright then, if that’s what you want.” He shrugs and turns on his heel to walk away — and he does. Casually so. The bastard is really about to leave you high and dry.
“No, no! Zenin, get me out of here!” Your voice isn’t something you recognize, morphing into something softer, whinier with every passing moment.
Naoya turns back, steps just a bit closer to you and crosses his arms together. “I will if you ask nicely. Maybe you should start with being a bit more respectful, huh?”
Any dignity you have left is thrown out the window, not that you have much left to begin with. So you drum up the sweetest voice you can muster through gritted teeth, because at least you’ll only have to do it once if you do it right, and plead to the best of your ability, “Zenin-kun, get me out of here, won’t you?”
“Kun? Didn’t think we were friends. I was thinking something more like Zenin-sama,” he sneers with a shit-eating grin, “you can do that, can’t you?”
Salvation is so close, he dangles it in front of you like a carrot for a rabbit. Before you can ask again, something wet pokes and prods at your entrance, earning a drawn out whine from you. You can only watch in horror while Naoya’s eyes sparkle in amusement as the appendage slips into your hole with little resistance.
The curse wriggles unnaturally inside as it fills you up, choked moans escaping you the more access it gains. Your head’s a mess, filled with cotton as you can barely manage to string a thought together. Another appendage reaches for your clit, flicking at the bundle of nerves before the tip opens and clamps onto it. The intensity of it is too much in too little time as you scream and writhe from the sensation.
The moment a tentacle aims for Naoya, he simply touches it using his technique and it freezes. He shakes his hand to get rid of the slick before commenting, “Ugh, gross. Can’t believe you’re letting this thing touch you. Didn’t think you were such a slut.”
It’s humiliating seeing him watch from a distance, the cursed spirit not even bothering to go for him again and instead focusing its assault on you. It’s all brand new to you, the feeling of being so stuffed, having your clit sucked on so aggressively. All of this leads to something feverish building in your core, one you don’t want to acknowledge, especially in front of the likes of Naoya.
“N-Naoya, please just kill the damn thing,” you mutter between labored breaths, hoping he’ll finally bother to fulfill your request.
“First name basis now are we? Maybe if you add the -sama to the end of that I’ll consider it.”
You try, you really do, but the moment the words dance on your tongue all you can let out is a choked moan. Speaking gets harder by the moment, your body overwhelmed by being fucked by the cursed spirit, its appendages wrapping around your tits and teasingly flicking at your nipples.
“Better hurry. Damned thing might just fuck you to death for all I know,” he scoffs.
You can only imagine how pitiful you look. Drool leaking from your mouth as the cursed spirit treats you like its plaything, tentacles roughly squirming about and pulsating in and out of your pussy. And despite it all, something molten grows in your core, begging to be released.
It takes every ounce of willpower you have to get the words out.
“N-Naoya-sama, please help me.” It’s the most pathetic you’ve ever sounded, tears running down your face, voice hushed and laced with desperation.
“Now was that so hard?” he coos, pouting at the end of his question just to rub it in your face.
“Please, please, please,” you plead, and you’re not sure what for – for him to save you or for that coil in your stomach to finally snap.
“You’re a lot cuter when you know your place, you know that?”
You take your eyes off Naoya for a moment and you lose track of him. It only takes a minute for him to make quick work of the cursed spirit. While you can’t see him, you can feel the impact of his blows through the creature. Appendages disappear one by one as you slowly regain control of your own body.
Whether Naoya purposefully saves the tendril sucking your clit for last, you can’t definitively say, but you wouldn't be surprised either. Curses spill from your lips as you can’t hold yourself back any longer, the tension in your body finally snapping with an all-consuming intensity. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, like you’ve lost all control of your body – legs quivering and walls fluttering around nothing. You barely recognize the moans that fall from your lips. When the last tentacle finally disappears, you nearly topple over yourself from the release of its grip.
Any considerate human being would offer something to make you half decent, but it’s Naoya, so the first words to leave his mouth are less than kind to say the least.
“What kinda sorcerer are you? Gettin’ off to a cursed spirit. Disgusting,” he teases.
“Fuck you,” you spit back, just a bit of your fight restored in you.
“I bet that’s what you want, huh?” he asks, taking a step towards you to encroach on your personal space.
“Back off, Zenin. I’m fucking tired of your shit.” You attempt to recollect yourself and stand, only for your legs to give out on you. Everything feels gelatinous and wobbly, the muscles in your legs, the thoughts running through your head, the breaths shakily expelling from your lungs.
“Really? Is that why you got yourself all fucked out for me?” Naoya squats down to look at you with a smirk that has your blood boiling.
"What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? You’re the one that got off to this shit,” he sounds incredulous, as if you’re the one being audacious right now. His expression morphs into something darker as he takes in the sight of you – eyes leering up and down, tracing every curve of your body. “Bet you still need more.”
It’s the last thing you want, especially at the hands of someone like him. But you don’t get the chance to think about it further, rough arms wrapping around you in an instant, his hand digging into your thighs and kneading the flesh.
“Get off of me!” you yell, attempting to thrash about but Naoya’s hold on you is steady.
“Why? I’m being nice,” he grunts while wrangling you in, “just trying to help out an ungrateful bitch like yourself.”
The heat of his body against yours burns, and you realize that maybe the soon to be heir isn’t as infallible as you think he is. He’s only human after all. That being said, he’s still the last person you want to be in this situation with, and even without the addition of whatever substance the curse excreted in the air, you wouldn’t put it past the bastard to get hard from watching you suffer.
The sound of fabric shifting fills your ears, something hot and hard pressing against the small of your back, before the sensation disappears for a second. When it reappears, it’s a lot lower than before, his cock slipping between your wet folds in a way that makes you bite your lips back. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, attempting to break out of his hold again.
“Stop fucking moving,” he grumbles as he pokes and prods at your wet hole.
“I will when you get off me,” you quip back. His grip around you tightens and your body seizes for a moment. It’s humiliating how easy it is for Naoya to push himself into you with little resistance, all wet and prepped from the cursed spirit that had its way with you. Even worse that you moan when you feel him bottom out.
“Stop, stop, stop-” you cry, but you’re back to sounding whinier, melting and falling victim to whatever drug the spirit pumped into your lungs.
“Should tell your pussy to stop sucking me in then,” he jeers, punctuating the end of his sentence with a deep thrust that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
It shouldn’t feel this good, but there’s that undeniable tension building in your stomach as he ruts into you like an animal. The sound of skin-to-skin slapping echoes throughout the cave, only broken up by your whimpers and choked cries. Every drag of his cock against your plush walls adds to your pleasure, even though you want to deny it so badly. It all builds to a head when Naoya finds that spot that has you louder than before, unable to control the volume of your voice. He’s mean, bullies it relentlessly like it’s target practice.
Every ounce of holding back goes out the window as you cum and gush all over his cock, crying as ecstasy runs its course through your body. All of your nerves burn white hot, your muscles painfully tight as Naoya fucks you through it, even with your walls constricting and squeezing around him.
“Shit, you’re into this, aren’t you?” he growls into your ear, the warmth of his breath making you wince.
“N-no, I’m not,” you reply back, voice warbly and shaky much like your conviction. You sound nowhere close to convincing.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he laughs and you swear you can hear the smile on his face.
There’s no time to recover from your previous orgasm, Naoya doesn’t give you that privilege. Your body simply tightens up again even more than before, your muscles a taut knot waiting for the threads to snap from the tension.
“S-Stop ‘s too much,” you beg, the pleasure from before slowly building into a dull burn as Naoya pushes himself deeper into you.
He seems to take offense to your comment, pressing your face onto the cold slab of stone as a means of silencing any kind of protest.
“Should be thanking me, letting you cum on a real cock,” he spits, and the mention of cumming makes your walls clench around him. The way your body reacts to his words makes it feel like it isn’t yours, as if a stranger has taken control and turned the dial for rational thought to zero.
“Cumming again? Can feel you getting tight on me,” he teases, making the extra effort to push into you deeper until you can feel his tip kissing your cervix.
“No, no, I can’t,” you cry, and you really believe it, with how worn out your body feels, how he breaks it down more with every passing moment.
“Bet you can,” he groans before slamming into you harder and faster than before.
With his rugged pace it doesn’t take long for that tension to finally snap. When it finally does, your body trembles uncontrollably as that sweet warm pleasure bursts in your core. Your climax makes its way through you like a dying star – explosive, intense, and far too short-lived.
Even still, Naoya doesn’t relent, frying out your nerves and sending you straight into overstimulation. Pain floods in soon after, building on top of itself until it’s too much to ignore. You can’t stop yourself from sobbing and panting, choking on your tears as you desperately wish for him to finish already. The cries only get louder as the pain intensifies, throbbing in your walls with each pass of his cock.
To your surprise, he turns your head to face him, if only to drink in your pitiful expression. The way he looks at you with crazed lust in his eyes as he slams his hips into yours just makes the tears fall faster, serving as another reminder that he’s the last person you want to be with. You don’t want to think about how he cums soon after – not that you have to – as your head blanks out when he buries himself to the hilt before painting your insides with hot, sticky ropes of white.
Naoya takes a moment to savor the sensation of having himself balls deep inside you before finally pulling out, and you wince when your pussy continues to convulse around nothing.
You just need a moment. Some time to recollect your thoughts. And for once, Naoya gives you what you want, though you know it’s not on purpose. Casually gathers himself and leaves you there.
When you’re finally alone and lucid enough to string together a coherent thought, there’s only one thing running through your head – you hope the higher ups don’t send you on mission with him again.
t.w.: Dark-ish fic, Smut, Breeding/Pregnancy Kink, Pervy!Joel, Themes of cheating and infidelity, set in Jackson (after season 1), slight violence, Tommy! He's taking your wife!
a/n: Please read warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only!
Summary: You want a baby so bad you fail to realize how it might affect your marriage. Joel impresses with his skills as a father and you catch yourself imagining him in your husband’s stead.
Tommy had introduced you to Joel, he thought you two would get along well. He just didn't expect you to get along that well. The first time Joel had laid eyes on you his face brightened, he tipped his head down at you, shaking your hand for a second too long.
Then, Tommy wrapped his arms around your waist and Joel had swallowed so thickly his adams apple bobbed.
He was happy for his little brother, he had a partner. He had a safe home to live out the rest of his life if he wanted to. There was a whole community that cherished him. Depended on his knowledge.
Tommy had even shown him the ring he had found and later surprised you with in an abandoned shop, on a route you two would usually patrol.
He was happy for his little brother.
That was until you started popping up all the time. You’d knock at his door in the morning, asking him to accompany you to breakfast at the hall or the Tipsy Bison. You always asked Ellie too. But in those moments, as you leaned against the doorway with your arms crossed, in jeans that fit you perfectly and a gun holster at your hip, with a smug smile and a raised brow, he felt as if you were only speaking to him.
You wanted his company.
Joel had the urge to ask you if he could help around Jackson more, he's sure he could do what Tommy does, maybe even do it better. But since he's so new, they have him working around town, gauging his skill sets. You already knew he was destined to be a patrolman, maybe help with construction and expansion of the town in his free time.
You would see his similarities to Tommy, definitely. Respectful and yet demanding respect in return. Although you knew Tommy was capable of great violence, it seemed like Joel was more willing to submit to it.
His gruff and closed off personality served as a warning. He was warming up to the town though. You like to think you were a great help in that.
The clatter of plates and cutlery clang around the hall consistently. You pick at the eggs and sausage, chewing slowly and sipping from your mug of coffee as you listen to the conversations around you. Your mind was wandering.
Joel nudges your elbow resting on the table gently with his. You shrug and sigh.
"Tommy's busy in the mornings, either on patrol or helping build something."
He hums as a response, fighting the urge to bring mouthfuls of food into his mouth to eat it all quickly. Instead, he places his fork down and passes a hand over your shoulder empathetically.
“Well that’s… Tommy.” He struggles with finding the right words for people in need of emotional support. He’s more of a man of action. Of course, you would never expect to discuss negative details of your relationship to Joel. They were brothers.
His attempt did lighten up your mood though.
Ellie had no shame, she wasn't paying attention. You patted the back of her hand whenever you noticed her scarfing down her food.
"You'll get a stomachache, babe," you scold softly, a hint of a smile on your lips. Joel looked at you appreciatively when she slowed down. She never listens to him, unless it was serious. It seemed as if a gentler approach was needed. Something he didn't think he could provide either.
Ellie had just finished eating, so quickly you hadn't even finished your own plate. You watch as she drapes her coat over herself, practically bouncing with energy to meet up with her new friends. Joel's expression softens when he sees the way you stare at her, a knowing look on your face, an eyebrow raised.
"Be careful, don't go running around by the gates‐"
Ellie says nothing, pursing her lips and wincing as if she were ready to ask for leverage. Joel straightens up and gives her a pointed look. You were part of the council, along with Tommy. Technically, you had power to kick anyone out of the town. Everyone knew you would never do that.
Despite the friendliness, the authority stayed prominent in your role in town meetings, even among your council members, most notably with your husband.
Ellie sighs and responds in a bored tone. "I won't. Promise."
You hum, skeptical. You had seen her the other day, along with her group. They were always up to something, most of the time just causing slight annoyances to the townsfolk. They were good kids but had low survival instincts.
You worry about her, as if you were her own mother. Joel is taken back to the night you had come over for dinner, Tommy busy being part of the patrol that evening. Ellie had confessed to you first about her crush on a girl she met in school.
"She's so fucking cool. She has all these tattoos‐"
Joel was washing up the dishes, Ellie was showing you around her bedroom, explaining every detail and knick knack, having stopped to explain a sketch pinned to her cork board.
"You have a crush on her?" you had asked simply, accompanied by a teasing grin.
She was nervous to discuss this aspect of her life, admittedly. To express it openly, if at all. Her face fell, growing paler by the second. She didn’t know how to bring this up in a conversation, especially not with Joel.
"Don't tell him..." She winces as she says it. It felt awkward even thinking about it with you. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes as you hear a shift from outside the bedroom. Joel must have come up the stairs, used to being quiet in his steps.
It had broken his heart. An axe pressing down the side, twisting and pushing so hard he thought he couldn't breathe for a second.
"I won't," you reply, smiling softly at her.
The beating organ in his chest seemed to plummet to his stomach.
"But..." you had pushed her hair back, pulling her to your side, your hand squeezing her shoulder and arm reassuringly, "That man cares about you so much, he would rather die than make you feel as if he didn't."
Ellie had told him in passing a couple of days later, then asking how to ask girls out, her eyes flickering from where he stood and the hallway every few seconds.
Of course you were there, sipping from one of his mugs, enjoying the coffee he had offered to share with you. He smiled at you so gratefully you thought another man was staring at you. He’s sure if you hadn’t reassured Ellie she would have never mentioned a thing.
It was sweet, watching him try to explain how to impress a woman, turning to you for help but only being met with a shrug and a smirk. You liked watching them communicate, live, just be. He really did care about her like a father, a good one, even if he asked too many questions about this mystery girl named Kat.
You were starting to see her as a daughter too, although you don't think you'll ever confess that to anyone, not even Tommy. If anything the closest thing you could be with Ellie is her aunt.
You sigh when she leaves the dining hall in a rush now. You briefly glance down at your lap, feeling your disappointment flare in your mind once again at waking up to find out you were going through your cycle that month.
…
A month ago, Tommy had told him how you were trying. He finally felt safe enough and sure of the town's own wellbeing. He was starting to look towards settling down. With you.
Joel got quiet after that conversation, letting him talk on and on about how you two were reorganizing your home, gathering supplies for the baby or babies if you were lucky enough. Tommy had winked at that, a smirk firmly planted on his face mentioning offhandedly that he remembers their uncle having twins, as well as their grandparents having a pair as well.
Joel had excused himself afterwards and you had caught him at the door of your house just as he was stepping out.
"Hey, Joel," you had greeted, pulling him into a hug.
You wrapped your arms around him tightly, your hands sliding up his sides and onto his back, accidentally going under his jacket. Your chest was flush against his, he could feel your breasts squeeze and compress against him.
He reciprocated all too willingly, you gave a surprised chuckle as he squeezed you close. His chin rested against your head for a second, he caught a whiff of your aroma, a hint of lavender from the soap an old woman makes and sells at the butchers from animal fat and herbs.
Tommy must have bought you some. He swallowed thickly and kept you at an arm's length.
"Mrs. Miller."
You chuckle, he'd call you that and it would sound as if he himself had given you the name to keep. You vaguely remember the time a newcomer had asked where your husband was, Tommy sitting right next to you.
You gave them a weird look, then they clarified, "Where's Joel?"
Tommy had chuckled it off, ignoring your growing frown. It was funny to him, but it wasn't to you. He hadn't thought of the implications of the misconception like you had. It had become a running joke, one you didn’t really appreciate as much as the rest.
When you thought about it, you and Tommy are only ever together at night, when he is done with his day. Most of your activities now included fucking or sleeping. It felt as if you barely even spoke a full conversation nowadays.
You had glanced inside the house and a glimmer of hope filled you as you saw Tommy.
"How are you?" you ask, your attention visibly diverted elsewhere but at Joel. You glance back at him, in front of you, smiling politely at your brother in law, hoping he might leave soon.
Joel nods, pursing his lips, hating the way you had stepped back and your warmth left him, your hands resting on his forearms so that you could have a small courteous chat before he left.
"Good,” he purses his lips and sucks in his teeth. He had half a mind to tell you to mind your manners at your indifference.
“Heard you were thinkin' of adding a Miller to the family."
Your face scrunches in what looks to be embarrassment and some form of annoyance. Tommy loves to go around town and run his mouth, you glanced behind Joel to catch Tommy leaning against the doorway, you narrowed your eyes playfully before your face fell a little, seeing that he had his boots on along with his pack on his shoulder, ready to leave again.
You focus back on Joel.
"Yeah, hopefully. It's taking a bit."
You look down to the ground, trying to hide your disappointment. When he turned back, he could see Tommy's own look of slight despair. Your relationship was at a strain, despite himself, he started to find elation in his heart at the fact.
Especially when you started to talk to him about it.
…
"How are you?" Joel muttered, still sitting next to you at the hall, an hour after Ellie had left. A question was echoed back to you for once, since you always wanted to know about everyone else's day.
You nod, followed by a small "Good," which he didn't believe at all. He reaches a hand across the table, and he wonders how Tommy never understands why people mistake you and Joel for a couple. You flip your hand, slowly as if you were hesitant. Your fingers twist together with his tightly in confidence.
"Is it Tommy?"
You sigh, breathing out shakily and attempting to smile and brush off the sadness that envelopes you.
"It's not… he's working. I know I shouldn’t be selfish- it's just, I wish he would stop playing hero so much.”
You sigh.
“It just feels as if he's not here with me anymore."
Joel knew all too well how Tommy gets when he sets a goal. He came all the way to Wyoming from Boston all by himself for god's sake. He tends to leave his family behind. Joel would never. Especially not if he had a wife at home, ready to build a family with him in a prospering community.
You look around the room and find that only you and Joel were there. No food was being served at the moment, not until lunch. You finally let yourself break.
Your eyes fill with tears, your lips start to wobble and you try to hide your face with your hand.
"I just‐ I feel so lonely sometimes."
His arms go around your shoulders, you’re enveloped in his scent and warmth. Shivers go down your spine. When was the last time Tommy had held you this way? His head atop yours, squeezing you tightly and pressing you against his chest as he cradles your head. It's been too long.
"Hey, darlin'. I'm here, it's okay," he whispers. He pulls back to see you so broken, so beautiful and vulnerable. He hates the way his heart beats wildly at the hopeful way you look up at him with half lidded eyes.
"You're not alone, baby. I'm right here with you."
He looks into your eyes deeply, his hands cupping your face. It was wrong, he knew it was. It should be Tommy in his place, he shouldn’t have started leaning in, his eyes shouldn’t have flickered to your lips, prompting you to do the same.
Something desperate had built in your chest, aching to be released.
You grip him by the lapels of his thick jacket, pushing yourself to meet his lips with your own eagerly. He reciprocates with a deep groan, as if he had been holding it in since the day he met you.
You don’t stop when he has coaxed your mouth open, his tongue sliding past your lips and caressing your own. You don’t stop when you give a high whine, feeling your core pulse at the way his hands travelled to your waist, dipping into the denim of your jeans to grip the fat of your hips.
You don’t stop when your hands run over his hair, feeling the roots and lightly tugging. But you realize his hands were different, his lips and his hair weren't what you were used to.
You stop when you realize you weren't kissing Tommy. Your husband. The man you wear your ring for.
You push away quickly, leaving Joel leaning towards you as if he couldn't get enough. He genuinely couldn't, your taste was intoxicating, the feel of your body against his so intimately made his mind blur.
“Shit-Joel-“
He attempted to kiss you again, but you leaned further away, standing and shaking your head in shock. He watched you leave, rushing to put on your jacket, taking big strides.
You glanced at him one last time as you passed by the window, catching his stare, how his mouth hung open and he licked his lips when you had stopped slightly only to continue forward, flustered.
One thing was for sure, as he watched you go to the stables, shaking your hands vigorously and slamming the doors forcefully, you were like a drug to him.
…
You had acted as if nothing had happened, you hadn't gone to his house for dinner, you hadn't invited him to get breakfast with you and you haven't been alone with him since.
It was just a kiss, he thought. A kiss and he lost you for who knows how long. He watches you closely when Tommy invites him over for dinner, how you talk to Ellie most of the night, how you keep a hand on Tommy at all times like a message.
You were Tommy's and you wanted him.
He could see through the facade easily. He wonders if you think of the kiss often. If you imagine Joel instead of Tommy when he fucks you. He thinks of you often, almost every night when he jerks his cock in his fist, imagining your whines and whimpers, how wet you must get and how you crave touch so intensely.
He imagines you under the layers of clothes you wear, how he would peel them off slowly, make you squirm under his gaze. Some nights your stomach is as it normally is, soft and healthy, others it's swollen, so much so your breasts rest atop it like a shelf.
He likes those nights, when he imagines himself giving you the baby you wanted, which Tommy seems to be lacking on. He'd stave himself off, letting go of his cock or squeezing so tightly his orgasm is lost. He'd have a vision in his mind, your big puffy tits in his mouth, sucking at a constant rate to get your milk going down his throat and falling heavily into his stomach.
He wanted to be full of you, satiated by what you provide. He wanted you to be full of him. Fucking twins. You had told him the other day, before you had started avoiding him entirely, how twins run in your family.
Two beautiful babies. Healthy and chubby because you two would take care of them with so much love and care. Beautiful babies he would watch grow and become beautiful people.
He would hug you goodbye and it would make your skin crawl, in a good way, debating by the way your breath hitched and goosebumps would spread over your arms.
What really made him know you felt a thrill go down your spine was the fact that you smelled different.
Joel had dropped off a gift for you as an apology, soap. Milk and Honey. Tommy delivered it right to you after they had done a patrol together, not knowing its true intention. You even sent a half hearted note in thanks back to him, of course Tommy serving as the middleman.
You smelled so warm now, homely. Motherly.
…
You started feeling sick a couple months later and the next few months were filled with celebrations and gatherings all for the growing Miller family. He started seeing you more often, his desires increased tenfold. Each time he would see you, your belly would be slightly larger, your body softer but your eyes were starting to dull.
Tommy's appearance was becoming less and less prominent and you would be surrounded by mothers and parents, elderly and children, all trying to ensure that you were doing well.
Your eyes only ever brightened when Ellie was around, which wasn't often anymore. She was growing into a young adult and to be completely honest she didn't find anything worth talking about with you anymore, not since your condition had impeded you from riding on a horse comfortably, let alone help patrol or keep up at the stables.
It felt as if everyone was slowly starting to avoid you. At least the people you cared for. Tommy picks up any job and task he could get his hands on, and Ellie is off with her friends, worrying the whole town.
Recently, they had made their way out of Jackson, taking some of the horses from the stables without telling anyone. You remember the look on Joel's face when a patrolman found them out and drinking alcohol, he was so red and his brows were so furrowed deep he looked cartoonish.
Your heart had warmed at his sigh afterwards, shaking his head and most likely having counted to ten in his head to keep in his anger. A pat on the back is all he did, telling her to go to school and that when she came back they were going to discuss some things.
His eyes connected with yours afterwards, catching you staring and for the first time in a while you kept your gaze steady. Your hand had gone to the now prominent swell of your middle, wondering how Tommy would have reacted to the very same situation Ellie was in.
Would he shout and scream or would he collect himself and give a stern warning? Now that you thought of it, he didn’t really interact with children all that much. Joel was so patient with children, Tommy had told you about Sarah, how Joel had stepped up to be a single parent and was amazing at it.
Tommy talks to Ellie, you suppose, but that was because Joel would bring her around all the time. Would he even be a good father?
You stop yourself before you could think about it more. Thinking about wanting Tommy to be like Joel was mean. This was his first time being a dad, Joel had already done it before. It wasn't fair to judge so quickly, especially if the baby wasn't even in his arms yet.
But wouldn't it be nice... you imagine Joel with a baby in his arms, swaying ever so slightly, smiling down at the bundle of warmth. Then he would look at you, his eyes softening when you smiled softly at the scene.
In that moment, as Joel smiles at you and you smile sheepishly back, he took it as a sign that he could get close again.
Joel isn't the type of man to let an opportunity go to waste.
...
You waddle, you waddle now, and it was exhausting. There was no one to complain to, no one to even talk about these problems you have been dealing with because Tommy was tired too.
He would come back home, finding you half asleep with a book in hand on the rocking chair he had been able to get by trading with a grumpy old man arguing about which was worse, back pain or a seven pound baby weighing down on your hips. He had barely spoken a word before he went up to shower and ultimately go to bed for his morning shift.
He didn't hear how you shifted in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, how sometimes you would wake up nauseated and puke when he was still asleep. He wasn't even there when you felt the first kicks, when you had dropped your laundry basket to the floor and stood in shock when you had finally felt something shift.
The event was announced in passing, a comment about having felt the baby, and it was shrugged off, a passing hand at your shoulders and a peck to your lips before he left.
It was disheartening and disappointing. Things were so good before, then you had asked to build a family with him and you regret it now. You had just gotten married and you were so desperate for how things were before the outbreak that you didn't realize how hard things would be to even get ready for such a monumental step in your life.
Tommy wanted you to be as safe as possible. He wanted the baby to be as safe as possible. According to him, the only person tasked with being able to complete those goals was him. He was taking the lead in patrols, taking the lead in council meetings and interventions, oftentimes taking your place and not even calling you in for a hearing.
‘You’re pregnant, you can't be walkin’ much. The stress will hurt the baby, let me take care of it.’
You were hoping to talk about it in the evening when you knew Tommy would be home. He had taken a morning and night shift, having midday to rest. You hope it meant you would see him more, to stop thinking about other men in his stead.
A bell from the door startled you, and when your head turned sharply to the clock by the wall your heart started pumping with joy. The door opened and Tommy was met with a bright smile.
The hug had made him take a step back, almost losing his balance from how you threw your whole body in his arms. He held you as tight as he could, slightly swaying and sighing from the way your head fell almost perfectly into the warm junction of his neck and shoulder.
Your bodies radiate happiness, your minds turning blank at each other's touch. His hands gripped yours tightly when you had started roaming, your lips already working over his exposed neck after a few seconds of inhaling his deep musk.
It's been months since you've been this close and your body needed some release. You were already wet, your pussy clenching at the thought of him taking his jacket and flannel off and exposing his broad chest and shoulders in the tight thermos you knew he wore all the time to keep from the winter's cold.
You held in a moan at the taste of his skin, your tongue peeking from your lips teasingly and your hand moving to the front of his pants that you felt slowly becoming firmer with each passing second.
You groaned in frustration when he had stopped you, pulling back to look in your eyes, his brown orbs full of playfulness and slight disappointment.
"Joel and Ellie are going to stay awhile, we can't right now, honey."
It took a minute, you were licking your lips, shifting uncomfortably as he stepped back and let go of you. Then a couple feet from your front porch Joel Miller comes striding in, a small, soft smile on his face as he trudges up the steps, carrying a pack with him.
"Mrs. Miller," he greets, humor in his voice. Your eyes narrow at his confidence as if you hadn't made every move to not be in his presence alone for the past few months.
Tommy's hand caresses up and down on your arm, trying to soothe the mounting disappointment and discomfort at his arrival. His hand gently sweeps over your belly as he kisses the side of your head.
"The generator doesn't work, tried to fix it, but looks like something's off with the wiring."
You eye Joel and Tommy, squinting between the both of them in disbelief.
"I- I know I haven't asked the woman of the house yet." He chuckles nervously, expecting you to chuckle with him. You just stare, his face falls slightly, "But I had already offered them the guest rooms and a Miller always keeps their promises."
...
Tommy learned how to cook for you. It was rough the first few times, when he would give you either burnt food or half cooked and raw meats but with each dinner he had gotten better. Staring at his back, you watch him gathering ingredients from cupboards, turning to ask if you knew where certain things were and smiling when you just motioned with your head in annoyance.
You stand with your back against the kitchen island, sighing loudly from the company. You remember the night he proposed, he pulled his hair in a bun, like he did now to cook, and wore an old dress shirt. He found a record player, brought it home and played some slow songs. His eyes looked so deep into yours that night, it felt like you fell in love all over again.
Tommy turns to you, crossing his arms and giving you that gigawatt smile and it feels as if your chest was starting to combust, the memory of that night suddenly coming to fruition again.
He doesn’t want you to be upset at him. He misses you too. So much. He takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out-
"Can I?"
Joel's chest blocks your view, you stand up straighter. He didn't ask again when you looked up at him in confusion, his hands already at your stomach, roaming. His fingers prod at the end of your shirt- Tommy's shirt, and pulls up to reveal a sliver of the skin of your stomach.
"Your niece has been growing," Tommy adds after a few seconds, going back to focusing on the stove. He was oblivious to the way you shifted on your feet uncomfortably.
"Niece? You think it's a girl,” Joel asks, looking down at you, his brow quirked.
"Know so, I can feel it," Tommy responds.
Joel smiles softly when you do, glancing behind his shoulder, to look Tommy with a lovestruck look. Tommy deserves a good life; he just hates that it had to be with you. Maybe if you weren't already together when he arrived, he would have swooped in and taken you first.
Maybe then he would be the one telling Tommy that his niece was growing in your belly instead of the other way around. He turns to you.
"Have you gotten any cravings yet?"
He stares down at you, his eyes moving to your lips and staying there. Tommy couldn't see the glint in his eye, the way his thumb moves in circles on the skin of your belly, slightly pushing up your shirt further.
"No, not yet,” you respond quietly.
You swallow thickly when he hums, it vibrates from his chest to yours, you throb at the feel of his warm palm, riding up your stomach, the smirk of his lips widens.
"It'll happen soon enough, makes you crazy I think, especially now when you can't have what you really want."
The shake of your head makes him chuckle, you glare at his shoulder.
"I'll give her whatever she likes, she's never been without, not with me around."
You purse your lips, quickly finding the irony in your husband’s words. Joel barely turns his head when speaking back to him. He hums again, considering his words.
"You sure?"
Tommy glances back for a second, confused, not quite catching on, still focused on the pieces of steak on the stove. Joel's hands start to drag down lower, moving to your hips, his thumb at your hip bone and digging closer into the front zipper of your jeans, held together with a hair tie.
"What cravings we talkin' about?" Tommy’s voice was unsure, as if he had caught onto something suspicious. Your breath stutters, Tommy's head turns from where he was cooking at the pan.
"I don't know Tommy, maybe I'll want some ice cream."
You interrupt, seeing Joel's eyes squint and his mouth purse.You weren't sure he was going to say what he wanted to, but you knew it was on the tip of his tongue. He was bold and it made you anxious.
"Maybe some pickles with the ice cream,” you reiterate, attempting to lead the conversation to a lighthearted end.
Tommy laughs and Joel frowns when you step away, moving to get a glass of water from the water jar on the kitchen counter. With a kiss to your head, his hands still busy on the sizzling pan and wooden spoon, Tommy chuckles.
"I'll get you all the pickles you want, darlin'."
He winks and swats your ass gently, you scoff, swatting his arm. What concerned you was the fact that Joel had scoffed along with you. Tommy laughs, pointing at Joel with his spoon.
"Sorry, can't take my hands off my lady, maybe you'll get what I mean soon, since you got all them women pecking at your feet."
You expect the conversation to end there, you almost sigh in relief at the seconds of silence afterwards.
"I got my eyes on someone, I'm sure you'll like her Tommy."
"Oh really?"
"Yep."
"Can I meet the lucky gal?"
"I'm sure you already know her since y'know, you've been here longer and it's a pretty small town."
Tommy smiles. He was happy for his older brother, finally settling in. He glances at you beside him, knowing that you had a big part in assimilating him into the town. You glance behind you as if you knew something he didn’t.
His heart swells at your close friendship. He had hoped his brother would have accepted you and the other way around, especially with the stories he had told you about his past.
You knew everything about Joel and he had told Joel everything about you.
"I'm sure I do,” he responds seconds later, arching his brow in your direction.
Your ears burn hot, you don't dare turn around, knowing Joel was grinning right at you.
Lunch was awkward, Tommy had sent you both to set up the table and you had tried to hide your displeasure despite the way Joel's hand on the small of your back made you want to jump out of your skin.
It wasn't horrible, it was a good feeling, especially when he had made you sit down while Tommy finished up, massaging your shoulders, then moving down to your lower back, his fingers grazing over the top of your ass.
A moan had escaped you accidentally, making him stop his movements momentarily and continue with more vigor over the stiffness of your muscles.
"Such pretty sounds coming from a pretty mama," he mutters.
"Joel-“
“It’s ready!”
You shift away a little too quickly, standing and facing Tommy at the doorway. Your hiss from the ache in your back, the sudden weight pulling you down. Tommy immediately goes to your side, urging you to sit back down, barely noticing how close Joel had been seconds before. You eat in relative silence, the dinner lasting longer when Ellie had come in, just coming from her friend’s house.
You only had a few moments with Tommy the rest of the evening, he held you, swaying in the middle of your bedroom, about to put on his boots to leave for patrol. It was always nerve racking, watching him leave now, especially since you used to accompany him all of the time before and now you physically couldn’t. At least he had Maria looking after him. But the worry was still ever present.
“Just a few days and we’ll have the house to ourselves.”
You nod against his chest, gripping his waist tightly. He cups your cheek, feeling your hands shake, trying to keep yourself from crying.
“Hey, I’ll come back, I always do, yeah?”
You nod again and he frowns at your lack of eye contact. His lips soften you some, coaxing your mouth open, making your legs turn to jello at the feel of his hands gliding over your body and pushing you to sit on bed. Your shirt comes off quickly, and he stares in amazement, for the first time in a while seeing your breasts bare.
“They’re bigger, honey.”
You huff a short laugh, watching his hands hesitantly cup them, squeezing and making your nipple bulge from between his fingertips. You moan, your lips parting, your thighs shifting. He looks mesmerized, his tongue flicking outward, his knees shifting closer to you. You spread your legs, already unbuttoning the front of your makeshift maternity jeans, his torso already slotting against the insides of your thighs.
You smell good, he’s been able to get some scented oils for you, mostly for your growing body, to help soften your skin. The things that he’s given up to make sure you were well off. It made him miss these moments with you. He was still amazed at how much the baby had grown.
Then his eyes started flickering, moving to the side as his eyes narrowed. The clock was glaring at him, making him groan in irritation and startling you. He stands, picking up your shirt and helping you put it on.
“Gotta go…”
You barely reciprocate the kiss before he leaves.
…
The stomach makes things more complicated. Your balance is off, you could barely see your toes and you weren't as flexible as before. Your arm had to curve to even reach your pussy, which normally shouldn't have been a problem since you had Tommy around. But you were aching, you barely had any time alone with him and considering Joel's generator had decided to stop working entirely when your schedules were finally aligned you don't think you ever will.
You groan in frustration, your head pressed against the pillows and your eyes closed shut to imagine his scent, his taste, the softness of his hair. You move your hips, imagining his thrusts, your hands running down his bare chest and counting all of the freckles and marks on his skin whenever you rode him. You missed his cock, uncut, thick, hard.
You moan even without touching yourself, imagining him on top of you, his lips at your throat, his teeth biting at the skin of your neck. You didn’t think to lock the door, or pay attention to the way the wood creaks.
"So beautiful…”
You stop your movement, not being able to sit up quick enough and cursing yourself when all you could do was cover yourself with a thin blanket from the side. You stare at him, standing by the door, watching and walking in slowly only to close to the door. The bed dips when his knee connects to the mattress, crawling towards you in your shock.
“He doesn’t take care of you does he?”
You scowl, glancing at him and the door.
“Joel, what are you doing?” you hissed.
His hands reach to cup your face.
“Let me. Please.”
Your eyes were swollen in unshed tears of frustration, your hands were shaking in nerves. He imagines he’s in his home, and you were laying on his bed, naked and so damn horny you could cry. He kisses you softly, cupping your face unexpectedly and dipping you to lay down again. You lean into it helplessly, feeling your hands grasp onto his shirt and grip so tightly it twists. You were the one to take it further, to make sure he stood still when your tongue started dipping in between his lips.
You were so desperate for touch, for any sort of skin on skin that you had momentarily lost yourself, moaning into his mouth, swallowing his groans down and pressing your hands wherever you could to feel him against you. Your hormones were going insane, raging through your body in pulses of pleasure when you sat up again only to push him down and straddle his lap.
His hand runs over your stomach, pressing slightly on the newly formed firmness.
“He hasn’t touched me, not since…”
You motion to your stomach and press further into his chest.
“He’s depriving you, needy thing. You needa cock in you every night, don’t ya. Need cum to fill you to the brim.”
Your hands grip onto his shirt tightly, unbuttoning the front and revealing a white undershirt. You make him groan, teeth nipping harshly at his bottom lip and grazing down his jaw and throat.
“You make me feel good, Joel,” you whispered. Your body was a mess of hormones, you were already dripping by the time his fingers pressed your underwear to the side, making you gasp onto his neck.
There was barely any resistance at his cock, entering you quickly in a thrust. The mattress creaks with each press of your hips, your belly kissing his with each undulation. Your breasts bounce and for a moment his eyes are stuck on the movement, your head thrown back and your hands tightening over his shoulders as you raise your thighs and slap them down again. His hand cradles your belly, his thumb running over your folds and grazing your swollen clit.
He’s amazed by the growth of your stomach, each time. He pretends it’s his, you do too, even if for a moment.
“You're so full of me, sweetheart.”
His cock was stuffing you repeatedly, stretching you wide every time you bounced and your cunt met the base of his shaft. You arch your back, your hands leaning back on his thighs. His head leans forward and his mouth reaches the peaks of your breasts, tongue flicking your nubs in time with his suckles.
“Does Tommy fuck you like this?” He murmurs against your skin.
Your eyes widen, you gasp when he bites down lightly. You clench tightly, the thought of your husband finding you fucking his own brother made your body stiffen and tremble.
“N-not anymore.”
Your wetness covered his lap, smothering the insides of your thighs in slick. His hands grip your hips tightly, lifting you and pressing you harder than your pace. Your body stiffens, your head filling with a pleasant and euphoric fuzz.
“So fuckin' tight, so wet-“ he groans, “how could he resist you, mama?”
Your back hits the mattress, despite the initial discomfort of having your legs spread to either side of your chest, your knees meeting the sides of your breasts, the press of his hips against yours makes your body turn soft and pliant.
The bed creaks, the frames slamming against the wall. Your breath leaves you in puffs, his body over you and his lips attached to your neck, leaving a thick trail of spit from your chest to lips. His hands entangled in yours, his groans next to your ear. You couldn’t think of anything else but him, anything but the way his cock slid into you, making your slick squelch against each slap of skin.
“Tommy doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a family,” he groans.
He stills, making you whine, your pussy tightening and your hands gripping over his strongly. His head lifts, staring deeply into your eyes, one of his hands cupping your stomach, his thumb smoothing over the gravid swell soothingly. He whispers promises on your lips.
“I’m going to take care of you. You and the baby.”
His thumb presses hard against your clit. You whimper, closing your eyes tightly, nodding lightly.
“Gonna give you more, as much as you can give me.”
He gets lost in your face, brows furrowed in pleasure, lips wide open in ecstasy. His hips move slowly, the tip of his shaft meeting your lips and sinking in, building you further into your climax. He closes his eyes, grinding his pelvis against yours, feeling your legs start to shake, your moans getting higher in pitch. Louder.
You gargle a scream when you lose yourself, making him groan against your chest, holding in a growl at how tight and wet you had gotten. His cum spurts inside you, you groan from the feeling, missing the heat that warms you. You pant, delirious and wiping at your forehead as your legs start to relax, almost cramping from the position he had put you in. His arms wound themselves around you, mouth open in exertion.
You chuckle, almost forgetting how much older he was compared to you. His chest is in sync with yours, his hands roam around your belly when you turn towards him, leaning your heavy stomach against his soft one. The pressure on your back is relieved and you sigh deeply, head burying into his shoulder.
He chuckles, pressing his lips on the side of your head and for a second you thought Tommy was beside you, caressing your stomach in circles, breathing in the scent of your hair. Your finger had stopped tracing patterns on his chest when you had felt a mole on his collarbone, pausing at the unfamiliarity.
Then your heart leapt from your chest, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You sit up quickly, tears already springing in your eyes at the man beneath you, sitting up with you to hold your face in his hands.
“What’s wrong?”
You almost scoffed, but you shake your head instead. Your heart drops, Ellie, the bed was banging against the damn walls, you had screamed for god’s sakes.
“Oh god- Ellie- she must have heard everything-“
“She’s not here, she’s with a friend tonight.”
That didn’t stop the tears from falling. You had deceived your husband, you fucked his brother. You were disgusted with yourself, your actions, the thoughts you had been fighting for months now.
He grips your face tightly, hearing you mutter Tommy’s name over and over again in a quiet whisper, trying to push yourself away from him. He surprises you with his lips against yours, he swallows your gasp, pulling you impossibly closer. Your lungs burned, your head cradled in his hands, his eyes closed tightly willing you to stay put.
You hate how you reciprocated, feeling your heart thump quickly in affection, something you used to only feel with Tommy.
…
Joel was with you every night, waiting until Tommy had left, when Ellie was in deep sleep or gone off with a friend. Sometimes he would take you in the morning, which was becoming an even more common occurrence.
You smile more often, you haven’t felt so doted on in what felt like a year. You didn’t need Tommy anymore, not when Joel was always with you, taking jobs around town now, mostly at the stables and with the cattle where you were usually set to supervise.
His presence was accepted by you again, you were practically at the hip, Ellie tagging along every now and then, sometimes giving you a strange look when he would sit too close and his hands would twitch to yours when you were walking.You’d always ignored it. All of Tommy’s time was at work, and when he didn’t have anything to do it would be spent with Joel.
Your sudden indifference to his attention made him worried. It was wrong, wanting your wife to be miserable when you were gone, but so was he. Tommy hated every minute apart from you and now that he saw you so content with the situation, a complete change from your sad looks and tired but grateful gazes whenever he came home to you, he knew something must have happened.
He confides in Maria and she gives him hours off, reassuring him that the whole community was willing to help him and his wife raise their child. And that meant keeping them safe from whatever was outside Jackson’s walls.
She felt pity for you both but Tommy was one stubborn man, he didn’t want anyone else’s help, claiming it was unfair to the other members of the commune. She could see the strain, how most of your pregnancy was spent alone.
“There’s an event… tonight…”
Maria raises a brow, eyes full of mirth. She turns to him with a small smile on her lips.
“Everyone will be there, I’m sure you could surprise her there.”
He nods slowly, his eyes flickering as if already imagining how he would swoop you off of your feet. A smile rises on his face, his chest fills with excitement.
“Dancing?”
Maria chuckles. She gives him a look.
“What kind of monsters do you think we are? Of course there’ll be dancing.”
He smiles so wide his teeth seem to glimmer in the moonlight.
“Shower before, I doubt she’ll be too happy about your stench.”
He scoffs, his horse trotting ahead to make it to the settlement quicker. She watches on, his slumped shoulders now straightened and his chest puffed. He glances behind him gesturing for her to hurry it up.
…
You and Tommy used to attend these things all the time. There was cause for community celebrations all of the time. Even if the same songs would keep playing, and at times there was the same foods and beverages being served, Tommy had always managed to bring you out to dance. It was always exciting.
Now you’re here with Joel and Ellie, Joel nursing a beer, and Ellie talking your ear off. His hand was on your thigh under the table, occasionally moving over your belly and rubbing. Your hand would caress over his forearm, fiddling with his sleeve, tightening whenever you had caught yourself throwing your head back in laughter.
You lay your head against his shoulder, chuckling along to whatever comment he had responded with before sipping his beer smugly. Ellie had been bothering him about his love life, commenting on how much of a loner he is, hanging around a fifteen year old and a heavily pregnant and married woman. He had eyed you, a smirk in place. You shoved your elbow into his ribs and he winced.
The door had opened to the hall and he turned, minding the way you laid your head against his shoulder, your nose pressing against the fabric of his long sleeve shirt. His face fell, and his hand patted your thigh, caressing over your stomach one last time before shifting away. He wasn’t hiding anything for himself, if anything he wouldn’t mind the whole world knowing you were his, but you would.
You still loved Tommy, the yearning was still there and when he saw him standing at the doorway, his eyes roaming around the hall, he knew you would go to him. You turn to where Joel’s gaze was directed, your eyes brightening. Tommy shouldn’t be in town. His shift should have ended in a couple hours more.
“Tommy,” you whisper.
Joel’s hand meets your back when you attempt to stand, taking in a sharp inhale from the sudden exertion. You were wearing a maternity dress Tommy had found during one of his patrols. It was early in your pregnancy and you had joked about dreading the day it would actually fit.
You wave him over, and his face brightens in a smile, striding over to the table quickly. His hands move to your waist, his body slightly hunched to lift you against him as he hugs you tightly. Your head buries itself in the curls kissing his neck, your hands landing on his back.
“Hey darlin’, missed me?”
You had pulled him down for a kiss and those around you had fawned over quietly at the scene. You two were the success story. You were the model for a new life in Jackson. Everyone knew of the two council members who would shamelessly flirt with each other, who had developed their relationship among the work of helping the community.
The rest of the night he was clinged to you and in turn you to him. He had asked you to dance and Joel had protested, saying you shouldn’t be on your feet too much, and you would only get achy. It had only stopped Tommy momentarily, until you had dragged him to the floor in a slow song.
Joel helped you off of the bench, his hands on your lower back and Tommy’s hand on yours. Their eyes connected, and he threw a look of confusion in Joel’s direction, especially when he noted his barely hidden scowl.
You lightly sway, Tommy’s hand holding yours over his heart.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered against your ear.
His eyes were filled with ardor, one of his palms roaming to the curve of your ass. His head buried itself next to yours. You only slapped his shoulder, kissing his cheek when he groaned playfully.
Your head lays against him, you inhale his scent. The song was slow, enough so that you didn’t have to leave the interlocking of your bodies, looking as if you were just standing in a hug. Your arms move under his pits and over his wide back, his arm wraps over your waist, a hand over your bump protectively.
Members of the community stare at you both, some smiling in his direction, others nodding. They could see how much happier you are, how you smile so pleasantly against his chest. It brought Tommy pride, showing off his pregnant wife. He did that. He put that baby in you. You were his beautiful wife. He was so lucky and he had been so close to losing everything.
“I’m sorry.”
Your head rises, looking up with brows arched in surprise.
“What?-“
“I know I haven’t been here, for you, for the baby.”
His eyes well with tears, he looks down on you with a sad smile.
“Maria gave me some time off- well not some- a lot.”
He cups your face, your eyes widening at the affection. This is what you wanted, for the longest and now you have it.
Why do you feel your heart sink? Not at the fact that he was going to be around longer but at the fact that you had to let Joel go. You glance in his direction, he was turned away, Ellie still talking to him about something passionately judging by the way her hands move frantically.
He would be fine, you thought, he had his own family.
You smile brightly, the brightest you have in a while and Tommy’s heart expands. It was almost as if Joel could sense your eyes from a second before. His heart plummets to the floor, you were stomping all over it, you and Tommy. He watches Tommy kiss you delicately, your hands gliding up to the back of his neck to keep him there. You moan against his lips, deep and throaty from the way his tongue swiped over your bottom lip.
“Missed you, baby.”
You rest your forehead against his, feeling his warmth closer than ever. You hold him tighter, resting your head against his shoulder when you pull yourself up against his chest.
“Missed you too,” you mutter.
The last thing you see before being dragged away, your coat being placed over you in a rush, was Joel’s deep frown, staring until you had made it out the door.
You ignored it.
…
Your legs shake, thighs jiggling with each shift. Tommy was underneath you, his lips smacking, savoring your taste and his hands on either side of your hips helping you stay up and balanced against his face.
“Mmmh fuck baby, haven’t been taking care of this pussy in months. She’s so goddamn needy.”
Your hands tighten over the headboard. You nod, moaning out his name when his tongue flicks up to your clit. Then his hands tighten over you, pressing you against his face, not letting you up. His head swivels from side to side, his tongue out and his nose rubbing against you relentlessly. He makes you grind on him, and you lose yourself.
“Joel,” you moan.
His hand loosens slightly, your body freezes for a moment, and for a second your heart stops, beating wildly afterwards when he had continued with more fervor.
You had forced your mind to blank, focusing on the way his tongue flicked over your clit repeatedly, tonguing your slit afterwards and pressing his nose up to pull your hood from your sensitive nerves. You think of the way his cock is probably throbbing, aching in his jeans, straining against the zipper. He rubs almost too harshly against you, and you cum with a surprised yelp.
He licks up the mess slowly, helping you come down in waves. He lifts you gently and when you try to reach for his crotch, wanting to palm him he stops you. He helps you lay down afterwards, minding your shaking thighs and your sweat soaked skin. He stares for a moment, getting lost in your state. You give him a questioning look.
“Did you-“
He’s at a loss for words. He swallows thickly and tries again.
“Did you say someone else’s name- just now?”
You pause, you stop breathing for a moment. You had hoped he missed that, that he would dismiss it quickly.
“You said Joel.”
You shake your head slowly, wiping at your forehead, flicking the sweat from your brows.
“I said oh.”
It was said so confidentially, it sounded genuine and his eyes immediately softened in guilt. How could he accuse you of such a thing?The bulge that was at the front of his pants was now gone. You sigh.
“I’m sorry if I ruined the mood-“
“No. No, it’s fine, I just uh- I shouldn’t have been thinkin’ of my brother when I was between such pretty legs.”
You chuckle, your face warming but not at the vulgarity of his words or his try at a joke but at the fact that he had been so close to the truth and you were such a great actress. You feel a great shame when he joins you for a bath, helping you lean back against his chest and caressing over your skin with a sponge. As if he could wash away the past weeks when you used his brother to feel good about yourself.
You cling onto him, and he savors it, not knowing that your over affections came from guilt.
Coincidentally, the same week Tommy had managed to fix Joel’s generator, now having enough time to look it over. Joel and Ellie were now gone. Now you and Tommy could finally have some time alone despite them coming over every so often, Joel more than Ellie.
…
“Gonna give you more, look so pretty like this, stretched out on my cock and swollen with my baby.”
Sometimes Joel would invite you over for breakfast, he could afford the food now, especially since he’s taken some shifts for patrol lately and the pay was always good. He loved having his meals with you, especially before Tommy’s shift ended and his began. His belt buckle clinks loudly with each thrust, his hands fisting your dress tightly.
The breath is pushed out of your lungs each time his cock plunges into you. You moan wantonly, head lolling between your shoulders. Your palms almost slide off the kitchen island, your legs spread wide from where you stood. You whine when he slows, closing your eyes tightly, honing in on his grunts and the sound of your ass meeting his pelvis.
He grunts loudly and his warmth fills you. His head meets your shoulder, his breath wet and hot on your exposed skin. His hand moves to grope over your breast, you lean back against his body, breathing heavily, cunt still throbbing from your loss of release.
“Fuck, baby, made me finish early, got you squeezing my cock so tight.”
He slips out of you and you groan, his spend sliding down your thighs. His fingers place your panties back, tapping against your mound and pulling his hands away when you buckle forward only to smooth down the skirt of your dress.
“I could take care of you another way, sweetheart.”
He pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around your waist, cupping your belly and holding the weight in his hands. You relax further against his hold, sighing in slight relief. Your eyes wander around the room, and your back straightens, you gasp, eyeing the clock.
“Tommy’s almost home.”
“Jus’ a few minutes, promise.”
“Joel-“
He turns you in his arms, his hands roaming over your sides.
“One more taste, please.”
You lick your lips in contemplation and before you knew it he was guiding you to sit at the dining room table.
He was kneeling, hidden under your long summer dress. Your breasts had looked amazing in them, you were developing a bigger cleavage and you had decided to show it off. You looked so pretty sitting down in the recreational area, smiling during conversation, a hand on your bump, running circles over the soft fabric of your dress.
You lean back on the chair, you could see his head from beneath, a lump at your front and with the lacy ends of your skirt delicately splayed on his broad back. He was going slow, taking his time, hovering his mouth over you so that you would squirm in impatience.
“Joel, please.”
How could he ignore your whines, the way your hips twitch to his mouth. He eats like a man starved, ever since he first arrived he ate as if his meal would be swiped from under his nose at any second. He feels that way with you, waiting for Tommy to take you away, only having you when he was gone. He yearns to keep you, to just cup your face and kiss you at any given moment and not in the confines of a locked room.
He still didn’t understand why you didn’t let him, he was obviously a better choice for you, he could be a better father than his brother, a better husband. Your back arches, your palm smoothing over the head covered in fabric. His nose nudges your clit repeatedly, his tongue laying flat against your slit, the tip running over the insides of your cunt. He could barely breathe but he didn’t care.
He drags you forward, the back of your shoulders meeting the back of the chair. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to keep your breaths in line. He kisses up the insides of your thighs, shifting on his knees every so often. He was deliberate in taking his time and you chuckle when he continues again, slurping and licking to his heart’s content.
You glance out the window, mouth wide open, sweat collecting on your brow and eyes so hooded it looked as if you were on the cusp of a moan.
There he is. Your husband, watching with cold eyes, his pack on one shoulder and a rifle on the other. He always comes in from the backyard. How could you forget?
Your eyes widened, you slapped the head between your legs and the chair scratches against the floor from how quickly you shifted away.
Time seems to slow for you, you refused to answer any of Joel’s questions, your body already shaking and tears falling down the sides of your face. You stare at the floor, hearing the doorbell resound around the house. Joel ignored it, his eyes frantically roaming over your face.
“Did I hurt you? What-what happened?”
The walls shake from how hard Tommy pounds at the door. You seem to collapse over yourself, standing quickly and lifting up your underwear after taking a breath.
The knocks continue, each time getting louder. He calls out your name, yelling at you to open.
“Open this goddamn door!”
Your breath catches in your throat, you choke on a sob as Joel stands, opening the door hard enough for it to slam inside.
You could briefly catch the hint of betrayal in his eyes. He stares at Joel for a few moments, his mouth open in shock. Then his face changes to a look of realization. All of these months wondering about the looks, the sudden happiness while he was gone.
Deep down he felt shameful. Was he not enough for you? Was his older brother better than him? His face twists in indignation. It makes your stomach turn. You’ve only seen him like this once before. On a patrol where you had confronted a hoard of infected.
One was on top of you, your knife having been skidded across the floor from a fall moments before. In the span of a second, you could have been bitten, your neck ripped to shreds.
He thought he lost you. He wanted to rip the world apart. It felt that way too now.
Tommy’s hands make it to the lapels of Joel’s jacket before you could even push past the doorway, pulling him out to the porch and down the steps.
Their faces were inches away, practically snarling and snapping like bulldogs. You watch, your legs stiff, as Tommy pushes him on the chest, screaming in his face and glancing in your direction every so often. Joel barely reacts. Tommy directs a dirty look towards you and your heart sinks.
“Is that even my baby? How long has she been spreadin’ her legs for you?”
You gasp, hands pressing to your bump protectively. Joel finally reacts, his own hands pressing against Tommy’s chest and pushing him back a couple feet. He points an accusing finger.
“You watch your tongue, boy, I won’t let you talk about her that way.”
Tommy scoffs, voice rising.
“You’re sleepin’ with my wife!”
“Someone has to!”
You rush down the steps when Tommy swings, already having straddled him on the ground by the time you reach their wrestling forms. He slams a fist down Joel’s face. You yell out.
“Tommy, stop it!”
He grunts, ignoring your yells. He was reaching for the rifle now dropped across the ground and covered in snow.
“Tommy stop-“
You reached for his shoulder, Joel’s face was already split, his teeth covered in his own blood. Tommy pushes you away and you fall on your ass, yelping and slipping from the snow. He stops almost immediately and Joel pushes him away, crawling towards you. The fabric of your dress was getting wet, your legs starting to sting and numb from the cold.
You weakly push the rifle away and it thunks against the wooden fence, far away from either man.
You sit up with a groan, the impact of the ground making your hips ache. You keep your head down when you stand with Joel’s help, neighbors having come out of their homes from the commotion. Tommy stares as if he wanted to help, his hands twitching in your direction.
“Get inside.”
“Joel-“
“I said get inside.”
You follow his command, but not before lifting your head to catch Tommy’s stare, his eyes narrowed and flickering from your stomach to your face. Joel spits red on the snow inches away from Tommy’s boots. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you kept your gaze out of the window, catching Tommy’s eyes moving to the house every so often. He leaves with a scowl and Joel’s heads inside with his shoulders slumped.
You tend to his face, his hand at your bump, not leaving it even when you had made him stand to make him take a bath. You fall into his arms that night, staying in his room and sobbing the rest of the day, knowing that you had just lost someone you loved.
…
"The baby's yours..."
His eyes flickered to his hand tightly fisted at the table and back to you, sitting down in front of him, scared out of your wits and rubbing small frantic circles over your stomach.
"That's not‐ I know."
He ignores the tears falling from your eyes, he sighs.
“I know she’s mine. I do, sweetheart.”
His softness made you sob, your palms covering your eyes and your lips quivering to keep in the sounds of your cries.
“I’m sorry, Tommy.”
You sit in silence, until you catch your breath. It’s been a few days and you had decided to go back home, alone. Joel didn’t even know you were there. He didn’t want you to see Tommy anymore, claiming he didn’t deserve you and that he could raise the baby all fine with you. You still wanted Tommy in your life, in your child’s life.
“I think it will be best if you move over to Joel’s for now, I… I need time.”
You wanted to cry again, to heave yourself off to bed and just collapse into the mattress. You just nod solemnly.
“When the time comes, I’ll be there for her, for you. I love you, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
He chuckles sadly, his eyes watering and threatening to spill. He reaches for your hand, standing and kneeling to kiss the side of your head one last time before he went to work, leaving you to pack up.
“I love you too,” you murmur.
He hums, nodding against you before inevitably letting go.
…
"So... you and Joel."
Small town gossip doesn't escape anyone, even in the post apocalypse. If the teenagers somehow knew, you don't doubt the adults did too. You stay quiet, festering in your guilt and embarrassment. She was going to find out eventually, you’ve been staying over for a few days now, you were sitting on the porch to their backyard at the moment.
"I mean, you could move in with us... he's kind of already like a dad..." To me, she might have added, she's not quite sure she'd ever specifically call him that outwardly though.
"Might as well complete the nuclear family, two kids and two parents. Could get a dog too..."
You fight a chuckle, she's been on and on about wanting a dog recently. Even in a serious conversation she brings it up. What really piqued your interest was the fact that she had included you in her nuclear family, the other parent.
It tore your heart in two and stitched it back up again. She saw you as a mother figure, maybe even your unborn child as a brother or sister. Your face falls, thinking of Tommy, how he had told you he needed time. You have doubts on whether or not he would love the child, it's not like there were any paternity tests anymore. He might think Joel was the biological father. Why would he believe a cheater anyway? Why would Joel even care about the kid either, knowing the truth of their paternity?
"The kid's not his..."
"I'm not either," she snaps at you. But he still cares about me like his own. You could see it in her eyes, she was stern, not wanting to leave any doubts in her argument. You sigh not wanting to intrude in anything, not wanting to get into a family when you didn’t know the outcomes of the one you had just put in pause.
She rests her head against your shoulder, watching as Joel works on the small garage she was going to call home soon. Joel wanted to get the baby’s room ready. Ellie offered to move out. He was excited.
You didn’t have the heart to tell him about the conversation you had with his brother.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs help motivate me and other authors! FYI ☺ Cucked is one of my favs but I think I kind of want to leave it as a one-shot. Let me know what y'all think.
Summary: Void has been growing desperate, seeing how you and Bob fucked whenever you guys wanted to. He also wanted his turn with you, he wanted you to know how good he could make you feel.
Warnings: Shameless smut, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, dom and sub undertones (i think), rough sex, overstimulation (if you squint), small reference of substance abuse.
A little bit of cute romance Bob for like two lines lol!
————————————————————————
You had been dating Robert Reynolds for a while now. Ever since you first saw him, you felt pulled towards him, that weird gravitational attraction that you only get once in your life. His dark messy hair, his deep blue eyes, his charming good-boy smile, they melted your heart since day one.
You loved how he was when you two got intimate. He was soft, delicate, yet somehow desperate, almost submissive at times. He could be at your feet whenever you wanted him too, begging you to touch him, begging you for more. And you loved him like this, you loved how desired he made you feel.
You knew about the Void, he had told you about him after your first night together, expecting you to leave like everyone else did. But you? You stayed. You can't deny you were scared at first, you knew how hard it was for him to control it, to control him. Nevertheless, ever since he joined the Thunderbolts, things were actually looking brighter. Bob came into peace with Void, and Void came into peace with Bob. They even talked to each other and Bob even allowed Void to manifest himself and do everyday things. And whenever he did, he was surprisingly normal. You just chatted and kept him up with everything, he became like another friend to you, another version of the puppy eyed boy you loved.
You were already accostumed to seeing Bob speak to himself, you knew he was talking to Void. But lately he seemed jumpy, uncertain. Whenever he spoke to himself he made sure to leave the room, it was like he didn’t want you to hear him, to hear them. It wasn't until one morning, when you were sipping coffee, that your boyfriend approached you, eagerly sat down, and said;
"I want to talk to you about uhm....something."
"Oh, what is it babe? Everything ok? …..Is it something at work?" You asked shyly. His recent demeanor had you worrying that he may had relapsed, or had problems dealing with Void again.
"No, its just uhm. Its about Void" He said, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding your eyes.
"Oh. Is he making you upset again?" You asked, eyes widening.
"No, its not that its just. You know how he has feelings too and needs too, right? Like he is kinda human after all….I guess. And, you know, uhm, we are like at some level the same person, so if I like something or need something he tends to feel the same way. That's why I let him take the lead sometimes, and talk to you, and go for walks, and eat and stuff" He is jumpy, shy, acting like the first time he ever talked to you. You must admit it, Bob was extremely timid, but now, he looked almost ashamed.
"I know that baby. I get that and I've told you I'm ok with that. I understand." You look deep into his eyes, stretching out your hand over the table to grab his. You knew he was insecure about his "condition”, yet you had never seen him this way.
“It’s just well, he had this idea, well I guess we had it cause I agreed and all. You know I love you so I guess he loves you, so…”
“So…?”
“So….ugh how the fuck do I say this…god” He brought his hands to his head, and furrowed his eyebrows. “Uhm…well..”
“Bobby, babe, you know you can tell me anything. You know I am willing to help you as long as it means you can control him and you guys can be at peace.” You looked at your boyfriend sincerely, you were truly willing to do anything for him.
“Well, he wants to…uhh…..he wants to fuck you”
“Oh” Your cheeks turned red. “I…I don’t know what to say” You can’t say you hadn’t thought about it before. About knowing how this other side of your boyfriend was, how he would touch you differently, feel you differently. But it was always just a fleeting thought. You never thought Bob would allow something like this.
“I mean if you don’t want to it’s fine”
“No no… I’ll do it” You smiled at him.
“Oh thanks babe really, I can’t thank you enough. This guy, you know, he was driving me crazy” He stood up, reached over and kissed your forehead, cupping your face in his calloused hands. “I love you so much” He smiled, his eyes brightening.
“I know” You smiled back.
He reached for your lips, pulling you into a soft, delicate kiss. And suddenly, he stopped. His eyes, still blue, turned somehow dark, like if a fog had taken over. He pulled away, smiling, he was still Bob but, not your Bob. He smiled cockily, confident, and looked straight at your lips. “Hey there”
You stood up, now aware. “Void..?” You looked straight into his eyes.
“In the flesh, baby” He pulled you into a long, deep kiss. His lips grazed yours roughly, he was desperate, hungry. His tongue exploring every single part of your mouth. His hands were everywhere, he grabbed your hair, cupped your face, touched your waist. It was so different from Bob’s delicate kisses, yet just as delicious. You replied back, putting your hands on his torso and sliding down, keeping up with all that he was giving you. He was so rough, so desesperate, you felt your whole body aching for him, that familiar feeling building up between your thights.
Sloppily, in between kisses, you made your way towards your bedroom. Clumsily tripping over stuff as you did. You got to your bedroom and he stopped, looking into your eyes “You are so beautiful”. He hugged you and held you up as he kissed you, slowly moving towards your neck. His hot breath against your skin made you feel otherworldly, you felt his desire in every single kiss. You moved your hands towards his shirt, trying to take it off without breaking the kiss. He looked down at you and smirked “Pathetic..” He cockily took his shirt off with just one hand, and took yours off just as easily. (God, has he been practicing this??) In a couple of swift movements you were completely naked, and him in his in underwear, his torso glowing under the sunlight.
“so fucking pretty for me…” He whispered, out of breath as he laid you in the bed. He climbed over you, his eyes locking with yours as he trailed kisses from your face, to your neck, and then to your torso. “So, so fucking pretty” He said as he took his mouth to one of your breasts. He kissed it, sucked it, ran his tongue in slow, torturing circles around your nipple. Grabbing your other breasts with his free hand and pinching that nipple as he sucked. A moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue in your breasts, alternating between each one, kissing and grabbing, making you feel so sensitive. You were sure your breasts were already sore when you felt him start trailing his kisses down, his hot lips grazing through your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good baby, you’ll forget you’re even dating goddamn Bob”.
He got to your clit and started kissing it, so slowly, yet it felt like so much. You looked down, into his sweet dark eyes, he looked beautiful. His long hair framing his face as he looked straight at you, face buried between your thighs. He went slowly on your clit, he wanted you to beg him, to make him know how hard you wanted him. “M…more”
“What was the baby?”
“More… please” You whined. You felt pathetic, writhing under this man. You felt his tongue slide through your folds, teasing them before he went all in, alternating between sucking and kissing your clit, and sliding his tongue through your folds. You moaned and whined, you felt it through your body, his tongue was hot against you. You felt yourself get wetter, you needed him, all of him, everywhere.
Almost as if he heard you, he suddenly added a digit into you, expanding and pumping. You couldn’t keep up with everything, his finger reached deep, into that sweet spot your boyfriend would always reach. Instinctly, you reached down, grabbing his soft hair and pushing him deeper towards you. He looked at you and smiled, he was so fucking cocky and you hated it, yet he made you feel so good, so used.
He inserted another digit and you felt your boyfriend’s cold rings against your entrance, his fingers curling as his tongue kept torturing your clit. Your moans were almost pornographic at this point. Loud, whiny, pathetic sounds came out of your mouth. “Those sounds baby, keep making them.” He said as he smirked at you, fingers pumping in and out of you mercilessly. You felt the heat quickly building up, like you were about to spill in any minute. “M’gonna…gonna cum..” you managed to get out in between your moans. He smiled, and started sucking harder on your clit, keeping the same pace with his fingers. You quickly felt your core tensing, and with a moan came undone into his hands, breathing heavily and writhing from the pleasure. Your mind was foggy, and you saw stars.
“So good for me baby, aren’t you? Such a good girl” He took his hands towards your waist, and started trailing them through thighs, kissing them and caressing them. “That was so much..” You said, still slurring on your words. “Oh but it wasn’t enough for me baby.” You heard the smile in his words as he took off his boxers, carelessly tossing them to the side.
He climbed on the bed and aligned himself with your entrance, sliding his cock through your folds. You were so sensitive that it already felt like too much, and he hadn’t even entered you yet. He looked at you, grabbing your face as you felt him go in, causing you to moan. You were so wet for him that it just slid in, no pain. You were already used to your boyfriend’s dick yet seemed to always forget how utterly big he was.
He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, and started pumping into you slowly, his eyes praising you as he did. You felt him him hitting deep into your core. Slowly, torturing you, making you feel each and every trust. He slowly kissed your neck, leaving marks all over you as he steadily increased his pace. You felt how much he filled you, overwhelmed by how his cock felt against your folds, and how his mouth was nibbling the skin of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you dumb” he shamelessly whispered against your ear as he quickly started on a pace, going harder and faster into you. You were already so sensitive and now just felt completely cockdrunk. You couldn’t control the moans that were escaping you, and couldn’t even keep your legs straight, going limp under him, completely vulnerable to his touch.
He took notice of your reaction, and moved his hands towards your waist, pinning you down into the bed as he mercilessly fucked you. Each thrust leaving you out of breath and making your mind foggier. You could only feel him, it was so overwhelming yet so good. You could only feel him going faster, harder, giving you everything he had. You closed your eyes, unable to handle everything he was giving you. “Open your eyes, I want you to see this” he said, as you looked up and saw his hair framing his beautiful face.
His pace quickly became erratic, small moans escaping his lips as you felt that familiar feeling growing inside of you again. He kept holding down your waist as you whimpered, choking out every single time he hit that spot. He looked down on you, mouth open as he fucked you. Then, with one last long thrust, he came undone into you, filling your insides so perfectly. And so did you. Feeling your mind go completely blank and your body get overpowered by that heat, legs shaking with one last, loud moan. He collapsed on top of you, rolling over as he took deep breaths.
He looked at you. Your mind still foggy and fucked out of comprehension. “God, now I know why Bob loves you so much” He said as he cupped your face in one of his hands. Leaning in to kiss your forehead, and smiling as he looked into your eyes. You smiled back, catching your breath.
————————————————————————
This is my first fic here!! Taking any recommendations or prompts. Lowkey thinking about doing a sub!Bob fic. Tell me your thoughts!! Love you guys!! <3
warnings: slightly dark content, dark!tommy, smut, unspecified age gap but reader is over 22+, masturbation, handjob, cheating, tommy’s moral compass breaks down, unclothed grinding, surprise ending, sex outdoors, tension, maria ily this isn't personal I just rlly like ur man
notes: hi guys it's been 100 years I'm sorry ily + take this bc im ovulating 😎 tommy miller suddenly making me feel things bc of gabriel luna that's right. likes and reposts are appreciated🥹
“I don't think you've settled down quite just yet.” joel tells him one day while they're eating breakfast together. tommy glances, swallows then responds.
“I don't know what you mean.” but his eyes betray him as they return somewhere for the fifth time; at a distant specific table where you're reading some silly book again.
your food is yet to be touched while tommy’s and joel’s are nearly gone.
“tommy we're too old for this shit, you and I. you're my brother, I already know what you'll do before you even do it.” joel throws the bait and tommy bites it.
“I’m not doing anything joel except—”
“except eating Maria's food while throwing damn heart eyes at her.”
tommy hisses at joel’s truthful interruption, not so much at being interrupted but at the validation of those words.
“I’m just making sure she likes the food.” joel deadpans, tommy does the same right after because of his own words. gods, he is pathetic.
“fuck, just shoot me already.” joel shrugs at his brother's words and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's grinning. “tell your wife, I'm sure she'll be delighted.”
tommy shakes his head and keeps on eating. he stresses over his thoughts so much that, lucky for you, he misses your piercing gaze and the bite of your lips.
he spends days trying to blame it on something other than him being a terrible person. the breakout, the virus, the living circumstances, the we need to work faster from Maria or that everyone depends on him for the hard stuff.
sure, tommy had chosen this in the first place but he doesn't even know if he wants whatever this is anymore. what does he want?
“mister miller!”
the tension leaves his shoulders as he watches you walk towards him, only wearing that favourite sundress of yours and an oversized jacket.
it's the first real summer that wyoming has felt since the outbreak. tommy only appreciates it because he's too lazy to gear up for winter.
“you’re early.” he says and finds himself smiling as you flop down beside him, sitting on the green weeds.
the snow is still melting but it doesn't make things less cold — but clearly you don't feel the cold he does.
“I helped in the kitchen so they let me off early.” you explain and tommy hums. he thinks about the past months when he'd found you during patrol, covered by the snow and nearly dead. he'd never ridden back home faster, urging for the medics to help you out and thank gods they'd done a great job. now you were here, a few months later, and trusting him more than anyone else while tommy was just a straight up bastard.
he fed you more than others, brought you new clothes that you might like and most importantly showed you his spot. that well hidden spot outside the fences which was an hour's walk away... it wasn't even special but it was spacious and quiet and a little cleaner — and suddenly he was calling it our spot instead of my spot.
for months you'd come here, chat with him and draw in your worn out notebook. the pages were running out and tommy made a mental note to find you a new one. fuck.
“what’s this?” tommy murmurs while his hand points at a very specific drawing on the left page.
he seems to pale while you just feel yourself growing hot. you'd drew him back in the cafeteria when he was looking at you, when he thought you were so unaware of his eyes but you always knew.
“I just—” you try to find the right words, or better yet the right excuse, but you can't. “I just did it.”
tommy catches on your tone as if you were afraid to receive a reaction. his reply surprises you.
“do I really look at you that way?” he asks and you nod, the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder clearly to test him.
tommy has never succeeded in any tests in his entire life.
you lay on the ground, indifferent about the weeds tangling in your hair. tommy’s face hovers over yours as he kisses you, one of his hands sneaking beneath your dress to squeeze your thigh and nothing more.
“tommy.” he swallows his own name from your lips, his lips kissing you feverishly yet the rest of his body doesn't dare move. tommy just sticks to laying beside you while his elbow achingly supports his weight.
he cannot trust himself to move, to slip between your thighs and only kiss.
the hand he's placed on your thigh earlier starts to retreat but you don't let it as you use both of your hands to capture his wrist.
“sweetheart.” tommy warns, his eyes blown wide with lust while his chest heaves up and down. he’s affected by this, feeling overwhelmingly lustful like he's young again, while also fearing the consequences of this. the aftermath of it.
for the first time you don't listen to him, pushing his hand between your thighs until his fingers come in contact with your soaked panties.
you hear him cursing beneath his breath, fuck this, as he touches you after what feels like forever.
he rubs you through your panties, his massive hand feeling the material soaking further as his thumb finds your clit. your head turns and you bury it in his chest while tommy just rubs.
his breath is hitched and he's in a far worse state than you for a different type of reasons. you drool on his shirt and throb against his fingers because you're excited, you feel good. on the other hand, tommy cups and fondles your pussy possessively while stressing over the limits. he can't do more than this — he shouldn't.
“can I touch your cock?” you whisper almost too shyly and tommy wishes joel would have just shot him when he had asked the first time.
your hand unzips his trousers and takes out his cock because tommy has obviously agreed, because it's your fault for looking at him with those sparkling eyes.
your foreheads collide as tommy touches you and you touch him.
his fingers eventually sneak beneath your panties because he wants it to be fair, you're touching his bare cock so he's entitled to your pussy right?— or maybe he really is just an asshole deep down.
nothing like the tommy that maria loves, nothing like the tommy that everybody respects. no, once again he's the tommy miller that only joel knows.
your fingers circle around his cock, feeling it at first, before caressing every inch of skin you can get. your eyes are on tommy’s as your foreheads keep touching and a soft smile occupies your face while you stroke his cock.
you're smiling and touching his dick and tommy likes it too much.
“you need a new notebook, don't you?” tommy asks through gritted as your fingers squeeze around his hard cock. because it's definitely the right time for conversations.
you nod, mouth slightly agape as his fingers circle your swollen clit and then dip between your lips, feeling you dripping.
“anything else?” he asks too softly while his nose brushes against yours, offering some intimacy that isn't just sexual.
“pencils?” you don't order him or demand. you ask because you care and tommy likes that you care in that way. it's always only if it's okay with you and that's exactly how he needs it.
“notebooks.. pencils.. whatever you say, it'll happen.” he slaps your pussy, not too hard, and you whimper.
you can feel your nipples hardening beneath your dress while your pussy simply leaks for tommy miller. your legs shift and you spread them.
tommy sways his hips, fucks his cock into your tight but soft fist and curses.
the summer breeze carries your soft whimpers and tommy’s gentle grunts. your hand strokes him a little faster as your thumb purposely brushes against his sensitive slit and you don't fail to notice the way tommy’s hips twitch when you do it.
the front of his shirt is a mix of your drying drool and his sweat but it doesn't bother him. his solid focus is to fuck your small fist and, of course, to pleasure you which is his first priority.
tommy can handle you, his middle finger circling your wet entrance slowly before he pushes in, the slide smoother than he'd expected. he adds a second finger minutes later, then a third.
you stroke his cock as he thrusts his fingers inside your pussy and for a while nothing else really matters.
the squelching of your cunt is loud and tommy curls his fingers inside you, reaching a place that makes you see stars. “tommy!” you gasp in that angelic voice and he goes a little crazy, fingers digging into your sweet spot as he becomes a little desperate with his thrusts.
your lower tummy shudders with delight and your thighs flex as his fingers thrust into your tight pussy recklessly, poking at those sensitive nerves every damn time.
tommy thinks you warn him about your orgasm but he's also not sure as he's too busy watching your face and your pussy reacting simultaneously. your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forms a small ‘O’ as your walls are suddenly gripping his fingers too tight, too deep.
you cum with a shuddering moan of his name and coat his fingers generously, becoming a spectacle. you squirt for him, because of him, and he'd draw out more if it wasn't for time running away from you two.
tommy seems confused when you push his hand away but then everything happens so fast. he can't stop it, he swears.
he watches as you roll to your side, your chest brushing against his, and slip his cock between your thighs. tommy can't breath when his entire girth slides between your pussy lips, soaking through, until his tip kisses your clit.
“no sweetheart—” tommy warns weakly but you're already moving, swaying. his cock is wet with your juices as it slides against your pussy, harder than ever, and he is utterly defeated.
“please cum on my pussy.” you mumble against his lips and he kisses you otherwise he might do worse. he satiates himself with this situation, sucking your bottom lip while thrusting his hips upwards and taking half of what he wants. something he doesn't deserve.
his balls swell and then clench as he orgasms, lowering his hips a little to cum on your pussy. he fulfils his promise, painting the surface white with his cum before resting his forehead on yours again. spent.
it's quiet for a long time as his arms remain lazily wrapped around your body. you melt against him, into him, and you two do your best to catch your breath.
when he looks at you again, the sun is setting right behind you and making you look surreal. you're like a dream while tommy is just there with a stupid smile on his face and half indecent because of what you've done.
then suddenly he doesn't feel real, his body is all too light before it gets incredibly heavy.
he hears his name being called out repeatedly tommy tommy tommy and he jumps, looking around with sweat dripping down his back.
maria stands over him as he lays on the couch because he's home — not outside the fence. not with you.
“I told you to cut day drinking with joel. he's bringing back old habits.” his wife tells him, pressing a kiss on his forehead before walking away.
tommy rises and stumbles to the window. the snow is still there, white and thick, while the red calendar on the wall reads December 25 like it's a fucking joke. like he'd never met you secretly in the spot that belongs to you and him.
reality hits hard as you pass by his house, that familiar notebook resting against your chest as you hug it preciously. you look at him instinctively, as if feeling his burning gaze, and you smile.
“merry christmas, mister miller!” you yell cheerfully and tommy nods, forcing his best smile.
miracles can only go so far and in the end, tommy can be content with just dreams.
he's a bad friend because he has had a crush on you ever since you joined jujutsu high, even when you start dating his bestfriend, geto, his need for you never disappeared it only got nastier.
his body sliding down the thin wall between your room and his as he violently pump his pink cock to the sound of geto fucking your wet cunt. he was holding his shirt up by his teeth not caring about the warm drool that was spilling from his mouth and coating his shirt with spit, huffing like a dog in heat as he struggles to breath.
"ahhhh-! nghhh!". his eyes roll back at the sound of your moans, how nasty he is stroking his fat cock to the sound of you getting fucked next room. his whole body was flushed, his tip was red, so swollen as precum leaking out of his clit.
he can hear how sticky and slimey your filthy pussy was, how hard it was gripping on his friends dick. he can hear the sloppy sound of the wet kisses, imagining the way you are sucking on his friends tongue like a needy slut. he whines, his hips shuddering at the nasty sounds that were feeling his ears.
oh he would do you so good, he would fuck you better, ripping your pussy apart with his fat cock. turning your pussy into a swollen mess, swollen with his hot cum.
"cum you fucking slut". geto groans thrusting his hips one more time. before gojo hears a spurt of wet stream, he whimpers, you were squirting- and that throws him at edge as he arch his back before robs of hot fluid shoot out of his sensitive cock.
gojo gaze hazily at the mess he made, he smirks, he's going to have you one way or another. after all he's the strongest.
· contains: dead dove do not eat, unprotected sex, dub-con, dark content, manipulation, bondage, blackmail, 🍇, mentions of ab*rtion · note: first fic and im not very proud of this !! ill probs edit this later soo like stay tuned
it had been three weeks. three whole weeks since gong yoo, your biggest bully, recorded you sucking your boyfriend's dick inside the male toilet stalls. your boyfriend would pull his pants up, ditching you and running away, leaving you to be cornered by your sweet senior gong yoo— who'd threaten to post the videos up on the school public board if you don't do as he says. he'd chuckle, staring down at your glossy eyes as you hoped he'd spare you just this once; unbeknownst to the fact his boner got even harder just by seeing you cry.
up until now, you've been rotting away at your house, terrified of what gong yoo would do when you went to school the next day. so you didn't. your mom would be worried sick, wondering why her sweet innocent child was missing school for days on end. your only excuse was being sick. after all; being home was your escape. your escape from gong yoo and from all the fucked up shit he'd do to you.
little did you know, gong yoo would find your address from the school's physical database after convincing his homeroom teacher he needed it for something important. after all, his punching-bag princess was important to him. he'd time it perfectly, waiting for when your parents left for work, and show up to your house; his school backpack filled with all the things he'd need for you. your neighbours were completely oblivious to what was going on. after all, who would suspect such a pretty looking boy all dolled up in a school uniform?
he didn't dare ring the bell. why would he? he had opened up the window and climbed into your kitchen, taking a quick note of all the surroundings and potential threats (the kitchen knives ♡) before making it all the way up to your room. your door was halfway open, allowing him a perfect view of you laid up on your bed reading a book.
you were in a loose shirt, and such dangerously short pants, you're so daring. gong yoo palmed the growing tent protruding through his pants. you made him sooo hormonal, and you didn't even know.
“hello, you.” he'd walk in with stomping footsteps, letting his presence be known. he's no pussy. you jumped up from the cavern you had been rotting in for the past few weeks hiding from him. your mind racing to get the nearest weapon you could find. all you could muster up in your hands was your bedside clock, daring to throw it at him.
he lunged at you, pinning you down to the bed as he shushed you, his strong arm holding yours above your back as your face was forcefully smushed into your pillow with his other arm.
“get the fuc- agh- away from me -!!” he held you down with his bodyweight as you'd wriggle in attempts to get him off— you're so innocent, you don't even know that turns him on even further. he'd grab a rope from his backpack and tie your swollen thin wrists up first, leaving your legs free.
“be still, and we can make it easy for both of us.” he'd turn you around and spread your legs apart, your legs attempting to kick away his hands yet all attempts fall futile under him. who knew teenagers were that strong?
eventually, you got too tired for it all. your kicking had stopped yet your crying grew louder and your nose runnier. it was all such a sight to see for gong yoo and his hormonal little brain.
he fumbled with his belt and unzipped his jeans, just sooo greedy to pound your pretty pussy until it had memorized his thrusts. he hooked a finger on the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down in one swift motion prior to practically ripping your panties off. he just couldn't wait to nut in you.
“you're enjoying this? what a fucking slut.”
your own body had betrayed you as your leaking pussy was displayed to him. you hate to admit it, but your panties got soaked right when he entered the room. maybe, just maybe, he's right about you being a slut.
he'd jerk his fat cock off for a few seconds before aligning it up with your pink, leaking, pussy. he wanted to do you raw, his precum already beading up on his thick tip already.
he let out a hearty groan as he threw his head back. it was as tight as he imagined it to be. your juices had made it so easy for him to slide in, yet so painful for you. who were you to blame? his size was simply so fucking big. he gave you zero time to adjust and started thrusting it all in like a pussy-hungry little baby. you were so tight around his girth, your pussy practically denying permission to his body. all of it was too much for your tiny head as your brains were being fucked into mush.
he was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, his balls slapping softly against your ass. he had you folded up like a book— all while you could do nothing but whimper and cry. your sweet pleas were music to his ears you had to admit, though; his cock felt so fucking good rubbing against your walls like that. he did not give a fuck about making you cum though.. :c
“if you squeeze around me like that, i-i'm gonna fuckin’ nut..” he groaned, as his thrusts got inconsistent and sloppier indicating that he'd cum soon. your swollen red pussy was absolutely destroyed beyond repair. you were being such a little baby for him— crying while you were about to get your uterus filled, not caring about condoms or pulling out.
with one final thrust, his cum seeped into your cervix filling you up, as he rolled his stuttering hips and rode out his orgasm. he cummed so much, who knew his balls could store this much liquid? he buried his head into the crook of your neck and you could feel him breathing sososo fast, it was almost cute.
This is part 2 of my mini series love ridden (you don’t have to read part 1 but it helps you get a deeper understanding of their relationship)
Warnings: Toxic relationship,Emotional manipulation and gaslighting, DUBCON/implied sexual misconduct, power imbalances and coercion,mentions of substance abuse,threats of self-harm, mentions of bruising, vomiting, unreliable memory
Summary: “It ended bad, but I love what we started.” A night out, was supposed to be a distraction, a step to moving on. Instead it leaves you questioning everything. Loosely inspired by Parting gift-Fiona apple
MINORS DNI!
A/n: ahhhh here it is! This is very much a wild ride so be prepared and get comfortable lol. Lmk if yall fw. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!!
……………………..
“Two years.”
It echoes in your head as you stare at your phone. The screen blinks, illuminating the dark, quiet apartment, and your reflection stares back at you. Hollow eyes. Lifeless skin.
You don’t even recognize yourself anymore.
Two years of late nights.
Two years of broken promises.
Two years of fights that always ended the same way — with you apologizing for things you hadn’t even done.
Two years of Su-bong.
The notifications keep coming.
Messages. Missed calls. Voicemails.
You blocked him a week ago. You had to.
Before that, you let the calls go unanswered. You left his texts on read. But after that voicemail, you couldn’t take it anymore.
It wasn’t just the things he said.
It was the way he sounded.
Drunk. High out of his mind. Slurring his words like he could barely get them out.
You’d heard him like that before, of course. Countless times. But this was different.
The shaking breath at the beginning of the message.
The muffled sound of a bottle cap hitting the floor.
The distinct rattle of a pill bottle.
And then his voice —
Low. Rough. Desperate.
“You know, if you don’t fucking answer me…”
There was a pause. You could hear him breathing.
“Maybe I should just end it all.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
The sound of pills being shaken in his hand.
“It’s in your hands now.”
You remember sitting on the floor of your new apartment, the phone clutched in your hands, shaking so hard you thought you might drop it.
That was the breaking point.
You blocked him.
It was hard. Very hard.
What if he was serious?!
What if he did it and it was your fault?!
But it didn’t stop the nightmares.
It’s been a month since the breakup, and you haven’t left your apartment in days.
The dishes are piled up in the sink. Your laundry is overflowing.
You haven’t brushed your hair in three days.
The weight of it all feels suffocating.
You thought leaving him would make you feel free.
Instead, you feel empty.
When your phone buzzes again, you ignore it.
It’s probably Ji-hye.
She’s been trying to get you to go out for weeks.
“You need to live a little,” she said last time you saw her.
But you don’t feel like living.
Still, when your phone buzzes again, you pick it up.
Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:17 PM): Come out with us tonight. Please?
Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:18 PM): There’s a new club opening in Itaewon. It’ll be fun.
Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:19 PM): I’m not taking no for an answer.
You stare at the messages for a long time.
The thought of going to a club makes your stomach turn.
You haven’t been out in two years.
You haven’t been you in two years.
But the apartment feels too small.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
Fuck it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The shower burns your skin.
You scrub until you feel raw, as if you can wash away the last two years.
But no amount of scrubbing erases the bruises —
The ones he left on your heart.
When you step out, you wipe the fogged mirror and stare at your reflection.
Your hair is a tangled mess.
Your eyes are rimmed with dark circles.
You look like someone who’s been barely holding it together.
This isn’t who I am, you tell yourself.
You plug in your hair straightener. You do your makeup.
By the time you’re done, you almost feel like yourself again.
You rifle through your closet, pulling out a black dress you haven’t worn in years. It still fits — snug and short, hugging your body in a way that feels foreign after months of oversized hoodies and leggings.
When you step into your heels, you wobble for a second.
It’s been so long since you’ve worn anything but sneakers.
But when you look in the mirror again —
You see her.
The girl you used to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ji-hye and her friends are already tipsy when you meet them outside the club.
She squeals when she sees you.
“Look at you! You look amazing!”
You try to smile, but it feels forced.
The club is packed.
Neon lights pulse to the beat of the music.
Bodies move together on the dance floor.
Ji-hye hands you a shot as soon as you walk in.
“Drink up!”
You down it quickly, the burn making you wince.
“Another?”
Why not?
By the time you lose count, you’ve had at least six shots.
Maybe more.
You stopped counting after the first round of tequila.
The room spins slightly, but you feel good.
Better than you’ve felt in weeks.
You laugh with Ji-hye.
You dance with strangers.
For the first time in a long time, you feel free.
And then you see him.
At first, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you.
But when you blink, he’s still there.
Su-bong.
He’s standing near the bar, his eyes locked on you.
His hair is messy, his shirt unbuttoned at the top.
He looks the same as he always does —
Rough around the edges, disheveled in that careless way that made you fall for him in the first place.
But there’s something in his eyes —
Something dark.
Your stomach twists.
The room feels too hot.
You grab Ji-hye’s arm.
“Ji-hye. Is he…?”
Her eyes widen.
“Oh shit.”
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
She bites her lip, looking guilty.
“I didn’t know. I swear. But he’s friends with Seung-ho.”
She nods toward one of the guys in their group — a guy you don’t know well.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic beat.
You down another shot, your hands shaking slightly.
Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll go away.
But he doesn’t.
When you look up again, he’s moving toward you.
You see him before he speaks.
The way he weaves through the crowd, his gaze locked on you like he’s on a mission.
You look away.
You try to pretend you didn’t see him.
But it’s too late.
He’s right there.
“Hey.”
His voice cuts through the noise, low and rough.
You don’t turn around.
You keep your eyes on your drink, your knuckles white as you grip the glass.
“I didn’t know you came here.”
He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.
Your whole body goes stiff.
“Fuck off, Su-bong.”
Your voice is steady, but your heart is pounding.
He doesn’t move.
Instead, he slides into the seat next to you.
Like he belongs there.
Like nothing happened.
“Come on,” he says, his tone light, almost teasing. “You’re really not even going to say hi?”
You turn to him, your eyes flashing.
“Why would I?”
He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Because you missed me.”
You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.
“Missed you?”
You set your drink down, leaning closer.
“You left me voicemails threatening to fucking kill yourself. Do you know how fucked up that is?”
His expression doesn’t change.
He doesn’t flinch.
Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.
“Did it scare you?”
Your blood runs cold.
“What?”
“Did it scare you?” he repeats, his voice soft.
“Did you think I was going to do it?”
You stare at him, horrified.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
His lips twitch into something that might be a smile — but there’s no warmth in it.
“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says, his tone almost casual.
“And you wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t talk to me.”
“So you thought threatening to kill yourself was the way to get my attention?”
Your voice is shaking now, anger and fear mixing in your chest.
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he reaches for your hand.
And you’re too stunned to pull away.
“I missed you,” he says softly.
“I don’t know what to do without you.”
You rip your hand away, standing up so fast your chair scrapes against the floor.
“Don’t fucking do that.”
Your voice is loud now, cutting through the music.
“Don’t pretend you’re some fucking victim.”
His expression hardens.
“I’m not pretending.”
“You are.”
You step closer, your chest heaving.
“You always do this. You always make it about you. Like your fucking pain is the only thing that matters.”
He stands up slowly, towering over you.
“I’m in pain because of you.”
You scoff, shaking your head.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.”
His voice is low now. Dangerous.
“You love me.”
Your hands tremble at your sides.
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
He steps closer.
“I know you do. You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t.”
You hate how he gets in your head.
How he twists your words.
“I don’t love you,” you say again, but it sounds weaker this time.
He leans in, his breath brushing against your cheek.
“Then why haven’t you moved on?”
The question hits you like a punch to the gut.
And you don’t have an answer.
“Let’s go outside,” he says.
His voice is softer now, coaxing.
“It’s too loud in here.”
You hesitate.
“Please.”
He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away.
“Just talk to me.”
Your heart is pounding.
Your mind is spinning.
And against your better judgment —
You follow him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The alleyway outside the club smells like cigarette smoke and spilled beer.
You cross your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. The night air feels too cold against your skin, cutting through the warmth of the alcohol.
Su-bong lights a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he brings it to his lips.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
Then —
“What do you want from me?”
Your voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and strained.
He exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze steady on you.
“I just want you.”
You laugh, bitter and harsh.
“Do you even hear yourself? You had me, Su-bong. You had me for two fucking years, and you—”
Your voice cracks.
“You fucking broke me.”
His jaw tightens.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
Your chest heaves, your breath fogging in the cold air.
“Over and over again.”
“I know.”
He takes a step closer.
“And I’m sorry.”
It’s the softness in his voice that undoes you.
That fucking softness.
Because for a split second —
You almost believe him.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
His words hang in the air between you, soft and deliberate, like he’s trying to carve them into your skin. And you hate how much they make your chest ache.
You hate that it’s him standing here, saying these things. Again.
“You say that like it fucking matters.” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “Like it changes anything.”
He exhales smoke, eyes never leaving yours. “It does matter.”
“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head, your arms tightening around yourself like it’s the only thing holding you together. “You’ve hurt me too many times for it to matter.”
A pause.
A flicker of something in his eyes.
And then, softly —
“I couldn’t stop.”
The words hit you harder than you want them to.
Your chest tightens, your mind flashing back to the nights he stumbled through the door, high and out of it, mumbling half-assed apologies through the haze.
“I don’t know how to stop,” he continues, his voice quiet. “Not without you.”
You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put.
“You can’t keep doing this,” you whisper. “You can’t keep blaming me for your fucking choices.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what the fuck is this?” You gesture between the two of you, your voice rising. “What do you think you’re doing right now?”
“I’m trying to fix it.”
Your laugh is sharp, bitter. “Fix it? You can’t fix this, Su-bong. You can’t.”
He flinches at the way your voice cracks.
But he doesn’t back down.
“I can try.”
You shake your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. The months of pain, the sleepless nights, the voicemail that still echoes in your mind.
“You’re fucking selfish.”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t deny it.
“You don’t love me,” you say, and it feels like you’re ripping your own heart out. “You love what I do for you. You love having someone to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. Someone to save you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Your chest heaves. “You only ever show up when you’re desperate. When you need something. And I’m fucking done being that person for you.”
He takes a step closer, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, burning down to the filter.
“I don’t want anyone else.”
You hate the way your heart twists.
“I want you.”
You shake your head again, but it’s weaker this time.
“I love you.”
And there it is.
Those three fucking words.
The words that used to make your heart explode. The words that used to make you believe in him, in a future that never existed.
“I can’t do this without you,” he says, and his voice breaks, just a little. “I’ve tried, Y/N. I’ve tried to be better, but I’m fucking lost without you.”
Your hands tremble at your sides.
“You’re only lost because you never tried to find yourself,” you whisper. “You’ve always expected me to do it for you.”
His eyes soften, that familiar vulnerability creeping in.
“I’m trying now.”
“No, you’re not.” You take a step back. “You’re trying to pull me back in. That’s all you ever do.”
A beat of silence.
Then —
“I miss you.”
The words cut through the night, soft and raw.
And you feel yourself wavering.
Fuck.
You press your palms to your face, trying to breathe, trying to steady yourself.
“You don’t get it,” you whisper. “You don’t get what you did to me.”
He takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body.
“I never stopped loving you.”
Your chest heaves, your heart pounding.
“I don’t want to hear that.”
“You need to.”
“No, I fucking don’t.” Your voice cracks, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. “What I need is to move on.”
His hand reaches out, tentative, trembling.
But when his fingers brush against your arm-
You flinch.
It’s instinctive.
A reaction you couldn’t stop if you tried.
And the look on his face?
It’s devastating.
He pulls his hand back slowly, like he’s been burned.
“I’m not him anymore.”
The words are quiet, almost desperate.
“I’m not the guy who fucked up. I’m not the guy who hurt you.”
“You are.” Your voice is soft, but firm. “You’ll always be that guy, Su-bong.”
His gaze drops to the ground, and for a moment, you think he’s going to give up.
But then he looks up again.
“I just want to talk,” he says. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
You hesitate.
The rational part of you — the part that’s spent the last month piecing yourself back together — is screaming at you to walk away.
But your heart?
Your heart is still caught in the web he’s spun around you.
“ we’re already talking…” you slightly slur your words, the alcohol taking full effect.
“Five minutes,” he says again, softer this time. “At my place. Please.”
And against your better judgment —
You nod.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You wake to the sensation of weight.
Heavy. Suffocating.
An arm draped over your waist. A body pressed too close, warm breath against the back of your neck.
And for one blissful second, you’re still half asleep. Still caught in that hazy space between dreams and reality, your mind fogged over with sleep, soft and pliant.
But then your eyes open.
And everything sharpens.
The bedroom is dark — curtains drawn, faint slivers of morning light sneaking through the cracks. The air is stale, tinged with cigarette smoke and something faintly metallic. It smells familiar.
And the weight around your waist?
It’s Su-bong.
Your stomach lurches.
No. No, no, no.
You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest, the dull ache between your temples throbbing harder with each beat. Your mind scrambles to piece together how the fuck you ended up here. The last thing you remember clearly is the club — Ji-hye pulling you onto the dance floor, shots of tequila burning your throat, the neon lights swirling around you.
And then —
His voice.
His hands.
And now you’re here. In his bed.
You hold your breath, every muscle in your body going rigid. His arm is still heavy across your waist, his hand curled loosely against your hip, fingers twitching like he’s dreaming.
Carefully — so carefully — you think maybe you can slip out from under him.
Carefully, you reach for his wrist, your fingers trembling as you try to lift his arm off you. The sheet rustles softly, the sound too loud in the suffocating silence. You freeze, your breath hitching.
He stirs.
A small, unconscious noise slips from his throat, his fingers curling slightly against your hip.
Your heart slams against your ribs.
Please don’t wake up.
You stay frozen, your body stiff, your breath shallow. His arm feels impossibly heavy against your waist, like it’s anchoring you to the mattress. Slowly — so slowly — you ease it off you, inch by inch, until it finally falls to the bed.
He murmurs something in his sleep, low and unintelligible.
You freeze again, your pulse roaring in your ears.
He doesn’t wake.
You let out a shaky breath, the sound barely audible, and sit up as quietly as you can. The room tilts slightly as you do, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache. You press a hand to your temple, blinking against the dizziness.
The sheets are tangled around your legs, the fabric twisted and damp with sweat. You untangle yourself carefully, your fingers trembling, your movements slow and deliberate.
His body shifts slightly behind you, his breathing deepening for a moment before settling back into a steady rhythm.
Move.
You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet. The hem of your dress rides up as you stand, the fabric wrinkled and twisted, clinging to your skin.
You glance back at him, your chest tight.
He’s still asleep.
But his face is turned toward you now, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips parted slightly. He looks softer like this, his usual sharp edges dulled by sleep.
It makes your stomach turn.
Focus.
You force your gaze away, scanning the room for your things.
Your phone.
Your purse.
Where the fuck are they?
The panic sets in slowly, creeping up your spine like cold water, inch by inch. You scan the room, searching for your things, but the room looks almost exactly the same as when you left a month ago.
Cluttered. Messy. The ashtray on the nightstand is overflowing. Empty bottles litter the floor. The same crumpled blankets. The same cigarette burns in the carpet.
Like time stood still.
Like he hasn’t moved on.
Your stomach twists painfully, nausea creeping in at the edges. You stand, your legs unsteady, your head pounding. The ache in your body — between your thighs, in the muscles of your legs — is impossible to ignore.
You take a step toward the bathroom, your hands trembling as you reach for the door handle. You need a moment to breathe. To think.
To figure out what the fuck happened.
The bathroom is as grim as you remember. The light flickers when you turn it on, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. The mirror is streaked with water stains, the sink cluttered with half-used toiletries.
You close the door behind you, locking it with a shaky hand.
And then you catch your reflection.
Your lipstick is barely there anymore, smudged at the edges. Your mascara streaked under your eyes. Your hair is a tangled mess, the carefully straightened strands now knotted and frizzy.
But it’s the rest of you that makes your breath catch.
The dress you wore last night is twisted around your waist, the hem wrinkled and pulled too high. Your thighs are bare. You pull at the fabric, tugging it down, but your hands freeze when you see the faint bruises.
Finger-shaped bruises.
They’re light, barely there, but you know what they are.
Your stomach drops.
You lift the hem of your dress higher, revealing more bruises along your inner thighs. Some small, faint smudges of blue and purple. Some darker.
You press your fingers to them, your skin flinching under your own touch.
Did I fall?
Did I—
Your mind races, scrambling for an explanation, for anything that makes sense.
And then your eyes flicker lower.
Your underwear is backward.
You stare for a long moment, your brain struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing. The waistband digs awkwardly into your hips, the tag twisted around to the front.
You blink.
Once.
Twice.
Your stomach churns violently.
You lift the toilet lid, falling to your knees as you retch. There’s nothing in your stomach but bile, burning its way up your throat.
When you’re done, you sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The bathroom spins around you, your head pounding, your chest heaving with shallow breaths.
You reach for the sink, pulling yourself up slowly, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles turn white.
Your eyes flicker back to your reflection.
The bruises.
The backward underwear.
The ache between your legs.
Did we—
No.
No, no, no.
You grip the sink harder, your nails digging into the porcelain.
‘I don’t remember.’
That’s the worst part.
You don’t remember anything.
You remember seeing him at the club. You remember yelling at him, calling him out for the voicemail. You remember him pulling you outside, the alley reeking of cigarette smoke and beer.
And then it’s all a blur.
Flashes of his voice. His hand on your arm. The way he looked at you — dark, desperate.
But nothing else.
Your chest tightens painfully.
You want to leave.
You need to leave.
You unlock the bathroom door with shaking hands, your heart pounding in your chest as you step back into the bedroom.
But when you step inside —
He’s awake.
Su-bong is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair. He looks up when he hears you, his gaze locking on yours.
And the first thing you notice?
He’s sober.
There’s no haze in his eyes. No slurred speech. No unsteady hands.
He’s completely sober.
Your stomach twists painfully.
“Morning.”
His voice is soft, tentative.
Like he’s testing the waters.
You don’t say anything.
You take a step toward the nightstand, searching for your phone. Your purse. Anything.
But he stands up slowly, blocking your path.
“Hey.”
His voice is softer now, coaxing.
“You don’t have to run.”
Your hands tremble at your sides.
“I don’t remember anything,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I don’t—”
“I know.” His eyes soften, his brows pulling together in that familiar expression of concern. “You were really drunk.”
Your heart sinks.
“What happened?”
He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You saw me at the club. You… you wanted to come back here.”
You shake your head, your stomach churning.
“I don’t remember that.”
You must’ve been really drunk because from what you remember you weren’t exactly happy too see him. How did you go from fighting with him to begging to be back at his apartment?
“You were drunk,” he says again, like it’s the answer to everything. “It’s okay. I took care of you.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
The bruises.
The backward underwear.
The ache.
“What do you mean, you took care of me?”
His gaze flickers away for a moment, his jaw tightening.
“You wanted to come back,” he says softly. “You told me you missed me. That you wanted to… you know. Talk. Figure things out.”
Your mind spins, scrambling to fill in the blanks.
“I don’t remember,” you whisper again, your voice shaking.
“I know.” He steps closer, his voice low, soothing. “It’s okay. I missed you too.”
He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours.
You flinch.
But he doesn’t pull back.
“I missed you,” he says again, his voice softening. “I love you.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. They only hurt so bad because he was saying them now. After everything.
And for a moment —
You don’t know what to believe.
“You were wasted, Y/N.”
His words come soft, careful, like he’s tiptoeing around something fragile. His body language matches it — slouched shoulders, a furrowed brow, the faintest slump in his posture like he’s weighed down by concern.
Your stomach churns.
“I… I wasn’t that drunk.” The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. A lie to yourself, as much as to him. You’d lost count at six shots. At least six. Maybe more.
His lips press into a thin line, a faint shake of his head following. “You could barely stand.”
Your hands curl into fists at your sides, knuckles trembling.
“I don’t remember…” You force the words out, hating how small they sound, how they let the power tip toward him.
He exhales slowly, running a hand down his face.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. You were crying. Saying you missed me. That you needed me.” He pauses, eyes meeting yours, steady and unwavering. “What was I supposed to do, huh? Just leave you there?”
The breath punches out of you. Crying? Saying you missed him? Needed him?
That couldn’t be true. That can’t be true.
But your mind betrays you. A flash of his hands steadying you on the dance floor. His voice coaxing you into the alley. The warmth of his hand brushing yours.
Pieces fall together, but the picture is fractured, missing the crucial moments. And that’s what he’s counting on.
“I don’t…” Your voice cracks, a fresh wave of panic rolling through you. “I wouldn’t—”
“You did,” he says firmly. Not loud, but firm enough that it cuts through your protest. “You were falling apart, Y/N. I couldn’t just—” He stops, dragging his hand through his hair like he’s trying to collect himself. “I had to help you.”
Help you.
The bruises on your thighs burn like a brand.
“By bringing me here?” you snap, your voice rising. “By—by—” You stop yourself before the question comes tumbling out: Did you touch me?
His face hardens just slightly, enough to send a shiver skittering down your spine. “I wasn’t going to let you go home alone. Not like that. You don’t even know what could’ve happened.”
“What do you mean what could’ve happened?” Your voice cracks, pitching higher, panic seeping in. “What did happen?”
He holds your gaze, and for a moment, his expression softens again. “Nothing happened.”
The words should feel like a relief. They don’t.
“Nothing?” Your voice is small, but there’s a sharp edge to it.
“Nothing,” he repeats, stepping closer. Too close. “You needed me, Y/N. And I was there for you. Like I always have been.”
Always.
Your mind spirals, reaching for anything concrete, any moment from last night that you can grab onto. But it’s all a haze, smothered by the tequila and the smoke and him.
“I don’t…” You press a hand to your temple, the ache blooming there sharp and relentless. “I don’t remember asking to come back here.”
His hand reaches out, brushing against your arm, and you flinch without meaning to.
His eyes darken at that. “You’re scared of me now?”
You want to say yes. But the word lodges itself in your throat, too big to swallow, too dangerous to spit out.
“I’m not scared of you,” you lie.
“Then why are you acting like this?” His voice is soft, low, almost tender. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. I just—” He stops, his jaw clenching. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And now you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.”
He steps closer. You step back. The space between you feels like it’s shrinking, suffocating.
“Why am I here, Su-bong?” Your voice is stronger now, the edge of panic sharpening it. “Why the fuck was I in your bed?”
He tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting together like you’ve just said something unreasonable. “You wanted to be here.”
“No.” You shake your head, your chest tightening. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—” Your voice cracks, the words tangling in your throat. “I don’t even remember coming back with you.”
His expression doesn’t shift. “You were drunk,” he says simply. “You don’t have to make this a big deal.”
You laugh — bitter, sharp. “Not a big deal?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Not a big fucking deal? I don’t even know what happened, Su-bong. I don’t—” Your breath hitches, your stomach twisting violently. The next words catch in your throat, almost too heavy to force out. “Did we—”
You can’t say it. You can barely think it.
“Did we have sex?”
He doesn’t react right away. Not outwardly. But you catch it — the faint flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his gaze shifts to the side before finding yours again.
“Why would you ask me that?” His voice is steady, but there’s something too measured about it, like he’s rehearsed this answer in his head a thousand times.
“Because I don’t fucking know,” you snap, your hands trembling. They curl into fists at your sides, shaking with every ragged breath. “My underwear’s on backwards, Su-bong. I have bruises. And you’re acting—” You stop yourself, your throat tightening painfully. “You’re acting like you did something.”
His jaw tightens again, and this time his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He exhales slowly, dragging his hand through his hair.
“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want,” he says finally, his tone low but clipped.
It’s not an answer.
It’s not a fucking answer.
“What does that mean?” Your voice rises, panic flaring again. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means you wanted to come back with me,” he says, sharper now, a flash of frustration cutting through the veneer of calm. “You were all over me at the club, Y/N. I told you we shouldn’t—” He cuts himself off abruptly, his fingers raking through his hair again, the strands spiking in every direction. “But you wouldn’t let it go.”
Your stomach twists painfully, the nausea creeping back in full force.
“I wouldn’t let it go?” Your voice cracks, disbelief bleeding into every syllable. “You’re blaming me? You’re saying I—”
“I’m not blaming you.” He exhales sharply, his voice softening just slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself back in. “I’m saying you wanted this. You made that clear.”
“I don’t even remember!” Your voice breaks now, raw and jagged, splintering through the room. “How can I want something I can’t fucking remember?”
He steps closer, and this time you’re too stunned, too frozen, to move.
“Y/N.” His voice drops lower, almost pleading, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach for you. “You were drunk, yeah. But you weren’t—” He hesitates, his gaze flickering over your face. “You weren’t out of it. You knew what you were doing.”
The words settle over you like a lead weight, pressing down on your chest until it feels impossible to breathe. Your mind scrambles to piece together the night before, to fill in the blanks, but it’s all fog. Hazy flashes of neon lights and pounding music and his hand on your arm.
“I don’t—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight in your chest. “I don’t know what to believe.”
His expression softens slightly, his shoulders lowering as he steps closer again, closing the gap between you.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says, his voice coaxing, soothing. He reaches for your hand, brushing his fingers against yours.
You flinch.
The motion is small, instinctive. But he catches it, his gaze darkening for a fraction of a second before he carefully, deliberately pulls his hand back.
“I don’t know what else to say to you,” he murmurs, his tone taking on a faint edge of frustration again. “I tried to do the right thing, Y/N. I could’ve left you at the club. I could’ve let you go home alone. But I didn’t.”
He looks at you, his eyes steady and unwavering, and you hate how much they make your stomach twist.
“I stayed.” He takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne, mingling with the smoke and stale alcohol lingering in the room. “Because you needed me.”
You press your back against the wall, your hands gripping the hem of your dress so tightly it crumples in your fists.
“I don’t remember needing you,” you say, your voice small but sharp, each word cutting through the thick tension in the room.
His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looks up again, there’s something different in his eyes. Something dark.
“Then maybe you should ask yourself why you’re here.”
The question hits like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs.
You don’t answer. You can’t.
And in the silence that follows, he steps back, his expression shifting to something softer, more familiar.
“I missed you,” he says, his voice low, almost tender. “And I know you missed me too.”
“Just… stay.”
The word hangs in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.
Stay.
You want to run. You want to grab your things and get out of this apartment, out of this nightmare, and never look back. But your legs won’t move. Your feet feel glued to the floor, weighed down by doubt and fear and something else—something softer, something that aches when he looks at you like this.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whisper.
His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. But when he speaks, his voice is soft. Vulnerable.
“I know.” His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But I’m not the guy I was before, Y/N. I’m trying. I’m trying to be better.”
You hate how much those words hurt. How much you want to believe them.
“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” you say, your voice trembling. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“You did,” he says firmly. “Maybe you don’t remember, but you did.”
The words cut through you like a blade, sharp and cold. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to believe him.
But the tequila haze clouds everything, blurring the edges of the truth.
“Just give me a chance,” he says, stepping closer again. “Let me prove it to you. Let me—” He stops himself, his voice catching. “Let me fix this.”
Your throat tightens, the weight of his words pressing down on you, crushing.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper.
He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away. His fingers are warm, steady, wrapping around yours like they belong there. Like they always have.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says again. His voice is so soft, so careful. “Just stay. Please.”
Your chest heaves, your breath shallow and uneven.
And then—
Your phone buzzes.
The sound cuts through the tension like a knife, sharp and jarring. You jerk your hand away from his, your heart leaping into your throat as you spin toward the nightstand.
Your phone is lying there, screen glowing faintly in the dim light. Ji-hye’s name flashes across the screen.
Your stomach twists violently.
Su-bong doesn’t move. He stands frozen in place, his gaze fixed on you. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to see whatever’s written on his face.
You grab the phone, your fingers trembling as you swipe to open the message.
Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:04 AM): You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.
Your breath catches, your chest tightening painfully.
“Who is it?” Su-bong’s voice cuts through the silence, low and steady, but there’s an edge to it now.
You don’t answer. You can’t.
Instead, you take a shaky step back, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.
“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, something dark and unyielding. “Who was it?”
“Ji-hye.” The name barely makes it out of your mouth, your voice cracking on the second syllable.
He hums, low and quiet. “What did she say?”
You glance down at the screen again, the words burning into your retinas. You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.
You don’t know what to say.
What can you say?
“Y/N,” he says again, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, quieter, like he’s trying to keep you from bolting. “Talk to me.”
Your chest heaves, your breath coming faster now. “I need to go.”
The words feel weak, hollow, and you hate how they tremble as they leave your lips.
“Go where?” His question is quiet, but there’s a weight to it that makes your stomach turn.
“Away from here.”
The second the words are out, his expression shifts. The softness in his gaze hardens, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“If you walk out that door…” He trails off, his voice cutting off like he’s biting down on the rest of the sentence.
Your heart races, panic rising in your chest. “What?”
His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never see me again.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs.
There’s a finality to them, an edge that cuts too deep. You don’t know what he means — if he’s talking about leaving your life or leaving altogether — but it doesn’t matter.
It scares you.
And he knows it.
His gaze stays locked on yours, unflinching, unwavering. “I’m serious, Y/N.”
Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen.
Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:06 AM): If you’re with him, just leave. I’ll come get you.
You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.
Su-bong takes another step closer. “You don’t have to leave.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “We can talk. We can figure this out. But if you walk away now…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. The threat lingers in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.
Your fingers tighten around your phone, Ji-hye’s message flashing like a lifeline in your palm.
“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, pleading. “Stay.”
You look up at him, your chest heaving, your mind spinning.
And in that moment, you don’t know what scares you more; the thought of staying, or the thought of leaving.
you said you were thinking a lot about the salesman and i have too tbh. It's not stated in your rules so im not sure (feel free to ignore if this goes against your rules) but how about Twitter-links for the salesman? I would like it and im sure some other people would too!
Love, annon ♡
— the salesman nsfw links / visuals.
a/n . yk what hell yeah. ily anon and thank you for looking at my rules first.
notices: fem bodied reader. make sure to log in to twitter ! i dont fw whatever the notes in the posts say so please ignore them ! tw guns and gunplay.
— he has all those ropes and gags for a few reasons.
— the typa videos he keeps in his camera roll.
— ↑ bonus 1 / bonus 2 <3
— he had a long day.
— this. just this.
— fav pastime.
— making you drench the sheets time after time.
— breath play.
— say "cheese".
— when you and him have a date.
— can't stay away from your throat and pretty neck. how can he?
— he loves adding a bit more thrill to your activities.
— saying "so needy... you should help yourself to it" as he pats his thigh.
Had you been told before you would be dragged to sit on his lap under the dim lights of Club Pentagon and made to see this... you might not even have some at all.
Perhaps if he had invited you under the guise of distracting you from academics for one Friday night, you might've been more open.
Less of a prude.
But you had never seen such a clean line of powder stretched across the table in your life. In fact your body burns with not only embarrassment at being in the proximity of such hardcore drugs, but your bones were also set alight in fear.
The arms that have been cradling your waist pulls you in tighter, making you feel smaller than you actually were on his lap. This is what you loved about him. He liked you. Your curves. Your face. Your everything.
You could stick this out, couldn't you?
You should.
"Woah," He calmly whispers into your ear. All at once, every morsel of discomfort is driven out by your overwhelming need to please him.
The club is dark.
The music is good.
Namgyu's pulled you onto his lap in front of an embarrassingly large group of strangers. Everything is perfect.
"What's wrong?" He's so attentiative, bending his head down to whispers conspiratorially into your hair. His voice drowns out the oppressive rap song being performed on the center stage on the ground floor of the club and for all of five minutes its just you and him and the cocaine. Buy mainly, just him.
"You're strung up." He whispers.
You're quiet for a few tense minutes, wondering if you should voice your concerns and risk having him disappointed in you for not having fun like he intended.
"I don't know if I'm too comfortable."
"Here?" You hear him whisper, slightly poking his head forward to nudge his nose into the back of your neck, "With me?" He's using that petulant almost needy voice of his when he's inebriated and it tugs at something deeply troubled inside you.
"Not with you," you reassure him, "With that-" you nudge your head forward slightly, leading his half-lidded eyes to the long stripe of cocaine marring the table. "And your friends," you reluctantly murmur, letting yourself sink against him as if he had the power to scare these drunken people away. As if he wasn't forcing you here, amongst them at all.
"You know Thanos is a big name in the club scene-" He begins and you cut him off by sighing very loudly as you resch forward to grab your glass of water off the small, reflective table.
Thoroughly annoyed because he's sung this song before.
"I know, Namgyu but-"
His fingers weave into themselves around your waist, securing you against him like a baby, "Just be cool for like 40 minutes- maybe and hour-"
Your blood pressure skyrocketed as you turned back to shoot him, not only a look of immense incredulousness but betrayal.
"Namgyu, you said you wanted to take me out- yeah? Not your friends-”
"-Then we can get out of here, and I'll give you all the kisses you want."
You sigh heavily once more. “You didn't say anything about-"
He loosens his grip from your waist before standing up, forcing you to stand up in the process.
"He's coming," he whispers, keeping his eye off into the distance. His attention is much not on you and your present moral struggles.
"This is work, baby, you know this-"
"Namgyu- I have a test on-"
He pinches your side as a new guest enters the section. "Shh." Namgyu whispers at the same time the guest's boisterous hollers cause you to quite literally flinch.
"Yo, Namsu!" He's dripping in gold chains and purple hair. "Who is this fine Senorita you've brought with you?" He asks despite having two women under his arm. "You trying to outdo me bro?" Thanos takes a seat directly beside you and Your boyfriend.
"This is my girl-" He says at the same time Namgyu pulls you back onto his lap.
"It's Nam-Gyu-" you say through gritted teeth. "Not Nam-Su." Your eyes are narrowed at the man who only listens and smiles.
You glare daggers at the man before your boyfriend taps you slightly, reminding you to answer. “I have water- so no thank you." You say before mumbling, "I'm not a snitch either-"
"Is she partaking with us?" He asks your boyfriend, despite looking right at you. “Or is she a snitch?"
The girl under Thanos' arm snickers. "Water?"
You once again, tried to crawl further into Namgyu's lap.
He, thankfully tightened his grip around your waist, never letting you go as he conversed in inebriated chatter with Thanos. The more drugs they consumed the louder they got, until Namgyu started flailing his right arm wildly while he told a story, still having somewhat enough sense to keep a languid grip on your waist.
Somewhere, amongst all the useless chatter, you decided to add in your two cents, snickering quietly to yourself as you mumbled over the rim of your glass, "I've actually never watched porn before-"
"What do you mean you've never watched porn before?" Your eyes widen when you realize you'd spoken louder than you intended to and one of Thanos' girls snicker loudly. The sound carries across the table to his degenerate friends and their girlfriend's and causes a whole new wave of laughter to be birthed from your embarrassment.
You begin to squirm in Namgyu's lap.
Despite the drugs and the loud music, the two of you were having such a nice evening... You never fancied partying much and yet, your boyfriend had to sink his claws into you to get you to agree to one night of partying. The consequences of that decision are playing out in front of you.
"You've been banging a virgin this entire time?" Thanos asks Namgyu the same time and nameless girl says-
"Even I've watched porn."
Despite the anxiety flooding your veins at being the center of unwanted attention, Namgyu's grip around your waist is firm. It keeps you grounded. It tightens around you now, nudging you against him like his nose at the nape of your neck.
"Have I?" Namgyu asks with his eyes as hazy as the city caught in dusk. There isn't alcohol on his breath, only a light dust of snow under his nose.
"Have you what?" You ask, staring down at your trembling hands.
"Been dealing with a virgin this entire time?" He asks, unraveling your very private life to a room full of strangers. He's high. And incredibly loose with his mouth. You have to find it in you to take his inebriation into account but you only feel annoyed.
“Is that why you don't do drugs with me?"
"I don't do drugs with you because I actually value my health-"
"Sick burn," Thanos snorts in his little corner.
Your eyes widen. Your throat tightens.
These aren't your people.
Your people are nestled in the university library, cramming one final time before their semester tests.
Yet here you were, caught under a thick cloud of smoke that had your throat burning, all for a boy.
And admittedly priceless one.
"Don't be an asshole." You turn to glare daggers at him.
"Don't be a prude-" he shoots back. A few locks of hair fall from behind his ear as he watches you with a darkened gaze. "Is that why we haven't had sex yet?" Your heart plummets, "cus you're a virgin?” Namgyu asks. You don't know which side he's on.
"Woah!? A virgin in the flesh-" Thanos hollers, staring at you like a specimen in a petri dish. He nudges the girl under his arm, "I'd cheat on you if you ever tried that shit with me.”
"I know!" The girl responds before turning to look at you with dazed, dilated pupils. "Aren't you scared he's gonna do something if you wait too long?"
These aren't your people.
"If Namgyu wants to sleep with someone then by all means-"
You wrestle out of his iron grip, thanking God for the water that's keeping you sober and steady on your feet.
"Ooh, spicy, spicy-" Thanos mumbles
"Can I go please?" Namgyu keeps his hand in yours, looking up at you with a deadly glare.
"Nah, you leave when I leave, I'm still working-"
You pull your hand out of his.
"I have a test on Tuesday. Goodnight.
Its not like you thought he would follow you. Namgyu was especially selfish, as was the case for most addicts. Right now, you imagine him snapping out of his daze, leaning back over that table, tucking his hair behind his ears as he snorted up whatever Thanos wanted him to.
You didn't think you were being followed and so you feel thoroughly and completely alone once you get to your apartment.
Despite being completely alone this evening, you still try to hide what you're watching on your phone. Your headsets are pulled over your ears, your head reclined against the arm of the couch while your blankie was pulled over your supine frame. You hadn't exactly planned on watching porn this evening but the group's bullying had left you curious.
The girl projected on your phone screen looks up at the actor about to rail her insides. "You've been a bad girl,"
You roll your eyes into the back of your skull. This was precisely why you refrained from mainstream porn. Some of the best stuff was either in your audio files or in your reading list. Visual porn never did much for you- until you scrolled a little too far down to a new, more promising video.
The actress has a crimson handprint on her ass, as her dom forces her to ride her pillow. Despite the difference in skin tone and the overall mediocre acting, you were having a considerable amount of fun imagining yourself in her place. You thought about an invisible collar clamped around your throat with a big, strong, domineering man loomed above you, forcing you to push your clit right up against-
The more you slipped into a pleasure filled haze. You watch with bated breath.
"Sh-it-" you nearly fall off the couch. Your phone plops out of your slippery hands, right onto your face and your headphones slide off. Standing above you, is Namgyu, trying to fight a grin off his face as he stares down at you. You look up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Wh-when did you get back home?" the words barely leave your mouth before Namgyu's grabbing your phone.
"Naughty, naughty girl," He doesn't seem surprised to see the contents on your screen. In fact, the only giveaway that he saw anything at all is the slight flicker his eyes make towards you, before he stares back down at the phone.
"H-How was 'work'?" You're desperately trying to steer your attention away from the blatant porn on your phone screen, away from the smirk on his face as he bites his lips, away from his exposed tattoos in his short sleeve shirt.
"Work was work." He replied, still watching the porn, "I'm high as shit." He says casually as he disappears into the bedroom, your phone still in his hand.
"Hard too." He says when he returns. Your phone clutched in one hand and the large teddy bear he bought you for your 21st clutched in the other hand. You furrow your brows up at him, confused when he takes a seat on the couch. Your feet against his thigh as he clicks a few buttons on your phone before seating the giant teddy bear beside him.
He grabs the remote before pressing a few buttons.
You freeze when you hear the moans first.
Your gaze catches the TV.
There, the girl from your screen rides her pillow and you're forced to watch.
You're almost too embarrassed to feel turned on. Ungluing your eyes from the TV, you instead watch your hands in your lap.
He places a hand under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's sitting comfortably on his side, remarkably unfazed by the girl's pornographic moans.
"Fuck the bear." Is all he says, as he leans against his arm and he strokes your chin. Petting you.
"Wha-"
"You gonna make me ask again?"
It's something in his tone and his hazy, half-lidded gaze that kickstarts your senses as you languidly stand on your feet. You're trembling and he reaches out to interlock your hands in his. Namgyu loved how eager yet innocent you are for him. He can see in the clumsiness of your movements that you were already slipping into subspace. With trembling fingers, you reach up to the thin straps of your pyjama dress and he nods his head.
"Should I take off my panties too?" Your voice is small.
Namgyu tilts his head. "You even have to ask?"
Behind you, the girl's breathing doubles and her moans increase.
"Better hurry or she's gonna cum." He taunts, watching like a stone statue as you mount the bear seated beside him. Namgyu's breathing catches as you straddle the bear, your movements tense and uncertain.
"Fuck the bear-" you lower your cunt onto the fur material and you moan, having not realized how wet you'd actually been this entire evening.
"That's it- fuck." He spreads his legs, leaning back more as he lets his hand brush over the tent in his jeans.
You don't moan because it feels good. It doesn't. Not immediately at least. You moan because Namgyu is watching. Reclined against the couch as his eyes stay on you.
"Ride the plushie like the girl in the video." He says. Your throat dries when he continues to languidly stroke his hand over the bulge in his sweatpants.
"Fuck- Gyu," he knew when the nickname fell from your lips that you were done for.
You both were.
Your eyes steadily roll to the back of your head as you grind your pussy against the bear, already creating a wet spot.
Behind you, you heard the girl moan and whine and somehow that spurrs you on.
"So fucking needy-” you gasp when you feel a hand cupping your exposed breasts. Namgyu reaches over to tweak your nipples just as his other hand finally slips inside his pants.
"Crane your fucking neck back. Try to watch the slut make herself cum." When you do, your hips stutter hard and your clit twitches.
"You watch her." Namgyu commands, stroking his exposed cock, "I'd rather watch you."
As you watch, his mouth runs. Namgyu swore a lot but it doubled when he caught himself in the throes of arousal.
“You look just like that bitch, you know that?”
Your mouth snaps open as you watch her. Your expression is pained.
“You want everyone to think you're such a quiet little girl but your just a slut, yeah?” He speaks lpuder, “Just my fucking slut- fuck.” It nearly causes you to cum everywhere. Her hand is pushing down on the face of the poor, poor pillow as she rides it. You can tell she's close.
Unable to look any longer, you turn back. Your hazy eyes meets Namgyu's dilated ones. He's stroking his cock, head thrown back against the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar. His cock is throbbing in his hand and he squeezes, showing you the precum sliding down the length.
"Gyu, please-" you grinded harder against the plushy and Namgyu picked up the pace.
"You imagining me fucking you, huh?" He throws his head back, closing, his eyes momentarily close as his cock twitches in his hand.
"Fuck- I-" your clit was rubbing against the plushie just right. Namgyu's fingers mercilessly squeezing your nipples have you seeing stars. This friction was enough.
Fuck.
Air could be enough to let you come in this moment. All you had to do was buck your hips a little more- but the pain blooming across your breasts were distracting you from cumming.
"Please-" your whole body was trembling- "It fucking hurts!"
His mouth falls open at that, before leaning his head against the couch. He squeezes the base of his cock and you watch the precum slide down its length.
"Fuck, say that again-" he brings his head back before stroking his cock faster. "Fuck the plushie, baby," His hips move up from the couch to meet his hand. "Tell me it hurts again-"
He sits up to tweak your nipples again and you whine. "H-Hurts so bad-"
"Yeah, Princess, just like that," he groans, throwing his head back, "Such a stupid fucking slut-" he admits, voice groggy.
Somehow that final degradation has your hips twitching as your clit spasms and you slip into the stars.
The second you cum, Namgyu does too. Cursing and mumrering a quiet and slightly broken, "Fuck- such s-slut-" before reaching over to grab a fistfull of your braids. Your hips are still writhing, your eyes as blank as a corpse as he pulls you forward to spray his cum all over your face.
He squeezes his cock, unable to keep his pretty eyes shut as he watches you writhe and moan. "Fuck me-" he sighs.
"Don't watch this shit again." He says, huffing and puffing. "It's bad for you."
In a second, he presses a button on the remote and the TV screen is black.
"If you need dick, come to me."
"You were making f-fun of me," you grumble under your breath, and you sigh heavily.
Your eyes are shut but you can feel him playing with his cum on your face.
"I wasn't making fun of you. I was just surprised. You're surprising." There's a thick layer of emotion in his voice. It has your body wracking with aftershocks. "You're not like anything I've ever experienced."
Summary: “You could pay all your debts with this,” he said, his voice soft, almost enticing. His gaze shifted to you, sharp and calculating. “But it’s not free.”
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “What do you mean?”
A/N: This is probably wayyy out of his character, but I haven’t watched season 2 yet (I don’t have Netflix 😭) and just saw an edit with him on tiktok and suddenly my obsession with him came back from 2021. So there are no spoilers!!!
Warnings: blowjob (m receiving), cum swallowing
If you’re not 18 DNI BECAUSE I WILL HAUNT YOUR DREAMS🏃♀️🏃♀️🏃♀️
The metro station was cold, the flickering overhead lights casting dim shadows on the walls. Your steps echoed faintly as you trudged forward, your head bowed to avoid the stares of passersby. You could feel their judgment, their pity, their disgust. You didn’t blame them—you looked like hell. Blood crusted your upper lip, the remnants of a nosebleed from earlier when some thug decided to teach you a lesson about unpaid debts. Your cheek stung, swelling just beginning to bloom.
You winced as you adjusted the strap of your worn-out bag. Your ribs ached, a dull, persistent throb that reminded you how low you’d sunk. Debt was a beast that refused to loosen its grip. It clung to you, suffocated you, and drove you into situations you’d never imagined.
As you shuffled down the platform, you barely registered the man who bumped into you until you staggered back, your body colliding with the wall. “Sorry—I didn’t watch where I was going,” he said, his tone oddly pleasant.
You blinked up at him, taking in his immaculate gray suit and perfectly combed hair. His smile was disarming, polite but sharp, like the edge of a blade.
“It’s quite alright,” you muttered, instinctively brushing yourself off despite already looking like a wreck. The man didn’t move on, though. Instead, he studied you, his gaze lingering on the dried blood and the faint bruise forming beneath your eye.
“Rough day?” he asked, a trace of amusement in his voice.
You gave a humorless laugh. “Something like that.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief, offering it to you. You hesitated before taking it, dabbing at your nose. The fabric was smooth, expensive, and it felt wrong to smear your blood on something so pristine.
“I have a game,” the man said suddenly, his voice lowering as if he were sharing a secret. “Would you like to play?”
The fuck?
You frowned. “A game?”
He nodded, his smile widening. “It’s simple. You could win money—enough to change your life.”
Your skepticism must have been obvious because he chuckled, a soft, almost paternal sound. “It’s harmless, I assure you. You look like someone who could use a bit of good fortune.”
You thought of your debts, the people breathing down your neck, the empty fridge in your apartment. Against your better judgment, you found yourself asking, “What’s the game?”
He gestured to a nearby bench, and you followed him, still wary. From his briefcase, he pulled out a folded board and a stack of rectangular tiles, explaining the rules of ddakji. It sounded simple enough: flip the opponent’s tile using your own. He placed a stack of cash on the bench beside him, its presence tantalizing.
You played your first round and lost. The second and third rounds went the same way. You were terrible at this game.
When you finally admitted you had no money to bet, his expression didn’t change. “Usually, I slap people when they lose,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “But…” He gestured to your bruised face. “It seems someone’s already beaten me to it.”
The absurdity of the statement caught you off guard, and you let out a startled laugh. “That’s generous of you.”
He smirked. “I do have a heart.”
With no stakes involved, you continued playing. You lost repeatedly, the man’s skill far outstripping your own. He never seemed frustrated, though. If anything, he looked amused by your determination. Eventually, your bruises began to throb, and exhaustion seeped into your bones. You tossed the tile onto the bench, letting out a defeated sigh.
“I give up,” you said, slumping back. “I’m not winning this.”
He tilted his head, considering you. “Pity. You were just starting to improve.”
“Sure,” you muttered, wiping your hands on your jeans. “So, what now?”
He placed the briefcase on the bench between you, opening it to reveal neat stacks of bills. Your breath caught in your throat. It was more money than you’d ever seen in your life, more than enough to pay off your debts and start over.
“You could pay all your debts with this,” he said, his voice soft, almost enticing. His gaze shifted to you, sharp and calculating. “But it’s not free.”
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “What do you mean?”
He closed the briefcase with a decisive snap, leaning in slightly. “I’ll give this to you if you… do something for me.”
Your stomach churned at the way his eyes lingered on you, his meaning crystal clear. Heat flooded your face, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “What kind of something?” you asked, though you already knew.
His smile didn’t waver. “Let’s not pretend we’re strangers to desperation. You’ve been beaten down by the world, haven’t you? Cast aside, forgotten. This,” he gestured to the briefcase, “could be your ticket out.”
Your fists clenched, your nails digging into your palms. “You think I’m going to sell myself for money?”
He shrugged, unbothered by your indignation. “You’ve already sold your time, your dignity, your safety—haven’t you? What’s the difference?”
The words stung because they weren’t entirely untrue. Still, you shook your head, your pride warring with your desperation. “I’m not doing that.”
He leaned back, crossing his legs with an air of nonchalance. “Your choice, of course. But think about it. How long before your debtors come back? Before the beatings get worse? How long can you keep scraping by?”
The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You stared at the briefcase, the money practically taunting you. Your mind raced, weighing the humiliation against the potential freedom.
“I… I can’t,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
He studied you for a long moment, his smile fading slightly. Then, to your surprise, he stood, gathering the game pieces and tucking them back into his briefcase. “Well,” he said, straightening his tie, “it was worth a shot.”
You blinked, caught off guard by how easily he let it go. “That’s it?”
He chuckled, the sound low and almost fond. “I’m not a monster. I made an offer; you declined. Simple as that.”
As he turned to leave, something in you stirred—a mix of relief and regret. “Wait,” you called out, your voice trembling.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes?”
You hesitated, the weight of your situation crushing down on you. “Why me?” you asked, desperate to understand why this stranger had singled you out.
His smile returned, enigmatic and unsettling. “Because you’re interesting. And because I see potential in you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small card and placing it on the bench. “If you ever change your mind, give me a call.”
Before you could respond, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the card. You stared at it, the black lettering stark against the white background.
For a long time, you sat there, the sound of the metro fading into the background. The man’s words echoed in your mind, intertwining with your fear, your pride, and your unrelenting desperation.
And the card remained in your pocket.
—
You stared at the card for what felt like hours that night. The weight of its potential pressed heavily on your chest. In a world where every door seemed to slam in your face, this was the first one to open—albeit under circumstances you couldn’t fully comprehend.
The next day, after another call from a creditor threatening you with more violence, you finally gave in. Your pride was already battered, and your options had all but evaporated. With shaking hands, you picked up your phone and dialed the number on the card.
A smooth, professional voice answered. “Hello?”
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “I… I got this card from someone at the metro. I’d like to… take them up on their offer.”
There was a pause, then the faint sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard. “Ah, yes. We’ve been expecting your call. An address will be sent to your phone shortly. Be there within the hour.”
The line went dead before you could say anything else. Moments later, a text arrived, and you stared at the address. It wasn’t anywhere familiar to you, but the name of the street was in one of the wealthiest areas of the city. Hesitation gripped you again, but the bruises on your face and the weight of your debts pushed you forward.
The cab dropped you off at the gates of a sprawling villa. The sheer size of it was intimidating—tall wrought iron gates, a long driveway lined with meticulously trimmed hedges, and a house that looked more like a palace than a home. You adjusted your jacket, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place you looked.
Before you could press the buzzer, the gates swung open as if you were expected. You walked up the driveway, each step feeling heavier than the last. When you reached the front door, it opened before you could knock.
A tall man stood there, dressed in a sleek black suit. His expression was blank, professional but cold. “Welcome,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. The foyer was just as luxurious as the exterior—marble floors, chandeliers, and artwork that probably cost more than your entire life’s earnings.
“Next time, a car will pick you up,” the man said, his tone brisk.
“Next time?” you echoed, your voice tinged with disbelief.
Before he could respond, the familiar voice of the salesman cut through the air. “Sorry, he’s—doesn’t matter. Just come on in.” He appeared at the top of a sweeping staircase, his ever-present smile intact. He looked even more polished than before, his posture relaxed.
You hesitated but eventually followed the man into what appeared to be a sitting room. The furniture was sleek and modern, the walls lined with bookshelves and abstract paintings. He gestured for you to sit, but you remained standing, your nerves making it impossible to relax.
“Drink?” he offered, motioning to a decanter of amber liquid on a nearby table.
“No, thank you,” you said quickly, your voice tight.
He tilted his head, his smile softening. “Suit yourself. I see your bruise is healing nicely.”
You instinctively touched your cheek, still tender from the beating. “Can we just… get to the point? What do you want me to do?”
The salesman’s smile widened slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Straight to business. I like that.”
He studied you for a moment, his gaze uncomfortably intense. “What I want is very simple. And, let me assure you, the reward will far outweigh the discomfort.”
You shifted uneasily, his words setting off alarm bells in your mind.
His smile took on a sharper edge. “I want you to use that mouth of yours for something other than talking.”
The room seemed to tilt, your stomach dropping like a stone. You stared at him, your mind racing to comprehend what he’d just said. “You’re kidding,” you said, your voice trembling.
“I never kid about business,” he replied smoothly. “You’ve seen the briefcase. You know what’s at stake.”
Your hands balled into fists at your sides. “You want me to—”
“To prove how much you want to change your life,” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “To show me that you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”
You took a step back, your legs bumping into the edge of a chair. “This… this is humiliating.”
“Is it?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. “You’ve already been beaten and left with nothing. What’s one more compromise?”
His words were like needles, each one poking at the fragile walls of your pride. He stood, closing the distance between you. “I’m offering you freedom,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “All you have to do is take it.”
You swallowed hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to leave, to walk out of this villa and never look back. But the image of that briefcase, the promise of a life free from fear and debt, rooted you in place.
“I…” Your voice cracked, the weight of the moment crushing you.
The salesman tilted his head, his smile softening ever so slightly. “Think of it this way,” he said. “This is the last time you’ll ever have to beg, to endure, to scrape by. After this, the world opens up to you.”
He stepped back, giving you space but keeping his piercing gaze locked on you. “But it’s your choice,” he added. “It always has been.”
“I—okay,” you murmured, barely audible.
His smile widened, not in mockery but in something resembling satisfaction. “Atta girl.”
The words hung in the air, and you immediately dropped to your knees, ready to get this over with. But his hand shot out, stopping you mid-motion. His touch was firm but not forceful, his fingers curling gently around your forearm.
“Not so fast,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. “Let’s get you a bit comfortable first.”
You looked up at him, confusion etched across your face. “Comfortable?” you echoed.
He patted his lap, a small gesture that carried so much weight. “Don’t you want to loosen up a bit?”
“I—” The protest was on the tip of your tongue, but you stopped yourself. He tilted his head, his sharp gaze pinning you in place.
“Come on,” he coaxed, his voice soft but insistent.
After a long moment of hesitation, you stood and awkwardly settled onto his lap. The action felt unnatural, foreign. You perched on his thighs stiffly, your hands clenched in your lap, your body tense like a coiled spring.
He didn’t seem bothered by your discomfort. Instead, he rested his hands lightly on your waist, his touch careful and deliberate. His thumbs began to trace small, lazy patterns into the fabric of your shirt, the motion strangely soothing despite the situation.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. The words were meant to reassure, but they only made your pulse race faster.
You nodded, unable to bring yourself to speak. The air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle. You tried to focus on the patterns he was drawing, on the steady rhythm of his breathing, anything to distract yourself from the heat radiating off his body—or the unmistakable hardness pressing against you.
You froze, your entire body going rigid. He noticed, of course, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his hands stayed where they were, his thumbs continuing their soothing motions.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. His breath ghosted over your temple, warm and inviting. “Just breathe.”
Easier said than done. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. He shifted slightly, and your hands instinctively reached out, grasping his shoulders for balance. The movement brought you closer to him, your faces mere inches apart.
His eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you every opportunity to pull away. When you didn’t, his lips brushed against yours, tentative and soft.
You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were testing the waters. His hands stayed on your waist, their grip light, giving you space to move away if you wanted to.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you sat there, motionless, letting him lead. When he realized you weren’t responding, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Relax,” he murmured, his tone patient.
Tentatively, you leaned forward, your lips meeting his. The kiss was awkward at first, your movements hesitant and unsure. But he didn’t rush you. He let you take the lead, his hands remaining steady on your waist.
As you grew more comfortable, the kiss deepened, your initial hesitation fading away. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket, grounding yourself as you tilted your head, pressing closer.
That’s when he took over.
His hands slid up your back, pulling you flush against him as he angled his head, deepening the kiss. The shift was subtle but deliberate, his lips moving against yours with a confidence that left you breathless. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, a gentle request rather than a demand, and you parted your lips without thinking.
The kiss turned hungry, his movements more assertive but never forceful. His hands roamed cautiously, never straying too far, their warmth seeping through your clothes. Your senses were overwhelmed—the taste of him, the scent of his cologne, the steady strength of his hands.
You didn’t know when it happened, but your tension melted away, replaced by a strange sense of surrender. It wasn’t defeat—it was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Your hands slid up his chest, your fingers brushing against the collar of his shirt as you leaned into him.
When he finally broke the kiss, you were breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly. His forehead rested against yours, his hands still on your waist, anchoring you in place.
“See?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Not so bad.”
You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded. The reality of what just happened began to sink in, but before panic could take hold, he shifted again, his hands steadying you as he leaned back slightly.
“Take your time,” he said, his tone soft. “We’re not in a rush.”
You weren’t sure if it was the weight of his gaze, the steady way he held you, or the way his fingers brushed against you as if he knew exactly where your boundaries were but was waiting for you to decide whether they mattered.
He reached up slowly, his movements deliberate, and his hand brushed against your face before moving to your hair. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he pulled the tie from your hair. Your hair tumbled loose over your shoulders, and he twirled the hair tie around his fingers, his smile never faltering.
“You’ve sucked dick before, right?” he asked, his voice smooth, casual.
Your heart stopped, then resumed at a faster pace. You blinked, your cheeks flushing hot. “I—of course I did!” you replied defensively, the words tumbling out before you could think them through.
He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Of course you did,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his gaze lingered on your face. “How could someone resist a pretty face like yours?”
The compliment sent an unexpected jolt through you, but you weren’t given time to process it. He gently took your hands in his, his touch light but firm, and began guiding them behind your back. You stiffened instinctively, your pulse pounding in your ears.
“Relax,” he said, his tone calm and soothing, as though he were coaxing you out of a tense state. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
You hesitated but allowed him to move your arms behind you, his grip steady and unthreatening. The hair tie you hadn’t noticed still in his hand came into view as he looped it around your wrists. The act was careful, the tie snug enough to hold your hands together but not tight enough to hurt.
“There,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusted the knot. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hair for you.”
You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. He reached up, threading his fingers through your hair with the same slow, deliberate care he’d shown with your hands. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated how your body seemed to respond to him against your will.
“See?” he said, his voice low and steady. “No reason to be nervous.”
Nervous was an understatement. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the situation. Everything about him was a contradiction—his words soft but commanding, his actions careful yet deliberate. It left you off balance, unsure of where you stood or what would happen next.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Down on your knees.”
You blinked, hesitating for a moment as the weight of his words sank in. Your body froze, torn between instinct and the promise of what you came here for. You must have looked as dumbfounded as you felt because his lips curved into that same infuriatingly knowing smile.
But then you remembered the briefcase—you couldn’t afford to hesitate, not now. Steeling yourself, you swallowed hard and did as he said, sinking onto the plush carpet beneath you.
He watched you with a calm, calculating expression, his fingers still lightly twirling the tie binding your wrists. When your knees touched the floor, he adjusted his posture, leaning forward slightly.
“Good girl,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips in a tone that felt both patronizing and oddly reassuring. His hand left you entirely, moving to undo his belt. The sound of the buckle snapping open echoed faintly in the room, and you bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to remain still.
He slid the belt free and dropped it to the side, his gaze never leaving yours. His movements were slow as he unbuttoned his pants and let them pool around his ankles. Then came the boxers, and as he stepped out of them, his confidence radiated like a tangible force.
He looked down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” he asked, his voice dripping with challenge.
You scoffed, narrowing your eyes despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I’ve had bigger,” you shot back.
That earned a low chuckle from him, the sound rich and amused. He crouched slightly, bringing his face closer to yours as his hand reached out, cupping your jaw firmly but gently. His thumb brushed along your chin as he tilted your face upward. “Open up,” he said, his tone soft but leaving no room for argument.
You hesitated for a fraction of a second, your thoughts warring with one another. But then your resolve hardened.
You obeyed, parting your lips just enough to feel vulnerable.
The corners of his mouth quirked upward again, and his hand slid to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair with practiced ease. “I’ll let you take the lead,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “at least for now.”
His other hand rested lightly on your shoulder as he guided you closer, his movements careful.
With a deep breath, you adjusted, leaning in more and licking the tip. He groaned softly, the sound low and guttural. His other hand trailed from your shoulder to your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse point in a way that sent a shiver through you. His cock was heavy on your tongue, and your mind blurred as he thrust himself further and further into your mouth—and you appreciated the slowness with which he did it—until he was fully inside. The rhythm was slow at first. Small bobbing of your head that was just enough to pull soft groans of from his lips.
You pulled back slightly and swirled your tongue around the tip, pleasantly surprising him enough to earn yourself a sharp tug at your hair and a guttural moan that sent a shiver down your spine and a sudden awareness of the need between your legs.
“My… it’s like you were made for this…” he tugged gently on your hair again, signaling for you to pause, you pulled back slightly, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch light but grounding.
“Good girl,” he said again, his voice softer now, almost approving. He leaned down slightly, his hand cupping your face as he tilted your chin upward. “Messy, though…” he muttered, wiping a bit of drool escaping your open mouth. His hand moved from your chin to your hair again, smoothing the strands back as he studied your face with that same intense gaze.
“Let’s see how far you can go,” he murmured, his tone calm but laced with challenge.
And he fucking shoved you down on his cock.
You froze for a second, overwhelmed by the situation, but his voice cut through the haze.
“Don’t stop now,” he said, his tone still calm but laced with something sharper, something that made your heart race. “You want the money, don’t you?”
Your jaw tightened involuntarily, and he noticed. His smirk deepened as he adjusted his grip in your hair, guiding you with more force than before. It wasn’t painful, but it was clear he wasn’t asking for permission anymore. He was almost guiding your head at this point, fucking into your warm mouth with soft grunts as the hand with a grip on your hair directed you towards him in perfect timing. Your jaw was starting to ache and you could barely notice it with your thoughts suddenly one-track-minded. You were alternating torturously between sucking and lapping at his dick. He pulled out, and then fucked back in roughly, and oh, he knew this would be good—but not this good.
His hand in your hair tightened, and the calm, collected demeanor he had shown earlier began to crack ever so slightly. His breaths were heavier, his eyes darker, and the faint quirk of his lips had transformed into something far less controlled.
His need was pressing against the edges of his control. Your breath hitched as you tried to keep up, the pace leaving you off balance.
You pulled back instinctively, your body reacting to the overwhelming sensation, but his grip on your hair tightened, keeping you in place. “No,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “Not yet. Breathe through your nose. Come on—work for it.”
The command sent a shiver down your spine, equal parts thrilling and intimidating. You tried to steady your breathing, inhaling deeply through your nose as he’d instructed. Your jaw relaxed as best as it could, though every muscle in your body felt tense.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice breaking slightly at the edges, the first real crack in his composure. His free hand braced against the back of the couch he was sitting on, his knuckles whitening as he gripped it tightly.
You glanced up at him through your lashes, trying to focus despite your racing pulse. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the intensity in them made your breath catch. He was watching you so closely, as if every movement, every reaction, was feeding something deep within him.
“God,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, his head tilting back slightly as his grip in your hair eased momentarily. “You have no idea how good you look like this. Believe me—you could’ve gotten out of your debts a long time ago.” The sounds are indescribable, dirty and wet and so fucking hot as he continues to thrust into your mouth.
“Your throat,” he chokes out. He splays one hand over your throat and starts to fuck up into you at a different angle. “I can fucking see myself in you, fuck—“ There was a rawness to his movements now, a lack of the careful control that had defined him earlier. “Just a little more” he murmured, his voice roughened by something you couldn’t quite place. You could hear his breathing quicken, could feel the faint tremor in his grip as he pulled you closer still. His dominance over the situation was undeniable, but there was a vulnerability in the way his body reacted, a need that felt almost desperate.
When you hesitated again, instinctively pulling back just a fraction to catch your breath, his hand tightened slightly in your hair, holding you in place. “No,” he said sharply “stay fucking still.”
You wanted to punch his face. But you did your best to keep up—still thinking about the money—your breath hitching as he guided you, his need evident in the way he moved.
His groans grew louder, more frequent, and his grip in your hair tightened again as he edged closer to the brink. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed and his movements became more erratic. He was losing control, and the realization sent a strange thrill through you.
His orgasm washed over him and his body went still for a moment, his grip in your hair almost bruising as he held you in place. The sound he made was low and guttural, a noise that seemed to reverberate through the room. You froze as he held you there, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Your throat burned, your body tensing as you fought the instinct to pull away as his fucking cum filled your mouth. He didn’t let you, his hand in your hair keeping you firmly in place as he muttered something under his breath—words you couldn’t quite make out over the pounding in your ears.
When he finally released you, it was abrupt, his hand loosening in your hair as he leaned back, his chest heaving. You gasped for air, your breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts as you tried to steady yourself and then started to cough. Your body felt heavy, your limbs trembling as you sat back on your heels, looking up at him with wide eyes.
He met your gaze, his expression softening as he took in your disheveled appearance. “You did well,” he said, his voice low and rough. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. “Better than I expected.” And then he took the hair tie off your hands.
You didn’t respond, still trying to catch your breath as you processed what had just happened. The room felt stifling, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you as you struggled to compose yourself. You just managed to smear his cum on your face.
His smirk returned, though it was softer now. “I knew you had it in you,” he said, his hand trailing down to cup your chin again. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and his smile widened slightly. “But you’ve got to learn to pace yourself.”
You glared at him faintly, though the effect was ruined by the flush in your cheeks and the way your body still trembled. “Maybe you should pace yourself,” you shot back, your voice hoarse.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough,” he said, his hand falling away from your face as he leaned back, his posture relaxing for the first time since you’d arrived. He looked down at you for a moment longer before reaching for his discarded boxers, slipping them back on with a casual grace.
“Go clean yourself up,” he said, gesturing toward a door off to the side. “The bathroom’s through there.”
You hesitated for a moment, your body still tense, before nodding and pushing yourself to your feet. Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, and you had to grip the edge of a nearby chair to keep your balance. He watched you with an amused expression, his smirk widening as you stumbled toward the bathroom.
When you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. Your reflection in the mirror caught your eye, and you winced at the sight of your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. You looked like a mess, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.
As you splashed water on your face, trying to steady your nerves, you were almost on the verge of crying. It’s disgusting—it’s disgusting that you’re wiping his cum off your face and out of your mouth.
When you finally stepped back into the room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable as he watched you. The briefcase was sitting on the nightstand beside him, and he gestured toward it with a lazy wave of his hand.
“Your reward,” he said simply, his smirk returning. “You’ve earned it.”
You hesitated, your gaze flickering between him and the briefcase. “That’s it?” you asked, your voice still hoarse.
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Unless you’re looking for another round,” he said, his tone teasing.
You rolled your eyes, stepping forward to grab the briefcase. The weight of it felt solid in your hands, a tangible reminder of why you’d agreed to this in the first place. “I’ll pass,” you muttered, turning toward the door.
As you reached for the handle, his voice stopped you. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
You glanced back at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. His smirk was still in place, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. You didn’t respond, pulling the door open and stepping out into the hallway.
The air outside felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the room you’d just left. You took a deep breath, the weight of the briefcase grounding you as you made your way down the hall and out of the villa.
❝ THE WOLF I PICKED UP AS A STRAY IS A BUM.ᐟ CLINGY TOO! ❞
content warnings. hybrid toji, suggestive themes, nsfw under the cut.
wolf! toji that you picked up on one windy night. littered with cuts and one of his wolf ears are cut. probably from a fight and thus, you brought him home to take care until he's healed.
wolf! toji who took a liking to you. he never left your house and lives as a free loader who never offered to get a job to pay for the bills in exchange for living with you. he only stares at you. a mischievous glint in his eyes and a cocky smirk. “i'm guarding your house, sweetheart.” he said with a wink and you kind of wanted to slap the shit out of him.
wolf! toji that annoys the hell out of you. trying to get a rise and won't behave unless you threatened to kick him out which works but only for a certain amount of time and he's back on to you again.
wolf! toji beefy body with broad shoulders and everything about him screams big. menacing even with the scar in the corner of his mouth. his ears twitching and that sharp fangs that you knew can tear huge chunks of flesh from how he eats. his strength jaw can crush anyone with a single bite. despite all of that features of him, he didn't use it to intimidate you.
wolf! toji is a huge lazy bum. who sleeps most of the day and lays on the windows where sunlight streams and he's peacefully snoozing. who only wakes up when it's time to eat or to annoy you. messes up with your things and leave them for you to clean.
wolf! toji who can be surprisingly affectionate when you need it. his ears twitching when he senses you're in distress or particularly sad. his large palms patting your head and will sometimes hug you and let you cry on his shoulder. his huge fluffy tail gently wagging and you can hear it gently thumping.
wolf! toji who enjoys teasing you. pinching your round cheeks until they puffed out. chuckling as you slap his hand away and hears you grumbling. grabs your love handles and squeezing the supple flesh earning another rise out from you. hes careful not to scratch you up with his sharp nails.
wolf! toji who may have been slowly falling in love with his human. he didn't know where it started but he suddenly seeks your warmth in most times and starting to wonder what time will you get home from your work. repeatedly glancing at the clock and yawns from how bored he was without you. the longer you took, the more he hallucinates of you. your laugh bouncing on the walls. your presence at every corner of your home and just you.
wolf! toji who gets too possessive when you came home stinking of a male human. you didn't know cause you don't have super senses like him and you're just confused why he starts growling at you. immediately scenting you afterwards and pulling you close to his muscular body. squirming and writhing and going as far to punch him to get out of his grip didn't work. he didn't even budge.
wolf! toji growling at you from trying to move away from him. keeping a tight grip to your plush waist as he settled you on his lap. straddling him with your thick thighs and feeling the hardness of cock. rubbing between your clothed cunt. you can hear him grunting at the skin of your neck where your pulse is. “mine. you're mine.”
wolf! toji biting the skin to mark you as his. sharp canine teeth digging at your skin enough to bruise before licking it with his tongue to sooth you from the pain he had caused. nuzzling at your neck after that. inhaling your scent that without a doubt no trace of any other men beside him.
wolf! toji is grabbing your soft chin and he melts at the look in your face. the color of your eyes meeting with his own green ones and he loses at the sight of your parted lips. beckoning him to kiss you and he did. it was messy. all tongue and drool seeping on the corners of his mouth. lost in the feeling of your soft lips against his. giving you no time to reciprocate as he claimed you. grabbing the back of your head to deepen the kiss and burying yourself in the hardness of his body.
wolf! toji who breaks the kiss. licking the remnants of his spit and yours in his lips. his thumb caressing your round cheek. no words are said and it was clear that you belong to him and only him.
wolf! toji is now your partner. a clingy one and too overprotective who never left your side. acting as a guard dog whenever you two shop. growling and glaring to everyone who gets closer to you. baring his sharp canine teeth and snarls to someone who dares to approach you. he stands behind you. looking for any threats that may harm you. he can't have you being put in danger. that's what he reasoned when you scold him for being territorial and he brushes it off. he also likes his view when he's behind you.
wolf! toji who have no concept of personal space. he's almost your shadow now. follows you everywhere. in the kitchen where you cook, he standing behind you. watching you prepare a meal for him and yours. in the bathroom who insists that he should be there — what happens if you slip? no one will be there except for him. you sprayed him water once and he hates it but didn't deterred him. in the living room where either he's sprawled above you, crushing you with his weight or you on his lap while you finish a work.
wolf! toji is so handsy at you. grabbing whatever flesh he can get. kneading and squishing every part of your body especially your round belly where he grabs the malleable flesh. feeling it in his hand and loving the way it feels against his hand and then to your boobs. palming it every change he can get. you're his human-sized stressball.
wolf! toji that loves when you touch him. he may not say it but his tail says so. you teased him for it and he only grumbles. a slight blush dusting on his cheeks. he gives in when you scratch his head. his wears twitching and you hear that familiar sound of his tail wagging thumping against the floor. he gets so putty at your touch but he won't tell you.
wolf! toji who loves the closeness with your body and his. contrasting his hard ones with your softness. he likes it how feels against his and how it rubs against his skin when he fucks you senseless. plowing into your fat pussy like there's no tomorrow and being hypnotized from how your body jiggles beneath him.
wolf! toji that loves to eat your fat pussy. his tongue are perfect for it. it's wide and take your whole pussy lips in them. giving you broader and wider licks whole he catches your juices on his tongue. his tail wagging on response from how happy he is. tasting your sweet cunt of his mouth.
wolf! toji stretching you with his big, fat cock. folded you up in a mating press. drooling at the sight of your belly being squished and your fat pussy swallowing his cock whole. growling at the sensation of being buried in your wet, velvety heat.
wolf! toji who pounds in you with no tomorrow. fucking you in a wild abandon while he grabs your plush waist for better grip. the flesh spilling into his large palms. beads of blood surfacing where his sharp nails had digged into your skin. relishing into your moans and gasps.
wolf! toji who cums a lot. his thick warm cum seeping into the crevices of your awaiting womb. spurts after spurts of his cum being loaded inside of you. desperation evident from how badly he wants to fill you with his cum.
it's not the end for that not when wolf! toji who loves you very much. he ain't good, not kind either and pretty mean to you but he can be soft when he wants to. just with you though. he already claimed you, marked you. there's no running from him when he got you wrapped around his big, beefy arms. snuggling into you like there's no tomorrow and definitely not letting you go.
rough sex, prone bone, doggy style, choking, hair pulling, light belly bulge mention, pussy eating (as always), he’s a meanie i fear, ak!jason on the brain
mmm jason 'don't run from this dick' todd... he's got you drooling in the sheets and weakly clawing at them to tug away, just for him to shift his angle and get even deeper inside you when he pulls you back. each flinch away from him prompts a deeper thrust, constantly leaning his built upper body over you and forcing your hips to fall. the grip he has is bruising and he’s using his weight to hold you down, cooing into your ear with condescension as he informs you- I can only hold this ass up for so long, princess. all while jason’s fucking your whole body into the mattress after your pathetic attempts to pull away falter, a rough palm bigger than your fucking head squishing your face into the sheets as spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth in ecstasy. useless slurs of words prompt him to pull your head back, fingers tangled in your hair and wrenching your neck to make you look at him with teary eyes as he tells you to try again.
or maybe you're reaching your hand back to rest on his pelvis while you're whining for him to be gentle, just to get a reminder of his overwhelming strength when he folds your arms against your back and forces you into a deeper arch. you’ve gotten all brave, actively trying to push him off of you- stupidly, even. the fuck do you think you’re doing-? he laughs cruelly at you, and it takes nothing for jason to snake his hand around your neck, fingers straining your throat as he pulls you flush against his broad chest and abs. the sudden breath that’s taken away has you all lightheaded and limited to short pants, leaving you to weakly cling to the same hand on your throat. your gaze falls upon your lower tummy and not only do you feel him, you can fucking see him splitting you open- how deep inside your belly he gets with each thrust.
and just throwing this in there; he's got you trying to get away from his mouth too. legs shaking as he rudely sucks on your clit and you've got the nerve to pull on his hair and urge him away. it takes little to no time for him to pin your hands against your lower tummy while his free hand is forcing your thighs to wrap around his head. he’s softer with you when he’s not pounding you until your weeping cunt is all puffy and sore, though; fat tongue lapping at your hole and groaning as more slick settles on his lips, hooked nose nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves and making you see stars. still creamin’ all over my face, jason grumbles against your core, ‘m not fuckin’ you hard enough, huh? and at this point, you can’t recall if your desperate squirming turns him on more or pisses him off- even when considering the harsh slaps against your thigh and ravenous groans into your cunt. ❧
warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods
Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.
He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.
And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.
With other people though, he has…different methods.
You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.
You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.
His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.
“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.
A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.
Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.
Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.
Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.
“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.
Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.
“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.
The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”
“Mhm.” He grumbles.
The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.
“Jay?”
His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”
You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.
“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.
He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.
You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.
His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.
You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.
Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.
He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.
Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.
“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.
Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”
“Thank God.”
Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.
His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.
“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”
Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).
You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.
Fuck he loves you.
Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.
He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.
You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.
You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.
“Hey there.”
You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.
"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."
Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.
"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"
"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.
Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.
With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.
"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.
“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”
You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.
Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.
Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.
But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.
"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."
“She—”
“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”
The guy hesitates.
“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.
That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”
Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.
He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.
“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.
“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.
You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”
He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.
You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.
“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”
He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.
“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.
You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.
“Jaybird!”
Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.
You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.
So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.
You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.
You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”
"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.
He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.
You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.
Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.
You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.
You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.
"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.
Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.
“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.
He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.
If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.
He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.
You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.
So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.
