I’m Trying To Write The Type Of Fics That Make You Sit Wherever You Are And Repeatedly Go “Lawd”

alfred gave them the sheets

Plaything

Cw: kinda dubcon, non-consensual blood drinking, non-explicit sex, dom vampire lady, not really x reader but not really an oc either?, she’s just a vessel for the freak shit, it’s all about the blood baybee

Leon watched her from across the bar, absolutely captivated by her. Everything about her was beautiful, the black hair that fell in tight ringlets down her back, her porcelain skin completely unmarked by stress or age. Everything about her was perfect.

He averted his gaze for just a moment and when he looked back up another man had taken the empty space at her side, a space he longed to be in, but knew he could never fill.

He couldn’t hear the words they exchanged, but he did notice the way she confidently lifted the man’s drink from his hand and finished it without flinching. The man ordered another round for the two of them and she accepted the drink from the bartender, waving her companion away as quickly as he’d joined her.

As the man retreats from her, Leon thinks he wants to take the man’s place, but the thoughts don’t seem to be his own, despite thinking about joining her before.

‘Come to me,’ the voice in his head whispers, and who is he to fight it?

He crosses the room and slides onto the stool beside her, making her turn to him and give him a smile.

Leon quickly realizes that there is something very very wrong with this woman. Everything about her is too much.

Her smile is too wide, her teeth too sharp, her painted lips are a feral shade of red, her scent is too intoxicating, her skin too perfect even up close, and her piercing gray eyes, they seem to capture his own and as badly as he wants to look away, he can’t.

“It’s nice of you to finally come over,” she purrs, her eyes softening ever so slightly, leaning back against her chair. “I thought you were just going to stare at me until one of us died,” she adds, laughing ever so slightly. “You’d be waiting an awful long time.”

Leon laughs along nervously, gesturing to the bartender. “Would you like a drink? On me.”

“Oh, no thank you. I just want to chat with you. I’ll admit, you’ve been driving me crazy all evening.”

He’s taken aback at her statement. She found him attractive? Her? Everything about the situation screamed at him to turn tail and run, but he was just so intrigued. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Leon took notice of the way her eyes lingered on his lips, her own parted so slightly, and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing at all, he certainly wasn’t.

“What’s got you so nervous, huh, sweetheart? I’m not gonna rip you apart,” she teases, lifting his hand and pressing her lips to the back of it, leaving a faint lipstick print. “Unless you want me to.”

Leon laughs nervously, completely unsure as to how to react to this woman at all.

“So, uh, what about me interests you,” he questions, tentatively taking her hand in his own.

“You seem like the type of boy I’d like to play with.”

The ends of Leon’s ears turn pink and he ducks his head away. She reaches out and grabs his chin, making him face her.

“Why so shy, darling,” she questions, staring into his eyes.

“I love you,” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately.

“Who doesn’t,” she laughs, stroking the back of her hand against his cheek as she releases him.

Leon stares at her, awestruck, for a moment before coming to his senses again, his blue eyes returning their focusing on her face. Had he really just said that? No way, he had to be losing it.

“We should get out of here, I’m getting bored of this place, you know,” she sighs, sounding horribly unamused.

“Ye-yeah, where do you want to go? We can go anywhere you want.” He’s aware of how pathetic he sounds, but he just can’t help it, he felt like he’d been stripped of his own will and hers had replaced it, like she’d ripped out his frontal cortex and replaced it with her very existence.

What was that one freak’s name? He shook his head. It didn’t matter, not now, not really.

“Take me back to your place, baby, she purrs, leaning down into his ear, nipping at his earlobe. “I’m gonna have some fun with you.”

“Okay, yeah, sounds good. My place.”

She holds her hand out and he takes it as he stands, keeping her steady as she slides off the barstool. She towered over him in her heels, and the sound they made as she walked echoed in his head, ricocheting off the inside of his skull and worming their way into whatever part of his brain was connected to his dick.

As soon as he unlocked the door of his apartment she was all over him, touching, squeezing, kissing him so quickly it made his head spin.

“You sure you’re not too drunk. I can drop you home if you are.”

“I don’t get drunk baby,” she replies, pulling him against her as she devours his lips.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

She grips his chin harshly, crimson talons digging into his jaw and he yelps, clawing at her wrist to no avail, and for the first time, he notices how cold her flesh is. “You’ll regard me with more respect if you want me to stay, understand?”

“Y-yes, Yes, Ma’am?”

“Good boy,” she praises, releasing Leon’s face and tutting as she rubs at the crescent shaped marks on his cute little face. “Please behave yourself. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Leon never thought something could chill his blood and turn him on at the same time, but here he was in front of the most terrifying, tempting woman he’d ever seen.

“So, where’s that bed of yours, hm?”

“Oh, that’s right, it’s this way,” he hums, taking her hand and leading her down the hall into the only bedroom in the apartment.

He closes the door behind the two of them and kicks off his shoes, watching as she makes herself at home, perching at the foot of his bed.

“Take your clothes off,” she commands, watching as he obeys without question.

She takes a moment, cocking her head as she takes him in, and then holds her foot out towards him, pointing her toe in his direction. Leon doesn't even need to be told what to do, making his way over and kneeling before her, carefully easing the heel off. He wasn’t exactly sure what the brand was, but he did know that the ones with the red on the bottom were the expensive ones. He then takes the other one from her waiting foot and carefully sits them down at the end of the bed.

Leon’s unsure of how to continue, but he wants so badly to please her, to keep her from just walking out, so he presses an unsure kiss to her ankle, earning him a sharp grin, urging him on. He kisses his way up to her thigh and then peers up at her, half expectant, half pleading.

“Well go ahead. I’ll let you eat me first if that’s what you’d like.”

His hands trail up her legs with uncertainty, sliding under her dress and pushing it up around her hips, fingers hooking into her pantyhose and carefully pulling them down. His face is between her thighs almost before he realizes it, and her hand comes down, gripping the back of his head, digging those claws into his scalp. A whine of protest falls from his lips, but she just doubles down, digging her nails in deeper.

The only response he gets from her the entire time is the spread of her legs and the occasional bit of praise, but aside from that she peers down at him with an almost unamused glare. Despite her indifference Leon keeps eating her out, his hips grinding against nothing as enjoys being between the legs of a woman this beautiful.

“That’s enough,” She growls, pulling him away by the scalp and practically tossing him to the side. Leon sits back on his heels and looks up at her, watching intently as she slips out of her dress and folds it, walking across his room and laying it on his dresser.

Some people looked better in clothes, and some looked better in the nude. It appeared that she’d missed the memo and decided she’d be perfect in any state of dress. Muscles ripple under her flesh like those of a leopard. Her skin was porcelain all over, no tan lines, no scars or stretch marks, just smooth, supple perfection.

“You look so pretty like this, such a shame.”

Before Leon can even question what that means she’s grabbed him and thrown him onto the bed. She’s on him in an instant, kissing and biting him all over as she sinks herself down onto his painfully hard dick. He lets out a pathetic sound and she wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes, her other hand pinning his wrists above his head while she rides him. Leon’s eyes widen in fear and his feet scramble for traction against the sheets. She just loosens her grip ever so slightly and shushes him, and it’s more than enough to make him relax under her touch.

Leon cums embarrassingly quick, but she doesn't seem to care, continuing to ride him until he’s a sweaty whimpering mess under her. He does his best to plead with her for a break, for just a moment, but his body’s on fire and his mind is quickly becoming a foggy mess. Before long all he can do is whimper and buck his hips up to meet hers, his legs trembling, chest heaving, he can’t even see her anymore, he can’t see anything.

The hand around his neck disappears and he stretches his fingers out to brush against her wrist, needing something, anything to ground him, to keep his mind and his body connected. A sharp pain takes the place of her chilled hand and he lets out a weak yelp, jerking away. Her cold hand grabs the side of his face, forcing him to stay still. He just gives in to the sensation, and the pain fades into a pleasurable throb, and then there’s nothing.

Leon wakes up the next morning tangled in his sheets with a pounding headache and a dull ache at the side of his neck and on his left wrist. When he sits up his vision swims and he has to fist the sheets to keep himself upright. A note rests on the nightstand. He picks it up and stares at it. ‘Hope you let me play with you again,’ it reads in what appears to be brown marker. He flips it to find a picture of himself asleep, or unconscious, based on how he was feeling at the moment. A groan falls from his lips and he falls backwards, letting himself go back to sleep.

When he wakes again it's well past noon. He crawls from his bed and heads to the bathroom. He’s so battered he can barely recognize himself. His vision is still fuzzy, but he can still see the crescent nail marks and hickies scattered across the expanse of his paler-than-normal flesh, some of them are recognizably human bites, the mark of each tooth deep and visible. They’re worst at his neck and wrist, both places are a deep blue and dried blood is smeared around the bites.

How the fuck was he going to hide any of this? He was never going to let himself think with his dick ever again, but part of him was hoping he’d run into that strange woman again.

I’d let Leon do this to me tbh

Tied up

tooth gaps are soooooooo 🥴

The Corinthian wearing these. That’s all.

Reblog if you think fanfiction isn't a waste of time.

Reblog if you think it’s a good way to practice writing.

Reblog if you have made friends because of fanfiction.

My sister called it a waste of time and I want to prove her wrong.

Calander Girl

Johnny Cage x Model! Reader

I did NOT mean to lake this shit so long. I literally got possessed by a cock demon

Cw: piv sex, adult modeling, oral (m and f recieving) a lot of cum, cum eating, overstimulation

When Johnny Cage had first met you it was a total accident. He’d been way too caught up in a phone call with his agent, bitching about not wanting to work on another rom-com when he walked his happy ass onto the wrong soundstage.

It had taken him a solid minute to register that he was in the wrong place, staring at you laying bare on your stomach, propped up on your elbows with nothing but a cheap American Flag covering your ass. He watched intently as you kicked your foot up in the air with your toes pointed and popped your gum, vintage curls bouncing as you finally looked his way.

Your big doe eyes catch his as he admires you and you bring your thumb up to your red lips to stifle a giggle. Johnny starts as the camera clicks and the flash box goes off, apologizing profusely and ducking off the set. He wouldn’t know it for a while, but he was your lucky break.

The smile you had given him had secured your place as Miss June, that summer’s All American Girl, giving a strong-armed salute in a sailor style swimsuit with a Dixie cap balanced precariously over your victory rolls on the cover of that month’s issue. Your tight body and inviting face was going to “give the American Dream a breath of fresh air” as your photographer had claimed.

Your photos inside the magazine were significantly less wholesome, but still endearing nonetheless, licking whipped cream off of a beater in a white halter and high waisted sailor shorts, you leaning on that god-awful plaster anchor in nothing but stockings, heels and a white bullet bra with your legs strategically positioned to leave something to the imagination, the innocent smile you had given Johnny, and then in the middle, there you were, fully nude in those same heels and stockings, waving a handkerchief above your head with one foot kicked up behind you. “Hello, Sailor,” read the caption above you in a cheesy Americana font.

Nobody was looking at that stupid shit anyways.

When Johnny had walked into the gas station on his birthday, his first birthday alone in who knows how long, he’d decided to get himself a present. Walking to the back and picking up a twelve pack of Modelo and a single Red Bull, he’d found himself at the magazine rack beside the bathroom, leafing through the latest issues of Hustler and Penthouse before landing on his go-to. Playboy. Without looking he plucked it off the rack and made his way to the register, paid for his things, and left eager to get home and enjoy himself.

After he got home and stripped down to his boxers, he crawled into his plush California King and cracked open a beer, tossing his girly mag to the side to enjoy a couple of drinks before getting to business.

Three beers later he’s feeling loose and a little less bad about the whole ‘single’ thing he had going on, he pulls his half erect dick from his boxers, stroking it lazily, and returns his attention to the magazine.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters when he looks down and sees you of all people. He couldn’t jerk off to you, he’d met you for God’s sake. Well, kind of, but it was the principle, really. He tucks himself back into his underwear and sighs, tossing his head back in defeat.

“Well,” he reasons with himself. “It wouldn’t hurt if I just looked.” That’s what you had been there for, to be looked at, no different than him really. Besides, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before on any woman, or you for that matter, and you just looked so damn cute on the cover with your bright eyes and big smile. How could he resist?

He flips through the pages, chuckling to himself at how corny the theme they had given you was. He was however taken aback when he saw what he’d seen just a month prior in front of him once again. That smile, his smile, if he dared, was just as endearing as it had been the first time, making his heart skip a beat. He sighs dreamily and turns the page, unfolding the pages and taking in all of you.

“Hello Sailor, indeed,” he breathes, not quite enjoying the way his cock twitches, making him hastily fold you back up and toss you on the nightstand, grabbing the remote instead. There had to be something good on pay per view.

“Do I have to do this,” you protest, pulling up your jeans and making sure your g-string is tastefully exposed before pulling the French-cropped trans am shirt over your head.

“No, but it’ll be fun, and they’ll be super famous people there too,” Lainey promises, pulling the hem of her dress down to an acceptable just-below-the-asscheek length.

“Yeah. They’ll probably be too famous to recognize me.”

“If you hate the attention so much, why'd you do this? Genuine question, I promise I’m not being mean.”

“I wanted to be an actress, and thought this would get my foot in the door. I just don’t like being recognized only from the neck down.”

“Hey you covered your tattoo on film, so maybe you’ll be alright.”

You look down at the pink nautical star on the inside of your wrist, right on your pulse point and nod. “Yeah. Cause that’s what they’ll be looking at.”

“Ugh, well, I tried. We gotta go before we’re late.”

You weren’t exactly sure what this party was for, or if it was just a happening, but Lainey was the one that found it and she had been in the game longer than you had, so you took her professional opinion. So there you were, leaning against the bar, idly stirring your drink, enjoying the clinking sound the ice makes when you look up and see him.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, Lainey, it’s that guy,” you hiss, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “The one I told you about.” She looks over her other shoulder, her bottle-blonde hair whacking you in the face in the process. It smelled like strawberries.

“Are you fucking stupid,” she hisses back, giving you the most dumbfounded look you’ve ever seen. “That’s Johnny fuckin’ Cage!”

You peer around her. “Huh? I guess it is. Didn’t notice then. Was too nervous,” you explain, unwrapping a stick of gum and inspecting it.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go talk to him!”

Before you can protest she’s untangled herself from your grasp and shoved you towards him.

You take a deep breath, shove the stick of gum into your mouth and push yourself the rest of the way, coming up beside him.

“Excuse me,” you call, your voice barely audible over the clamor of the party, but he still turns around, his face lighting up when he notices who you are.

“Hey! You’re that girl, sorry about that, by the way. I’m sure that was embarrassing. My fault really. I was on the phone with my agent. He never listens.”

“Well, Mr. Cage-“

“Johnny, please,” he insists, running his hand through his hair.

“Johnny. If you hadn’t walked onto my set I would’ve never smiled like that and gotten myself here.”

“Oh?”

“You know I didn’t realize it was you until just a few minutes ago. I just saw a handsome guy and got all embarrassed.”

He chuckles. “Same here. The embarrassed part, not the hot guy part. I don’t-” He lets out a defeated sigh and then rolls his shoulders back. “You’re the beautiful one though. You totally deserved to be Miss June. Say, if I bring you a copy would you sign it for me?”

“You want my autograph?”

“Sure, why not. You looked real cute on the cover. I can frame it, say I met you before you hit the big time.”

You laugh and look up at him. “You know, I thought famous people were supposed to be dicks.”

“Me? No way. I can’t vouch for most of these people though. Do you want to act, or do you just do stills,” He asks, taking a step back, seeming to size you up.

“I’m here to act. The stills are just a… temporary detour,” you admit, worrying the hem of your shirt between your fingers nervously.

“You know, my agent? The one I was on the phone with when I had my location mishap? Keeps calling me about this rom-com they want me for and I told him ‘No way, José’ unless they stop trying to pick women that look like my ex-wife to play the girl, you know everyone loves a blonde lead.”

He looks at you and sighs again. He sure sighed a lot for a grown man. Maybe it was nerves? Nah, couldn’t be. He was Johnny fucking Cage, after all.

“Listen if I can convince them to pick you up instead, you’ll be doing me a huge solid if you take it. You in?”

“What’s the catch,” you question, popping your gum at him.

“The catch?”

“Yeah. What’ll you want in return?”

“There is no catch. Studio gets their movie, you get to act and I don’t have to be constantly reminded that my wife left me. Everyone goes home happy. Well, almost everyone. Look, I don’t wa-expect you to fuck me if that’s what you mean.”

“Want?”

His cheeks flush and he gives you a confused look that’s a little too polished to be real.

“You almost said want but then stopped yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure Johnny. Well, either you can keep lying to both of us, or you can get me out of here and get what you want.”

“You fucking serious?”

“Why not? Been trying to leave since I got here.”

He just chuckles and snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you close to him, leaning down next to your ear. “Your place or mine?”

“Your bed’s probably bigger,” you tease, sliding your hand into his back pocket and giving his muscular ass a squeeze as he leads you towards the door.

You glance over at the bar to find Lainey staring at you with a slack-jawed look of disbelief. You give her a shiny white smile and an exaggerated finger wave as you pass.

When you get to Johnny’s car he unlocks it from across the parking garage with the fob and jogs ahead to open your door for you, flashing you a grin as he closes it back behind you. The interior is all brown leather, making you scared to touch anything, so you just fold your hands politely into your lap.

The man of the hour ducks into the car a moment later, hitting the push-button ignition and gives it a rev. “What do you think? Nice huh? It’s an Aston Martin.

“I like the leather. Scared to touch it though.”

“Don’t be. Get comfortable Sweetheart,” he grins, looking over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking spot.

You cautiously unfold your hands and stretch your legs out, leaning back in the seat a bit.

Johnny’s hand slowly crosses the center console of the car and comes to rest on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in wide circles along the rough denim of your jeans. You ease your trembling hand towards his, lacing your pinkie with his.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re shaking.”

“Never been with someone famous. Little nerve-wracking is all,” you reply, giving his pinkie a squeeze.

“I can drop you home if you’d prefer, Sweetheart,” he offers, looking over at you and giving you a softer, more genuine smile.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

When you pull into his driveway you force yourself to not look surprised. You’d known his place would be big, but honestly, that was an understatement. You were so far out of your element that there wasn’t any going back. Sure, you’d been in a mansion before, hell you lived in one, granted it was almost a sorority situation in nature, but still.

Johnny parks in the underground garage and comes around to let you out, snaking his arm around your waist as soon as you’re standing. You give him a soft smile and let your hand find its way into his back pocket again, earning a single laugh from him.

He leads you through the garage and up a small flight of stairs into the living room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch.

“Sooooo, can I get you a drink or something?”

“Such a gracious host. We can drink if you want.”

“Awesome. You like ‘em fruity or straight.”

“Whichever you want.”

“I’m gonna go make daiquiris then. Make yourself at home baby,” he calls, slipping away towards the kitchen. He sounded excited at the prospect of having a fruity little drink. It was endearing.

You kick your shoes off and take them over to the door, lining them up carefully just barely not touching the wall before returning to the couch and folding your feet up underneath you. God, you’re really here sitting on some A-listers couch while he fixes drinks for the two of you. Did this count as a date? No, this was just a hook-up. But why was he doing more than he had to? Maybe? Nah. Well-

Your thoughts were ground to a halt by the sound of a blender full of ice running at full speed. Whatever. You were getting a mixed drink and some (hopefully) good dick, so nothing else really mattered.

Johnny comes back a couple minutes later with two glasses full of vibrant red slushie with bendy straws. He hands you one and flops down beside you, patting his thigh. You debate with yourself for a moment before throwing your legs over his lap, smiling around your straw when he rests his free hand on your knee.

“How long have you been in L.A.,” he questions, taking a moment to bend his straw into a little loop before returning his hand to your leg, higher this time.

“About six months or so. Got the gig with Playboy and moved out here. Thanks for the drink by the way.”

“No problem. Are you staying at the Mansion or do you have your own place?”

“I’m at the Mansion. It’s kind of lame honestly. I have to share a room with another of the bunnies, but apparently things are different now that Coop’s in charge. I think I’ve seen him like, twice ever.” You take a long slurp of your drink and have to fend off a fast-approaching brain freeze.

“Yeah. I heard Hef used to be a real menace. Glad you don’t have to put up with him.”

“It’s nice. Free place to live out here is awesome. We just have to take turns making breakfast for everyone and look good at parties.”

“Not hard for you to do,” he replies, rubbing his thumb along your leg again.

You chuckle at his complement, but can’t manage to fight off the pink that tinges your cheeks.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah baby?”

“You don’t think I’m easy do you?”

“No way. If you were easy we’d be halfway done by now, besides anyone’d jump at the opportunity to come home with me.”

“Conceited much,” you joke, tugging his shirt sleeve with your toes.

“Me? No way,” he teases, giving you a wink

“Sure…”

“How’s your drink?”

“‘S good.”

“Glad to hear it. C’mere,” he urges, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap and you let him. “You seem like a sweet girl and I wanna treat you right, see where this goes, ya know.”

“Seriously,” you ask, returning your attention to your drink trying to stave off the fresh anxiety bubbling up in your tummy.

“Sure, or it can just be a one time thing if you want. I just don’t want you feeling tossed aside.”

“We’ll see what happens,” you murmur, leaning away, relying entirely on his arm around your waist to put your empty cup on the coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. His shoulders relax and he kisses you back, not bothering to pull away as he leans to put his cup with yours so his hands can focus on holding onto you.

The two of you kiss until you’re lightheaded and have no choice but to pull away panting. “Fuck, Johnny, you’re so fuckin’ hot.”

“Mh, that’s you baby. You want to take the party upstairs?”

“Let’s go,” you whisper, grabbing his face and smashing your lips to his again. He smiles against you and gathers you up in his toned arms, carrying you up the stairs.

His room was just as extravagant as the rest of his house, as you had expected. He sets you down and steps back, kicking off his own shoes and disappearing into what you assume to be the closet. You walk over and sit on the edge of his king-size bed, running your hands along the plush black comforter and taking in the painting above the headboard. It was a Warhol.

Johnny comes back out of the closet in just his slacks and sits beside you. “Nice painting, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond almost blankly, before returning your attention to him, noticing his tattoo. He really was conceited, but looking at the rest of him, he had good reason to be.” I’d forgotten about this one. Figure most people have though, everything except for his pop art.”

“What’s your favorite painting?” What an unusually thoughtful question to ask given the situation. It deserved a thoughtful answer.

“Christina’s World. Reminds me of myself in a way, getting to where I want to be by sheer force of will, despite it all.”

“Well, you got there.”

“I still want more.”

“And you’ll have it. One day you’ll look back and it’ll be hard to remember when you didn’t.”

“Can’t imagine forgetting.”

“Didn’t say you’d forget how you got there. You forget how miserable it was because it's paid off. Nothing’s better than that.”

“Sappy.”

“I try.”

“Do you want me to suck your dick?”

His back stiffens and he turns to face you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you want me to suck your dick.”

“Oh, you mean like- actually. I thought you were being facetious. Be my guest- if you want.”

You laugh and slide off the bed, kneeling between his toned legs, bringing your hands to rest on his belt buckle.

“You sound nervous,” you tease, undoing his belt and unzipping his fly.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m probably no good anymore.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine sweetheart.”

Your fingers make quick work of the button on his slacks, finally reaching into his boxers and pulling his cock out. Oh. He was big. It was your turn to be nervous again, gulping and taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss to his flushed tip. You decide to take it slow, peppering him with kisses and kitten licks before finally taking him into your mouth, taking your time to get used to each inch before forcing yourself lower. His fingers work their way into your hair, not forcing your head down, but following along as you take him in. The pants falling from his lips slowly morph into soft whimpers, whining whenever you run your tongue along the vein running down his length.

You make it about three quarters down before you gag and pull away abruptly, making him whine in protest. Hot tears slide down your cheeks and you swallow thickly, holding the back of your wrist to your mouth, fighting the urge to puke all over his spotless white carpet.

“You okay sweetheart,” he murmurs, untangling his hand from your hair and cupping your cheek with it, urging you to look up at him. Your eyes meet his and you find an unexpected softness there.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Overestimated myself, I think,” you reply, leaning forwards to take him again, but his hand returns to your hair and tugs you away,

“You don’t have to try again if you don’t want. You did good.”

“Wanna make you cum,” you whine, leaning forward again, not caring about the sore tug at your scalp. His hand just follows your head again, letting you do as you please. You’re more mindful of yourself this time, taking him deeper into your throat at your own pace, not the one you thought he wanted, digging your fingers into his hips to balance yourself.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that, feels s’good,” he groans, pulling his hand from your hair and fisting the comforter to stop himself from just shoving you the rest of the way down. Despite his lack of trying his hips raise up to meet you and he groans deeply when you look up and lock eyes with him. “You’re doin’ so good, so proud of you.”

His praise goes straight to your pussy and you finish taking him in, pressing your nose into the light brown hair trailing down his tummy, scrunching your face up whenever it tickles. It really had been a long time since you’d sucked dick, especially one this big, and you’d forgotten how much you enjoyed it, rutting your hips against nothing looking for any kind of friction, but coming up empty.

“I’m so fuckin’ close, where do you want me to-”

You pull back, hollowing your cheeks and giving his head some attention before taking all of him back in, moaning as his fingertips dig into your scalp as you let him fuck your face as he cums down your throat with a pathetic moan. After a couple more shallow thrusts he holds your cheeks as you pull away from him and swallow thickly.

“Fuck baby, that was amazing. Thought you said it’d been a while.”

You take a ragged breath and look up at him. “It has.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pro. Shit, look at you, so hot, all ruined like that. Come here,” he coaxes, sliding his arms under yours and pulling you up towards him. You let him sit you in his lap and baby you, wiping at your tears and kissing you on the forehead before he stands up and pulls the sheets back, laying you in his bed. You look over and notice the teddy bear sitting against one of the pillows.

“Cute,” you comment, grinning at him when he leans over and knocks it into the floor.

“You didn’t see that.”

“Sure.” He shuts you up with a kiss, slipping his hand under your shirt and tracing his way up your ribs to squeeze your breast.

“Your turn,” he smirks, making quick work of pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it into the floor. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he growls, leaning down to nip at your collarbone.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you tease, pushing your chest into his greedy hand

“Much better in person though. I’m a hands-on learner.”

You just sigh and let him peel you out of your clothes. He stops when he tosses your jeans off, taking a moment to stare at your g-string.

“What’s this even supposed to cover,” he questions, pulling it off as well, spinning it around on his finger.

“It’s just for decoration.”

“Clearly.”

You laugh and snatch it off his finger, tossing it back at him

“For me?”

“If you want it. Don’t know if you can pull it off though.”

“Baby I can pull off anything.”

He quickly loses interest in the tiny garment and returns his attention to you, bringing a hand between your thighs and leaning down to kiss you, his chest pressing against yours deliciously.

“Johnny,” you whine, rutting your hips against his hand, which has been tracing along everywhere except where you need it. “Don’t tease.”

“Let me have my fun.”

He slides one finger through your folds, ghosting up and down along your clit, taking you in as you squirm underneath him before plunging it into you. You sigh and grind your hips down against his palm, keening when his thumb brushes your clit. His free hand takes its place kneading at your breast, tracing his fingers over your clothed nipple.

“You should take this off too baby,” he murmurs, popping the strap of your powder blue bra. You just arch your back so he can reach behind you to unclasp it, sighing in relief as he pulls it off your body and tosses it aside. “That’s better. You’re so hot baby,”

He eases his finger out of you and returns with another, expertly curling his finger into your sweet spot. When his thumb leaves your clit you groan in protest, accepting his decision when he replaces it with his mouth. His tongue was warm and wet as presses it to you. He groans and quickens his fingers, curling his fingers harshly into your warm sex, his lips locking around your clit making your head spin.

Johnny makes you cum with expert precision, not letting up despite you tugging harshly at his sandy blond hair. He just looks up at you with those big brown eyes of his, smirking against you while he eats you out like a starved man. His fingers have slowed to a steady rhythm and he’s mostly focusing on you with his mouth now. You can feel your body starting to tense again, and you throw your head back into the pillow and let him keep abusing your cunt.

Your second orgasm crashes over you harder than the first, making you dig your heels into the mattress, your trembling thighs squeezing his head, but still, he persists.

“Johnny,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulders, but there’s really no deterring him. You felt like you were on fire, your head swimming and every move he made sending shocks through your muscles. Finally he pulls away, moving his thumb back to your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it as he looks up at you. His chin’s coated in your juices and he really doesn’t seem to care. He just watches as you squirm under his touch, flashing you a well-practiced smile when your eyes meet.

The third orgasm makes your vision go white and you reach down, weakly grabbing at his wrist, silently begging for mercy. “‘S too much,” you whine, trying to free yourself from his touch but he just grabs your hip, pulling you back to him, making you fuck his fingers.

“Come on baby, you can give me one more.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes you can. You’re doing so good.”

“J-Johnny…”

“What if I do this,” he taunts, letting go of your hip and pressing the heel of his hand into the soft flesh just above your mons. You cry out and gush around his fingers, going completely limp as he slows his pace to a stop, easing his fingers out of you and moving to lay beside you.

You just lay there, entirely fucked out, your breathing ragged and your cunt squeezing around nothing. Fat tears roll down your cheeks, clumping your lashes and taking what's left of your mascara with them. Johnny runs his hands along your body, making you shiver, but successfully drawing you back to this plane of existence.

He just lets you lay there, feeling your warm skin, smiling at how helpless he’s made you. His cock strains painfully against his slacks so he decides to do away with them, discarding them and his boxers with the rest of your clothes. Finally you’re cohesive enough to have control over your own body and you turn to look at him. He just looks so fucking good, his normally kempt hair a spiky mess from your desprate fingers. His lips are swollen and a deep shade of pink, parted slightly as he breathes. He flashes you another smile and tosses his leg over yours, shamelessly grinding his dick against your thigh.

“Shit,” you sigh. “That was just foreplay.”

“Told you I’d make it worth your time.”

“You weren’t lying. Never cum like that in my life.”

He gives you a cocky smile, giving your cunt a light slap, making you yelp.

“You think you’re ready for the real deal,” He questions, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply, forcing his tongue into your mouth and licking at the backs of your teeth. He pulls away, his tongue darting out to break the string of spit connecting you as he awaits your answer.

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss, rolling your hips against his.

He just reaches between you and lines himself up, pressing in slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust. The stretch is amazing and you lock your ankles around his lower back, urging him to bottom out. When he finally does, he just stops, pressing himself impossibly deeper and holding you there.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet. Gonna make me embarrass myself.” he purrs. “Don’t care though. Too fuckin’ good.”

Johnny takes a moment to take in how you look under him and realizes he could get used to the view. Living room sunset be damned, this was his new favorite thing to watch. He looks down to where your bodies are joined, taking note of the bulge in your tummy and the way it pulses when his cock twitches. You were going to be the death of him.

Finally he pulls back, almost all the way out before slamming back into you, setting a punishing pace, digging his fingertips into your hips, eyes fixed on your stomach as he fucked you. Your view wasn’t too bad either, watching his abs ripple as he pounded into you, the way his hair fell down into his face covering his focused expression. Every thrust brushed against your cervix, unbridled moans falling from your lips.

Johnny’s pants slowly morph into grunts that quickly become needy sounds as his pace falters, bringing his hand to your clit once again, urging you to cum before he does. That was your final straw, every muscle in your body contracting as your fifth orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck,” he growls as he pulls out of you harshly, fisting his cock a couple of times before spilling across your tummy. He looks up at you with an animalistic expression, chest heaving as his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips. He looks around for a second before sitting back on his heels, his eyebrows furrowing. “Fuck it why not,” he mutters, assumedly to himself as his grip releases and he moves to rest on the bed between your legs, tossing your legs over his shoulders.

Your eyes flash with an instinctive fear, and you grab a fistful of his hair to keep him from going back for sloppy seconds. Instead of burying his face between your thighs again his tongue lathes against your torso. You watch him in awe as he laps his own mess off your burning skin, and it's almost enough to make you beg him for a second round just so you can see it again.

When he’s done he crawls up beside you and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you to him and peppering sloppy kisses along your shoulder.

“That was hot.”

“Never done that before. Don’t know why I did. Don’t know how chicks do that all the time. It was uh, not great.”

“It wasn’t bad, probably just ‘cause it was your own. I could tell you eat well.”

He laughs and brings a hand up to brush your sweaty hair out of your face.

“That’s insane,” he replies, grabbing at you as you try to slide out of his arms.

“Let me up, I gotta pee.”

“Oh I’m sure you do.”

You whack him in the chest with a half-hearted backhand and he finally lets go.

“You coming back?”

“Yeah, where’s the bathroom.”

“Straight across from here.” he gestures to the door at the end of the short hallway in his room.

When you come back out he’s already asleep, so you just climb into the bed beside him, smiling to yourself when he throws his arm over you.

You wake up the next morning still in his arms facing him and you stretch, trying to untangle yourself from him. He groans and pulls you closer, his eyes fluttering open.

“Morning sweetheart,” he murmurs. His morning voice is deep and gravely instead of its usual smooth tone. You smile and kiss the end of his nose. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great. What about you?”

“Like a baby. What time is it?”

“I’d know if you had a clock in here.”

“Hey, my bed’s like Vegas baby. Don’t need a clock.”

“Uh, huh. Let me check my phone.”

He lets go of you and you roll over, grabbing your phone out of the floor.

“It’s seven, and I have like, a million texts.” You open your phone and scroll through your notifications. Most of them were from Lainey, becoming increasingly more concerned before the most recent that just read ‘CALL ME’. You just send her a simple ‘I’m still alive’ text before turning your phone back off and dropping it into the pile of clothes on the floor, returning to Johnny’s embrace.

“I have three hours before I gotta be somewhere. You down for round two and a shower,” He questions, cocking his eyebrow at you.

“Don’t see why not.”

“Glad we’re still on the same page.”

He rolls on top of you and lines himself up with your still-sloppy cunt, easing himself in, same as the night before. Instead of drilling you he sets a slow pace, kissing you passionately as you pull him impossibly closer. It’s slow and restrained, and if you didn’t know any better you'd say he was making love to you. He brings his hand down to toy with your clit, easing you into cumming on his dick this time instead of demanding it. After you finish he pulls out and finishes himself off into the shirt he was wearing yesterday, wordlessly getting up and tossing it into the closet. He comes back to the side of the bed and reaches his hand out.

“Let's go get cleaned up.”

You sit on the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, watching him intently as he starts the shower, taking your hand and leading you in with him.

“Hey, I only have like, dude smells. Hope that’s okay.”

“At least it's not Axe,” you laugh, wetting your hair and turning around to let him shampoo it, which he gladly does. The two of you spend about an hour in the shower enjoying the hot water, washing each other, and kissing. Finally you manage to separate long enough to get out and dry off. Johnny goes and gets dressed in the closet and you just put on your clothes from the night before. He comes back out and you admire how well-tailored his shirt is.

“Come on, I’ll make us breakfast before I gotta go. I’ll call you a ride home, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

He makes omelets for the two of you and you take seats next to each other at the dining room table to eat. After you’re done he takes the dishes into the kitchen and calls your ride for you.

“Where’s your phone?”

“ In my pocket, why?”

“Wanna give you my number so you can call me up whenever.”

You open your phone up to the new contact screen and he enters his number, saving it under ‘Johnny 😎’ and handing it back to you.

His phone dings and he checks it, looking up at you. “Your ride’s here. Text me when you get home safe, okay,” he insists, leading you to the door and giving you one more quick kiss before sending you to the car waiting in the driveway, waving as you duck in.

When you get home you let yourself in and lock the door behind you, trying your damnedest to not look like you were doing the walk of shame. Lainey’s standing at the top of the stairs in her fluffy pink robe staring down at you.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You actually did it, didn’t you? You gotta tell me everything.”

You shush her violently and run up the stairs, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into your shared room and slamming the door.

“Dude. Holy shit. He fucked me like he hated my guts.”

“And let you spend the night, and apparently let you use his shower too.”

“We showered together.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. Dude he made me cum like a million times, and then this morning. It felt like I’ve lived with him for years or something. It was just so… natural.”

“That’s… unexpected. Honestly I thought you’d call me to come get you in the middle of the night.”

You sigh and fall backwards onto the bed, pulling your phone out and shooting Johnny a quick text. He responds with a simple ‘👍’.

“He gave me his number. And offered to be my boyfriend”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Lainey breathes grabbing your shoulders and pulls you back into a sitting position, shaking you around. “Do not fuck this up.”

@cael-salad

Stars and Oblivion

After years of searching, you finally find her

Cw: teen pregnancy mentioned, postpartum anxiety, child abandonment

The sun beat down through the mouth of the cave, the sweat from your brow running down and burning into your eyes as you focused intently on the carburetor in your greasy hands. There was no fucking way this would be a surface repair. You let out a growl and grab one of your smaller wrenches to begin disassembling the part. You can feel boring holes into your back but you just roll your shoulders in an attempt to shrug off the sensation. The feeling goes and is soon replaced with a presence. You turn, prepared to shout off whichever Warpup had the audacity to bother you, but instead of stark white flesh you’re greeted with a small frame clothed entirely in light leather work gear. It was that boy again. He was still a child, probably no older than twelve, and certainly no Warboy. He never spoke, making you question if his tongue had been cut out.

“What is it?”

He brings his fingers level with his eyes and then turns them towards the carburetor.

“Do you want me to teach you how to do this?”

He nods and leans on the workbench, eyes locked on your hands.

“Okay. I have to rebuild it, probably replace some of the interior parts and clean it. Just try to look busy.”

He nods again, watching as you take the cover off and begin detaching all the inner workings. You send him for small parts of scrap from time to time and make sure he has his goggles on whenever you have to weld or cut the new pieces to fit into the mechanism. Finally you’re finished rebuilding the part and give it to him, telling him to go put it back in the truck it was from. Another nod, and then he’s gone.

You allowed the boy much more grace than any of the other mechanics. He was just a child after all, a foundling most likely, and starkly human compared to the Warboys, a whole life. He’d often come sit with you while you ate, but you never saw his face, he’d just slip his spoon under his dust mask instead of removing it. There were several occasions on colder nights that he would climb into your bunk shivering, and you’d just wrap your arms around him without question, pressing your lips to his forehead and smoothing down his cap.

In moments when your mind was loose, when you were unfocused at work, or too tired to properly hold your eyes open you saw in him glimpses of the child you had left behind. Close in age, and hopefully status of life, you saw her, darting around, almost playful in moments of ease, but reserved nonetheless. You had no real idea what your daughter looked like, you had gone when she was just a baby, leaving her with your sister and running into the wastes, too young then to be a mother or a wanderer, but your fear had driven you further than any car ever could.

You remembered her, blue and screaming when she came into this world, covered in blood and viscera, her tiny hands clenched into tight fists as she was handed to you. You’d barely had enough time to name her before you’d passed out. You were fourteen then, too curious for your own good, drawn in by the charms of a farmer’s son, and you’d ended up ripped in half for your stupidity. The bleeding wouldn’t stop, so the doctor had taken your womb to give you a chance at living, and lived you had.

It was three days before you had woken up, connected to your sister by a tangle of tubing while another woman held out the child for you to hold. You took her and brushed the wisp of hair from her face, smiling when she opened her eyes, looking up at you. You’d stuck around for a couple of months, but by the time you left you felt like you needed to claw your way out of your skin, like even if you never stopped running you’d still have gone nowhere, so you left your daughter with your sister and ran, taking a bike and going as far and as fast as you could.

Years later you had gone back, twenty four then, finally ready to settle back down, your wild urges sated, your body relaxed and your mind solid once again, only to find nothing. The women had told you that your daughter had been taken, and your sister had followed after. You’d lit out in the direction they pointed and rode until you came across the remnants of a camp, a pile of warm ashes and an all too familiar locket buried beneath the cinders. The metal had burned a crescent moon into your palm as you’d gripped it and screamed, but you didn’t care. You just knelt there in the sand sobbing until you had no tears left to cry, pathetically making your way back to your bike and continuing in the direction you’d been heading, despite the absence of tracks, no trace of your sister’s murderers or your little girl. Just riding into oblivion with no real care if you lived or not.

So you cared for the boy, as much as he’d let you, as if he were your own, the guilt deep in your belly driving your actions just as much as your compassion. He grew up under your mechanical guidance, loosening up around the workshop, forgoing his mask, and before long it became glaringly obvious that you had mistaken him. Long hair and bright eyes began to reveal “his” true nature, but it didn’t phase you. There were many reasons for a girl to hide in this world, especially around the company you worked with. She grew brawny as she aged and you gifted her with a knife to keep sheathed in her boot. She’d kept it close, pulling it on more than one occasion to escape the grabbing hands of the Warboys you worked with.

You knew nothing of her but what you’d seen, but you could still say you loved her. All these years, watching over her, protecting her, teaching her. There were times, even now, that she, maybe seventeen now, would crawl shivering into your bed and you’d hold her and kiss her forehead as you always did. She would never object to your affections, just worming her way closer and sighing as her eyes fell shut.

Years later she’d disappeared, and you’d worried for her, fearing the worst, but after a month she returned, staggering, weak, a crudely stitched stump where her left arm once was. You’d tended to her without a word, cleaning her wound and dressing it without question as she sat on your bunk that night. She’d been through hell and you knew she wasn’t one to talk. The girl, no woman, before you was alive and that was all that mattered right now. Before you could think your hand was at the back of her head and your forehead was pressed to hers, with your eyes squeezed shut, fighting the tears of worry that threatened to fall. She’d been strong, wherever she’d been, and it was your turn now, for her sake. She mirrors your actions, pressing her head to yours so hard it almost hurt.

“Stars bless you,” she whispers, her voice shaking with the same tenacity you were exerting.

You pull away from her sharply, shocked not only by her voice but the words it carried. Her eyes are wide and wet, her hand trembles against the back of your head and you know now what your heart had secretly known for years. You look at her in the torch-light of the bunk room and see your own eyes staring back at you, your own hair falls over her shoulders and down her back.

“Furiosa,” you breathe, pressing your forehead back to hers, finally allowing the sob to wrack your body, pulling her tightly into a hug and she reciprocates it. She’d learned to love and trust you, completely unaware of the fact that it was your immaturity that had gotten her here. It was all your fault and she was none the wiser. It was too late now, to be her mother. She was twenty three years old and had mourned for the mother she knew for all those years now. It was not your place to try to claim that place, to fill that void.

“How do you know my name? You’re not from the green place, I’d have known you,” her voice is sharp and demanding despite the low volume.

“I am, I left when you were a baby, and only went back after you’d been taken.”

“Then who are you?”

You silently reach behind your neck and unclasp your necklace bearing two pendants, a sun and a crescent moon, and give them to her.

“She was my sister. I’ve spent years looking for you. I needed to see you again, even if it was just for a moment.”

Your answer was incomplete, but still truthful. It was all she needed to know. Too much would do more harm than good, and she was already fragile. Maybe when you finally got her back home safe you would come clean, but now, just having her here in your arms, knowing she was alive and as safe as someone could be in the wasteland was enough for you.

I carry the crushing knowledge of every role on set

Leon S Kennedy is 100% the type of guy to get drunk and have no idea what’s going on around him.

You lean in to kiss him and he pushes you away by the shoulder and tells you he has a wife.

When you try to convince him that you are his wife, this man deadass just goes “nuh uh” and continues declining your advances.

He finally decides he’s done and calls his wife to pick him up and when your phone rings he’s just like “no fucking way dude”