#HE HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY THOUGHT SEND HELP
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sometimes I can still hear his voice... (ooh ooh ooh wah aaah ah oooh ooh ooh wah aaaaãäÄ
ah ooh ooh oh wah aaaAAAAAHHH)
#HE HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY THOUGHT SEND HELP#my beautiful princess i love him#lestat#lestat iwtv#iwtv#interview with the vampire#iwtv s3#iwtv season 3#iwtv teaser#lestat de lioncourt#the vampire lestat#amc iwtv#amc interview with the vampire#james yapping sessions
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Me and The Devil
pairing: qz!joel miller x afab!reader
how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters
description: joel seeks out revenge on the man who stole from him. he finds you in the process. 14k words
warnings: mdni!, dark content, DUBCON, joel is a bad man, no mention of age (but joel is older than reader), murder, weapon use (g*ns), mentions of drug and alcohol, excessive alcohol consumption from reader, nicknames for reader (sweetheart, little one, etc.), stockholm syndrome, forced withdrawals from alcohol, mentions of non-con, forced proximity, physical violence/assault, reader is freaky and insane, reader has a vagina and boobs, sub!reader, dom!joel, orgasm denial, masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral (m receiving), fingering, throat fucking, cumplay/cum eating, dirty talk, name calling, spanking. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE WARNINGS.
authorâs note: hi everyone! this fic came to me literally like... january of last year. it sat in the docs forever. and then my wonderful and beautiful friend @amanitacowboy told me to pick it back up and it spiraled from there. she also helped me edit, so i've forever indebted to you, lindsey!! it's probably the meanest joel you will get from me. some of the story has loose ends, but it's intentional *brow wiggle* (; also thank you @pedgito for listening to me blab about this shit forever. lindsey and ali have heard every detail and tidbit in this fic, I swear. thank you for putting up with me! anyway, hope you dirty lil whores enjoy this one!
You thought he was a myth.Â
The crime-riddled streets of the Boston QZ seemed to lace different stories about him together. You could not understand how a pill dealer could also kill countless guards and top honchos. People would conjure up the wildest lies about the man, so you were always morbidly curious.Â
You would sit in your apartment organizing the weapons you and your partner laundered through the streets of the QZ, pondering what it would be like to meet the man. You were never the one to deliver the weapons, only ensuring you were getting what you paid for. Your partner, Roger, would dispense the weapons to God knows who.Â
It was enough to get you by. You never ran out of rations and your alcohol dependency was never a problem.Â
You were too young to be this beat down. Thatâs what Roger would tell you, at least.Â
But the truth of the matter was that before the QZ, you were free-roaming the US with no purpose. You killed a lot of people. When you arrived at the QZ with an ounce of ânormalcyâ within your reach, you promised yourself never again. The darkness you harnessed would have to be forced down, sitting in the very pits of your being.Â
When you met Roger, he just needed someone to live in his apartment and watch his stash when he was gone. You did just that and eventually, you formed an odd bond with the older man. He would let you count his rations and drink his liquor. Four years later, you depended on him to bring you back alcohol in return for your watchful eye. If a shipment came in late, you would panic, thinking your addiction would get cut off. You needed something to numb the scrambling thoughts, violent tendencies, and crippling anxiety.Â
After one tough deal, Roger stumbles back to your shared apartment, venting about the man.Â
âFuckinâ Joel screwed me again. Gave him two .22âs and the motherfucker shorted me a bottle of Oxys.â
You were already too far gone to listen to the rest of the rant, finding yourself dozing off on the couch. The alcohol too often consumed you, sending you into dark nightmares that would have you waking up in the dead of night screaming.
By the time you woke up, though, Roger was no where to be found. Him being gone was not the worrisome part, though.Â
No, what worried you was all the drugs and guns he left out on display.Â
Springing up from your spot on the couch, you instantly get to work hiding the paraphernalia. When you grab a handgun from the table where you remember Roger sitting before you close your eyes, you feel eyes on you.Â
You are still drunk and now your stomach is churning. You feel like you may throw up.Â
Thereâs a figure standing by the window. Too tall to be Roger.Â
Your instant dazed reaction is to hold the gun up, and point at the large man who stands in your messy bedroom. You blink away the sleep thatâs still in your eyes and stumble a bit as the intoxication still riddles your bones.
âYou were sleepinâ when I came in,â His voice is slow and deep and it sends chills down your forearms.Â
âWho are you?â
You managed to sound pretty confident, even though you were scared shitless. You had not been so rattled since you almost got bit by some infected a year ago. You can make out his clothes, but thatâs about it. Dirty jeans, an old green flannel with holes, and dark brown boots.
ââM Joel. Roger ever told you about me?â
He finally turns to face you. Youâre shocked to see a handsome dark-haired man and not some damaged old mug. His eyebrows are perpetually furrowed it seems, but you could also tell he was annoyed you were pointing a loaded gun at him.Â
You were so terrified, you could not even speak.Â
He puts a hand up, holding it over the barrel of the gun. âYou shouldnât be pointinâ that at me, sweetheart.â
You just nod, slowly putting down the weapon. You did not want problems with him. You knew what he was capable of.Â
You also knew your aim would be off if you did try to shoot, still feeling like you were rocking on a boat.Â
âSorry,â You mutter, bringing the gun down and to your side. You swallow hard as his eyes rake your entire body, âYes, heâs told me about you. Other people have, too.â
He looks pleased with that response. He steps away from the window and begins to saunter over to you. His footfalls are heavy. You assume it is because of his filthy brown boots. Or maybe it was the intimidation factor he was playing for you. He did not need to scare you, because you were fucked up and not on your game. He could kill you at any time. Why has he not killed you yet?Â
âWhat have people said about me?â
You gulp, sucking in a whiff of his musk. He somehow still smelled good, even though it looked like he had been rolling in the dirt. His hair was pretty greasy but the curls laid perfectly on both sides. He looks like a guy you would avoid in the street, especially in this QZ. The attractive ones were usually the ones who would take advantage of any woman who looked their way.Â
âThey said youâre dangerous,â You manage, holding the grip of the gun a bit tighter, âThat you have killed a-a lot of people.â
âYeah,â Is all he says, before stepping an inch closer, âYeah, I have.â
You can not look away from him. You are so rattled at the fact that he is good-looking. You vividly remember hearing a couple of dealers talk about how formidable he was and for some reason, you mocked up a man who looked like The Joker from Batman.Â
He inspects you and your gun and crosses his arms, almost like he is guarding himself. âNow tell me⌠What did Roger say when he came home last night? I need to know how to handle this situation without spillinâ any more blood.â
You start to panic a bit, but you know you canât be rash with your emotions. You did not want to be more blood that Joel Miller spills. You did not need to be a notch in his belt.Â
But you also did not want to rat out Roger. He had done so much for you and you knew deep down, he cared for you in his own sick ways. If you told Joel everything, would that come at cost to him?Â
What were you thinking? He was a dead man.Â
He notices your demeanor change and his eyes soften. âDonât worry, little one. I donât kill just anyone. Unless they cross me. You havenât crossed me, have you?â
You do not know why or how, but tears start to spill from your eyes. You know you are not guilty of doing him wrong, but you have heard before that it does not matter in his eyes. By proxy, you are associated with the man who fucked him over. You would be next.
âI have not crossed you, Mr. Miller,â You start to slur a bit, your face getting wet quickly with more tears, âRoger just said you fucked him over. I was too fucked up to hear the rest. Said you didnât give him enough oxys.â
Joel raises one hand and grabs the bottom of your chin. His skin is rough and callous against your sheeny skin. His whole aura gives off danger. You are too afraid to look at him. Youâre trembling, waiting for the other shoe to drop.Â
âThat fucker stole them all, thatâs why. When I tried to get him to confess his wrongdoings, fucker dipped out of there,â He explains, using his thumb to push one of your falling tears, âWe followed him and luckily he swallowed too many pills even to realize we were breaking in. You were pretty out of it, too.â
âI w-was d-drinking last n-night,â You knew you had to get ahold of yourself. You were like sand in his hands, slipping right through his fingers. You were so easy to get information out of. âWhere did you take him?â
Joel clicks his tongue, tilting your face so your eyes would look into his, âDonât worry bout that, sweetheart.â
âIs he going to die?â
âProbably.â He states plainly, his eyes scanning your figure, âYouâre going to show me where his stash is and âm gonna take back whatâs mine.â
Your heart sinks to the floor. Roger was all you had. Without him running the guns and ammo, you had no way of income. You could not do these things yourself, especially now that Joel Miller knew who you were. No one would come near you when they heard he paid you and Roger a visit. Â
âIâll show you,â You respond, trying to steady your voice. âAre you going to kill me?â
It was selfish. With him admitting to having to kill Roger, you knew you were fucked either way. Without a dealer or runner, you had no earnings. You were going to rot away in this apartment, dying from starvation. Joel killing you would be a mercy killing and from the sounds of it, he did not show much mercy.
âJust tell me where everything is.â
You shake your head as you step back away from him. Your instinct is to hand him the gun in your hands, proving to him that you are not a real threat. You grab the barrel and give him the grip, shaking it in his direction. âHere.â
He stares at you, the divots on his forehead still prominent. He slowly lifts his flannel. You first see his hairy tummy and then you see he has a 9mm strapped in his waistband. âDonât need it, sweetheart.â
You keep the gun extended out to him, âYou can have another.â
Thereâs a beat of silence, a bitterness in the air.
âAre you stalling?â Your blood runs cold. You were not, you were just afraid and unsure of yourself. You also assumed he would want your weapon so you would not use it against him. So many assumptions run through your head, that you are not even aware you are creating more uncertainty for him.Â
Your eyes drop, looking at the gun. âNo, sir. Here⌠Follow me.â
You turn on your heels, walking back out to the dining room, right off the kitchen. You scoot the table away from the rug, the ammo and pills on the table vibrating as it moves. Joel watches your every move, the same unimpressed expression written on his face. You put the gun down on the table before you get on your knees at the corner of the rug. You pull it back, revealing a large trap door Roger installed before you moved in with him. It had a deadlock on it that was only able to be opened with a code.Â
You think for a moment, your muddled brain trying to remember the numbers.
8-3-6-7-1-9-6-9.Â
You say it out loud as you open it. When it clicks, you pull down and unhook it. As you toss it away from you, you hear Joel clear his throat. âMove.â
You instantly throw your hands up, crawling back onto your knees and sliding away from the trap door. You glance back at the tall man, seeing he has his gun trained on you. You did not even hear him pull it out. You sit back, pressing your shoulders into the wall opposite of the entrance of the storage cut-out. Itâs lined with different drugs, handguns, some shotguns, and lots of pornography.Â
Joel chuckles darkly, looking into the unit. âSeems like you two are freaky, huh?â
You never assumed Joel thought Roger was your lover, but the inclination made you want to throw up. You shake your head, âHe was. Not me.â
His addiction never really affected you in any way. He saved those vices for when he was alone. You do recall one night accidentally walking in on him doing something very disturbing that was forever etched inside your brain. Jerking off over a pillow with a magazine full of very young girls. You never looked at him the same way after that.Â
Roger was sick in the head, but he gave you drugs. He gave you alcohol. He gave you a place to stay.Â
Joel clicks his tongue, crouching down to loot through your stash. âYouâre too young forâa man his age, anyway. Too pretty.â
The hairs on your arms and shoulders raise at such a comment. You cock your head to the side, watching the man curiously. He thought you were pretty.Â
He does not say anything else the rest of the time he is picking up bags of pills. He inspects each one, sniffing some of the bags as he does. The illumination from the window in the dining room lights up his face with golden stripes. It made you take note of his amber eyes. They were not dark brown in the sunlight. You can hear people on the street from the partially shattered panels, some dragged-out footsteps, and some hushed conversations. Screaming for help would be no use, people hear women screaming in the streets in broad daylight and do nothing. This QZ was not about justice. It was every man for himself.Â
Joel stands up, tucking his gun back into his waistband. His eyes laser toward you and you feel his gaze pierce you. âStand up, youâre cominâ with me.â
You do not try to hide your fear. While you knew better, you silently hoped that he would just shoot you here, let you drown in your own blood in the comfort of your own home. But he was going to take you to a secondary location. You would be dying on his terms.Â
You push yourself up off the floor, your feet stuttering as you walk over to him. âCan I put on some shoes?â
He nods almost robotically. He watches you carefully as you drag yourself across the living room. You start to realize how torn up the place really is. Roger must have put up a fight because the side table is in pieces on the rug. You step around the splinters and grab your boots. After you tie up your laces, Joel is yanking you up by your bicep and dragging you into the dark alley your apartment opens up into. You were so fucked.Â
-
Joel is a harsh man, but he does not kill you.Â
You did not understand why he kept you around. You were eating his food, occupying a room in his apartment, and you were going through horrific withdrawals. He refused to give you an ounce of alcohol. The first couple nights at Joelâs, you were so sick that you violently shook for a whole day straight. You begged Joel through the door to shoot you and put you out of your misery. It was the worst feeling in the world. Your heart felt like it may beat out of your chest.Â
After the third day, your shakes had subsided and your mind was a bit more clear. You still felt like shit, but it was tolerable enough that you just laid in bed and stared at the floral wallpaper in your new bedroom.
You did not mind being spared, but being locked away was almost worse than death. You noted the mold smell the day you arrived in Joelâs apartment. You could not stop smelling it, no matter what you did. You kept telling yourself you would get used to it, but it always lingered. He restricted you to a bedroom where the window was completely caged. You had spotty natural light that only really peaked through in the evenings.Â
Joel would bring you a small meal every morning, usually stale bread and a mug of water. On rare occasions, his footsteps would stomp over to your rotting wooden door and heâd unlock the door to feed you for lunch. That only happened twice, though, and it was a bare-bones meal. But every night, right after sunset, he would barge in with a Spam sandwich and a cup of ice water. You would sit on the rusty framed-out bed as he sat in the armchair in the corner of the room by the window. Occasionally he would have a sandwich for himself, other times he would just sit there and watch you slowly eat the meal he provided.
And for some sick reason, you always thanked him.Â
He would never reply, his jaw slack and arms crossed. You only heard his voice a handful of times since he brought you here.Â
After two weeks of isolation and staring contests over dinner, Joel finally asked you a question after you finished your Spam sandwich. âDo you want to shower?â
You had not washed yourself in weeks and you could smell yourself. The idea of being able to shower was so appealing, that you actually smiled as he asked it.Â
Joel guided you across his expansive apartment into his bedroom. The entire place was falling apart, but Joelâs room seemed completely untouched by the times. It smelled like pine as soon as you bounded through the threshold. His bed was made up perfectly, with two pillows on each side. His side table only had one single lamp and a novel thatâs title was in another language. Joel snatched you away from soaking up his oasis and forced you into the dated bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, clicking when he rattles the handle.Â
You swallow, âAre you joining me?â
He shakes his head, turning and grabbing the bar of soap on the edge of the vanity. âNo, âm just making sure you donât try anything.â
You narrow your eyes at him, not completely believing him. Joel had not made any moves towards you, so you are not sure why you are suddenly skeptical of his intentions. Even if he did try something, you knew you could not do anything about it.Â
You were at Joelâs mercy. You did not completely comprehend why he was locking you down in his home and you did not get why you were just going along with it. You used to be a ferocious fighter, but after everything with Roger, you did not know where else you would go if it was not with Joel.Â
You turn your back to him, hesitantly undressing. Your clothes were disgusting, stained with sweat marks that you left when you were going through withdrawals. As you drop them onto the cold tile, Joel clears his throat.Â
You cannot remember the last time you were nude in front of another man. Another person. It had to be over 10 years. âI got ya some new clothes. Iâll grab them when you get in the shower.â
You just nod. While you were grateful for new clothes, you were still confused as to why you were here. As you turn on the water, you peek back at Joel. He is not looking at you, heâs looking out the window. His hands are tucked in his pocket and you have truly never seen him look at peace. His face is relaxed and his shoulders are eased down.Â
You use your hand to gauge the waterâs lukewarm temperature before you slip in behind the curtain. The bathtub is an off-white color. As soon as you get under the shower head, you note the dirt and grime combining with the water and spinning down the drain.Â
You use the bar of soap Joel gave you to clean off your frigid skin. The scent is just a hint of lavender. It must have been an old bar and with age, the smell has faded. As you massage it in, you hear the door creak open and click shut. You assume itâs Joel doing what he told you and then your mind circles back to your previous observation.Â
Why is Joel doing this?
You ponder the idea that maybe he is a sadist psychopath who just likes the idea of having someone held captive. But you had heard a lot about this man, and while he was a murderer, you never heard about him kidnapping or hurting women. If anything, he was easier on women who did him wrong.Â
But you were not a woman who did him wrong. You did nothing to him. You simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You did exactly what he asked and then you went along with his plans for you.Â
Maybe he was just lonely?
His deep voice slices through your thoughts, âYou almost done in there?â
You nod even though he cannot see you. âYeah, Iâm almost done.â
You rinse the soap out of your hair and turn off the faucet. You peek your head out from the curtain and Joel stands there with a towel in his hands. He laid a pile of clothes on the sink and you noticed that your clothes were gone from off the floor. Joel extends the towel to you and you reach around and grab it.Â
Itâs scratchy, but it absorbs all the beads of water off your body. You wrap it around your body, tucking the end under your right armpit. You pull back the curtain and Joel is still standing there.Â
You step over the edge of the tub, letting some of the droplets run onto the cold tiles. Joelâs eyes never leave yours, but as soon as you step towards the clothes on the counter, his eyes trickle down your body.Â
Your heart picks up when his hand comes up to your cheek. Your natural reaction is to flinch away from him, but his motion is quicker than you. He wipes away a water drip off your cheekbone, pulling it down to your jawline. âAll better?â He asks, his voice low. You nod, sheepishly. âYes, thank you.â
He smiles.Â
âSo polite. So pretty.â
And then he leaves you alone, clicking the knob shut as he exits the bathroom.
You get dressed quickly. Joel somehow knows your exact sizes because the cargo pants, long sleeve, and undergarments are a perfect fit. You never even managed to find clothes to fit you this well when you were doing your own stealing and looting.Â
His words rattle around in your head and you start to panic a bit. You start to formulate a plan. You had to stop thanking him. You had to stick up for yourself a bit more. You had to see where your boundaries were with him. You had to figure out his motive.Â
It was scary. Daunting. But you knew you could not live like this much longer.Â
You reach out for the door, but the knob was already turned and being pulled forward. Joel stands by the entrance of the door and you stride out, your head held a bit higher than usual. His face shows confusion, but you do not falter.Â
âIâm still hungry.â
It is like all the air is sucked out of the room. Suddenly, Joel is nine feet tall and you are an inch short. Your voice was confident enough to pass, but it was like he saw right through you.
âI fed you.â
You swallow, your eyes averted from his face for a moment, âCan I have a snack?â
His frown is more memorable than his smile. It is a permanent fixture in his big scary man aesthetic.Â
âA snack?â
You almost want to laugh at his condescending tone. But you also realize how you are playing with fire and at any moment this man could snap and kill you. You had to know if you were able to test him, see if you could truly ask him for something and he would be willing to give it to you. This would be your lesson.Â
So you nod, very matter-of-factly.
He is looking at you like you have four heads, but he bites.
âFine, Iâll getcha a snack. Why donât you have a seat on my bed?â
His cadence is giving him away. You can already tell he is not good at hiding his annoyance. You hesitantly walk over to his bed, plopping down rather obnoxiously. Your feet swipe the rug like a childâs would as you wait for him to return to the room. When he comes back, he has a single piece of beef jerky between his fingers.Â
You narrow your eyes at the so-called snack. You hated cured meats and you were sure to let him know that. âJerky?â
You are really testing him now. And you can tell by the way his chest rises and falls in one quick breath.
âYou seem very ungrateful, little one.â
You reach out to grab the bark but he snatches it back in a quick motion. You crinkle your eyebrows at him, trying your best to feign innocence. With the way he is staring daggers at you, you should fear his next move.Â
âBeg.â
You feel like your chest cannot take any more air in. Your hand is still hanging in the air, trying to reach out to his offering, but his hand is holding it far from your grasp.Â
You do not want to beg, this standoff would be part of your resistance to his captivity. In your mind, something would have to give way eventually. You could not sit around and just take his crumbs and passive weird behavior. So, you shake your head no.
âGo to your room. Youâve pissed me off,â His tone is abrupt and rushed. You do not want to push this further, knowing that you have made it an inch with him and were not completely ready to run the mile. You needed to game plan your next move.
You stand up, walking painfully slow to the door and leaving his space. His steps trail behind you, ensuring you did what he asked you to do. You can smell his musk, which makes the hairs on your arms stand up. He smelled good for a man as rugged as him.Â
When you reach your bedroom door, you grab the handle and turn around to face him. He stares down at you, his pupils dilated.Â
You make one last plea. âSo, no snack?â
You regret saying it immediately. He puts the jerky bit up to his lips, opens them deliberately, and takes a huge bite of the meat. It pulls apart with a crackle and watching it, you know it probably would hurt your teeth if you did something like that. His flexed jaw is a lot stronger than yours. His action is animalistic in a way, reminding you of a lion tearing into an antelope.Â
And for some reason, it brings a rise of heat from your shoulders to your cheeks. Watching his teeth gnaw on the jerky sends your mind traveling to la la land.Â
His voice forces you out of your thoughts. âGo to bed. Now.â
-
He stopped bringing you breakfast. Instead of your usual routine, Joel started giving you one small meal a day. You start to resent him and by the looks he is giving you, he is still bitter over your whole scheme with the snack.Â
You woke up hungry, which only started your day off wrong. You are regretting ever testing him in the first place. You were biting the same hand that literally fed you. The more you think about it, the more you realize that you should be grateful he is even keeping you alive. Why are you even trying to rock the boat with him? In some weird twisted way, he gave you a second chance. You were completely sober from alcohol going on a month now. And while most nights you grieved the burn of it going down your throat, your mind was more clear. You felt more grounded in reality. You did not want to go back to the way you were. Sure, you were hungry, but you were not plastered and sleeping 18 hours a day, and that seemed like a fair enough trade.Â
But the ache of your chest started to set in. You were feeling impulsive. You do not clearly remember how your body felt before you started drinking so much, but you do recall the aggression that would riddle your bones from time to time. The knee jerk reaction just to let loose. It had gotten you in some very sticky situations, but it was a sort of rush you craved.Â
After three days of the stalemate, he brought you the Spam sandwich and a short cup of water for dinner. You do not look at him when he walks into the room, and you do not thank him.Â
You had to get on his good side again. Somehow.
âAre you on a hunger strike or somethinâ?â His deep Southern drawl always extending out the end of his sentences. You loved hearing it.
You shake your head no.
âYou stopped giving me breakfast,â You grumble, reaching out to the plate he offers you. He shrugs, plopping down in his usual chair in the corner. He does not have his dinner in hand tonight. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.Â
âYou were beinâ an ungrateful little bitch. I am offerinâ you a second chance here and you are not appreciative,â He states, almost sighing. You grit your teeth at his name for you, but you decide it is not worth the argument.Â
You take a bite of the stale bread. The moan of your stomach subsides for a moment.Â
âI am appreciativeâŚâ
He sits back, his shoulders flexing under his jean button-up. You scan his body, noting his dirty clothes and muddy brown boots. He was always tracking things into your bedroom from the bottom of his shoes and it ate away at your need for wanting things more clean. Your sober mind needed tidiness.Â
He grunts, âDoesnât seem that way, sweetheart. Didnât thank me just now.â
You try to get your thoughts in order before you respond. You take one careful bite into the sandwich, trying to read the man sitting in front of you. He got you sober. He feeds you and houses you even though he could have shot you in the face for being involved with a man who screwed him over. And he is not a bad view to look at when you eat.Â
âThank you, Joel.â
He stands up and saunters over to you. As you swallow your bite, your eyes trail up his large frame. You start to worry a bit. Maybe he did not see your answer as genuine.Â
His thumb begins to trace the outline of your jaw, before slowly making its way up to your cheekbone. You grasp onto the plate tighter, your eyes piercing his as he focuses in on your lips. When you think heâs about to pull away, his palm goes over your mouth and his hand squeezes your cheeks together. His grip on you is painful, his fingers sinking into the divots of your upper jaw.Â
âYou are receptive to feedback. Which is a good thingâŚâ He trails off. Your heart starts to pound against your rib cage as you wait for the other shoe to drop. His hand jerks your head to the right, inspecting your side profile. âYou will be good for me.â
You do not know what he is insinuating and are too afraid to speak up. You dip your head down, trying to promise him silently. Yes, I will be good. Please donât kill me.
He slowly lets go of your face. He brings his thumb up to his lips and licks the very tip of the finger. You watch him bring it back down to your level. You flinch when he brings it up to the very corner of your lip. He wipes away at something like a father would to his young child who had food left on their face.Â
Joel was violent. But he was quiet about it and that scared you. He moved with such intention and you found yourself occasionally hypnotized by his aura. He was unlike any man you ever met. It could be the fact that others around you made him out to be some enigma, but maybe he was one.Â
You finally manage to speak up, the sudden tender touch starkly different from the aggression just minutes before.Â
âWhat do you want with me?â
It comes out as a whisper, but with Joel being so close, his ears perk up.Â
His face does not change from the steeled expression. âTime.â
-
He gives you breakfast one morning. You have been sleeping in, trying to use slumber as a substitute for food and it seemed to work for a couple of days. Joel brings in a plate with eggs and some stale bread. You had not seen him bring in eggs before and it shocked you. Your eyes almost well up in tears when he hands it to you in bed.Â
âThank you, Joel.â
He sits in his usual spot and watches you scarf down the meal. âI am going to be gone for a couple of days.â
Your eyes shoot back at him, confusion laced in your countenance. âWhat about me?â
âIâm letting you have access to the kitchen and living room. Youâre not allowed to leave. The door will be locked from the outside.â
The thought of being alone for that long scares you. Your thoughts start spinning. Why is he leaving you? Why would he let you be alone? Would you be able to eat?Â
Joel can see the cogs turning in your brain.Â
âYou are leaving me alone?â
He claps his hands on his thighs as he stands, âI have a run to make. I usually have other guys do it for me but I gotta do this one myself. You will be okay.â
For some reason, your instinct is to worry about him. Going out of the QZ walls is always a very dangerous feat and you knew he would be unprotected from the elements and infected. Joel seems more than capable, but anything can happen. What would happen if he died out there?
âHow long will you be gone?â
The question comes out desperate and you do not mean it to. You crawl out from under your covers, planting your feet on the ground. You suddenly felt hot. When the cold air hits your bare legs, you realize that you forgot you discarded your pants in the middle of the night. You were just in your underwear in front of him.Â
Joelâs eyes flicker down your unclad legs. You had a good radar when it came to men checking you out and as much as you did not want to admit it, you knew Joel was doing just that.Â
His lips twitch, âNot long. Two days, max.â
You cross your legs, holding your hands in front of your crotch in an attempt to try to shield yourself a bit. You watch him meander over to you, his steps purposeful. Once he reaches about a foot away, your breathing slows as his hand trails up your arm.Â
You felt this tension rise within the room and for a second you think he may act on his reaction to your legs. But instead, he just clears his throat. You are a bit disappointed and you do not know why.Â
âIâll be good, Joel.â
-
You survive the first night. You busy yourself with stuff around his apartment. You decide that you would not snoop through his belongings, only organizing the kitchen cabinets and alphabetizing his record collection. You had found a sense of purpose, filling your day with pointless tasks.Â
When the second night comes, you decide that you finally need a shower. Joel did not tell you that you could use the bathroom in his room, but you became aware that the other tub did not work and was covered in mold. The smell in the bathroom was enough to make you gag.Â
You were starting to reek of body odor and you did not want to sleep another night smelling the way you did. Plus, you knew the soap you used when Joel called you pretty was in that shower. He could not be that mad.Â
So, you tiptoe into his room and wander into his bathroom. When you flick on the light, you notice some of his beard shavings in the sink bowl. To the left of the shower curtain, you spot a jumbled pair of boxer shorts. You feel a pang in your stomach. His face appears in your mind. You cannot stop yourself from imagining him in the room with you, just like he was when you stripped for your shower before.Â
You step into the cool water, letting it soak you as your hands traveled around your body. Your nerve endings were buzzing as your thoughts pondered the idea of Joel being there with you.Â
The glimmer of his eyes when you were pantsless days before still rattled around in your head. You had not been desired in so long and with that action alone, Joel made you feel wanted. The tension was so palpable. His close proximity to you, the occasional gentle touches, it was enough to fill your mind with all the dirty possibilities.Â
Your hand travels down to between your legs. At first itâs only to clean, but as you explore, you cannot help but slip your fingers between your folds. The titillating motion is enough to have you throwing your head back in pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut, thoughts drifting to how you need an explosive release and you sickeningly want Joel Miller to give it to you.Â
Your pointer finger and middle spread your folds, rubbing carelessly and eagerly. You have not felt this driven to orgasm in years. You recall the sight of Joelâs stomach the first day you met him. Then you think about the boxers right outside of the shower next to you. Your thoughts spin and suddenly heâs naked in your mind.Â
Your hand only moves quicker with the thoughts. Your clit is aching with such intensity, you are shuttering and using your free hand to balance yourself on the tubâs wall. The water is pounding down your chest, dripping through the valley of your breasts.Â
Your eyes open a bit as you try to find your footing and you notice a bar of soap thatâs covered in his short hairs. You snatch it up, bringing it up to your nose as your lips quirk up into a smile.Â
Of course, it smells like him.Â
You finger yourself faster, his name spilling from his lips as you press the bar into your face. It is almost like you are imagining it is his face stuck to your face.Â
âJoel⌠Oh my god, Joel-â
The sound of the curtain being ripped away from its spot makes you completely jump out of your skin. His fierce brown eyes raking down your completely nude frame, hunched over and in a compromising position. He slams his fist against the faucet, shutting the water off in one swoop. You drop his soap to the floor, scrambling backward trying to dodge his rage.Â
He is pissed.Â
His hand wraps around your bicep, ripping you out of the tub and onto the tile. Your hip hits the ground first and it sends a shooting pain up your back. He is panting like he just ran a mile, standing over your sopping naked frame.Â
âWhat are yaâ? A bitch in heat?â He spits. You are so dazed and a bit afraid, you start to shake and raise your hands in defense.Â
He squats down to you, his eyes scanning your dripping body. His hands work so quick to reach out and grab your face. With clenched teeth, he brings your face close. âAnswer me.â
His grip is tight on your face and you do not know if you can even respond effectively. You feel your core pulsate with the way he has a hold of you.Â
âI-I wanted to s-shower.â
He mocks you, âI-I⌠You are fuckinâ yourself in my shower like a dirty whore.â
He turns back to check to see if he actually saw you holding his bar of soap. Itâs in pieces at the bottom of the tub surround. He pulls his hand away but the sting still remains.Â
âI-Iâm sorry, Joel.â
His gaze falls upon you again, a little less aggravated. âDry off and get dressed. Sit on my bed when youâre done.â
-
Your mind is all over the place when you sit down on Joelâs bed. He is not in the room but you hear him in the kitchen moving around. You hear the clatter of some plates and then him grunting.Â
When he barges in,you can tell he is annoyed still.Â
âYou reorganized?â
Your heart pounds with uncertainty. You did not believe that would ever set him off, but you are starting to realize you have gauged Joel incorrectly. âYes.â
He stops his pacing, his hands still propped up on his hips. âWhy?â
âBecause I needed to keep busy while you were gone. I also went through and-â
âAlphabetized the records. I saw.â
Nothing was getting past him. Your breathing is labored, the idea of him killing you for helping him be more orderly is so pathetic. You had to go out in a better way.Â
You clench your hands in your lap, âI did not mean to make you angry.â
He does not say anything, staring at you with an askane expression. He pivots to the dresser beside the bed, opening up the top drawer. He pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a beat up white t-shirt. He folds them meticulously, stacking them and then handing them to you.Â
You reach out for them, putting them in your empty lap.
âPut them on and get under the covers.â
Of all the things he could have said, this surprises you the most. âIn my own bed?â
âNo, this one.â
You look back at his perfectly made bed. He wanted you to sleep with him?
âJoel-â
âWe are tryinâ somethinâ new tonight. Change your clothes while I take a shower with my soap, and be under those covers when I get out,â His outline of directions is seriously rattling you to your core. You felt nervous but almost excited?Â
You watch him turn on his heels and amble over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Your stomach sinks when you hear the lock click. You look down at the clothes he gave you, raising them up to check the tags.Â
Just your size.Â
-
His bed is way more comfortable than the mattress you were cursed with. The blue quilt feels soft and worn under your fingertips. You lay on your back, feeling out of your own body. You hear the water shut off in the bathroom and your heart starts racing. You hear the rip up the curtain and some small stomps as Joel must be exiting the shower.Â
When the door creaks open and you see him standing in only some boxer shorts, your breathing hitches. His hair is brushed backward and his hairy upper body is a sight to behold. You silently wished you had this image earlier when you were rubbing your clit.Â
He walks over to his dresser, the same dresser he pulled clothes for you out of, and grabs a plain white t-shirt. He tosses it over his head, pushing his arms out of the holes on the side. It was slightly stained at the collar and it was see-through enough that you saw his dark chest hair still.Â
âYou are sleeping with me tonight,â He announces, walking over to the opposite side of the bed. Your stomach flips when you watch him pull the blanket back and crawl under the blanket. You observe how drastic his mood shifted from ripping you out of the shower. Why did he want you in his bed? What was his end goal? Your core is still sticky with your desire. You secretly wish he would just take advantage of you already.Â
But he does not even turn your direction. You watch him face his back to you, tuck one arm under his pillow and shut the lamp off.Â
Your mind starts to race. The bedroom door is unlocked, you can see it in the moonlight. You could easily slip out of the bed in the middle of the night and head for the front door and run.Â
But itâs the same thought that slipped your mind when Joel left you a couple days ago. You could have jumped out a window, rigged the doorknob to the apartment to get out, but you just never did. Instead, you sat idle inside Joelâs apartment and waited for him to return.Â
And now you have access to him when heâs at his most vulnerable. What was preventing you from sneaking a pointy object into the bedroom and stabbing him directly in the throat?
Because you needed him. And while your demented and violent thoughts of all the ways you could kill him rattled around in your mind, you knew deep down you would never do it. You craved the need to impress him. To be good for him.Â
Heâs silent next to you, not a sound leaving his body. You are not even sure if he is asleep when you slowly turn on your side, facing away from him as well.Â
Somehow, you sleep better in his bed than your own.Â
-
The routine changes after that night.Â
Joel wakes up as soon as the sun breaks the sky and he leaves you in his bed as he prepares you breakfast. When you hear the door reopen, you always wake up to his frame standing over you with a plate. You rub your eyes as you grab the handoff, propping yourself up on his headboard. He would sit on the end of the bed, nibbling on his own meal.Â
And then he starts asking you questions.
It starts off with him asking you where you were from originally. You explain how you traveled with a group of people that were essentially raiding other established communities. You had escaped the Baltimore QZ when a bunch of people got infected practically overnight and there was no oversight. When you got out, the people who survived with you became vicious and desperate.Â
Then he asks you about your relationship with Roger.Â
You give him the overview. You tell him you relied on him to fund your mind-numbing habits and he left you to look over his stash. When you press him about what he did to him, Joel gives you those eyes. Almost to say âyou donât get to ask the questions here.â
Most days you sat on the couch and read his collection of books. You were not the fastest reader so it took days to get through some of the stories. He had a lot of books about space and a variety of science fiction. He would leave every day, running his usual business. When he got back home, you would still be planted on the sofa, reading. He would slam his keys down and get to work on your Spam sandwich.Â
Every other night you would shower. After the soap incident, he kept his soap on the very top corner of the shower. When you first noticed it, you smiled sickly.Â
The sleeping situation is the same every night. You lay on your back, Joel lays on his side, completely facing away from you. Sometimes in the middle of the night, your arms would brush his back and he would stir. You tried your very best not to test his limits even though you had no real clue what they were.Â
One particular night, the window he kept cracked was letting in the most frigid air. You always ran cold while Joel was like a furnace when he slept. He radiated enough heat to keep a whole house warm. But this night you were shaking under the quilt, your toes feeling like they may fall off.Â
You turn on your side, facing his expansive back. You are so deliberate with your movement that when your arm falls over his waist, his body jolts. Instead of slapping you away or turning to face you, his body just stills completely, not even a rise and fall of breath.Â
âWhat are you doing?â He asks through the darkness, his sleepy voice. Almost wholesome.Â
You stifle a response, trying your best to sound confident. âIâm cold.â
He finally breathes out, his arm moving down over yours and holding it against his waist. Your heart races so hard you can hardly fathom falling asleep, but at least you were warm.Â
You start to do it every night, even when the air is balmy outside. You settle on your side, your arm swinging over his waist and pulling your lower half taut with his butt. You never expected you would ever be spooning Joel Miller every night, but here you were, wearing his clothes with your pelvis flush to him.Â
Your hand finds his hips one night while you adjusted your position. Your hand graces right below his waist and you feel his member half-hard in his boxer shorts. It makes your eyes snap open, the shock of your body waking him up. Your hand does not move, though. You hover it over that spot, curiously wanting to touch him through his shorts.Â
âDo you feel me?â
His voice makes your throat tighten, unsure of how to respond to such a question. So you just hum and shake your head.Â
He takes your reluctant hand and pushes it down to his clothed cock, his body pushing back into a bit. Your mind is still a bit fuzzy from your slumber, but when you feel him harden under your touch, you do not want to stop until you finish him.Â
He is deliberately moving your hand around, pulling it over and under his boxers until you are touching his bare cock. You shutter at how large it feels in your hand and you cannot even see it from how you are laying. Your hand cannot completely wrap around it due to its girth.Â
âJoelâŚâ You practically whimper, clawing his back to get him to lay back so you can see him. He does not budge, still laying on his side.Â
Your hand massages the very base of his dick, his curly hair poking your fingertips as you do. You are so eager that as you jerk him off, he grabs your hand to start guiding you slower. When your hand graces his tip, he hisses.Â
âGotta take me slow, girl,â He groans, holding your wrist so tight you know it will be bruised in the morning. You do as he says, slowly and methodically following how he likes to be jerked off. After a minute, you can hear his shallow breaths increasing as you bring your speed up just a bit.Â
âAre you gonna cum?â
You try to say it in a sultry voice, but it comes out rushed and desperate. You just want to see him seize by your own hand. Joel grunts, his grip on your arm practically stilling your movements before he can even finish. You resist his persistent handle on you. You craved to make him orgasm. Eventually, he pushes his hips forward into your hand, sighing as he releases.
You feel the ropes of cum spill all over the back of your hand. As soon as the warm seed empties onto you and his tummy, he rips back the covers and stumbles into the bathroom. He shuts the door so fast, you hardly see him through the dark.Â
You look at his clear-white fluid on your knuckles and smile in satisfaction.You want him to see your next actions.Â
The bathroom light spills into the room as he holds out a wash rag to you. Itâs obvious itâs the one he just used on himself. You shake your head, bringing your hand up to your lips, extending your tongue, and licking the spend off your knuckles. You swallow, willingly.Â
He gawks at you, his eyebrows still knitted together, watching you clean off your hand entirely. âDidnât even need my help. What a good girl.â
-
You wake up with Joel standing over you. It rattles you a bit, his stare zeroed in on your face.Â
âMorninâ,â He uttered, holding out a small pile of clothes for you. âWe are goinâ on a field trip.â
The last thing you expected after jerking the man off last night was an outing. You sit straight up, holding out your hands for him to shove the clothes in your palms.Â
âWhere are we going,â You stammer, pushing the covers down your legs.
His eyes rake down your body as you stand up, almost standing at attention in front of him.Â
âYouâre cominâ to work with me.â
You look down at the clothes he has given you. Some cargo pants, a short sleeve gray top, and even a new pair of underwear.Â
This is the first outing you have had since being with Joel, so you are a bit nervous thinking about how the outside world may be. It cannot be any worse than it already was, but you worried about how you would be perceived walking down the street with Joel Miller.Â
The more you ponder the idea, you start to feel more reassured than anything. If you were placed beside anyone, you would want it to be with the guy everyone feared. No one would ever think to give you a hard time.Â
Joelâs line of work was dangerous but it was also a powerful role to have in this fucked up world in the QZ. You were on the right side of the insanity, in your opinion. Joel was your protection in some demented fucked-up way.Â
You get dressed as he makes breakfast. This morning, he decides to make you two some eggs that he said were getting old so he had to make them. He likes his eggs runny, so you had to like yours runny, too.Â
You two sat at the dining table as you ate. He scarfs his down in a minute, while you take your time to savor the different flavor. You missed eating food that was not Spam or plain bread. Joel notes your painstakingly slow chews.Â
âHurry up, we got places to be.â
-
The people on the streets pay mind to you now. Before, when you did leave your former place with Roger, everyone kept their heads down. Occasionally people would slam into you with their shoulders, acting like they could phase right through you.Â
When you walk with Joel, people move out of the way.
The alleyway is not too far from Joelâs apartment. He forces you to walk in front of him, copying every step you make with his loud footfalls. He grabs your shoulders to direct you down a concrete staircase that seems to lead to nowhere. At the bottom, a brute man stands with his arms crossed. You hesitantly stop right in front of him, your eyes taking in all the scars littering his face.Â
Joel grunts. âSheâs with me, Pete. Thomas and Garrett in there with him?â
The man, whoâs now known as Pete, just nods minutely. Joel pushes the door beside him open and grabs your forearm to drag you through the threshold. Itâs a dimly lit hallway that smelled like dampness and gunpowder. Thereâs two light bulbs dangling from the paint chipped ceiling that guide you to the end of the hallway. Joel pushes open the door, and you smell that familiar metallic smell.Â
It was a smell that leaked into your dreams occasionally. Itâs so overpowering you can almost taste it.Â
When you walk in, the room is occupied by three men. Two are standing over the other, their bodies blocking the entirety of the scene. You do note the huge puddle of blood on the floor near a knocked over wooden chair. Joel clears his throat and the two men step away looking at Joel, then you. They have to be around your age, maybe a bit older. The blond man speaks up first as he scans your body.Â
âBringing your kid along for the show?â
You glance over at Joel whoâs jaw tightens. You watch his whole demeanor shift, his body becoming rigid.Â
âGet out of here, Garrett.â
The blond man furrows his brows, not understanding why he was really being directed to leave. You can sense a bit of hesitance. âJoel, Iâm just kidd-â
âGet the fuck out, now. We donât need you.â
The man scrambles past you and Joel, shutting the door behind him. The dynamic Joel and his men have is very easy to figure out. Whatever he says, goes. The look the other man is giving him is that of unease.Â
âHe confessed that he stole from our stash. More than once.â Joel walks forward, drawing his gun out. Finally, the man on the floor comes into full view.Â
And you recognize him.Â
He was a pill smuggler that had come over to Rogerâs a couple times before. He always gave off the vibe that he would take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. He would whisper things about you to Roger and you remember a couple times when he had inappropriately touched you. You believe his name to be Don. Maybe Ron.Â
His eyes are swollen and bruised. His lip is completely split open and he has a gnarly gash on his left cheekbone. He is tied up, his arms and legs bound by ropes and zip ties.Â
You are not at all phased by blood, but his beaten body is a bit hard to look at. He was not a nice looking man already, and surely the swelling was not helping him.Â
His lips part almost like he is about to speak up, but Joel swipes the butt of his gun across his face with insane accuracy.Â
One thing about you was you did not turn away from violence. Now that you are sober, it's easier to recognize that something was off for you to be so unfazed by the savagery. You sickeningly enjoyed watching people get their karma.Â
You had no context as to why this man was bound and brutalized in this random basement, but you knew Joel had good reason to set him straight.Â
âDonny boy, I thought we were friends,â Joelâs voice is dripping with sarcasm. He seems in his element as he squats in front of the man, âAnd you fucked me over good. Sold out people only to get yourself in this position. Pretty fuckinâ dumb.â
Don can hardly sit up, his body completely tilted with his elbow propping up his entire body weight. You can tell he is struggling to respond, but you hear the faintest voice quip up.Â
âI told the truth, please,â He begs as he attempts to sit up more. Joel grabs his shoulder roughly, balancing his back on his butt. âI wonât do it again.â
You cannot see Joelâs face, but you know he does not believe that. His shoulders slot back a bit as he stands up and turns to face you. His face is straight, not showing any emotion at all. You notice the gun still in his hand, his finger completely off the trigger.Â
âYou know him?â
You just nod, your eyes peering down at the gun he has directed at you. His eyes flicker back and forth, seemingly contemplating what to say next. He pushes the weapon into your hand, his fingers curling around the grip so that your hand would follow suit. You watch every meticulous move, pulling the safety clip, slipping his hand away and gesturing towards the man.Â
âYouâre gonna kill him.â
Your eyes fly open, unsure if this problem should be dealt with by you. The promise you made to yourself when you stepped foot in this QZ rattled around in your brain as you tried not to show Joel your irresolution. Your mouth is dry when you gulp, âWhy?â
His hand presses on your back as he pushes you towards the guy. You are about 2 feet from him and Joelâs face is so close to your ear. Itâs the closest he has ever been to you. You can feel his breath on your lobe and neck and it makes bumps scatter across your body.Â
He raises your arms, pointing the barrel towards Don. As soon as he does that, Don starts begging. His voice shaking, sweat pooling on his forehead, tears pricking at the corners of his swollen eyes.Â
Joelâs voice is so hushed over Donâs pleas. âHe is the one who told me about Roger stealing from me. Little did I know, he was stealing from me, too.â
It is like a switch goes off in your brain. Your eyes are trained forward on the trembling man but it is as if the whole world went quiet when Joel stopped speaking. You hear white noise in your ears and your mind shuts off for a nanosecond. Your pointer finger slots between trigger guard and trigger and you squeeze, your aim right at his head.Â
You feel the spray explode across your face and suddenly you snap back to your reality.Â
Your body was overtaken by the need to please. The need to impress Joel. It was also like your own sick revenge. This man is the reason Roger was dead. The reason you got ripped from your normalcy. Your brain had no time to catch up to your bodyâs actions. Instead of flinching or falling backward away from the body of the traitor, you stand over him like heâs some commodity in a circus. With wonder and curiosity, you lower the gun and smile.Â
Joel steps beside you, his face expressing fervor.Â
Finally facing him and forgetting the other man in the room who was just a witness to the scene, you speak up.Â
âDid I do good?â
A small semblance of a grin spreads across his lips. âVery good, sweetheart.â
-
You and Joel do not stay in the room long after. Very quickly, he ushers you into another room where he checks a cabinet full of guns, looking over each other and counting in a hushed tone. You hear bounding footsteps in the hallway and men talking amongst each other.Â
The voices are rushed and surprised. One states, âShe didnât even flinch. Joelâs lucky to have her.â
You feel a tickle on your brow and itch it absentmindedly. As you pull your finger back and look at it, it is stained red.Â
You find a shiny surface in the room of arms and paraphernalia, glancing at your own reflection. The smear of blood goes across your forehead, while the splatter itself is speckled across your cheeks like freckles. Joel stops what he is doing to check you out, his steps trailing up to your back. His breathing is quite labored and as you stare at your own mirror image, you note the look heâs giving you.Â
His hand goes across your chest, his finger tips starting to dance across your dĂŠcolletage.
âWe gotta clean you up. Canât have you walkinâ the streets lookinâ like you killed someone.â
He says it while he rubs the blood across your chest, smearing it and massaging it into your skin.Â
You loved it when he touched you. Even if it was roughly, you counted yourself lucky that Joel felt the need to do so.Â
âBut I did kill someone.â
Your voice does not have any hesitance, you are simply stating facts. Joelâs chin tilts upward, his hand grabbing your shoulder and jerking you around to face him. His face is practically millimeters from the tip of your nose.Â
He grunts, almost like heâs clearing his throat. âAnd you didnât even second guess me. I didnât even need to push you, you just did it.â
You smirk to yourself, enjoying the slight praise he is giving you.Â
âAnd here I thought I was testinâ ya.â
Your eyes flicker up to his, trying to see right into his soul. Testing you?
âDid you not expect me to do it?â You bite.Â
âI had an inklinâ youâd be loyal. Consistent. Even a bit violent. But I didnât expect a killer.â
Your chest rises at his statement. You are trying to manage your breathing as his words have a visceral effect on you. It was like he was talking dirty to you. Why did his impression of you mean so much? Ever since you met the man, you were at his mercy and you got off at his reassurance. It was like he was your new vice.Â
His right hand traces down your bare arm, while his left grabs your jaw. âLetâs get you cleaned up and home, how âbout it?â
You agree with a jerk of your head.Â
-
Once you walk into the apartment again, you are reminded of the smell of mold again. When the scent hits your nostrils, you scrunch your face. Joel is quick to notice the expression because his eyes and hands have not left your body since you shot that guy. He has been watching your every move.Â
You toe off your shoes by the front door as Joel tosses down the keys. He takes the handgun out of his waistband and places it carelessly next to them.Â
When he turns to look at you, he crosses his arms. He is studying you as you unzip the jacket he offered you. It was only to cover the blood that stained your new outfit.Â
âTake it off slow.â
You shoot him a confused look, still trying your best to follow his instructions. You shrug the jacket off your shoulders, letting it purposefully fall down your arms. The blood on your clothes has left semi-permanent spots on your skin. Once the clothing pools to the floor, you stand there at Joelâs mercy.Â
He clenches his jaw, nodding slowly as he inspects you. âNow the shirt.â
You do not second guess his next directions. You grab the hem of your shirt and draw it upward over your head. The fabric goes across your lips and nose lifting them up awkwardly. You smile when you drop the next article next to the jacket.Â
The anticipation makes your pussy pulsate. You have thought about this moment for longer than you care to admit.Â
âPants.â
The pants are buttoned so you fumble with getting it undone before you are shoving them down your goosebump-ridden legs. When they get to your ankles, you use the opposite feet to step on the fabric and pull them off your feet. You kick them further away than the shirt and jacket.
You are only in your underwear in Joelâs living room. He is looking at you with such confliction. You have never felt very self conscious until this very moment.Â
âShould I keep going?âÂ
It is an innocent question, but there is lustful intention behind it. There would be a point of no return if he did answer it.Â
âI was gettinâ there,â He steps towards you, his guise not giving away any of his next movements. His face was still unyielding. âPanties first.â
Your breathing hitches when his fingers wrap around the elasticity of the waistband.
âIâm still c-covered in blood-â âShut up.â
You nod, sliding the underwear down and revealing your already dripping core. He sucks in a big breath of air as his hand reaches between your legs and swipes at your wetness with the pads of his fingers. Your entire body tenses, the feeling so foreign and exciting that you cannot contain your gasp for air.Â
Finally his expressionless face changes to a small twinge of a smile, âDirty fuckinâ girl. Have been wantinâ this for a long time, eh?â
You are afraid to admit it out loud so you just nod. His fingers still make work through your folds and your knees feel like they may buckle with every swipe. Joel notes your position and grabs your face with his left hand, squeezing your cheeks so hard it forces you to look at him and stand up straighter.Â
His fingers dip into you briefly, making squelching noise so loud that you both groan.
âJoel,â you whimper, sounding desperate and hasty.
He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. It is a passionate act you did not expect. You did not know that sex would Joel would mean open mouth kisses, but you are thankful for it. His hand releases its grip on your cheeks and wraps itself around the base of your throat. Your lips slip open for his tongue, letting it explore every inch of your mouth. His fingers are making their slow methodical movements around your clit, driving you absolutely insane with desire.Â
Your body seems so in tune with every movement he makes, but as you makeout with him, you realize it is because he has molded you this way. To curve and bend to his every will and way.
And you loved every moment of it. You thirsted for this type of control. You knew you would not have to worry or have a second thought, ever. Joel was already ten steps ahead and thinking out everything for you.Â
He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes flickering between your lips and eyes. You note the red tinge of blood on his lips from kissing yours.Â
âGet on your knees.â
You obey, whining when you realize that means he would no longer be keeping your pussy warm with his hand. Once your knees hit the hardwood, his hands are making work at his belt and jean buttons.Â
âYou know how to suck dick? Or do I gotta do all the work for ya?â
Your eyes fly open at the vulgarity. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, âYes, Joel. Iâve done it before.â
Having his dick in your hand last night was one thing, but seeing it for the first time is jarring. He is definitely the biggest you have ever had the pleasure of being in front of. He can tell by the look on your face that you are a bit stunned.Â
âLetâs see how you do,â He inches his waist closer to your face and slightly ajar lips, âOpen.â
Complying is what you do for Joel.Â
You open your mouth nice and wide as he inches his cock into your warm mouth. You close your eyes, trying to focus on not disappointing him with your gag reflex. You try your best to relax, but his watchful eye is making you feel disoriented.Â
He pulls out, letting you take a breath, only to push back in more forcefully. You try to stop his intrusion by putting your hand up on his hairy bare thigh, but it is no use. Your closed eyes prick with tears as Joel pulls out again, this time he is slapping his dick across your mouth.Â
âKeep those fuckinâ eyes open and on me. Open nice nâ wide and relax that fuckinâ throat.â
His demands needed to be met, so you nod and adjust your position, laying your tongue out. He inches in again and instead of resisting, you relax and watch him through your eyelashes. His face twists as he draws back, his cock getting so impossibly close to the back of your throat. When he hits your gag reflex, you grip onto your own thighs tightly to contain the urge to empty your stomach. He smiles sickly at your reaction. âPoor girl,â He teases, snapping his hips forward again. Another gag. âCanât fuckinâ take me? Guess we will have to train that mouth and throat, huh?â
He keeps fucking your mouth as your eyebrows draw together in concentration. Joelâs loving every moment, watching you writhe under him. Your wetness is pooling on the hardwood and you can already hint the embarrassment you will feel if Joel notices.Â
You hollow out your cheeks, attempting to assert yourself in the situation. When you do that, Joel pulls out completely. He leans down to grab your arms and lifts you off the floor, dragging your shins against the uneven wood planks. And to your horror, he notices the wetness on the floor. âDrippinâ on the floor like a wet mop, ainât ya?â
Joelâs eyes were always dark brown, but they look black with his eyes as dilated as they are. His grip on your arms is very assertive and when he pushes you back over the arm of the couch, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears.Â
âPlease, Joel.â
He grabs you up by your armpits, dragging your body across the couch. When you're lying flat, he settles himself between your legs, holding your right leg taut with his hipbone.Â
âKeep begging,â He demands, a smug expression taking over his face. His eyes scour your entire body, âMy little killer.â
The word sends your body into overdrive and you start grabbing at his body, trying to take what you want. He fights your hands, grabbing both of them and pinning them against the throw pillow right above your head.
You want to confess everything to him in that moment. The very moment you laid eyes on him, you wanted to give yourself to him. In every single way possible.Â
âI want you.â
âI know you do,â He grabs the shaft of his cock and begins his torture. Sliding it through your soaked folds and humming in satisfaction. You lift your hips, trying to get him to slip it in, but he is always quicker than you. âDesperate, ainât ya?â
Before your face can react to his mocking, his hips snap forward, fully sheathing himself inside you. The meat of your thigh presses against his waist, trying to hold him in that spot, but he does not let up. The pressure is almost too much but the pain is appallingly satisfying.
You cannot even remember the last time you felt this. Your previous sexual encounters were usually hasty and boring. Most were not consensual and left you feeling gross and deprived of release.Â
The build up between you and Joel was a months long endeavor that left you feeling borderline insane. You could not help but let your desire for him fester.Â
His pace is not slow in the slightest, but it is calculated. You manage to widen your legs a bit allowing more space for his thighs to take up. As he kneels between you, you get a great view of his muscular flexed thighs.
Joel was a specimen. You could not stop yourself from admiring such a sight, especially when his hands are all over you and his dick is driving into you over and over. You had never been in love, never seen it first hand even, but you knew you love this moment. You love Joel for making you feel so good. Thatâs not a feeling you have ever had for anyone, let alone a man in this sick world.Â
âOh my god, yes,â You clamor, your hands still locked over your head. The tension you feel in the pit of your stomach feels like it may explode, âPlease, please.â
He repositions himself, releasing your wrists and pushing your legs up. You are folded in half while his upper body falls over you. You can already see the glistening of sweat across his neck and shoulders. His body locks you on the couch as he continues rocking into you.Â
âYou donât cum til I say, got me?â
He fucks into you harder now, and from this angle, you do not know how that will be possible. A couple more thrusts and you know you are a goner.Â
âI feel it,â You choke, trying to clench to prevent yourself from letting go before Joelâs instruction. âJoel.â
âI said hold that shit back,â His pace only speeds up, like he is chasing his own high, âNot âtil I say.â
The friction is too much. You tug your lip between your teeth and you bite so hard that you start to taste blood. He is not letting up and you know the rope is about to snap. No matter how hard you try, when your eyes roll back and your body goes rigid, you let the release take over everything.Â
You are screaming, your voice cracking as you do. Joelâs hip stutter when your pussy tightens up around him, but you know heâs only slowing down because you did not listen.Â
Your limbs feel like jello and being that you are unable to really shift or move below Joel anyway, you just lay there limp. Joel flexes his arms and you can tell as he pulls away from your body that he is pissed.Â
âRoll over.â
You knit your brows together, still trying to manage your breathing. âIâm sorry-â
He slaps your thigh, the sting prickling down your entire leg. âRoll the fuck over.â
The motion takes almost all of your energy. When you are on your stomach, Joel hauls your ass towards his pelvis. With your ass up in the air, you can feel the cold air hit your spent cunt. Your head is tilted, only able to see Joel in your peripheral vision. He looks down at your pussy, dragging his cock head through your seams. You note how he smiles coyly.Â
When his lips purse and spit starts to dribble out, you start babbling all sorts of nonsense. The spit lands perfectly between your pussy lips and the top of his red tip.Â
âYou know what happens to girls who donât listen?â
You keen as he pushes his cockhead into your cunt, âWhat?â
âPunishment.â
The thrust is so powerful it has your body almost slamming back onto the sofa. As he ruts into you, the moans that come out of you do not sound human. You are already so sensitive from your orgasm, you know that it takes practically no touch at all to set off the chain reaction again.Â
His grip on your ass will leave bruises, just like all the other bruises he has given you in the last couple months. You count all of them like trophies. All the time Joel has touched you.Â
When the grip turns into open hand spanking, you know your âpunishmentsâ would be something you would enjoy tempting time to time.Â
They are brutal. With each thrust, his palm comes down on your left ass cheek. All the while, his right fingers are digging scratches all along your ass and thigh. Between the sounds of the smacks and his balls slapping against your skin, you are being sent back into an ever-growing burn in the pit of your stomach.Â
âFuckinâ pussy is squeezinâ my cock,â He mewls, his voice gravelly, âYou like gettinâ spanked? Hm?â
You restrain yourself from screaming out that you love it. You settle for just, âPlease donât stop.â
You can hear him chuckle behind you, his actions continuing as he bucks into you.Â
âYouâre lucky âm feelinâ nice.â
His hips start to stutter as you continue your mewling over his cock. He reaches out to your shoulders, pulling you upward and locking his arm around your neck. He has you in a loose headlock as he fucks you. Your hands rest on your forearm, your nails digging so hard that you leave small half moons on his freckled skin.Â
His other arm finds its way between your legs, swiping your clit as his thrusts become more labored. Even with the pace slowed down, the small titillating circles he pushes into your sensitive bud sends you over the edge again. As you fall apart in his arms, he spirals into his own climax, fucking his seed so deep into you that you will probably have it dripping out of you for days.Â
The husky moans he lets out as he empties himself inside you rattles in your eardrum. It was like music to your ears. You finally got what you want.
âYou came again without permission.â
You do not respond, just grunt and fall onto the couch.Â
-
Your body is humming still. Joelâs half-hard cock is still standing at attention as he stands up and walks over to the kitchen. You grab the back couch cushion and push yourself up to watch him wander over the sink. His hand reaches for a kitchen towel and he wets it under the sink faucet.Â
His ass is so perfect and you silently curse yourself for not grabbing it when he was balls deep in you.Â
âCome âere.â
You scramble up, your legs wobbling with each step. Joelâs eyes scan your entire body again, enjoying the sight of you so bare in front of him. âDidnât think you were the one for aftercare.â
He furrows his eyebrows, as he extends the towel to you. âI ainât. Wipe yourself up.â
Your heart pangs against your ribcage. For some reason you thought being so intimate with him would bring something different out. You are sorely mistaken.Â
The anger you felt earlier, the blind rage, takes over all your nerve endings again. You cannot stop yourself from lashing out after such a high. A high he gave you.Â
You slap the towel away, tilting your chin up at him. He has never seen you defiant. His face twists in confusion.Â
âYou made me kill for you. Then you fuck me. And you canât even give me any decency by wiping your fucking cum off of me?â
The words are like vomit coming out of your mouth. You ever thought you would talk back to him like this. It is the kind of thing you could have been killed for months ago. But now, you both are in vulnerable positions. You want to prove a point. Look at me, appreciate me, love me.Â
âExcuse me?â
His tone is threatening. But so is yours.Â
âYou heard me.â
As silence cuts through the air, you notice the gun Joel put on the kitchen counter next to a broken coffee pot. He sees you eyeing it and goes to reach for it, but you are closer and a bit faster than him. When your hand wraps around the metal, you point it directly at his hairy chest.Â
Proving a point with violence was always your specialty. Before the alcohol, and now, after the alcohol.
âYou fuckinâ bitch,â He bites, his lips tightening inward, âYou put that shit down now.â
You are steady with it, your finger not on the trigger, but only millimeters from gracing it. âNo.â
âYouâre not gonna kill me. Not after all you just did for me,â His voice is more clipped, his words staggered. His hands raise in the air, almost in surrender. âPut it down.â
You are not sure what your next move should be. The rage now turns into confliction.Â
You have screwed yourself for snapping so quickly at him and now he was never going to trust you. Threatening him with words would be one thing, but pointing a gun at center mass was absurd. While you wanted to get your point across to him, you knew this was overkill. Your fuse was so short and your urges were unkempt. Acting on impulse was going to get you in major trouble. Â
In the time you are second guessing your actions, Joelâs already springing forward and snatching the gun from you. You are easy to disarm when you are not prepared for a naked man springing at you in your time of contemplation. Joel grabs the gun, pushing you backward into the kitchen counter and points it at you.Â
âNowâŚâ His southern drawl carries out the word. Your heart is pounding, the same way it was racing last time Joel trained a gun on you. This time was different. Instead of a look of contempt and uncertainty, he appears to be offended by your actions. âYou know damn well that shit ainât gonna fly with me.â
âJoel-â âShut your fuckinâ mouth,â He steps closer, the gun still trained on you, âYou know better, donât ya?â
The coldness of the barrel on your right collarbone is enough to send you over the edge. Your eyes flicker between his chest, his lips, to his eyes, âI do. I donât know what came over me.â
His eyes reflect a silent consideration. He is trying to figure out if he believes you or not. You silently pray he does even if you do not fully believe yourself.Â
âYou are too quick to react to someone tellinâ you know. Knock that shit off now or else we will have bigger issues.â
You knew those bigger issues would lead to Joel putting you out of your misery. You would have to work on impulse control. âIt wonât happen again. I will work on it.â
âYouâre lucky I love that pussy of yours or else you would have a hole in your fuckinâ head.â
Love.
âYou love it?â
He smirks at your candor. He did not even realize he said that. âGet on your knees and beg for my forgiveness. You donât have time to get a big head.â
âOn my knees?â
He clenches his jaw, withdrawing the end of the gun from your skin. It leaves a small circle indentation, solidifying that next time, there may be a much bigger one there. âOn your knees, little one.â
divider from @/saradika-graphics
#WELCOME TO MY QZ JOEL#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#joel miller fic#tlou fic#the last of us#pedro pascal#qz!joel#joel tlou#gracieheartspedro#fic: me and the devil#pedro pascal characters
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Jungkook groom x reader bride
Summary: Groom Jungkook fucks you (the bride) before your wedding, even though you persist that itâs bad luck, his desires get the best of him. And you, well you canât help but to fold.
Warnings: smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, creampie, yadiyada basically the basics Lfmao.
Note: this has been sitting in my drafts for so long? Like wtf. Anyways what way to start the year with a Jungkook fic? Back in my Jungkook era even though I never left. Thank you for reading and enjoy <3 mimi
It was a known fact that the groom shouldnât see the bride before the wedding. Traditional, superstition, or whatever you called it. You had reminded Jungkook of it many times in the weeks leading up to your big day.
But the thought of not being able to see you and touch you didnât sit right with Jungkook.
You had teased him; telling him he could survive a few hours. A light kiss against his lips as he pouted like a child.
But now, as you stood in your bridal suite, slipping on the final touches to your wedding look, a soft knock interrupted your thoughts. You glanced at the door in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. No one was supposed to be here.
Before you could even ask who it was, the door creaked open revealing Jungkook in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, his hair falling slightly into his eyes.
âJungkookâ! You hissed at him, hurrying towards the door in an attempt to stop him coming in any further. âYouâre not supposed to be here!â You sulk as he beat you to it, fully stepping foot into the room.
His eyes roam over you, taking you in. So dark and intense, his lips curving into a slow, sinful smirk. âI donât careâ.
Your heart jumps at his tone, pussy clenching at the low and roughness thatâs laced within it.
âSeriously?â You try again, your voice a bit weaker now, âthis is bad luck. I already tol-â
He closes the distance between you in two strides. Hands gripping your waist as he backs you up against the vanity. A surprised shaky breath escapes your lips.
âThe only bad luck,â he murmurs against your neck, his lips slightly brushing against the sensitive skin causing a shiver to run down your spine, âwould be me not being able to touch you right nowâ.
He hungrily kisses your lips before you can protest. You try to push him off of you, trying to remind him of the rules but his hands continued to firmly grip your waist pulling you against him.
You had no choice but to crumble.
âJungkookâ you breathe, your hands tangling in his hair as his mouth moves back to your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses that make your knees buckle.
âYou have no idea,â he mutters against your skin, his voice thick with desire, âhow hard itâs been not to touch you. To know youâre so close and not be able to have you.â
You moan out as he lifts you into the vanity, his lips instantly finding yours again. His fingers work quickly, tugging at the delicate buttons of your dress, his movements almost frantic.
âBe careful,â you gasp in between kisses, âthis dress cost a fortuneâ.
He slightly chuckles as his eyes cast over you for a moment. âIâll buy you a hundred more.â He sends kisses to your jaw, before he continues down to your collarbone, trailing down to the swell of your breasts that are barely covered by your lacy bra. âBut right now, I need you.â
His hands separate your thighs, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you. âYouâre perfectâ he murmurs, eyes softening for a moment before his lips find yours again.
It didnât take long for him to have you bare before him. Nipples exposed to the cool air as he fondles with them. His tuxedo jacket and shirt discarded aimlessly on the floor, allowing you to caress his bare shoulders as he continues to pleasure you. The urgency between you was electric, every touch and kiss igniting a fire that threatened to consume the both of you.
When he had had enough of his cock twitching at the thought of being inside you, the aching throb of whatâs to come, he eagerly inserted his cock into the warmth of your pussy. A deep moan escaped his lips, his hands pulling you closer to him as buries himself deeper.
âFuckâ he groans, his forehead resting against yours as he began to move his hips. His thrusts low and deep, stealing the breath from your lungs.
âJungkookâ you whimper, nails digging into his bare back as his pace quickens, his control slipping away with every thrust. His hand wraps around your neck, thumb caressing the sensitive skin.
âYou feel so good babyâ his voice rasps. You clench around him as he hungrily kisses you again.
Hand still wrapped around your neck, you tilt your head up and bite your lip as he continues, âso perfect, so mine.â
He forces you to look at him, and just from the way his dark eyes lowly and dangerously admire you, you can feel your orgasm quickly approach.
âFuck, y/nâ
The sound of your name falling from his lips to the way his body moved with yours - it was overwhelmingly intoxicating. Utterly addicting.
âUgh k-kookâ you moan between breaths, feeling the tension build up. His moves become more erratic as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.
âCome for meâ he demands in a whisper, his hand sliding between your bodies to rub on your clit.
It doesnât take long for your body to tremble under him and your breathing to form into gasps. He wasnât far behind either. And when he came he released himself into you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the soft hum of your breathing as he held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you.
âStill think itâs bad luck?â A teasing smile playing on his lips as he looks down at you.
You laugh, your fingers brushing against his hair, removing the fallen strands out of his face before your fingers find his jaw in a gentle caress. âWeâll find out soon enough, wonât we?â
He kisses you again, slow and tender this time, as if to remind you that, luck or no luck, you were his - and nothing was going to change that.
#jungkook#ugh i need him#what if i died#jungkook smut#smut#bts smut#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook bts#jungkook imagines#jungkook imagine#jungkook au#jungkook scenario#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x reader#jungkook x female reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x black reader#jungkook x poc#jungkook x you#jungkook bangtan#bts#bts army#7brownsuga7
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But you're my stepmom! (Part 9)
Word count: 2100
Warnings: mommy kink, rough sex, bondage, spanking, oral, overstimulation
Taglist: @stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos
You donât hear from Agatha after that for a day and a half.Â
You canât help but feel like you did something wrong. Was it making her pull over on the side of the road because your needy cunt was begging to be filled by her cock? Was it taking her hand with yours and holding it for the rest of the drive to get pizza? She didnât seem to mind in either moment.Â
Nothing else had happened Monday night once you two had come back to the house. She had given you a chaste kiss in the car, telling you to behave, and you had. The hug youâd given her before you left for the night was the picture of appropriateness.Â
Everything had been fine, so why was she icing you out like this?Â
Itâs sixth period on Wednesday when you finally get a response from her.Â
Youâre sitting in Biology, textbook standing straight on your desk to hide your phone, staring at your messages with Agatha.Â
Youâve sent probably close to thirty texts since Monday night, all of them going unanswered. You were confused at first, then angry, then sad, these emotions spilling into your various messages.Â
I had a really nice time with you tonight ;)Â
Hey, everything okay?Â
Agatha what the fuckÂ
Iâm sorry for whatever I did, please just talk to me.Â
Youâre wondering if you should send another one now when suddenly, the bubble with three dots pops up.Â
Sheâs typing.Â
For the first time in a day and a half, sheâs not actively ignoring you. You hold your breath, almost afraid to keep watching.Â
Sorry I havenât replied. Come over after school?Â
No explanation for the radio silence. You feel bitter and debate not answering just so she gets some kind of semblance of the hell youâve been going through.Â
But itâs Agatha and she has you under her spell. You canât imagine not obeying.
Okay. You type back.Â
You get a gut feeling that tells you something is wrong.Â
Fuck. Did your dad find out about you two? The thought sends your heart racing and nausea climbs into your throat.Â
You tell yourself that surely your dad wouldâve said something to you if he had found out that you and his wife were fucking. This rational thought helps a little bit but you know that something isnât right. So if itâs not that, then what is it?
You completely pour over every single interaction youâve had with Agatha and this consumes you until the last bell of the day rings. You donât even remember walking across the hall to seventh period but you clearly must have.Â
On the drive to your dadâs house, a pit grows in your stomach with every turn that brings you closer to an inevitable confrontation. You absolutely hate conflict. Â
You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Your palms are sweaty and your heart feels like itâs pounding in your throat. You remind yourself to breathe.Â
Agatha opens the door and moves to the side to let you in. âHey,â she says quietly.Â
And that sets you off. ââHey?â Thatâs all youâre going to say? I havenât heard from you since Monday! I texted you like a million times and you say âhey?â What the actual fuck, Agatha?âÂ
Pain flashes in her eyes and then itâs gone. âIâm sorry, sweetheart. Things were happening, I was busy.âÂ
You scoff and roll your eyes. âWere you also busy when you fucked me in your bed? In your car? When I went down on you on the couch and made you cum harder than my dad ever did?â You wish you hadnât brought up all those memories because now youâre angry and turned on.Â
At the mention of your dad, she grabs your wrist with a bruising grip and drags you upstairs. She brings you into her room and shoves you against the wall with unnecessary roughness, her lips catching yours in a harsh kiss. She bites your lip so hard that your mouth fills with blood and you hate how hot you find it when she licks it off her own lips.Â
âAre you okay?â You ask, seeing the black glint in her eyes. Something is off.Â
But she doesnât answer, only slides her hand up to clasp your throat. Your breath hitches in spite of yourself and her eyes darken. âDo you trust me?âÂ
âYes,â you say without thinking. You know you shouldnât let her touch you until she explains herself, but you are too desperate to feel her hands on you again. Her face lights up in a wicked way and she leads you to the bed and shoves you down so your stomach is on the bed, ass in the air. She flips your skirt up and you shiver at the cold air on your bottom.Â
You can almost hear her grin as she slides her fingers up and down your covered slit. Itâs embarrassing how wet youâve become from her practically manhandling you.Â
âGood,â she says and her hand cracks down on your ass. You gasp and lurch forward on the bed, the sting clearing all the thoughts in your head.Â
âFuck!âÂ
Her hand tangles in your hair and she pulls you up so your back is now flush against her front. âCount for me,â she whispers lowly in your ear and then lets you go so you fall back onto the bed.Â
âOne,â you say weakly.Â
She spanks you again and your hands grapple with the bed sheets.Â
âTwo.âÂ
Again.Â
âThree.â The pain has started bleeding into pleasure and you begin slowly rocking your hips against the bed to release some of the tension building between your legs.Â
âAh, ah,â she tuts, hands grabbing your waist, holding you still. Her fingers dig into the skin and you inhale sharply. âDonât move.âÂ
âMommy,â you beg, panting for more. You have to tense your muscles so you donât start grinding again after she slaps you again. âFour.âÂ
âAlmost done, sweetheart,â she coos, rubbing her hands on your ass cheeks, soothing the burn. Agatha literally has to peel your underwear off because of how wet you are. She then spreads your thighs even more and takes in the sight of you. âOh, baby, you like this a lot, donât you? Youâre dripping onto the bed.â
You keen and nod your head pathetically.Â
âLast one. Youâre being such a good girl for mommy.âÂ
You arch your back in preparation, but this time, she smacks her hand straight on your pussy, fingers landing directly on your clit. You cum from just the bit of stimulation with a guttural moan and she watches in awe as your body contorts.Â
âFive,â you say weakly, once youâve come down from your wave of pleasure, just in case she wants you too. She laughs and flips you over, not giving you any time to recover before burying her head between your legs. Your back shoots off the bed and your hands immediately find purchase in her hair when her tongue gives you a filthy lick but she stops.Â
âNo touching,â she warns.Â
âBut, mommy!â you protest.Â
She stands up and walks to her nightstand, your cunt cold against the air now that sheâs not near you.Â
Agatha pulls something out and walks back over to you. âMove to the top of the bed,â she instructs. You do without hesitation. She climbs on top of you, showing you the two lines of rope that were behind her back. You whimper involuntarily. âAre you okay with this?âÂ
âYes,â you rasp, too quickly and she chuckles evilly. She leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips and then she makes quick work of tying you to the bed banisters.Â
âNot too tight?â She checks and you move your wrists experimentally. You feel like with the right amount of force, you could free yourself if you needed to.Â
âTheyâre good,â you say, voice clouded with lust. âCan youââ And then you stop, unsure if itâs okay to ask.Â
âWhat do you want, baby girl?â Her fingers stroke your thighs reassuringly.Â
âCanyoufuckmewithyourcock,â you spit out. She raises an eyebrow, silently prodding you to slow down. You try again, forcing yourself to pause after each word. âCan you fuck me with your cock?âÂ
She groans out loud. âSuch a good girl, using your words like that. Since you took my spanking so well, I think I can arrange that.â She goes back to the same drawer where the restraints were and pulls out her harness and strap. She shimmies out of her pants and hastily gets ready for you. Your hips have started undulating ever so slightly in anticipation.Â
She climbs back on the bed, rubs her strap-on against your opening to lube it up, and then slowly pushes in. You immediately feel better with the fullness, your anxiety at Agathaâs weird silence the last few days ebbing away. She gives you a second to adjust to the size and then starts fucking you like an unhinged woman.Â
She snaps her hips with every fast thrust, pulling a strangled noise out of you each time. Youâre both panting with the exertion and one of her hands finds your throat again. She squeezes and your cunt clenches around her cock, making it harder for her to move.Â
âMommy, fuck, yes,â you sob, the pleasure making you lightheaded. All of your senses are completely overridden by her. All you can feel is Agatha and you wish more than anything you could touch her. But being tied up and completely at her mercy is driving you absolutely crazy. âIâm so close.âÂ
You can feel her smirking against your skin where sheâs leaving bite marks and then soothing the spots with her lips. She keeps fucking you just right.Â
âDonât cum yet,â she says, voice gruff. You whine and she grabs your chin with the hand that was around your throat and turns it roughly so youâre making eye contact with her. âWho do you belong to?âÂ
She picks up the intensity of her thrusts, if possible. Youâre teetering on the edge. âYou, mommy, only you!â You wail.Â
âGood girl,â she purrs. âCum for me.â As if youâd be able to stop yourself.Â
Your second orgasm hits you much more intensely and you canât stop chanting her name as she fucks you through it. Your mind goes blank for a second in the bliss.Â
She pulls out slowly, leaving a gaping emptiness inside you. It doesnât stay that way for long, though, because after she takes the strap and harness off and throws them across the room, Agatha moves down the bed and thrust her tongue into you. She sucks your clit into her mouth and you gasp at the stimulation. Itâs too much as she eats you out with renewed fervor. Â
âMommy, fuck,â you mewl and strain your wrists against the ties. âIt hurts.âÂ
She pauses for a moment to look up at you through hooded eyelashes. âYou can give me one more, canât you?âÂ
You nod meekly and she grins, diving back between your folds. It doesnât take much for her to coax you back to the edge and a few minutes later, youâre crying out her name when you cum for the third time, her hot mouth knowing exactly what to do to make you scream.Â
You wince as she gives you one last lick and then she climbs up to pull you into a deep kiss. Her tongue moves into your mouth with raw hunger and you go to put your hands around her before you remember that youâre tied up. Agatha notices that youâre struggling and smirks before untying you. You move your stiff arms around to get the blood flow back.Â
âHow was that?â Agatha murmurs.Â
âReally good,â you answer honestly. Your brow furrows. âAre you okay? You seem a little off.âÂ
She doesnât say anything, just lies down on her back on the bed. She motions at you and you cuddle against her body, head resting on her shoulder. Her arm comes around you and you draw soft patterns on her stomach, enjoying the feeling of her warm skin.Â
You almost forget that you asked her anything and youâre about to drift off to sleep when she whispers, âYour father is having an affair.âÂ
#agatha harkness smut#agatha harkness x fem!reader#agatha harkness x reader#agatha x reader#agatha x you#agatha harkness x you#kathryn hahn x reader#agatha smut#agatha all along
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6.5: baby ă series m.list
note: oh my gawd ,, my friends !!! iâm so sorry for the wait! i was in my finals szn & tryna figure things out w my courses for my next sem ⌠meanwhile ,, this entire ch has been brewing and consuming my mind like crazy! hope u guys enj ,, pls pls pls lmk what u guys think !!! iâm so glad i can finally push this ch out so lets fcking tawk abt it đŤ
warnings: making out, mini fingering moment, raw sex, grinding, thigh humping ? ass slapping, pussy eating, 69, doggy style, cum shots & filming / sex tape vibesâŚâŚâŚ dirty talk / name calling <3 lol !!!
taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic âc2uâ // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!
đˇď¸ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main
fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @ellesalazar @bloopkook
//
Jungkook was afraid of this.Â
From the moment he first made you laughâoh, he knew he was fucked. Something inside him twisted and turned until his mind found ease from your very touch. Then, suddenly and all at once, every fiber in his body surrendered. Though he didnât do the best job, he still tried. He tried his best to resist you and the feelings his heart felt. As his heart found rest with yoursâit was then he realized that it was no use.
He was addicted to you.Â
Itâs like heâs a child all over again, tasting his favourite chocolate bar for the first time. Itâs like heâs a timid high schooler trying weed and getting so high, that heâs already making plans to do this again tomorrow. Or, itâs like heâs a man falling in love for the first time.Â
For real.Â
No bullshit, just the plain and boring truth. No, he wasnât only addicted to you⌠Jungkook is falling in love withâ
âCute room.â You step into his room and shut the door behind you. The room is dim, only lit with his warm lamp light and a few candles placed around. It looked romantic and for some reason, it did not scare you. If anything, it entices you.Â
He was so thoughtful.Â
Before you can look around any further, you feel Jungkookâs body embrace yours. He wraps himself around you, holding you tight by your waist and digging his face into the crook of your neck. He kisses you behind your ear, causing you to giggle from the ticklish feeling. At this moment, you take in the scent of his freshly washed hair.
Is it odd to say this has to be one of your favourite scents? Youâve grown to like it. If anything, you canât help but feel a little disappointed when you see him and his hair isnât a little damp. Something about him being freshly showered makes your heart race. His damp hair is a symbol of his priorities⌠And that priority is you. Not to mention, wet hair has got to be the most romantic look any boy could have⌠Youâve always told yourself that as a child. Now, here you are: standing in a room with a damp-haired boy clinging to you.Â
Nothing makes you happier than this.Â
âI think Yuna saw meâmmfphh,â your words are interrupted by Jungkookâs lips. He greets you with a peck before continuing to kiss you like itâs his last dying wish.Â
His hands find their way to your hair, cupping your jaw as you kiss him back. Your lips sync together as if itâs been a lifetime since you two last did this.
Only it wasnâtâit hasnât been.
It feels like it though.Â
âMiss me much?â you ask, breaking away from the intense kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, wasting no time and letting his hands travel inside your shirt. You feel his fingers trace over your bra, quickly finding the clasp and undoing it with his one hand.
Impressive, you must admit.
Should you be mad at that?Â
Jungkook smirks, âfuck around and find out.â
A small laugh escapes your lips as you raise your arms. He lifts your shirt over your head, leaving your top exposed. Your bra is barely hanging on and Jungkook canât keep his eyes off your breasts.Â
âHow about a hi first?â
âHi ___,â he obliges. Then, he taps his fingers together, bringing them close to his lips. Like a menace, he grins. âWell, well, well⌠What do we have here?âÂ
Playfully, you roll your eyes at him and respond by taking the bra off yourself. You fling it at his face, just enough for it to land perfectly on top of his hair. One cup covers his face and he takes a breath in.Â
âSmells like you.â
âSmells like my boob sweat, you pervert.â
He takes the bra off from his face and licks his lips at the sight of your bare chest. âI can keep it in my pants⌠You on the other hand⌠A few nights ago? Drunk? You were coming on to me. Hard.â
You huff. âI was drunk.â
âYou also said youâd hold my hand⌠Without arguing with me.â
âWhat? That doesnât count. I was drunk.â Your words come out fast. It almost sounds defensive and harsh. âJungkook, I was drunk.â
âOh, I know.â He shrugs, taking the high road. âNo need to be so uptight about it. Itâs okay to hold hands, you know? The same way itâs okay to be obsessed with me, baby⌠This is a safe space.âÂ
The audacity! More than that, you wince at the pet name. âWho the fuck is baby?â
Jungkook ignores your question and takes a step closer to you. As he does so, he takes his shirt off. He then tosses his shirt to the side of his room where his laundry hamper is. As you turn your attention back to him, your eyes fall on his pelvis area as he begins to undo his pants. Then, he pauses when he notices your gaze.Â
âDo it for me.â
You raise a brow.Â
âPardon?â
âTake my pants off,â he points at the floor. âGet on your knees and take my pants off.â
For a split second, you hesitate. Earlier tonight, as you made your way over, you thought about what kind of mood he mustâve been in. Youâve seen Jungkook happy, irritated, tired, and even hangry⌠But horny in a needy and demanding way? Boarder-line desperate? Never. His doe eyes and goofy attitude canât fool you⌠Youâve wondered about this.Â
Youâve waited for this side of him.Â
Perhaps it was your curiosity that answered for you because, without breaking eye contact, you fell to your knees. Jungkookâs gaze lowers as you bring your hands to his crotch. You palm him, feeling his cock and gulping at how hard it already was. Faintly, you hear him snicker at your submissiveness.Â
He likes this.Â
Slowly, you undo his pants and tug them down. In his Calvins, his raging boner greets you. Just as you slip your thumbs in between the fabric to pull them down, Jungkook grabs your wrists and pulls you to stand up. You follow his lead, confused.Â
âI thought I was going toââ
Jungkook undoes your cargo pants buttons and tugs them down. He gives you no warning as he licks his thumb and slips his hand inside your panties. You feel his wet thumb rubbing your clit. Your breath hitches as he draws circles and then adds another finger into the mix. He deepens his rubbing, slowly but surely dragging his fingers around your folds. Jungkook then shifts his hand placement, quickly inserting a finger inside of you. The shock sends shivers down your spine and completely takes your focus. He adds another finger and it earns a lewd moan from you.Â
âOoh my godââ
Then, he stops.Â
He takes his fingers out and examines the wetness. Your eyebrows furrow together, completely unsure of the pace heâs going at. How long would this last? Why couldnât he just continue?
âSorry, were you enjoying that?â Jungkook asks innocently.
Itâs official: you hate him.
Dumbfounded, you shoot him a glare. âMaybe I was. Who knows? I wasnât finished.â
Jungkook exchanges with laughter. âFinished? Five minutes in? Pookie, you give me way too much credit.â
You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at how cocky he is. Truth be told, this suited him. The nasty comments and the edging⌠It feels like this shouldâve happened before. Itâs hard to explain but he just looks so comfortable with control. In a more unexplainable wayâyou canât help but feel comfortable with it.
âCome on,â he nods towards the bed. âIf you wanna finish, you should do it sitting on my face.â
His words make your tummy flip. Was he serious? The texts he sent prior to this.. You were so sure it was all talk. The most you expected was a quickie and a few nasty exchanges⌠But this? You donât know what to think.
Jungkook lays on his bed first, gesturing you to follow.Â
âAre you serious?â
With a flat tone, he answers: âWhy would I joke about this?â
To be completely honest, he was a little offended you werenât taking him seriously. Of course, heâs serious about eating you out. This was no joke to him.
Crossing your arms, you look at him in disbelief. âYou want to do everything you texted me? Jungkook, there are people downstairs. Our friends are downstairs andââ
âI know,â he groans. âThatâs why you need to shut the fuck up and sit on my face already. The longer we take, the more they will wonder where you are. Didnât you say Yuna saw you come up here?â
âY-yeah,â you recall. âMaybe we shouldnâtââ
He hits his bed with his fist like a child. âWhy do you always deprive me?â
You gasp at his dramatic question. âDeprive you? Itâs just my body, Jungkook. Do you crave pussy this bad?â
Tilting his head, he looks at you softly. âYou,â he breathes. âI crave you.â
A silence falls between you two, followed by a heavy sigh.Â
âLook, Iâm never going to make you do things with me if you donât want to. Iâm only demanding tonight because I justâI really need you right now. If you want to go downstairs and find Yuna, go ahead. We can do this another time⌠I just thought you missed me just as much as I missed you.â
âGaslighter.â
He chuckles, attempting to hide the smile on his face as you get on the bed. Moving closer to him, he watches your hands roam from his abdomen to his jaw. Placing chante kisses on him, he stutters his words. âIâm s-serious. Itâs fine. Itâs just pussy.â
âBut itâs my pussy.â
âTrue,â Jungkook agrees, leaning back and watching you place yourself on his thigh. âSo fucking true, pookie.â
You lean in to kiss him. His lips chase yours when you pull away, only to grind your hips. He feels your wet pussy on his thigh and he feels like he could choke on air. Itâs torture watching you throw your head back at the sensation. You canât help but embrace the feeling of relief.
âYouâre not finishing on my thigh,â he mutters, placing his hands on your waist. He lifts you just enough for you to get off. Laughing, he squiggles down the bed so you have more space. Before you know it, youâre making yourself comfortable on his face. As you straddle yourself on, you make a confession.
âW-wait, Iâm scared! I donât want to suffocate youââ
âShut the fuck up.â Jungkook snaps, unable to watch his tone. âThis is literally all Iâve ever wanted so you need to shut the fuck up and let me have this.â
âOkay, okay,â you snicker lightly, as you sink into his face. âBut seriously! I donât want to crushââ
You donât even finish your sentence. Youâre cut off by the feeling of Jungkookâs hot breath against your pussy. Then, you feel his nose against your clit and the texture of his tongue brush against your folds. The feeling shocks you, causing you to lift yourself out of reflex. Just as quickly, Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you to stay.Â
âJ-Jungkook, I canâtââ
âYes, you can. You can and you will, got it?â he hisses. âHold the fucking headboard if you need to. You arenât going anywhere until your cum is on my tongue.â
You do as he says.
You lean forward, grabbing a hold of his headboard for support.Â
Just as those thoughts immerse your mind, you feel him dragging his tongue across your folds. It begins slow and soft. It feels like kitten licks and if the word cute was a feeling⌠This was it. Then, he flicks his tongue and itâs everything but cute from here on out. You want to jolt, but you keep what Jungkook said to you in mind. Besides, there is no place in the world you would rather be at than here. Jungkook eats you out like heâs a starved man. He doesnât miss an inch of your pussy and tightens his grip around your thighs each time your body twitches.Â
Biting your bottom lip, you hold in your moan.Â
He feels so good. His tongue against your wet pussy feels so fucking goodâitâs almost comical how you were so hesitant to do this. Soon enough, you let go of the headboard and search for his hands. Like second nature, you and Jungkook intertwine your fingers together and finally, you close your eyes and give in.Â
You can have this.
You can have him.
âY-you feel so good,â you confess shyly. âYou make me feel so good.â
Jungkook smiles against your pussy as you begin to roll your hips against his face. He knew it would take some time, but youâd eventually come around. No pun intended.Â
âC-close,â you utter in between heavy exhales. âJungkookâIâm close! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!â
You hold his hand tighter and push your weight on him harder. You feel him quicken the pace as he licks you andâholy shit.
Are those stars?
You cum.
Messy, wet, and hard.Â
Jungkook moans against your pussy, taking a moment to bite your inner thigh. Your legs practically shake, causing you to completely rest your weight on his face. After a few moments, you gather whatever energy you have left and shift your position. You turn your body around and line yourself with his cock. Jungkook stretches his neck out to figure out what youâre doing. Before he can comment, your lips are already placing kisses on his dick. Your fingers dig into his Calvins and pull them off.Â
âW-what are you doing?â He asks, voice shaking from anticipation. He wasnât an idiot. He knew what you were doingâhe just couldnât believe it. Heâs so fucking lucky.Â
â34 plus 35! Do the math,â you tease. âKeep it up, okay?â
Jungkook laughs, pinching your ass in response. âKeep up with me then.â
âIs that a challenge?â
He rubs the spot he pinched your ass and shakes his head. âI already have one point⌠Doubt youâre gonna catch up.â
âYou could nut twice,â you suggest. Then you turn your head and shake your ass in his face. âFor me? So weâre even.â
Jungkook bites his lips. âThen it wouldnât be a completion.â
âI hate losing.â
âSo do I.â Jungkook then wastes no time. He digs himself in you again, flicking his tongue at all the right times and places.Â
You groan, hating how much you love this. You try to focus. After pumping him a few times, you stuff his cock in your mouth. Moaning from how thick he is, you suck him off. Your cheeks begin to feel a little sore after a few minutes, but by then his dick is up. Heâs as hard as can be and you can even feel his veins come out more and more. Every time you pull his cock out, you make sure to be as loud as you can. The pop sound makes Jungkookâs blood rush to his dick and the way you suck him so sloppy and hard only reminds him of the time you did this in his car. That night, Jungkook had never felt more attracted to you.Â
Your jealousy had consumed his every thought for days after.Â
Just like that, Jungkookâs stomach twitches. He feels a rush and it goes straight from his dick and out.
Like a loser, Jungkook cums and whimpers loudly.Â
âF-fuck yes. Holy shit, ___.. Just like that⌠Mhmm,â his breath hitches. âFuck!â
Lips pressed against his dick, you let his cum spill on your face. Mostly, it hits your nose bridge and your upper lip. You shift off of Jungkook and kneel in front of him. He gulps, watching you with longing eyes. You stick your tongue out, bring your fingers to where his cum landed and taste it. You lick your lips and swallow with a cute moan.Â
âYummy.â
He hisses, and immediately takes you by the waist. You giggle, unable to stop it from becoming a laugh. âDid that turn you on, pookie?â
Jungkook glares at you, swiping a bit of his cum with his thumb. Without warning, he then shoves his thumb into your mouth. As you suck, he cups the rest of his hand around your jaw and ravishes at your beauty.Â
A layer of sweat makes you shine, and the strands of your hair on your forehead never made you look so beautiful to him before. Your lips are perfectâpuffy and tainted with his cum. Your eyesâgod, your eyes⌠Theyâre smiling at him and he swears he has never felt his heart flutter like this ever.Â
As you sit on top of his dick, you roll your hips against it. When you do this, both of you watch it happen. You lean back, planting your hands on each side of his legs. Jungkook watches as your folds drag and split open against his cock. You canât help but let out hitched breathes as you take in the feeling of his member. How his veins feel against you. How his soft skin feels as you soak it with your wetness.. All of it.Â
All of him.Â
âYou like that, hmm? You like grinding on my cock with your pussy all wet?â He pries, turning up his dirty talk. âCome on, baby⌠You know how I like it, right? Why donât you be a good girl and put it in? Sink into it like the little cockslut you are⌠For me?â
You moan, hissing his name. âJungkook, shut the fuck up. Just enjoy this.â
As punishment, you rub yourself on him harder. Each roll of your hips has more pressure and his dick feels like itâs going to explore. He watches, hating you more and more as his head turns red. You hump his cock, moaning at the sensation.
âHoly shit,â Jungkook whines. âIâm not gonna last even if you ride me.â
âLoser.â
He chuckles, too lazy to put up a fight. âLetâs go doggy, please.â
You think about it. âBeg for it.â
âVery funny.â Jungkook doesnât wait for your response. He tosses you over and gets on his knees. You arch your back and get taken aback when Jungkook swiftly places a pillow under your stomach. You turn back to give him a confused look.Â
âYou might cramp.âÂ
Huffing, you bite back. âI wonât cramp. Youâre gonna nut before I cramp.â
He rolls his eyes at you and tells you to shut up. You bite your bottom lip, even more excited and eager to feel him. Doggy style isnât your favourite⌠But for some reason, it feels hot. Doing this with Jungkook makes your mind spin and you arenât sure if your playful remarks are masking how nervous you are. Underneath your teasing, you have no idea how youâre doing or saying any of these things. How are you even doing this with him right now? Itâs fucking wild.Â
âGonna put it in now,â Jungkookâs voice sounds a little parched at this point. âIf you cream my dick, can I film it?â
His question catches you by surprise.
âYour face wouldnât be in it⌠And y-you donât even have to say yes. I just⌠I miss you sometimes and I think about fucking you a lot so a video would beââ
âI trust you,â you say, flipping to face him. âHonestly? Iâll film a bit of it. Bet itâll get you off in the future.â Then, you reach over his nightstand and swipe on his phone to the camera icon. You hold it and press record. Jungkook smirks and you zoom into his face.Â
âCute,â you laugh.Â
Again, Jungkook rolls his eyes but loves every moment of this. You go back on all fours and hold the camera out. It captures half of your face, a bit of your boobs, and your ass. Jungkook places himself at your rear. You watch from the screen as Jungkook spits on his dick before he pushes himself inside you. He thrusts a few times before you let out a moan.Â
You bite your lip for the camera and let a giggle escape in between Jungkookâs thrusts. His breathing gets heavy as he picks up the pace and fucks you harder.Â
âJ-Jungkook,â you whimper.Â
âLouder,â he commands as he fucks you. You close your eyes, taking in how good he feels inside you. Heâs throbbing. Heâs so fucking big.
âOh my god, Jungkook! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder! Please, please, please!â
âSay my name,â Jungkook growls. âSay it louder.âÂ
âFuck me,â you ignore his request. âYouâre so big. Iâm so fucking lucky. I love it. I love your cock so much!â
He slaps your ass.Â
âSay my fucking name.â Jungkook pushes himself deeper into you, taking his time doing so. You hate how slow it feels now. âWhose making you feel this way? Youâre so wet taking my cock in. Donât be a bad girl⌠Are you a bad girl?â
âN-no,â you cry, feeling each thrust intensify.
âWhat are you then? My little slut? My fucking cock hungry slut? You wonât even say my name⌠Youâre just a dirty bad girl. Fucking disrespectful at this point.â
âNo, Iâm not!â you feel tears begin to jerk in. âI love your cock too much to disrespect itâI,â you catch your breath, âIâm not a dirty bad girl!â
âWhat are you then? Because if you were a good girl, youâd say my fucking name⌠Say it. Be a good girl and say whose fucking cock youâre going to cream.â
âJ-Jungkook!â
âLouder.â He pauses, leaving his cock to twitch inside you.Â
âPlease⌠Fuck me so good I cream your cockâŚâ
âNo. My name. Say my fucking nameââ
âOh my god, Jungkook!â
He smirks. Â
Jungkook loves this so much. It does more than feed his egoâit ignites it.
He loves the way you say his name. He loves the way you call for him and how soft your tone gets when the sentence gets to his name. He absolutely fucking loves it.
âYes, yes, yes!â you sob as he continues to fuck you. He fucks you rough, sloppy, and messy. You feel his dick slip in and out so easily that the friction is pure pleasure.Â
âJungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook,â you chant. âIâm not a good girlâIâm justâŚďż˝ďż˝
âYouâre what?â
âIâm your girl,â you exhale. âR-right?â
Jungkook loses it.Â
He fucking loses his mind.
Hastly, he leans over and grabs your tits. He fucks himself into you more and more, while biting your ear and kissing your neck. You moan and whimper, watching how hot it all looks on camera. Jungkook then rides his orgasm, not leaving you behind. He takes his phone from your hands and begins to film himself fucking you. The camera captures his dick going in and out of your pussy. How your ass bounces each time it hits his pelvis. It captures his breathy moans and his hushed, âfuck, fuck, fuck.âÂ
âJ-JungkookâIâm gonna cum! Oh my god, oh my god.â
And you do.
You cream his dick. As he pulls in and out of you, the camera catches your creamy release on his dick.Â
It doesnât take much after that. He isnât sure if itâs just the heat of the moment or the fact that your brain is all fucked out by nowâit doesnât matter. The words that escaped your lips were enough. Jungkook cums hard and loud. He groans, hissing as he spills himself. You gasp when you feel his cock pull out of you harshly. Jungkook slips his one hand under you and flips you on your back. As you lay there, you watch as he pumps himself. He then aims his squirts of cum at your tits, and films as they land over your nipples. His breath is shakey from the relief and tiresome act and yours is the same. Except, you canât help but let out a lewd giggle.Â
Holy fuck, this was such a workout.
Like earlier, you take your finger and swipe some of his cum off your breast. Bringing it to your lips, you lick it and smile sweetly at him. He chuckles as he films it and you laugh. Really, you laugh for real. Then he laughs and offers you high-5.Â
You laugh even harder, especially as you recall this being your reward. Even though itâs childish, you accept his gesture and feel special. Slamming your hand onto his, you lock them together and tug him towards you. He ends the recording just before he collapses on you.Â
After all that, finally, you two share a kiss.Â
A deep, soft, and much-needed kiss.Â
The addiction to you was no different than an adrenaline junkie getting ready to jump off a cliff. No, there was no turning back.Â
Your lips were addictive. The sweetness of everything your body would give himâit was like a fucking reward. Every saliva exchange, every drip from your pussy, to every tear shed while he digs himself deeper and deeper into you⌠He wants them all.Â
As sick as it sounds, heâd lick it all up just to have you in him even more. Just to be close to you. Just to be closer.Â
Every inch of you, he wants to devour.Â
Like a starved man, heâd fall to his knees and beg for an ounce of kindness. A chance to satisfy youâa simple kiss, deepened by the second. Hands intertwined as you spread your legs for him as he places himself in between.Â
As he leans his forehead against yours, he sneaks in a few pecks. âI canât believe we have a sex tape.â
You roll your eyes. âPerv.âÂ
âYou consented,â he sings happily. âDo you want me to delete it?â
You shake your head as he makes himself comfortable. âNo⌠Send it to me later though. I miss you sometimes too.âÂ
A hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he snuggles into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him. Jungkook digs his face into his favourite spotâaside from your pussyâthe cook of your neck.Â
Sometimes.Â
You miss him sometimes?
Thatâs a funny way of saying always.Â
The muffled sound of music blasting downstairs and people chatting becomes evident. Yet, you two stay silent. Laying together, fingers and legs intertwined. Naked.Â
When was it ever this easy? Why did this feel so right? Being with Jungkook has never been difficultâbut when was it like this? When did things change? The sudden realization of the words you said while you two were intimate hit you. Were you really his girl? Did you want to be? Would he accept you if you asked?
Not only that butâwhen did you⌠When has itâŚ
When did this begin?
These feelings.
Thereâs a tightness in your chest you canât explain. Something that has been around for a while now. Long enough that you donât remember when it first occurred and began to glow whenever he was around. What the fuck is up with that?Â
As he fucked you tonight, thatâs all you felt. Your heart was glowing. The closeness with himâregardless of how nastyâit was so special. It felt so good and like nothing youâve ever felt. As you trace random things on his back with your nails, you hear him murmur, âmhmm⌠Yup. I love it when you do this, ___.â
It startles you.
When did you begin doing this? Being so intimate with him? Scratching his back, drawing hearts with your fingernails⌠When did this all happen? He says it like this isnât the first time youâve done it. Then, it gets hot. Suddenly, you notice how sweaty you two are and how itâs way too comfortable in his bed with him. You sit yourself up, causing him to follow.Â
âIâm glad you came.â
âPun intended?â
Jungkook pinches your cheeks and presses a kiss on your nose. âWhatever you want.â
You shove him away and get up from his bed. At least, you attempt to.Â
Your legs feel shaky. He quickly holds you by the waist and catches your stumble. Looking up at him, you huff. âLook at what you did!â
âWhat?â he panics.Â
âJungkook, I canât fucking walk!â You begin to freak out. âHow am I supposed to go downstairs and act normal? Yuna is gonna ask so many questions andââ
âRelax,â Jungkook sets you down on his bed. âI got you.â
You sit and pout as he heads to his bathroom. When he returns, he has a black shirt and pants on. He holds a damp towel and collects your clothes off the floor. Jungkook kneels in front of you and begins to pat wipe your sweaty skin. First, your forehead, neck, and then he uses a face towel to wipe his cum off your breast. Then, he continues to pat dry your arms and in between your legs.Â
Without exchanging words, he helps dress you. The entire time, he was careful and used a soft tone whenever he did speak. For the most part, he just looked at you lovingly. That look in his eyes⌠You know in your heart you will never forget.Â
When youâre all dressed, a good enough time has passed for you to recover. Not fully, but just enough. Jungkook helps you get up and you hiss at the initial soreness.Â
âRound two?âÂ
You hit his chest and roll your eyes. âYouâre fucking insane, you know that?â
âInsanely hot?â
âWhatever you want.â
He isnât sure what to do.Â
You laugh it off, but he doesnât. He canât. He doesnât know how. As you two look into each other's eyes, he feels his heart race.Â
He should just say it, right? Itâs easy.Â
Spit it out.
___, do you want to go out with me?
Or should he do a whole confession?
___, weâve been doing this for a while now⌠And I think Iâve grown an unhealthy attachment to you. I miss you when Iâm not with you. When Iâm with you, I never want the moment to end. Being close to you has to be my favourite part of living.Â
But when he opens his mouth to speakâ
âShould we go downstairs? I need water.âÂ
He blinks.Â
âY-yeah,â Jungkook reaches for the door. Then, as he turns the door knob, he stops himself. âOne more kiss, please.â
Without a fight, you tiptoe and kiss him. Smiling into the kiss, he leans more into it and gropes your ass. You hit his chest playfully, signaling him to pull away. With great sadness, he does so.Â
âIâll go out first.â
Your words cut him deeper than a knife.Â
Right.
You two arenât dating.
You two are just fuckingâin secret, at that.Â
âWhy canât we leave together?â he asks, sounding a little desperate. âYou said it yourself. You donât really care if people know or not⌠I doubt anyone will even care.â
Shrugging, you nod. âSure,â you answer him. âIâm not trying to hide us or anything⌠I just donât really want to be questioned⌠But, considering I canât really walk right nowâŚâ
He laughs, feeling like he saved himself from sadness.Â
âCan we hold hands?â
You give him a face. âDonât push it.â
âBut you saidââ
âI was drunk!â
Jungkook laughs, as he opens the door. Stepping out together, he locks his bedroom door as you continue bantering. Pushing past everyone in the hall, he canât help but feel a sense of relief.Â
It was a small thing. Leaving the room together and even suggesting to hold handsâit was a long shot but here he was.
With you.
Lingering fingertips and all.Â
As you two head down the stairs, youâre immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies. Jungkook leans into your ear and whispers, âahh⌠See? Weâre blending right in.âÂ
Heâs talking about smelling like sweaty sex.Â
You bring your hands to your face, covering yourself and the shyness that rushes to your cheeks. He laughs and you hit his chest for the nth time tonight.Â
âWhy are you covering your face? Itâs like I didnât just see you naked. Like I didnât fuck youââ
âOh my god!â you cover his mouth and look around to see if anyone heard what he said so bluntly. âI know I said I donât care if people knew but can you relax? Donât be so proud you fucked me.â
âWhy shouldnât I be?â Jungkook says sincerely. âDo you have any idea how admired you are?â
âSo Iâm a prize?â you laugh. âWhat a joke.â
Jungkook gawks at you.Â
âDo you have any idea how hard Iâd try to win you if this was the fucking hunger games? Iâd die for you.â
You snort. âDid you even read the seriesââ
âNo,â he snickers. âBut you get what I mean, right?â
âNot reallyâŚâ you trail, turning your head in an attempt to avoid eye contact. You arenât too sure where this conversation was heading and perhaps you arenât ready for whatever he has to say next. âCan weââ
âI wonât get all gushy and all because youâre going to get all self-conscious and then retort by saying I have post-sex feelingsâbut just know youâre it. The standard. A prize. Endgame.. All of it. Youâre it.â
Too stunned to speak, your lips curve into a small smile. âJungkookââ
â___!â
You and Jungkook turn your heads and see Yuna approaching with Taehyung. She smiles brightly, practically throwing herself at you. You catch her, hug her, and tilt your head in confusion as Taehyung whispers something in Jungkookâs ear.Â
Jungkook lowers his gaze at you, gulping as Taehyung finishes his exchange and steps away. Then, Taehyung offers you a short lived smile.Â
âHey, ___. How are you?â Taehyungâs voice is calm and sweet⌠Itâs so opposite from how suspicious heâs acting.
âGoodâŚâ you say with your eyebrow raised. âWhatâs going on?â
Yuna tugs on your arm. âNothing!â She sneers at Taehyung and gives him a warning look. âWay to be discrete.â
âYou said to follow your lead! You arenât doing much so Iââ
âYouâre the worst partner in crime ever!â Yuna scolds him.
You shake your head at the two, feeling at home with their bickering. Taehyung and Yuna act like such a married couple most of the time theyâre togetherâyou were used to it at this point. In between their bickering, you glance at Jungkook who hasnât taken his eyes off of you.Â
For some reason, you canât make out what the look on his face is. He didnât look happy, but he didnât look sad either. He wasnât angry⌠He looked⌠Eager? Worried? In agony?
âYou okay?â you ask, moving away from Yuna and to Jungkookâs side. He slides his arms around your waist. You let him.Â
Pulling you close, his lips shape into a pout. You cup his cheeks and squish them together. âJungkook?â
âWanna go back upstairs?â he suggests, resting his face on the palm of your hands. âWanna get out of here? Iâm suddenly not in the mood.â
âTo what? Party?â
âTo be anywhere without you.â
âBut Iâm here.â You reason.
He shakes his head, insisting something else. âBut not youâre here with me⌠You know?â
You do know.Â
âS-sure,â you agree even though a part of you feels hesitant. Not that you donât want too.. More like youâre nervous and afraid of what itâll lead to. More feelings? More sex? You donât think you can go another round. âWhere should weââ
â___ baby!âÂ
Your head turns to your name being called by a familiar voice.Â
From the corner of your eyes, you see Taehyung and Yuna exchange disappointed looks. Just as youâre about to ask whatâs going on, Seokjin and Eunwoo approach you.Â
âEunwoo,â you greet warmly. You step away from Jungkook and hug him.Â
âYou havenât been answering my texts⌠Where have you been? Iâve been looking for you,â he whines like a child. You laugh lightly and tiptoe to ruffle his hair. Though it��s only been a few months, he hasnât changed. He still acts like a lost puppy. âJungkook, whatâs up?â
Jungkook dabs Eunwoo up with low effort. You give him a confused look, wondering why he was acting all sulky all of the sudden. From what you recall, these two are friends. As Eunwoo greets Yuna and Taehyung, Seokjin greets you rather drunkenly. Then, he excuses himself to piss. Everyone rolls their eyes at his behaviour but let him do what he needs to.
âCan we talk?â Eunwoo asks bluntly. His question breaks the ice, but wins a wide-eyes from you all.
You tilt your head. âWhat about?â
âUs.â
Instantly, Jungkook feels like heâs being punched in the face. No, he wishes he was being punched in the face. Being punched in the face would be more enjoyable than standing here in between you and Eunwoo.
He has only tried a handful of times to ask and understand what happened between you and Eunwoo, but he never pressed it. Right now, he wishes he had. If he had, maybe he wouldnât feel so threatened right now. But he didnât and he does. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying his best to mask his feelings.Â
Was there still something between you and Eunwoo? Were you still texting him? Is Eunwoo who youâre with when youâre not with him?
All these thoughts and self-doubt flood Jungkookâs mind.Â
It sinks and his insecurities make a home as you nod politely and follow Eunwoo away from the crowd. Away from him.
Not even a goodbye?
As you slip away, Jungkook sighs. How did you do that? He feels disappointed and hurtâoffended even. How dare you pick someone else over him? Though no feelings between you two were expressed or exchanged in a way where commitment and exclusivity would be the trade-offâstill, this wasnât fair.
How could you walk away? Like it was easy? Like you werenât just with him seconds ago?
It aches.
It hurts so bad that it even his anger is weak.Â
No matter how much he wants toâhe canât blame you.Â
He never asked you out.
âI like the way you look at her,â Yuna comforts Jungkook by patting his back.Â
âHuh?â Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts. âWhat do you mean? Look at who?â
Yuna nudges him and gives him a âyouâve got to be kidding me,â look. Then, she explains herself. âI always knew you were nice. Taehyung talks about the shit you put up with and the things you do to please people⌠Like how you joined the team again after they begged you to even though you felt burnt out⌠How you always limit your drinking so youâre sober enough to walk ___ home. How you come over and take care of her when sheâs piss drunk and probably gave you a hard timeââ
Jungkookâs eyes get shifty. âHow do you know about thatââ
âDoesnât matter. She didnât tell me shit, though. She doesnât know I know and weâre going to keep it that way.â Yuna pokes Jungkookâs chest.Â
He furrows his brows. âWhy does everything have to be a secret when it comes to ___?â
Yuna doesnât have an answer for him. Instead, she continues her little speech.
âYouâre a nice guy⌠But to ___, youâre kind. Itâs in your gaze. Itâs in the way you always offer yourself to her. Itâs in the way youâre her friend above all elseâIâm so thankful youâre who you are when youâre with her. You look at her like sheâs your entire world⌠I donât know if you even know thatâbut thatâs how you look at her. You look at her and itâs⌠Itâs like sheâs the only person in the world.â
Jungkook hates the words Yuna speaks. Partly because theyâre all true and partly because he doesnât know what to do after. Yuna squeezes his shoulders and he feels like he could cry.Â
âCan you tell her Iâll be in my room? Waiting for her?â Jungkook pleas.
Yuna nods and excuses herself to find you in the crowd. Youâre throwing your head back, laughing at whatever Eunwoo whispered in your ear. When Yuna approaches you and passes the message, you find Jungkookâs eyes from across the room.Â
You smile at him and wave.Â
He stands still, not knowing what to do. Before you know it, you watch him pick up his feet and head back upstairs. He doesnât look back.
Yuna did tell you heâd be in his room⌠So thatâs probably where heâs headed. In your mind, you make a mental note to go upstairs and figure things out with Jungkook in ten minutes.Â
Youâll give Eunwoo ten more minutes... The rest of the night can be for Jungkook.Â
Upstairs, Jungkook sits on the edge of his messy bed. Knees to his chest, he thinks about how fucked up everything got in a matter of moments. Did it really just take one conversation with your ex to lose you as quickly as he got you? Is this the reality of being a fuckbuddy?
He hates it.Â
Jungkook clenches his fits, recalling the words Taehyung said to him.Â
âEunwooâs tryna get back together with ___⌠I donât know why itâs so important to Yuna but she said she tried to talk him out of it. Yuna said to get ___ out of here? Again, I donât know why⌠I thought Eunwoo was Yunaâs favourite for ___ but Iâm guessing not anymoreâŚâ
It was comforting to know that Yuna was on Jungkookâs side⌠But did it matter if you werenât? Youâre downstairs, talking and probably making plans to get back together with your ex.
Meanwhile, Jungkook sits in his room and waits until his eyes betray him. They flutter shut, falling asleep to the faint sound of your laugh downstairs and to the hope of you fulfilling a promise you never made.
In the morning, Jungkook wakes up and cries. He cries out of frustration and hurt. His heart feels heavy, like it could collapse and be broken. He has never felt so betrayed before.
And itâs pathetic because even thenâespecially thenâhe still waits for you.
#bts fic#bts smut#jungkook smut#jk x yn#jk smut#jk angst#jk uni au#bts uni au#bts x yn#bts scenario#jungkook scenario
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hiii, i hope youâre doing well đ¤ may i please request a hurt comfort with thomas hewitt? itâs up to you whatâs the context going to be, i just want a little bit of angst with happy ending of course! much love, anon <333
roots run deep
WARNING: Mild descriptions of injury, emotional hurt/comfort, dark themes
PAIRING: Thomas Hewitt x Reader
NOTE: Hi anon <3 Thank you for such a gentle request, and Iâm so glad youâre here! please donât hesitate to send more like theseâthey mean so much. sending all my love back to you, take care of yourself <333
SUMMARY: When an accident leaves you broken and feeling like a burden, Thomasâs quiet strength becomes your unexpected salvation.
Thereâs a peculiar peace in painâone that swallows the world whole, silencing every other thought, reducing everything to that sharp, all-consuming sensation. But today, even in the agony threading through your limbs, thereâs no peace, only a hollow ache of shame and something youâre not sure you can face. You feel like a burden. An inconvenience. And with every second that Thomas tends to you, patching your wounds with hands too large and too gentle for this world, that feeling deepens.
It was a stupid mistakeâa misstep on uneven ground, sending you crashing down hard enough that you could feel the sickening crunch echo through your bones. Youâd always thought you were sturdy, that nothing could break you, but lying here, helpless beneath the careful hands of a man like Thomas, you feel as fragile as glass.
He works in silence, as he always does. The only sounds are the creak of the floorboards beneath his weight, the soft shuffling as he moves around, gathering whatever he thinks will help ease your pain. You can barely look at him, your gaze fixed on the rough, weathered ceiling above as he wraps your ankle in a makeshift bandage, his fingers brushing against your skin with a softness you didnât know he had.
âThomasâŚâ Your voice is weak, barely more than a whisper. You want to tell him to stop. To tell him he doesnât have to go through the trouble, that youâre not worth it. But the words catch in your throat, thick and choking, and you can only lie there, your breaths coming in shallow, trembling gasps.
He pauses, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. You can see the concern in his eyesâa deep, wordless worry that tugs at something inside you, something youâve tried so hard to bury. He doesnât say anything; he never does, but thereâs an understanding there, a quiet reassurance that fills the silence between you.
He nods once, a slight, almost imperceptible motion, and resumes his work. His hands are steady, unwavering, as if heâs done this a thousand times before. Maybe he has. Maybe heâs patched up wounds far worse than yours. Or maybe he just knows what it feels like to hurt, to be broken in ways no one else can see.
You want to say something, to break the silence hanging heavy between you, but you canât find the words. They tangle and knot in your throat, a mess of emotions you donât know how to unravel. So you lie there, letting him work, feeling the warmth of his hands seep into your skin, grounding you, tethering you to something solid, something real.
As he finishes, he pulls back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. Thereâs something in his eyesâa softness, a tenderness that catches you off guard. Itâs a look youâve seen only once before, in a moment so fleeting youâd thought youâd imagined it. But now, seeing it here, with his hands still hovering over you, you know itâs real.
And it terrifies you.
Youâre not used to kindness. Not the kind that comes without strings attached, without expectations. It feels foreign, strange, like a language youâve forgotten how to speak. But Thomas⌠he doesnât need words. He never has. His actions speak louder than any words ever could, a silent promise that heâll be there, that heâll stay, even when you canât stand on your own.
âThank you,â you whisper, the words barely audible, but he hears you. You know he does, because his gaze softens, his hand hovering over yours for a heartbeat before he pulls away, as if heâs afraid to break you further.
Thereâs a part of you that wants to reach out, to take his hand in yours, to let him know that youâre here, that you see him too. But you donât. You canât. The weight of your own shame, your own self-doubt, holds you back, rooting you to the spot.
But Thomas doesnât push. He doesnât ask for anything more than you can give. He simply stands, his hulking figure casting a shadow over you, a silent guardian in the dim light of the room. You feel safe here, in his presence, in the steady rhythm of his breathing, in the quiet strength he radiates.
As he turns to leave, you feel a pang of something you canât quite nameâa longing, a need for him to stay, to keep that silence filled with his presence. You donât want to be alone, not tonight. Not when the weight of your own thoughts threaten to pull you under.
âThomas,â you call out, your voice barely above a whisper. He stops, turning to look at you, and for a moment, you see something in his eyesâsomething soft, something vulnerable, something youâve never seen before.
âWill you⌠stay?â The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel your face flush with embarrassment, but he doesnât laugh, doesnât look at you with pity. He simply nods, a silent agreement, and settles down beside you, his massive form filling the space, grounding you in a way nothing else can.
You sit in silence, the room filled with the soft sounds of our breathing, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace. A sense of belonging. Thomas doesnât need words to make you feel safe, to make you feel understood. His presence alone is enough, a silent promise that youâre not alone, that you donât have to carry this weight on your own.
In the quiet, you feel his hand brush against yours, a tentative, hesitant touch, as if heâs afraid to break the fragile peace between you. But you donât pull away. You let him take your hand, let his warmth seep into you, filling the empty spaces inside you with something you canât quite name.
Itâs love. Something you havenât felt in a long time.
#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt x reader#leatherface#leatherface x reader#the texas chainsaw massacre#slasher#slashers#slasher x reader#slashers x reader#x reader#ask#request#fanfic#oneshot
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OH SHIT I BETTER SEND THIS IN QUICK uhhh can i get some dr. ratio or screwllum cuddling/general fluff? im very tired and i think that could fix me
- i think you know who this is đ
warmth
âŚft! dr. ratio, screwllum x gn! reader
âŚtags! fluff, lotsa snuggling!!!!, non sexual nudity (ratio)
âŚwc! 323; 412; = 735
âŚnotes! MY FRIEND I KNOW YOU!!!! âŁď¸ty for the request here it is!!! small and cute <3 also!! give it up for the new character banners!!! lmk if you liiiike <3
Veritas Ratio
âCare to join me?â
Veritasâs voice reaches your ears. You glance up at him, his figure relaxed in his bathtub through the bathroom door. His head is thrown back to look back at you.
âSorry?â You clarify, folding a book closed over your thumb.
âYouâre exhausted, evidently, seeing as how you havenât moved on from that page in a number of minutes.â
Your face flushes in embarrassment. Nothing can get past your loverâs keen observations.
No use in arguing, you rationalise that Veritas has a point (like always). You slip off your clothes and join him in the bathtub. His hands land on your shoulders and rub down reassuringly. Heâs welcoming you to relax â surprisingly tender, gentle.
As he rubs in some body wash, Veritasâs voice sinks you further into relaxation; âcare to explain why youâve been neglecting your rest?â
âItâs not like Iâve been wanting to,â you reply.
âThat doesnât answer my query, love.â
You sigh as you feel Veritas kiss the top of your head. You explain everything â your stresses as of late, and the overwhelming urge to just sleep forever. Youâre so tired.
He hums in thought, violet hair falling in front of coral eyes. Oddly unmanaged in such an intimate place. âWe can figure out some ways to rectify that later. For now, allow me to take care of you. Is that alright?â
A small giggle slips from your lips â Veritas is always asking permission. If you were anyone else, he wouldnât be so soothing. Itâs nice to know that you were special in that way. A warmth teasing to consume you whole as Veritas washes and rinses you down.
Yes, and it shall continue to grow as you are entangled in sheets later, his strong arms wrapped around your body. Rest. What was once unfamiliar becomes so easy with Veritas helping you.
You are inclined to believe that you had the best sleep of your life that night.
Screwllum
âWould I really be all that comfortable?â
âOh shush, youâre plenty comfortable.â
Screwllum sighs (or at least makes a similar sound to one) at your refusal to accept that he might not be the greatest snuggle partner in the world. Itâs no secret that heâs a gentleman in every sense of the word, but something like cuddlingâŚ
You canât say he doesnât try, resting your head on your chest and a hand in your hair. He pets you softly as another arm is lazily resting over your back. This way you wouldnât really feel any metal underneath the layers of clothes.
âI hope you realise that I can feel how tense you are,â you hum from buried into the ruffles of Screwllumâs shirt.
âA-Apologies, Iâm trying my bestââ
âAre you nervous?â
As soon as you bring up the question, Screwllumâs already blank face seems to somehow blank more. Even if he is inexpressive, the message speaks volumes.
Fans whir louder in the silence.
You canât help but burst into giggles. âI canât believe it! All ready to fluster me with hand kisses and whatnot, but you fall apart as soon as we lay together!â
Screwllum stutters, trying to find some way to acquire his dignity back. âI just wish to please you⌠Iâm not exactly the most popular choice for a romantic partnerâŚâ
âBut youâre my choice,â you shoot back, leaning up to place a kiss on Screwllumâs face plate, the one where a mouth normally would be. The fans only prove a traitor to Screwllum as they whir louder.
The genius can only silently accept his fate as you smother him with kisses all over his metal encasing. âDare I askââ heâs cut off by one of your many mwahs! âWhy do you torture me soâŚ?â
You lean back, resting your chin on Screwllumâs chest again with a satisfied grin.
âWhen you get all shy, you get toastier.â You snuggle closer into a hug. âThis is why youâre the best cuddler â you warm me up!â
Screwllum doesnât react at first save for the heat dispelling from his body. Then dignified yet comfortable laughter slips through. You feel something land on the top of your head. You look up to see that your lover has placed his hat on your head and is ruffling your hair through it.
âWhatever will I do with youâŚ?â He asks aloud.
âSnuggle me, maybe.â You cheekily grin.
Screwllum hums. âWell, suppose Iâll just have to comply.â
#⎠grimm's fics!#honkai star rail#honkai star rail imagines#honkai star rail x reader#hsr#hsr imagines#hsr x reader#screwllum#screwllum x reader#screwllum imagines#dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio imagines#veritas ratio#veritas ratio imagines#veritas ratio x reader
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I LOVED the Xaden kisses one so i was wondering if you could do the same for liam ? there just isnât enough content about my boy liam đ
Yes! Thank you so much for waitingâmy brain decided to take a little vacation there for a minute.
The Temple Kiss
This kiss is so soft it might as well be a feather. Liam isnât afraid of pressing his lips to your temple, and he does so often, with the ease of someone whoâs made a habit of loving you. He does it when youâre sitting together, his chin tucked just over your shoulder as if you were always meant to fit there. Itâs his way of sneaking affection into quiet, unassuming momentsâwhen the two of you are watching a sunset in comfortable silence or sharing stories late into the night.
Itâs a kiss that lingers without lingering, an unspoken âI see you. Iâm here.â
And when you turn to him afterward, smiling because he has to know what heâs done, Liam only shrugs with that familiar, lopsided grin. âWhat?â he says, pretending innocence, though you both know better. He wasnât trying to be charmingâbut he absolutely was.
And it always works.
The âI Missed Youâ Kiss
These kisses carry a quiet urgency, born not of desperation but of a deep-rooted fear that Liam doesnât often speak aloudâthe fear of losing you. Whenever youâre gone, no matter how long, thereâs always a small part of him that aches with the thought of you not coming back.
So when he sees you again, he doesnât say a word. He just pulls you inâone arm wrapping tightly around your waist like heâs afraid youâll slip away, the other hand tilting your chin up so youâre right there, just for him. Liam kisses you like youâve been apart for years, a kiss thatâs deep but unhurried, consuming but never overwhelming. Itâs a silent âYouâre mine, and I need you to know that.â
When he finally pulls back, itâs only because he has to, and heâs breathlessâjust a little. That grin tugs at his lips, the kind that makes your heart stutter, and he murmurs softly, âYouâre back.â
You realize he missed you just as much as you missed himâif not more.
The Laughing Kiss
Two souls that know how to laugh with each otherâthatâs what you are. It only takes one look, one mischievous glint in Liamâs eyes, to send you both over the edge, cracking up over something no one else would find nearly as funny.
This kiss? Itâs clumsy and unplannedâtwo smiles colliding in the middle of your laughter, as if neither of you could resist the pull of being this close. Youâre laughing too hard to take it seriously, and Liamâs just as guilty, pressing fleeting, scattered kisses wherever theyâll landâyour cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lipsâbetween breathless chuckles.
âHold still,â he grumbles playfully, though his hands on your face are warm, and his grin betrays him every time.
Itâs the kind of kiss that happens after teasing remarks and inside jokes that send you both into fits of giggles, the kind that leaves your ribs aching in the best way. When you finally catch your breath, you glance at himâhis shoulders still shaking with laughter, his eyes crinkling at the cornersâand you canât help but think heâs just as beautiful when he laughs.
Maybe even more so.
The Hand Kiss
Sometimes Liam is dramatic about itâgrabbing your hand with all the exaggerated flair of a storybook hero. Heâll bow low, eyes twinkling with mischief, lips grazing your knuckles as though heâs swearing fealty to you in front of an invisible court. âMâlady,â heâll quip, voice teasing, because he knows exactly what heâs doing.
But other times, itâs quieter. His lips brush your knuckles absentmindedly, a fleeting moment of softness when the world falls away. It happens when youâre sitting side by side, his fingers curled around yours, and heâll lift your hand to his mouth as if itâs second natureâlike leaving a kiss there is a routine as familiar to him as breathing. Almost a need.
Thereâs no grand declaration, no showmanship in those moments. Itâs Liamâs way of reminding himself that youâre real, that youâre here, and that heâs lucky enough to hold you.
And in those quiet kissesâwhether playful or tenderâthereâs an unspoken truth: Liam admires you. Deeply, wordlessly, in ways you might not always see.
Because sometimes love is loud. And sometimes itâs the gentle press of lips against skinâsoft, and constant.
The âGood Morningâ Kiss
Itâs soft and unhurried, the kind of kiss that feels as lazy as the first rays of morning light spilling through the room. Liamâs voice is rough with sleep, a low, groggy âMorning, you,â whispered against your skin. His touch is languid, fingers tracing gentle lines as he pulls you closer beneath the blankets, like even the thought of letting go is unthinkable.
Sometimes itâs a kiss to your cheek, his lips curling into the faintest smile when you groan in protest at being woken up. Other times, itâs a deliberate kiss to your lips, meant to rouse you with the soft press of affectionâand the faintest edge of something more. Heâll chuckle, voice still gravelly, when you blink up at him, all sleepy and dazed. âCouldnât help myself,â he murmurs, because apparently Liam Mairiâs idea of a perfect morning is showering you with love before youâve even said a word.
And the way he looks at you afterâsoft eyes, easy grin, like nothing else mattersâmakes you certain of one thing: waking up next to you really is the best part of his day.
Honestly? Youâd argue itâs the best part of yours, too.
The âI Love Youâ Kiss
Thereâs no mistaking itâthis kiss is different. Itâs deep, passionate, and it leaves you breathless, like Liamâs pouring every unsaid word heâs ever felt into it. His hands cup your face, rough palms warm against your skin, holding you as though youâre something irreplaceable.
The first kiss is a promise. Itâs sure, like heâs trying to anchor you to the truth of his feelings. But itâs never just one kiss. He pulls back only briefly, just long enough for his gaze to catch yoursâa flicker of something raw and realâand then heâs kissing you again, deeper this time. Itâs not rushed, but thereâs a need to it, an urgency that says âI love you. I need you to know that I really, really do.â
Time seems to slow, the world falling silent around you, until finally, Liam pulls back, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His voice is barely more than a whisper, rough with sincerity. âYou know that, right? How much I love you?â
And the way he says it leaves no room for doubt. Itâs love you can feel in every kiss, every lingering touchâfirm, consuming, and absolutely real.
#â¨ď¸by yours trulyâ¨ď¸#fourth wing#fw#fourth wing x reader#liam mairi#liam mairi x reader#what a dork#hahah#the empyrean#the empyrean series
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Intense reflections
ËËË Sylus has a thing for your red lipstick ËËË
Sylus Ă Reader
Love and Deepspace
Words: 2,325
tw: just kissing, touching and sexuala tension (ăťĎ<)
ao3
Sitting at your vanity table, you carefully apply your deep red lipstick. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see Sylus sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on you with intense focus.
His gaze devours you and it makes you feel nervous, knowing that every movement of yours was being observed and savored by his blood red eyes. The way he looked at you was like an aphrodisiac to him, evident in the dilation of his pupils. They were intense and all consuming, taking in every shift of your body and every brush of your hand against your lips. The way he looked at you made you feel both exhilarated and nervous, as if he was under a spell.
You try to will your body to ignore his overwhelming presence, but your hand betrays you with its trembling. Nervousness consumes you, causing your heart to quicken and your breath to catch in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels heavy on your skin as you struggle to keep your composure.
As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you can't help but feel confident and beautiful. Tonight is a special event and Sylus has invited you to be by his side. He picked out a stunning dress, heels, and accessories for you, all according to his own taste. You couldn't complain even if you wanted to, because everything he chose is exquisite. You marvel at how he always manages to have such impeccable taste and give you gifts that take your breath away with their beauty and value.
You push away your thoughts and refocus on applying your lipstick. You part your lips slightly and glide the lipstick smoothly over them, feeling his intense gaze on you. After skillfully applying it with clean edges, you gently tap the middle of your lips to blend it in. As you focus on achieving an even application, you suddenly hear his deep rumbling voice.
"That color suits you well, sweetheart" he commented, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. You couldn't help but shiver slightly as his words washed over you.
You smile and continue to apply your lipstick, determined to get it perfect.
"You look especially stunning tonight" you hear his voice deepening even further, if that was even possible. "I can hardly contain myself until we arrive at the event."
You pause with your lipstick mid air as you glance at him in the mirror. âPardon?â
He gives you a mischievous grin and for a moment, you could have sworn that his eyes were glowing with a deep red lust.
"You heard me, sweetheart. How many times do you think I can refrain myself from ravishing you in that beautiful dress?"
Slowly, he rises from the bed and approaches you from behind. You can sense his warmth as he stands close to your back. His fingertips trace a path down your shoulders and arms, sending an electric wave through your body. As he leans in close, his hot breath tickles your neck.
As you lift your eyes to meet his in the mirror, a jolt of adrenaline courses through your body. His strong, piercing gaze holds yours, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the intensity emanating from him, and it both intrigues and intimidates you. Your heart races as you try to keep your composure under his unwavering stare.
His voice, a low growl, whispers,"Have I told you just how beautiful you look tonight?âŚI can't seem to tear my eyes away from you, even for a moment..â
You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, causing you to swallow nervously. "I can see that..."
His lips travel down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. You feel his hot breath against your skin, sending tingles down your spine. He slowly takes your earlobe into his mouth, nipping it gently with his teeth.
âYou should see yourself.. so beautiful and so deliciously tempting" he whispered between the kisses.
He reaches out and grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. His gaze travels over your features, focusing on your plump, red lips. A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he considers you.
"You know what would be an exquisite accessory?" He says slowly, his voice low and tinged with a hint of mischief.
Staring into your eyes, his gaze filled with a fierce, almost primal desire, before his words slowly reach your ears. "A lipstick mark..made by youâŚ"
"And where do you want it?"
He leans in, his face inching closer to yours as he takes in every detail of your features. With a gentle touch, he runs his thumb along your chin, observing your lips contour, before speaking again in a hushed tone.
"I want it right here.." He reaches up and taps his neck just below his left ear, his gaze never leaving your own, a silent request in his eyes.
"Are you sure? Because everyone at the event is going to see it.."
He grins, his eyes darkening slightly as he gazes at you, his hand still gently holding your face.
"That's exactly why I want it. So that every single person that looks at me tonight, knows that you're the one who put it there.."
As the tension between the two of you builds, the room seems to shrink, the only thing that matters is the desire that courses through you both. You realize that, for him, this is not just about the lipstick mark, it's about claiming him as your own, making sure that everyone who sees him will know that he is yours... and yours alone.
The certainty in his voice is undeniable, and you find yourself capitulating to his desire, knowing that you can't resist the pull of his unyielding gaze. As you lean in towards him, the room around you fades into the background, and you see only him, only this moment. Not as if you weren't already seeing only him.
His hand still caresses your face, guiding your lips towards the spot he had indicated. The soft texture of his neck meets the warm feeling of your coated lips.
The fragrance of his cologne mixes with the creamy texture of your lipstick. The touch of his hand on your nape grows firmer.
As you slowly pull away, you look back at his face and can observe his gaze shifting from the mirror back to your face. Was he looking at the moment through the mirror?
Sylus, however, seems to be lost in his own thoughts, a mix of satisfaction and desire in his eyes. A slow smirk appears on his face as he locks his gaze with yours, seemingly enjoying the sight of your slightly smudged lip.
He brings his hand up and slowly, gently, traces the outline of your lip with his thumb, his touch surprisingly tender in this moment.
"I have a proposition for you, sweetheart⌠I might be greedy.. I want more, but not in a place where everyone at the event can see..."
"The question is, are we still planning on attending that event?" you ask with a playful smile.
Sylus can't resist returning a grin, his gaze filled with mischief and desire. He leans in and pulls you closer to him, his arms encircling your waist as he speaks in a seductive tone.
"I don't think so ... not when there are much more... interesting activities at hand..â
Sylus doesn't waste any time. As soon as the words leave his lips, he grabs you and pulls you down onto the bed with him. He lands on his back, the impact of your body on top of his sending a thrill through his. He looks up at you with a sultry smile, his hands now roaming over your curves.
Sylus lays there, his shirt untucked from the impact, his chest lowering and raising in front of you. He looks up at you with a cocky smile on his face.
"Come on sweetheart, I know you can unbutton the shirt on your own... unless you want me to take this honor from you?â
You glance down at his chest, the muscles shifting beneath the fabric as he moves, and a fire ignites within you. With a fierce determination, you reach for the top button of his shirt and begin to unbutton it slowly. Each button undone, amplifying the tension between you two.
Sylus' eyes never leave your face as you continue to work on his shirt. The fabric slowly parts, revealing the smooth skin that lays beneath and the defined muscles.
You pause for a moment, your fingers hovering over his abdomen as you take a good look at the man beneath you.
A smirk playing at the corners of his mouth "Don't be shy ⌠I know how badly you want to touch me..â
With a deep breath, you let your fingers trail lightly down Sylus' chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. You can feel his muscles flexing in response. His eyes, dark with desire, never leave yours.
Leaning in closer, you press your lips against his chest, just below his collarbone. The deep red lipstick leaves another mark against his pale skin.
You continue your journey, kissing a trail down his chest, leaving crimson marks as you go. Each kiss grows more insistent, more fervent. Sylus' hands are on your hips, his grip tightening with every press of your lips.
You move lower, feeling the tension build between you. His shirt is now fully open, exposing his sculpted torso to your eager mouth. You pause just above his navel, looking up at him through your lashes.
"How many more do you want, Sylus?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.
"As many as you can give" he replies, his voice husky with desire.
With a playful grin, you rise from the bed and make your way to the vanity. You lean over the table, making sure to showcase your curves as you touch up your lipstick. Turning back to face him, you saunter towards the bed where he sits up eagerly, his eyes dark. With a confident hand, you push him onto his back and he lets out a low groan of both frustration and satisfaction at your eagerness.
He looks up at you, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Don't get me too riled up, sweetheart ... I might not be able to hold myself back.." he murmurs.
Your lips move lower, gliding along the lines of his abdomen with a possessive touch. Each kiss leaves a mark of passion, branding him as yours. The heat from his body envelopes you, filling your senses with desire that rolls off him in intoxicating waves. As you reach the waistband of his trousers, you lift your gaze to meet his.
Sylus stares down at you, his hair framing his hooded eyes, that are a dark red now, filled with an almost feral hunger.
âAre you trying to tease me?â
As he grabs you by your waist, Sylus flips you onto your back with a swift, fluid motion. He hovers over you, his gaze intense and unwavering. He traces the marks you've left on his body with a reverent touch, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and obsession.
His hands come on your body next, roaming as if trying to memorize every curve, every dip. Without hesitation he slides his hand under your dress, running his fingers over your hip.
"You've marked me enough, sweetheart " he says, his voice deep and rough. "Now it's my turn."
He leans over, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear. His kisses are slow and purposeful, each one sending tingles in your chest.
Sylus continues to explore your body with his hands following his lips, discovering every inch of you. His touch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to writhe and arch in response, craving for more. He pauses momentarily, his hands tracing the curves of your hips before he speaks, his voice heavy with desire.
âI will have you nowâ
Your breath hitches as his words send a surge of desire through you. You reach up and grab his face, pulling him down to meet your lips in a hungry kiss, meant to devour each other. The passion between you is undeniable, and you know that you are both ready to let go of everything else and just be in this moment.
Sylus breaks away from the kiss, his eyes burning with desire.
You open your eyes to look at him, but you can't hold back your giggles.
His expression turns serious. "What's so funny?â
âYou have some lipstick on your lips... and around themâŚâ you try to hold back another giggle.
As he registers your words, he runs his fingers over his lips. He looks down at his them and notices the red smudges. He frowns, trying to appear offended, but a grin involuntarily creeps onto his face.
"You're enjoying smudging me all with your lipstick, sweetheart?"
You simply smile and shrug, trying to play it cool. "I couldn't resist."
Sylus chuckles, the sound warm and deep. "You laugh about me sweetheart, but you don't see yourself right nowâŚâ he leans closer and talks with a deep rumbling tone, "You are not looking put together eitherâ
With that, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, completely covering your lips with his. The kiss is slow and sensual, his tongue gently exploring your mouth as his hands begin to trace your body once more.
You can feel the passion building between you, and you know that there's no turning back now.
âSylusâ you whisper, your voice trembling with need.
"What sweetheart?â He looks deeply into your eyes.
âDon't stopâŚâ you beg, your voice barely audible.
A satisfied smile spreads across his face. âI wouldn't dream of it.â
I can make a part 2 if you guys want
#love and deepspace#lads#l&ds#lnds#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#l&ds sylus#love and deepspace fanfiction#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3#fanfiction#lnds fanfic#lads fanfic#l&ds fic#sylus
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LYING HAS TO STOP PT.2
pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader
summary: grief stricken, you learn to cope with neteyam's absence. after five years it is finally time for the family to return to the forest, will you still be waiting for him?
author's note: my period came today and my womb feels like it's on fire please send help
itâs been days since neteyam left. since he tore your heart from your chest, as easily as you might pluck a flower, and carried it away with him across the sea, to a place youâve never seen, to a people you donât know. days, but it feels like an eternityâeach minute dragging its feet, stretching thin with the ache of his absence.
your world has shrunk, contracted into the suffocating space of your marui, the woven walls pressing in on you, tight and unrelenting. the forest feels distant, untouchable, as though the trees themselves have pulled away from you, retreating into a haze of memory. you havenât eaten, havenât gathered, havenât done anything at all, really. the thought of food turns your stomach, the very notion of sustaining yourself without him here feels obscene. your body is weak, fragile, a hollow shell that threatens to shatter under the weight of your grief.
and the clan knows. of course they do. your absence is like a gaping wound in the fabric of the village, noticed by all, pitied by many. sympathetic eyes follow your mother wherever she moves, people murmuring soft words in passing, their concern trickling down like droplets of rain on the dry earth. but those words, those glancesâthey feel empty, like theyâre echoing down a dark, endless tunnel. they pity you, yes, but none of them understand the depth of what youâve lost. how could they? how could anyone, unless they too had given their soul to someone and watched as it slipped away?
they whisper when they think you canât hear: she misses him so much. the poor girl. how long can she go on like this? as if your heartbreak were something measurable, something that could be weighed, dissected, and then tucked neatly away. but the truth is so much messier than that, so much darker. the pain is a beast, coiled around your chest, claws digging in with every breath you take, and no amount of words or gestures can tame it. you miss him with a desperation that borders on madness, a longing that gnaws at your insides like a festering wound. it is not the gentle, poetic sadness that they imagine; it is a raw, tearing agony that consumes you day and night, leaving no space for anything else.
sometimes, the elders send food to your familyâs marui, a silent offering. but the food sits untouched. you canât bring yourself to take more than a few bitesâeverything tastes like ash in your mouth. itâs unbearable to think of him not here, unbearable to imagine life without him by your side. you had never considered a future where he wasnât there. now, all you can see is the emptiness.
you lie curled in the corner of the marui, knees drawn up tight to your chest, fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the woven mat beneath you. the once-familiar texture feels strange now, foreign, as if your senses are dulled, disconnected from the world around you. your face is streaked with tear stains, eyes swollen and raw from crying until there is nothing left. you have become a ghost, a mere echo of the person you were when he was still here.
âmaâite.â
your motherâs voice is soft, but you donât need to look up to know sheâs standing there, watching you with that mix of concern and helplessness sheâs worn for days. you manage to turn your head slightly, just enough to acknowledge her presence, though your neck feels too heavy to lift fully. she kneels beside you, her hands cool and gentle as they brush back the strands of hair that stick to your tear-damp skin. thereâs no pity in her eyesâonly a quiet, unspoken understanding. she knows this kind of loss, though maybe not in the same way, not with the same fierce, bone-deep ache that claws at you every waking moment.
sheâs tried to coax you from your hiding place before, urged you to eat, to breathe in the fresh air, to let the forest heal you the way it always has. but the idea of stepping outside, of facing the world without neteyam, feels insurmountable, like your grief will crush you the moment you so much as stand.
âyou cannot live like this,â she murmurs, her voice steady but tinged with a sadness she tries to hide. âhe would not want this for you.â
her words hit you like stones, sharp and cutting, and your heart lurches painfully at the mere mention of him. you shake your head, pulling your knees tighter against your chest, like you can somehow protect yourself from the truth. âi cannot,â you whisper, your voice a dry rasp, barely more than a breath. âi donât know how to go on without him.â
she cups your face gently, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet hers. there is a strength in her gaze, a fierceness that mirrors your own, though you have none of it left now. âi know your heart is heavy,â she says softly, her thumbs brushing away the new tears that spill over your cheeks. âbut you cannot let your grief swallow you whole. you are needed here. your people need you.â
her lips press against your forehead, a kiss meant to soothe, but it only deepens the ache in your chest. you close your eyes, willing yourself to feel comfort, to let her words in.
âcome,â she says gently, taking your hand in hers. âjust for a moment. step outside. feel the wind, the sun on your skin. it will help.â
and so, you do. at first, only for a few brief moments. you force yourself out of the marui, blinking against the harsh brightness of the sun, your legs unsteady beneath you from the days spent curled in the dark. the light blinding after so long in darkness. the village bustled around you, the sounds of lifeâlaughter, voices, the chatter of childrenâgrating against your raw nerves.
it felt wrong. everything felt wrong.
the village watches you as you move, their eyes filled with quiet hope, but no one approaches. they give you space, knowing that grief is a private thing, a burden that cannot be shared.
your throat burned, tight with the effort of keeping the tears at bay. nature calls to you, as it always has, but even that feels dim now. the beauty of the forest, the rustle of the leaves, the hum of lifeâit used to bring you peace, used to ground you. but now itâs just a reminder of whatâs missing.
the spirit tree becomes your refuge, a place where you can sit and breathe without the weight of the clanâs pity pressing in on you. you sit beneath its glowing tendrils, your knees pulled to your chest, your voice barely more than a whisper as you speak to eywa, the words tumbling out in a rush of desperate hope. you beg her to watch over him, to keep him safe, to bring him back to you. you ask her why, over and over again. why did he have to leave? why did you take him from me?
but there are no answers. just the soft hum of the tree, the gentle glow of the seeds floating around you. they are beautiful, but their beauty feels like a cruel joke, a reminder that the world goes on, even when your heart is breaking.
as the months turned into years, the whispers in the village changed. they no longer spoke of your grief, but of your beauty, of your strength. you had grown in those yearsâyour body, once soft and youthful, had become strong, your muscles lean from hours spent in the forest, gathering and tending to the needs of your people. your hair had grown long, flowing down your back in thick waves, often adorned with wildflowers you picked during your walks. your attire shifted too, more flowing, more ethereal, as if you were slowly becoming part of the forest itself. you were no longer the girl you had been when neteyam left; you had become a woman, beautiful and ethereal, with an air of quiet grace that made you stand out among your peers.
many sought your hand, asking to court you, to make you their mate, but you refused them all. you had promised yourself to neteyam, and though the years had passed, though your prime had come and gone, you remained steadfast in your love for him. the village elders spoke of you often, saying you had grown too spiritual, too distant, that you would never find happiness if you continued to wait for a man who might never return. but you paid them no mind. your heart belonged to neteyam, and no one else could ever take his place.
neteyam had grown restless. five long years had passed since his family fled to awaâatlu, and though he had adapted to life among the reef people, his heart had never left the forest. he missed youâeywa, how he missed you. he still wore your bracelet, the delicate beads now worn and faded from years of saltwater, but it was his most prized possession. it was all he had left of you.
after five long years, his father had finally declared it safe for them to return to the forest. quaritch had been silent for too long, and jake was confident that the threat had passed, that they could go home. neteyam had been elated at the news. he would finally see you again. he had spent years dreaming of this moment, imagining your reunion in a thousand different ways. he would hold you, kiss you, tell you how much he had missed you. his tail flicked back and forth excitedlyâthis was the happiest his family had seen him in ages.
but then loâak had to ruin everything with his big mouth.
âwhat if sheâs already found someone else? i mean, five years is a long time.â
neteyam had laughed it off at first, but the thought lingered, festering like a wound. what if loâak was right? what if you had moved on? what if, after all this time, you had found someone elseâsomeone who could be there for you in ways he couldnât? the thought was unbearable, and yet, he couldnât shake it. it gnawed at him, turning his excitement into a bitter cocktail of hope and fear.
when they finally arrived back in the forest, neteyamâs heart was in his throat. the village greeted them with open arms, their joy palpable, but neteyam could barely hear the celebrations around him. his mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only.
you.
âwhere is she?â he asked, his voice tight with the weight of five years of longing.
moâat frowned slightly, her eyes scanning the crowd. âshe was here earlier. she may have gone to gather, or to pray.â
his heart sank. what if you didnât want to see him? what if you had known he was coming and chosen to avoid him? panic fluttered in his chest, but he tamped it down, refusing to let the fear take hold. he had to find you.
he searched the village first, asking those who knew you, but no one had seen you. frustration clawed at him, the weight of those five years pressing down on him, making every breath feel like a struggle. he needed to see you, to touch you, to know that you were real, that you were still his.
he pushed through the underbrush, his senses heightened, eyes scanning the landscape for any trace of you. he followed the paths you used to walk, the places you had once shared, hoping for some kind of sign. his chest felt tight, his breath shallow with anticipation. and then, as he rounded a bend, your scent hit himâa faint but unmistakable blend of earth and flowers, of home, almost overpowered by the salt of the sea that clung to him.
you were sitting by the stream, your back to him, your hair cascading down your back in thick waves, adorned with the wildflowers you had always loved. for a moment, neteyam couldnât breathe. his heart clenched at the sight of you, a wave of emotion crashing over him so powerfully that it nearly brought him to his knees. you looked different, older, more serene, but still so unmistakably you. time had changed you, had carved beauty into every inch of you, shaping you into something ethereal, something he could barely comprehend.
eywa, you were beautiful.
he didnât know what to do, didnât know how to approach you. five years had passedâwhat if you didnât recognize him? under normal circumstances you would've already detected his scent and turned around to acknowledge him. what if you didnât want him anymore?
slowly, he stepped forward, careful not to make a sound, but the wind betrayed him, carrying the scent of saltwater to your nose. you stiffened slightly, your hand pausing in its absent tracing of the waterâs edge. it was an unfamiliar scent, foreign in its sharpness, but something about it made your heart skip a beat. you turned slowly, your eyes wide and searching, and then you saw him.
for a moment, the world stopped. your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. neteyam stood before you, older, stronger, but still so achingly familiar. his hair was longer, his skin sun-kissed from years spent under a different sky, but his eyesâhis eyes hadnât changed. they were the same deep, golden brown that had always made your heart flutter.
the air thickened, time itself grinding to a halt as you stared at each other, drinking in the sight of one another for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
âneteyam?â you whispered, your voice trembling, as if afraid that speaking his name would shatter the fragile reality of the moment. âis this⌠a dream?â
his lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes warm as they locked onto yours. âno, i am home. i have come back to you.â
you stood slowly, your legs shaky beneath you, as if the earth itself had shifted. you took a step toward him, and then another, but you stopped just out of reach, your eyes searching his face as if trying to convince yourself that he was really there. you wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms, but something held you back. five years of distance, five years of longing, five years of doubt.
you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the silence between you thick with unsaid words, with questions that neither of you knew how to ask. and then, neteyam broke the silence, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.
âdo you⌠have a mate?â
the question hung in the air, heavy and painful, and for a moment, you didnât know how to answer. your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the fear that lingered in his eyes. you shook your head slowly, your voice barely a whisper. âno. i waited for you... just as i promised, remember?â
his breath left him in a rush, his shoulders sagging with relief. âand you?â you asked, your voice trembling. âhave you⌠found someone else?â
he shook his head quickly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. âno. i could never.â
the silence stretched between you, fragile and electric, before you both moved. it wasnât planned, wasnât thought out, but suddenly your arms were around each other, holding on as if the world itself might crumble if you let go. his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you buried your face in his chest, breathing him in, grounding yourself in the solid, steady presence of him.
you stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the weight of five years of longing and heartache melting away in the warmth of his embrace. there were no words for what you felt, for the relief, the love, the overwhelming joy that coursed through you like wildfire. he was here. he was real. and he was yours.
finally, after what felt like an eternity, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail. his eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe that everything might just be okay.
bonus:
the poor boy couldnât tear himself away from you.
it wasnât enough to sit close or brush shouldersâno, neteyam had to practically bury himself in your skin. his arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer than necessary, while his face stayed tucked against your neck, like he couldnât stand the idea of even a breath of space between you.
the night air was thick with the smell of roasted fruit, fish, and the soft crackle of the fire at the center of the gathering. drums echoed across the clearing, pulsing with the rhythm of celebration.
you could feel his breath on your skin, warm and steady. he wasnât confident tonight, though. not like usual. no, tonight he was clingy. dare you say... pathetic even, the way he couldnât let go, like youâd vanish if he blinked.
you sighed, letting your arms drape lazily around his shoulders, the weight of them pulling him closer still, and though you were happy to be in his arms again after all this time, there was something off about it. his scentâsalty, sharp, almost acrid in the way it hit your noseâwasnât the same as it used to be. you donât quite like it, the way his scent stings your nose, it clung to him, to you now, but you didn't bother to complain. you persevered, pushing through the discomfort, because he needed this, needed you.
âmissed you,â he murmurs, voice cracking somewhere between the words, too low, too broken for anyone else to hear. the kind of confession that never leaves the mouth of someone as proud as neteyam. âi was scared you had moved on.â
you frowned slightly, not because the thought was ridiculous (it wasnât, not entirely), but because of how broken he sounded admitting it. this was neteyam, the strong, steady boy youâd known your whole life. the boy whoâd never shown fear, never let his emotions get the better of him. and now here he was, wrapped around you like a lost child, his breath trembling against your neck. his tail curls, wrapping lazily around your leg.
âlo'ak made me think you were already mated.â
âlo'ak is stupid,â you muttered, though your voice was gentler than the words themselves. âyou know i would not do that.â
he nodded, but it felt half-hearted, like he wanted to believe you, but some part of him couldnât.
you shifted slightly, pulling him closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, âi am not going anywhere.â
he shuddered, his grip on your waist almost bruising now, and for a moment, you thought he might break down right there in front of the entire clan.
and maybe, in some small way, you understood. maybe he wasnât wrong to be scared. five years was a long time, and you had changed. you werenât the same girl who had watched him leave all those years ago, and he wasnât the same boy who had made you promise to wait for him.
âyou smell like the ocean,â you finally whisper, teasing, a half-hearted protest. his body tenses, the ghost of a laugh shaking his shoulders. still, he doesnât pull away. canât.
âit will wash off,â he promises, lips ghosting over your temple. but he doesnât move to let go. doesnât think he can. five years apart, and neteyamâs convinced he could spend the rest of his life breathing you in and still not get enough.
#neteyam x reader#neteyam fluff#neteyam oneshot#neteyam x you#neteyam drabble#neteyam sully imagine#neteyam sully#neteyam sully x y/n#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam x na'vi!reader#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam imagine#avatar way of water#atwow#d0llcuries stuff ęŤÂ á´á
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A Dragonâs Respite â Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Summary: It took a lot of persuasion and teasing to convince Daemon to spend an evening without distractions or work. But of course Daemon manages to add his personal touch to the evening.
Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut, masturbation (w and m)
Authorâs note:
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 1.7 k
Other stories of mine
12 Days of Smuffmas
12 Days of Smuff
The snow falls gently outside the wide glass windows, blanketing the world in a serene hush. The streets of Kingâs Landingânow an upscale urban sprawl rather than the medieval bastion it once wasâtwinkled with Christmas lights. Every building, tree, and street corner is adorned with shimmering bulbs and festive cheer. Inside the penthouse suite, Daemon sits on the plush leather sofa, his silver hair catching the soft glow of the fireplace.
You watch him with a mixture of amusement and affection as he swirls the mulled wine in his glass. Heâd reluctantly agreed to thisâyour idea of a quiet, stress-free evening. No office calls, no high-stakes business deals, no planning his next move in the corporate battlefield that he dominated. Tonight, it is just the two of you.
âAdmit it, youâre enjoying yourself,â you tease, sinking into the couch beside him.
Daemon smirks, his violet eyesâstriking and sharpânarrowing at you. âItâs tolerable,â he replies, the faintest hint of a chuckle in his voice.
You nudge him with your shoulder. âTolerable? Youâre sipping wine with me, surrounded by Christmas lights, and youâre warm for once. Thatâs more than tolerable.â
His gaze softens as he looks at you. âPerhaps,â he concedes. âBut itâs not my usual kind of evening.â
âThatâs the point,â you say, grinning. âYou work too hard. Even dragons need to rest.â
Daemon chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that always sends a shiver through you. He leans back, draping an arm over the back of the couch. âYouâre lucky I like you, or I wouldnât tolerate being called a dragon.â
âYou love being called a dragon.â
His grin widens, and you canât help but smile in return. You reach for your own glass of mulled wine, taking a generous sip. The spices dance on your tongue, warming you from the inside out. You sigh contentedly, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins.
Daemonâs gaze lingers on you as you drink, his thoughts evidently wandering. The soft curve of your lips as you sip the wine seems to hold his attention longer than usual. He isnât the kind of man to relax easily, but tonight, something about the atmosphereâand youâhas him loosening the iron grip he usually kept on himself.
âYouâve had more than me,â he observs, his voice low and teasing.
âItâs Christmas!â you declare, setting your glass down. âOr close enough. Iâm allowed to indulge.â
Daemon raises a brow. âIndulge, huh?â
You nod emphatically, the alcohol giving you a playful confidence. âYou should, too. Stop pretending you donât like this.â
He leans closer, his face inches from yours, his smirk turning wicked. âOh, I like it,â he murmurs, his voice a low purr.
The firelight dances in his eyes, and you suddenly feel the air between you shift. His hand, warm and steady, brushes against your thigh as he adjusts his position. You are acutely aware of how close he is now, how his scentâspiced cologne mixed with something inherently Daemonâwraps around you like a silken thread.
âYouâre blushing,â he points out, his tone dripping with amusement.
âIâm notâ you protest, though the warmth spreading across your cheeks betrays you.
Daemonâs smirk deepens. âLiar.â
You canât answer with words. In one fluid motion, he leans in and captured your lips with his.
The kiss is everything youâd expect from Daemon âintense, passionate, and completely consuming. His hand slides up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he deepens the kiss.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he chuckles softly. âThis,â he murmurs, âis why I agreed to your little evening. You always know how to make me forget everything else.â
You smile, your fingers trailing through his silver hair. âYou deserve it,â you whisper. âEven dragons need someone to remind them theyâre human sometimes.â
Daemon laughs, a rare, genuine sound that makes your chest swell with affection. âCareful,â he says, his voice laced with amusement. âYou keep saying things like that, and I might actually start to enjoy Christmas.â
You grin, pulling him back into another kiss. âThatâs the plan.â
His hand lingers on your thigh now, his thumb drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. His touch is light, teasing, but his gaze is anything but.
"You know," he begins, his voice smooth and low, "for all your talk about me being human, you seem to forget just how easily I can make you prove it."
You blink at him, your breath catching. "Prove it?"
He smirks, that dangerous, knowing smile that always makes you feel like you are walking into a trapâone you donât mind at all. âYou like to think youâve tamed me tonight, dragging me into this cozy little scene, mulled wine and Christmas lights. But Iâm still me, love. A dragon doesnât change its nature.â
His fingers trail just a fraction higher on your leg, enough to make you shiver. You try to mask your reaction, but his smirk told you he notices. âDaemon..,â you begin, trying to sound admonishing, but the way your voice wavers betrays you.
âWhat?â he asks, feigning innocence, though the playful glint in his eyes says otherwise. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. âYou said Iâm only human. Donât you think I deserve to feel like it tonight?â
You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words sink in. He isnât even trying to hide the teasing edge to his tone now. âAnd how do you propose I do that?â you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
Daemon chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. âFor starters,â he says, his fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, âyou could take this off. Itâs distracting.â
You shoot him a mock glare, though your cheeks were burning. âDistracting? Youâre the one who canât keep your hands to yourself.â
He grins, unabashed. âCan you blame me? You put so much effort into tormenting me with this little thing,â he says, flicking the edge of the skirt playfully. âItâs only fair I return the favor.â
His hand lingers, his touch still maddeningly light. He is watching you closely, clearly enjoying the effect he is having. You can feel the heat rising between you, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
âDaemon,â you say again, this time softer, more breathless.
He tilts his head, his expression softening just a fraction, though the wicked gleam in his eyes remains. âWhat?â he asks, his voice a low murmur. âYouâre the one who wanted me to be human tonight. This is me, being very... human.â
You bite your lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He has a way of turning every situation to his advantage, always one step ahead, always in control. And yet, there is something disarming about the way he looks at you nowâlike you are the only thing that matters in the entire world.
âFine,â you say, your voice barely above a whisper. âBut youâre not as smooth as you think you are.â
Daemon laughs, a low, rumbling sound that sends shivers down your spine. âOh, love,â he says, leaning in until his lips are a hairâs breadth from yours, âyou have no idea how smooth I can be.â
You just stand up and start to slide down your skirt.
âHappy?â You ask, but before you can sit down again, Daemon's hand is on your hip.
âNot quite yet,â he says, and his finger slides under the waistband of your tights. He slowly begins to pull them down. You look at him, âThat's not fair... why should I be the only one to take off all my clothes?â you complain, but you do him the favor... after all, he is also spending an evening with you, without any distractions from work.
âWho says you're the only one?â Daemon suddenly says, and you look at him as you hear his belt open.
You smile slightly as he pulls down his trousers. When your tights are on the floor, you sit down next to him again, grinning. He sits there in his boxer shorts and a small bulge can already be seen.
âSomeone is happy,â you say teasingly and giggle as Daemon pulls you closer.
âCareful,â he grumbles as his lips meet yours. His hand slides up your thigh and he grabs your ass lightly as a gasp escapes your lips.
âDon't be shy, help yourself,â Daemon says teasingly.
He doesn't hesitate and lets his fingers glide over the already damp fabric of your panties.
âMhm... someone is happy,â he grumbles and you bite his lip lightly in response. Suddenly he pulls you closer to him. This sudden movement makes you gasp again, your hand slides to his thigh, gripping lightly to support yourself.
âOh shut up,â you mutter, but your desire wins out. Your hand slides to his crotch and he growls slightly as his hips twitch slightly. A sound of arousal escapes your lips too as Daemon pushes your panties aside and smears the wetness along your folds.
You grind against his fingers lightly and whimper as you cup his balls lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He growls again and you feel his cock twitch. Slowly, you let go of his balls and slide your fingers up his length while his fingers lightly circle your clit, making you whimper.
Your hand pulls down his boxers and his length springs free. You bite your lip slightly and feel your pussy clench around nothing at the thought of what awaits you. But at that moment, Daemon pushes his fingers inside you and you moan out. Immediately, he feels your walls clench around his fingers.
âYou like that, don't you?â he grumbles, but only a whimper escapes your lips. Yet your fingers grasp his length, pumping him gently. He stutters out a shaky breath, a groan choking in his throat as he desperately tries to regain his composure.
âFuck... look how hard you make me,â he grunts, and his face contorts with pleasure as you continue to stroke him. You donât mind that he has stopped his movements, breathing heavily.
You lean into him again, kissing him as your hand moves faster, gripping him tighter. He grunts and you smear the precum along its length. Your pussy flutters around his finger as he adds another finger, moving again and stretching you further. His fingers thrusting in and out, his palm rubbing your clit with each thrust.
When he suddenly pushes you onto your back. You gasp but you let him. Your fingers let go of his cock as you lay back on the sofa, taking off your panties and spreading your legs for him. You whimper as he hovers over you, pumping his cock. Your fingers glide to your clit, rubbing it, and Daemon growls as his hand slides faster up and down.
âYes... rub that perfect little cunt for me,â he grunts, as his other hand slides back to your folds and he slides his fingers back into your cunt. You moan as he fingers you â his movements encourage yours to speed up.
Daemon growls, his hand pumping faster, his eyes fixed on your pussy. Drop after drop of precum drips onto your folds. Your fingers rub the precum along your cunt. Your wet walls clench around his fingers, the smacking sound of his penetrating fingers filling your room. Your moans get louder and you feel the pressure in your abdomen as his fingers push into you. The lewd, wet sounds increase your arousal and your back arches as his fingers curl against your spongy inner walls.
âDaemon,â you whimper, and he growls.
âYes... come on my fingers!â He growls, and you cry out.
Your pussy clenches around his fingers, trying to pull them deeper. Daemon feels his balls tighten and he moans. He pumps faster, watching his fingers thrust into your spasming pussy. And then he grunts loudly. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy before he cums on it. He grunts, pumps his length and milks it completely. As if in a trance, he watches wave after wave of searing hot cum cover your pussy and abdomen.
You lie in front of him, your eyes closed and breathing heavily. Daemon pants, trying to catch his breath and enjoying the sight of you.
âMaybe we should have more relaxed evenings like this,â he murmurs, and you giggle slightly before he leans down and kisses you.
#12daysofsmuffmas#12daysofsmuff#12 days of smuff#house of the dragon#hotd#daemon fanfic#daemon targaryen#daemon x reader#daemon smut#daemon fic#hotd daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen smut#modern daemon targaryen#modern!daemon targaryen#modern house of the dragon#hotd modern au#modern hotd#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon x y/n#daemon x you#hotd smut#house of the dragon daemon#prince daemon targaryen#the rogue prince#prince daemon#matt smith
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Peace
Aaron Hotchner x Reader (Aaron providing reader comfort after a tough case)
contains: no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, general cm themes, I think thatâs all? (please let me know if I missed anything!)
a/n: hi! Iâm certain something along these lines has been done before so sorry in advance for that! itâs been a long, long time since I last wrote anything so I may be a bit rusty. also the first time Iâve written for hotch, and the first time Iâve posted any of my writing on here so Iâm slightly nervous! regardless, enjoy! <3
word count: 1.56k
Youâre quiet on the drive home.
That in itself is a cause for concern. Youâre a talker by nature. On any given night, regardless of how heavy your eyes may feel after poring over a mountain of paperwork and staring at a computer screen for the entirety of the day, or how emotionally exhausted you may be after yet another gruelling case, youâre constantly full of chatter. Itâs endearing. Or, at least Aaron thinks it is. Such a stark contrast to his own mannerisms; youâre the rambler, heâs the listener.
Though he may also be weary from whatever work he has endured through any given day, he loves to listen to you talk. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he drives, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. You gesture wildly with your hands, stop midstream every once in a while to take a sharp intake of breath before carrying on with your train of thought, eyes alight with passion, no matter how mundane the topic of conversation may be. Heâll hum his assent every once in a while, nod along to show heâs paying attention, but otherwise heâs happy to let you chatter away, simply grateful for your company.
Tonight is different, though.
Tonight youâve not said a word since the pair of you left the office, and itâs worrying him.
The most recent case had been taxing. Perhaps more so than normal. Any case that involves children seems to hit the team hard, but this one was far worse. The violent nature in which the UnSub tore apart his victims was harrowing, nightmare inducing, and would stay with all of you for a long time.
Hotch had been tempted to send everyone home as soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, but hadnât. Despite his quiet, reserved love of and care for his team and their health, he knew that the paperwork following a case was vital and time consuming, and heâd rather they got it over with so everyone could go into the weekend with clear heads, and wouldnât be expected to rehash all the gory details come Monday morning. So theyâd stayed, and theyâd worked, and theyâd filtered out at 5 oâclock, a weary chorus of hushed goodbyes lying in their wake.
The bullpen was empty by the time Aaron had ushered you out to the car. Your legs had felt heavy, your heart heavier still, and had it not been for his grounding touch on the small of your back, youâre certain you wouldâve dropped to your knees and let out the most blood curdling of screams. Once in the car, heâd helped you buckle your seatbelt before climbing into the drivers seat and heading for home. The radio was switched on, at a low volume, and provided a calming soundtrack for the drive.
He wanted to speak to you, wanted to hear your voice in return. But he remained silent, his gaze flickering towards you every so often, his hands aching to reach out and touch you. You, for the majority of the journey, lay your head on the window and kept a steady gaze on the passing scenery.
Aaron was out of the car first once heâd pulled into the driveway and parked the car. You hadnât even registered his departure until he was carefully prying your door open so as not to startle you. You looked to him with a furrowed brow, the concerned look on his face almost breaking you.
âWeâre home, honey.â
Youâve no recollection of walking into the house, let alone the upstairs bathroom. But when you seem to come to your senses, you find yourself sat on the closed lid of the toilet, wringing your hands together, teeth biting at your lower lip. Aaron is leaning over the bath, the fingers of one hand trailing through the water to check the temperature, the scent of your favourite bubble bath surrounding you.
When he turns, you almost crumble. He gives you the sweetest smile, all dimples. The stoic facade he adopts when in the company of others shatters when itâs just the two of you. Heâs softer. He handles you like glass, as if you could quite easily shatter. It should annoy you, really, but it doesnât. Because itâs Aaron, and you know itâs merely his way of showing you how much he loves you.
He knows youâre strong, capable of anything - these are things he regularly reminds you of. But heâs also the first to remind you that youâre allowed to be vulnerable, to lean on others, on him, when you need to. It doesnât make you weak - it makes you human.
His footsteps echo as he walks towards you. The crack of his knees as he crouches by your feet would make you laugh on any other occasion, would have you mocking him and making jokes about how old heâs getting. But not tonight. You donât have it in you to speak right now, let alone tease him.
Lifting his hand to your face, he pulls your lip from between your teeth. With a calloused thumb, he rubs across the cracked skin, wiping up a drop of blood as he goes. Heâd usually scold you for it, but he stays quiet. Your cheek is swallowed by the entirety of his palm, and you lean into the warmth and comfort his touch always provides.
Thereâs a familiarity in his actions, as he rises to his feet and starts to help you out of your clothes, that makes your heartache. The way in which he takes charge is so reminiscent of Hotch - the leader, the boss, the grump. But thereâs a softness to him, too. The way he waits for your nod before you unhooks your bra and pulls the straps down your arms, the way his touch lingers on your skin, the way he presses loving kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, the palm of your hand.
That gentleness is only for you.
That side of him is purely your Aaron.
Once your clothes are shed and tossed into the laundry hamper, he takes your hand and steadies you as you settle into the heat of the bath water. A stifled gasp sneaks past your lips, and heâs about to apologise for the temperature. But then you sink down, relax into it, and the apology dies on his tongue.
Youâre certain heâll leave now. Heâs so in tune with your emotions that heâs confident youâll want some privacy, a moment to yourself. You prove him wrong when you grasp at his fingers, your eyes filled with a silent plea.
Stay.
So he does.
He settles himself on the edge of the bath, strong, calloused fingers inching through your hair, scraping at your scalp. Your eyes flutter closed and you once again relax into his touch. You truly canât remember the last time you felt love like this, so completely safe with another person, your heart fit to burst. And you want to tell him. Want to thank him, to whisper how much you love him as though itâs a secret for just the two of you. But your throat is hoarse from holding back tears, so youâll figure youâll tell him later.
You have time.
Aaron is diligent as he helps you through your routine. He washes your hair, warns you to close your eyes as he rinses the shampoo out, watches as it collects around you in the water. His fingers feel wonderful on your scalp as he massages in your conditioner, and again as he washes it away. Heâs careful not to be too rough as he takes a wash cloth to your face and your body. And when he presses a kiss to your lips once youâre clean, his heart swells at the smile you give him.
Itâs only a small thing. If heâd have blinked, heâd have missed it. But itâs the first smile heâs seen on your face in days, and he finds himself basking in it, brain in overdrive as he thinks of ways to draw more from you.
You feel more human after your bath, more steady. So, as you stand at the counter, wrapped up in a towel that swallows your small body, and brush your teeth, he dips out of the room for a moment. When he returns a minute later, itâs with a change of clothes in each hand. Underwear for the both of you, as well as a couple of t-shirts (both his, you notice quickly, and once again youâre overcome with love for the man that knows you so completely that he knows youâd want to be entirely surrounded by him tonight).
The plug is pulled from the bath, lights are switched off, and youâre both crawling into your own bed once youâre dressed. Itâs only when youâve been away for a while that you come to appreciate the small comforts your home provides - the mattress that is perfectly molded to your shape, the softness of your own pillow, the silk of the sheets on your bare legs.
And itâs when Aaron collects you in his arms, brings your head to rest on his chest, your fingers tangling in his shirt, a mumbled âI love youâ pressed into your hair, do you feel something you havenât felt in days.
Peace.
#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotchner fic#criminal minds fic
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Crimson Sparks
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader
Summary: Simply put, dating your academic rival, Draco Malfoy, has its challenges. But admist your journey with anger, you find your favorite Slytherin a bit more understanding than expected.
Word count: 1.1k
TW: Arguing, anger issues, minor violence
Based on this request! Thank you :)
A/N: I tried my best to approach this subject with sensitivity and respect. Internalized anger is a very real struggle for many people. Also, sorry this is shorter than normal. Itâs good to be back!
âDraco, that doesnât make even remotely any sense. If we do it your way, weâll fail.â You say, articulating each word with utmost certainty.
You and Draco have made a nearly perfect couple for a few months now, but that didnât stop the two of you from being academic rivals. In fact, if anything, itâs become worse.
And being paired up for a potions project is starting to test both your limits.
âJust because you donât understand it, doesnât mean it isnât right. Look, if we take these ingredientsâŚâ Draco explains, his demeanor growing slightly more impatient with each sentence.
A conflict burns within you as the voice you cherish speaks to you with a tension you know wonât end with the two of you in his bed. He continues on his attempt to educate you, his tone turning more argumentative.
âLove, youâre not listening. You know the potion will oxidize if we make it outside.â
âThe amount of flame we need underneath wonât sustain in a classroom. It needs as much air as it can get.â You spit back, your cheeks beginning to warm.
âY/N, come on. Youâre talking utter nonsense. Thatâs some Longbottom shit youâre thinking.â He retorts, his eyes squinting slightly with disdain.
He crosses his arms, sitting back in his seat. The slightest shake of his head sends you reeling.
âRidiculous, the way youâre comparing us when you know damn well my potions grade is lightyears beyond his.â You fight back with gritted teeth.
And just when you thought he couldnât get under your skin more, he mumbles something under his breath that genuinely takes you by surprise.
His voice low, his eyes lower, he mutters to himself with his brows furrowed.
âRidiculous the way weâre having this fight when you know damn well my potions grade is lightyears better than yours.â
Your gaze shoots up to meet his immediately. The sting of the insult lands on your ego, causing you to see red.
Despite your greatest efforts, your hand grabs the nearest object, which happens to be one of your ingredients. A strength in your arm grows instantly, a force guided by fury.
Before you can even think, the vial is in tiny glistening shards on the floor, the sound of the shatter hits your ears almost as fast as a pang of shame hits your chest.
Draco stands quickly, his chair sliding across the floor.
For a moment, itâs quiet. The both of you stand in silence, waiting for the other to speak. But the guilt that has already started to consume you prevails, and he notices.
His eyes soften, the aggressive gesture not being foreign to him. Heâs seen this in his father all his life, and he knows how to handle it.
âY/N, darlingâŚâ Draco coos.
He makes his way slowly to your side, avoiding the mess on the floor as he gently pulls you away from the glass. âLook at me.â
âI canât.â You choke, a genuine sorrow lacing your words.
âI want you to.â
Every bit of hesitation in your body fights to keep your eyes closed, but fighting the weakness you have for him is even harder.
You lift your gaze to his, his face closer than you expected. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you close enough to smell his cologne. It feels like a lifetime until your chests meet each other.
âI know you didnât mean to.â He whispers, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
You canât help the tear welling up and threatening to escape. But before you can worry about that, his thumb is wiping it clean off your skin.
âIâm s-sorry, I really am trying,â you start to say, just before he cuts you off by placing his hand under your chin and his lips onto yours. A subtle, gentle pull back to reality.
âI know, love. Letâs get out of here.â He suggests, and all you can think is how frustrating it is that someone can handle you with such care when youâre in this fragile state.
â
Draco walks the two of you to the Black Lake, sitting near it and retrieving some snacks from his bag. He offers you some, and you take it with a small smile.
âNothing is worth that. Nothing is worth doing something that dangerous.â You admit, fiddling with the snack wrapper in your hands.
âYouâre adjusting, Y/N. Itâs going to take time. And itâs okay.â He responds, rubbing his hand on your thigh.
âThank you. For being so understanding.â You profess, leaning a little closer into him.
âI watched my father do this very thing. Relearning how to react isnât easy. It took him ages.â He explains, your expression turning sympathetic.
He taps your head playfully as he continues on.
âYouâre rewiring things. Itâs an unimaginable task to do at our age. And youâre damn brave for it.â He exclaims, looking at you with an adoration that convinces you he means every single word.
His fingers fiddle with yours, pulling you close to kiss you on the forehead. You stay quiet, his understanding and your shame still conflicting inside you.
But you feel heard, and thatâs all you can ask for right now.
His voice lowers again, not too different than the way it sounded in the classroom. Except his mouth is still on your forehead, and you feel it growing into a grin.
âIâm still right, though. We shouldnât do it outside.â
You canât help the laugh that escapes you, the movement of your shoulders leaning into him further.
âI donât have it in me to fight that again. But if youâre wrong, and the fire goes out, Iâm entitled to the biggest âI told you soâ of the century.â
âFine. Meet in the potions lab at 3?â He says, his grin somehow growing bigger as he nudges your side with his elbow, challenging you in that sweet, full, boyish voice youâve learned to love.
âYouâre on, Malfoy.â
â
After several hours of compromise, going back and forth and hovering over each other, the potion is finally complete.
It turns out he was right, the potion couldnât survive outside. Like, not even a chance. You kept to yourself about this, unwilling to admit the obvious defeat.
But he points it out towards the end of the night, and the argument sparks again. But this round, the words light a different kind of fuse.
And this time, it ends in his bed.
đ¤đ¤đ¤đ¤đ¤
#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#draco malfoy#slytherin#draco x reader#draco malfoy fanfic#draco malfoy fic
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October 14th - quicksilver (smut)
Pairing : peter maximoff x reader
Warnings : MDNI!! DO NOT READ IF YOUR BELOW THE AGE OF 18!!
P in v, unprotected sex, peter talking you through it, no aftercare, human vibrator
A/n: im actually really struggling to write the rest of the fics, this is literally meant to be out tomorrow at the time of writing
DO NOT BLAME ME FOR WHAT YOU CHOSE TO CONSUME, ITS YOUR FAULT IF YOU READ FURTHER
Peters room was the go to hangout area for the two of you. It was usually the right temperature, he'd have a stash of snacks (of which were mainly twinkies), a few warm blankets for those cold nights you stayed over. It was always perfect.
That leads you to this night. Peters head was resting on your lower stomach as both of you were watching some crappy movie, mindlessly playing with the hem of your shorts.
You could feel his shoulder pressing against the one spot that had been aching for him all day. Every shuffle from him, you have to stop yourself from squirming, trying to get more pleasure from it. Surely he doesn't feel the same way.. Right?
"hey, you ok?" you hear peter ask you, your head giving a small nod, adjusting your position. Thats all you needed for a small whine to slip past your lips.
That stupid damn smirk. Of course he has that stupid damn smirk after hearing that.
"what was that noise?" he scoots up, his elbows proping him up so now his face is mere inches away from yours. His stomach putting pressure on the area you needed him to, causing you to squirm slightly.
"..nothing..?" you knew he wouldn't let it slide. His warm breath was hitting your face, his lips oh so close to touching yours.
"bullshit" before you even registered it, his lips were on yours. You couldn't help but kiss back, your hands going to his hair and pulling him closer.
ââââââââââââââââââââââ
After a few minuets of making out, he begins to slip your shorts down your legs, kissing your thighs as he did so.
"god... Your gorgeous.." he groans, not waiting a second to rip his sweatpants off. He was so hard it looked painful, it looked like he would rip open his boxers.
With a blur, he's alright inside of you, his lips against your forehead.
"someones excited huh?"
"cant help it that ive waited this long" he chuckles, pressing his lips against yours once more but this time hes slower, beginning to thrust.
He starts of by being gentle, not wanting to use his mutation to its fullest extent just yet. He was pepering you with kisses anywhere he could reach, nuzzling his face between your breasts.
"you dont have to go soft on me, y'know? I can take it" you huff, getting a bit frustrated at the lack of speed from the guy that is literally known for speed.
"sorry princess" he chuckles "just dont wanna hurt ya'"
With that, he begins to speed up, his hands massaging your hips and thighs.
Not even a few minutes later, hes going x10 faster, his face burried in the crook of your neck. You had never thought he'd be the typa guy to whimper but he is definitely disproving you now.
His hips move in a blur, bringing you to the edge way faster than you'd thought.
"... Ugh... Keep doin' that... Please.." you whine, hands pulling his hair and your lips leaving sloppy kisses on his shoulder.
"wasnt plannin' on stoppin'.. M' pretty girl" his nails dig into your hips, his cock twitching against your walls as they begin to close in on him.
"AHG! Fuck... Shit" he grunts, his seed painting your walls white. His thumb sneaks down and rubs your clit, sending you over the edge and cumming around him.
"... Holy shit..." he huffs, his sweaty body collapsing onto yours.
"... That was amazing.." you tell him, only to realise hes fallen asleep cuding you.
A/n : sorry for how rushed and poorly written this is! Jaytober is kinda making me loose motivation especially since i dont have much free time to do it anymore and my mental health just loves to take a head first dive into depression
Thank you so much for reading! <3
#evan peters#ahs fandom#ahs#ahs murder house#american horror story#tate langdon#ahs coven#idk what else to tag#tate langdon x reader#kit walker#kyle spencer#kai anderson smut#kai anderson x reader#kit walker smut#james patrick march#jpm#james patrick march smut#jaytober#jimmy darling smut#quicksilver#quicksilver smut#quicksilver x reader#peter maximoff#evan peters fandom#evan peters fanfic#evan peters ahs#xmen 97#x men movies#xmen#x men
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Iâll Do Anything You Say If You Say It With Your Hands
Colt Seavers x gn!reader
2k words
ââ⧠Summary: You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers...
ââ⧠Authorâs notes: Thank you my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading, finding me a Swift song for Colt, and allowing long hair Colt into the Geese Who Consume Us Club. This is my first time writing him and I know it wonât be my last! Title from Trecherous by Taylor Swift
ââ⧠Warnings/content: NSFW, long hair Colt, crying (both to Taylor Swift and from overstimulation), praise, hair pulling kink, a lot of cum, hand job, overstimulation, orgasm as pain relief, aftercare
âââ§ââââââââââââââââââââââ§ââ
With lips hot and wet at his neck, your nails scrape over Coltâs scalp, threading through his thick locks.
His head drops back into the feeling; itâs sensual and soothing in equal measure, every nerve tingling like a spread of lightning through his body and heat pooling like lava at his aching core.
You've been touching him like this, tender but teasing, for what feels to him like hours since finding him curled into a ball on his sofa with Taylor Swift playing from the kitchen, eyes and cheeks wet, back aching and head pounding. You offered to help him relax, slowly opening him up to you, and, although you didnât tell him this, your plan was also designed to make him feel good about himself. He fell apart in your hands the moment you began to touch him and as ever, heâs content to let you put him back together however you see fit.
You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers until youâre holding his head still with a firm fistful of thick, luscious blonde.
Thereâs still one loose strand framing his face, but he looks so gorgeous, you leave it there.
He whimpers as you tug your fist lightly, his wet eyes glimmering before they slip closed.
He feels your free hand glide down the smooth expanse of his chest. Youâre raking your nails over his soft flesh too, feeling him shiver under the warmth of your palm until you graze a nail directly over a nipple and he jolts at the sudden spark of pleasure. You continue there, pinching and rolling the soft nub lightly between your fingers, watching his face contort in pleasure that isnât quite enough but is almost too much to bear.
Watching him unravel.
He's been hard for too long and the front of his loose fitting sweatpants are soaked through. Colt is strong and he has stamina for days, but he really canât keep this up for much longer, not with the way youâre teasing and coaxing, being so soft and caring with him.
Your hip presses briefly against his cock the hen you reach up to stroke that loose strand of hair, and Colt writhes, biting his bottom lip to keep from letting out the hungry groan thatâs been nagging to tear from his chest.
You brush against him deliberately now and again, watching his chest muscles tense while his cock throbs at the hint of contact, and this time he does let out a groan. Itâs guttural and almost relieved, and the wet patch grows a little darker.
Heâs delicious like this, you think, simmering on the edge of bliss, needy but not daring to ask for anything more than youâre giving him. He completely relinquishes control to you, giving you both his body, and the power to oversee his pleasure however you see fit.
He trusts you, and you take good care of him. It works.
âColt?â you whisper, still massaging that perky, sensitive nipple, and he whines in response. He canât formulate so much as a thought of anything worth saying, let alone turn the sound into a word. So he gives up and simply nods instead, face scrunching up in pain when the roots of his hair snag against your tight grip.
Itâs not just pain, though; itâs pleasure too, and he shudders at the sensation it sends running down his spine.Â
Itâs almost too much. Every touch is bringing him dangerously close to the edge, and having his hair tugged was a factor he never expected would contribute.
Lips pulling into a smirk at his reaction, you whisper, âDo you need to cum?â
âP-pl-â he tries, resorting back to a nod, slower this time, gentle against your fist, trying not to let this new thrill heâs discovered overwhelm him too soon.
âThen tell me youâre handsome.â
âWha-â
âTell me youâre handsome,â you repeat, a clear and simple request, fingers finding the tip of his cock with your and tracing a featherlight touch over the pulsing bulge in his damp sweatpants.
Heat radiates through the fabric as you trace the outline of a vein running down the underside of his length, and he twitches against your finger, cock begging for more â or less, if you want this to continue for much longer.
âI- Iâm- handsome,â he chokes out, hips stuttering as you circle his sensitive tip again.
âTell me youâre smart, too.â
He shakes his head. Itâs too vigorous and it hurts, but a spark of bliss shoots down to his core and he grunts as he feels himself leak out another thick drop of precum. His head drops back against the wall, your fist there to cushion the blow.
âCome on, Colt, you can do it. Tell me.â
Your finger slows to a stop and his breathing turns uneven and ragged.
âNo- no, please- I⌠I canât- Iâm not!â
âOh but you are, and I need you to believe it. I need to hear you say it.â
He dares to open his scrunched up eyes just enough to glance at you.
You mean it. He knows you mean it. And he will never not give you what you ask for, so he manages, somehow.
âIâm⌠Iâm smart,â he mutters, embarrassment pricking at his cheeks.
âGood boy,â you coo, massaging his tip again, gentle and slow.
Oh, Colt thinks, lost in the sensation, absentmindedly rolling his hips in time with your fingers, worth it.
Because he likes praise. He likes doing right by you, even if he doesnât always agree with what you want him to say about himself. If you believe it, thatâs enough for him.
âI think you really deserve to cum now.â
âOh- yeah, ok-â he breathes, still trying to please you, to sound agreeable, but it comes out desperate and you smirk as you lean up to press your lips to his for a moment, his cock once again left to throb aimlessly inside his sweatpants in the empty space between you, untouched and leaking steadily.
He feels a sinking disappointment when you loosen your grip on his long hair, but then you dip your head and your lips wrap around the plump nipple youâd been teasing moments earlier, and he moans, loud and unrestrained, bucking his hips and grabbing your shoulders to seek something- anything you might be good enough to give him.
With one hand still loose in his hair, the other drags painfully slowly over his stomach, fingers grazing his happy trail, to hook under the waistband of his sweatpants, open a space big enough to slide your hand inside the fabric and press your palm flat against the underside of his cock.
Itâs sticky with precum and he blushes again at how wet he feels.
His cock is thick and heavy, noticeable even just from resting against your palm, and you can feel every little throb of need it gives. Your eyes drag over his burly form, and absentmindedly, you lick your lips.
His jaw clenches at that. Heâs trying so hard not to spill yet, forcing his hips still and concentrating on breathing. He needs you to tell him when, but itâs growing more difficult by the minute to wait for that command, even while thereâs no friction, no movement.
âTell me one more thing?â
âAnything!â Colt cries out, voice weak, strangled and cracking, the vein in his cock throbbing against your palm.
âTell me what you need?â
âI need- oh-â
You finally stroke his cock. A soft, gentle massage that, to him, feels like far too much at this point. He canât hold off, his release is approaching rapidly and-
âOh, fuck- I canât-â
âThatâs it baby, you can, I promise,â you coo, and your fingers wrap around his length while your tongue resumes its work on his sensitive nipple.
âI- I need to-â he rasps, on the verge of more tears. But these are needy tears, not self pitying ones, and you both know that youâll give him what he needs, eventually.
The tears pour, steaming down his cheeks, and as a reward for trying so hard, you begin to move your fist, pumping faster the more he attempts to spit the words out, and tightening the grip of your other hand to yank his hair, hard.
Colt growls at the combined sensations and your teeth catch on his nipple as he jerks forward. Itâs so good, so overwhelming, he knows heâs done for, and every ounce of strength in him diminishes until thereâs just your hand, your mouth, your warmth. Heâs safe like this with you. Safe and handsome and smart. Fuck.
His vision blurs as the words continue to fall from his trembling lips; âI need to- cu-ohhh-oh!-ughhh-mmmnnn-gg-â and he spills uncontrollably, hips snapping forward into your furiously pumping fist while his cock darkens the front of those sweatpants with a fresh layer of thick, hot seed, dripping down satisfyingly over your hand, too while his whole body turns limp.
You continue working his softening length with slower, softer strokes until heâs got nothing left to give and heâs softening inside your loose fist.
Heâs a heap on the floor by now and youâre positioned over him, pushing your fingers through his hair and softly brushing it away from his face instead of pulling at it. The contrast soothes him and he whimpers, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as you settle beside him.
You wipe his release from your hand onto a dry patch of his pants â theyâre going to need a thorough wash anyway, and Colt doesnât even notice.
His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his over-sensitive cock relieved and soft and coated in his own cum, twitching with aftershocks.
Slowly, he begins to feel like heâs made of jelly, the feeling spreading from his core out to his limbs, and he can barely keep his eyes open.
He floats away on the haze of bliss while you play with his hair and press soft kisses to his cheek, whispering how good he was for you into his ear, the praise dripping like warm honey.
When he comes to, he first notices that your comforting weight is no longer pressed against his side, and then he recognises the calming trickle of the tap filling his bathtub and the scent of lavender floating through from the steamy room.Â
Whatever you did to him has relieved his back pain, however temporary, and he shifts on the floor, seeing how it feels to have more ease in his movements.
Thereâs a cushion under his head and youâve stripped him of his cum stained sweatpants, replacing them with a blanket for now.
It feels like youâve brushed his hair.
He smiles to himself. A big, dumb grin that would make you want to kiss him (and pounce on him) if you were still beside him.
He looks over to where you were laid before he drifted off and sees that youâve left him a glass of water.
His heart skips.
Heâs not sure he can drag himself to the bathtub right now, weak from too much pleasure and somewhat overwhelmed at it, but he knows youâll help him. And that itâs what he needs.
He knows youâll massage his shoulders, and that youâll wash his hair with tender, loving fingers, and gush about how pretty it is all the while.Â
About how pretty he is.Â
Youâll do it until he sees his worth, and as difficult as it may be to learn and accept that heâs as desirable as you seem to think he is, heâs not exactly complaining about hearing it from you. Especially when you choose this method â the one where he gets to cum.
He knows heâll be hard again by the time youâre done washing and massaging him, too, but youâll take mercy on him since heâs so overstimulated. Wonât you?
#not s f w đ#colt seavers x reader#colt seavers smut#colt seavers fic#colt seavers#the fall guy#the fall guy fic#ryan gosling#ryan gosling x reader#ryan gosling smut#ken-dom writes
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All The Time In The World - Aaron Hotchner x female reader
Summary: You got kidnapped and in the aftermath you need Hotch to erase it all
Words: 3.3K
Warnings: mentions of attempted r; hurt-comfort; ptsd; fluffy and angsty
Notes: I need to be stopped 𤣠I do plan on writing more Spencer but Hotch has my whole attention rn đ¤Ł
Y/Nâs POV
I stand under the cascading of water, the heat searing my skin as if it could burn away the memories etched into every fibre of my being. The events of the last few hours replay like a horror film in my mind, each scene more vivid than the last.Â
I can still feel his hands, vile and invasive, creeping under my shirt, his putrid breath hot against my skin as he loomed over me with that twisted grin. The terror of those moments claws at my insides, threatening to consume me whole. But just as I thought I couldnât fight him anymore, voice raw from screaming and back burned from the carpet below me as I fought to escape, my team burst through the door like avenging angels, their precise shots shattering the nightmare and saving me from the abyss.Â
The water pounds against my skin, relentless, as if trying to wash away the stain of his touch. I scrub furiously, desperately, but the memory lingers, staining my skin with itâs foul residue. The sob claws itâs way up my throat as I scrub and scrub. I must have made more sound than I realised because Hotchâs gruff voice, filled with concern, pierces my cloud of panic.Â
I manage only a small sound in response, my arms still wrapped protectively around myself, a feeble attempt to shield myself against the unseen horrors that haunt me.Â
âDo you need anything?â His voice, usually firm and commanding, is now softened with empathy, a balm to my wounded soul. In that moment, I realise what I truly need. Without hesitation, I find the courage to voice my plea, a fragile whisper that hangs heavy in the air between us.Â
âJoin me.â I choke out, the words barely escaping my lips, carried by the trembling breath of desperation. I long for his presence, for the solid warmth of his body to chase away the chill of my fears. In him, I seek refuge from the darkness that threatens to consume me whole. I hear the hesitant shuffle of footsteps outside the shower curtain, a tentative response to my plea. And though the moment hangs in fragile uncertainty, I cling to the hope that he will hear the silent plea beneath my words, âPlease, Aaron.â I whisper, the weight of my anguish heavy in the space between us, a silent prayer for him to bridge the divide and offer me solace in the midst of my despair.Â
The bathroom fills with a heavy silence, broken only by the soft exhale that escapes Aaronâs lips. I hear the subtle rustle of fabric as his shirt hits the floor, followed by the metallic clang of his belt buckle hitting the tiles. Each sound sends jolt of panic coursing through my veins, a stark reminder of the nightmare Iâve just escaped.Â
But then, like a lifeline cast in a storm, his arms wrap around me from behind, strong and steady, pulling me back from the edge of despair. I release a breath I hadnât realised I was holding, the tension in my body melting away as his chest presses reassuringly against my back, a silent promise of safety in his embrace.Â
His touch is gentle deliberate, as he silently pries my hands from where they cling desperately to my shoulders, nails biting into flesh in a futile attempt to anchor myself against the chaos within. I have to close my eyes against the onslaught of memories, tears slipping unbidden down my cheeks, each drop a testament to the agony that lingers beneath the surface. The scent of shampoo fills the air as Aaron reaches past me, his movements fluid and sure, retrieving the bottle provided by the hotel.Â
I canât help but tremble as his fingers thread through my hair, the sensation both soothing and agonising in its tenderness. His touch is a balm against the rawness of my wounds, a silent offering of solace in the world torn asunder by violent and fear. He works in silence, his hands moving with practiced ease, each stroke a silent prayer for healing, for redemption in the wake of tragedy. And though the tears flow freely, each drop a testament to the pain that will hold me captive for a long while, Aaronâs presence a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that he found me and saved me.Â
But, even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSubâs touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. Itâs a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing.Â
As Aaron's hands tenderly cover mine, completing the ritual of washing away the remnants of terror that cling to my hair, I am consumed by a wave of overwhelming emotion. His touch is a lifeline in the darkness, a steady anchor in the storm raging within me. But even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSub's touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. It's a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing.Â
And then, in the aftermath of my turmoil, Aaronâs arms encircle me, drawing me close as if to shield me from the pain that threatens to consume me whole. The weight of his presence is both a comfort and a burden, a reminder of the fragility of my own resolve in the face of unspeakable horror.Â
My knees buckle beneath me, the weight of my grief too heavy to bear alone. I am lost in a tempest of sorrow, screaming sobs echoing against the tiled walls of the shower as Aaron cradles me in his embrace. Sobs so loud Iâm sure the rest of the team can hear them from where theyâre waiting on the other side of the bathroom wall, scattered across Aaronâs room. Aaron⌠He sinks to the floor with me, a silent promise that he will never let me fall, never let me drown in the darkness that threatens to engulf us both.Â
In the sanctuary of his arms, I find release, the floodgates of my anguish opening wide as I surrender to the pain that has haunted me for so long. Iâm adrift in a sea of memories, each wave crashing against the fragile shores of my sanity, threatening to pull me under.Â
"It- I-" I choke on the words, my chest heaving with the weight of my sorrow, and yet Aaron waits patiently, his steady gaze a silent reassurance that I am not alone in my pain. And then, with a tenderness that takes my breath away, he presses a kiss to my wet hair, a silent vow to stand by me no matter the cost, "I can still feel him," the words are a whisper, barely audible above the rush of water, but they hang heavy in the air between us, a reminder of the scars that still linger beneath the surface.
âDo you trust me?â Aaronâs voice is a gentle murmur, a question whispered against the nape of my neck as his stubble brushes against my skin. I donât speak, but nod, allowing him to pull me gently back to my feet.Â
He turns me gently to face him, his russet eyes holding mine with a tenderness that belies the weight of the world we carry between us. Thereâs a gentlemanly grace in the way he looks at me, a silently acknowledgment of the wounds we both bear. And then, with a steadiness born of resolve, he reaches for the body wash, his fingers brushing against mine in a fleeting caress.Â
I unfold my arms from around my was it, revealing the bruises and cuts that mar my skin, souvenirs of the darkness that still lingers within me. Aaronâs breath catches in his throat, a harsh exhale that echoes the pain written across his features. But thereâs no hesitation in his touch as he picks up the shower sponge, his movements deliberate and unhurried, a silent promise of healing in the wake of devastation.Â
He cleans me with a gentleness that borders on reverence, his hands tracing the contours of my body with a tenderness that speaks of love unspoken, of wounds too deep to fully comprehend. Each kiss he leaves upon my tingling skin is a testament to the intimacy we share, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights.Â
But, even as the water prickles against our skin, a reminder of the heat that still burns within us, I find solace in the sanctuary of his embrace. His arms envelop me, a fortress against the storm raging outside, his face buried in my hair as if seeking refuge from the pain that threatens to tear us apart.Â
I lean into his embrace, my head resting against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the chaos that surrounds us. In his arms, I feel small and fragile, but of so safe, cocooned in a love that knows no bounds. I want to hold onto this moment forever, to lose myself in the warmth of his touch, in the safety of his arms. But, reality intrudes, a harsh reminder of the world waiting beyond the confines of our sanctuary.Â
âThe girl?â My voice is a whisper against his chest, a question that hangs heavy in the air between us. He acknowledges it with a sound, a subtle shift in the air that speaks volumes of the burdens we both carry. And then, with a tenderness that pierces the silence like a knife, he steps away, turning off the water and pulling back the curtain. The moment is over, a fleeting glimpse of paradise in a world torn asunder by darkness.Â
In the soft glow of the setting sun, Aaron stands like afire carved form marble, illuminated by the golden rays streaming through the window. His silhouette is a study in strength and face, even contour etched with the delicate touch of twilight. The light dances across his broad shoulders, casting shadows that play upon the sinewy muscles of his arms as he dries himself off, a vision of masculine allure bathed in the warmth of dusk. His dark hair, tousled and unruly, frames his face like a halo. His hazel eyes, molten gold in the fading light, fix upon me with a tenderness that steals my breath away, the corners crinkling with the ghost of a smile that sends my heart ablaze.
I canât help but drink in the sight of him, from the proudest arch of his brow to the curve of his lips, each detail a testament to the beauty that lies within. My gaze lingers on the expanse of his muscled chest, the rise and fall to his breath a hypnotic rhythm that draws me in, until my eyes trace the line of his body, down past his happy trial to the heavy length settled between his thick thighs that has my eyes widening as heâs big. My mind going to what that would feel l-
âEyes up here Princess,â his voice, low and commanding, pulls me from the reverie, sending shivers down my spine. Itâs a command that I dare not disobey, though the temptation to linger upon the sight before me is almost unbearable. With a sheepish smile, I lift my gaze to meet his, the warmth in his eyes melting away the chill that lingers within, âLet me just get dressed, then Iâll give you a hand, okay?â His words are a a gentle reassurance, a promise of solace in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty that threatens to engulf us both. I nod in silent acquiescence, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of his footsteps as he crosses the room.
Each movement is deliberate, purposeful, as he slips back into his clothes, the fabric falling against his skin like a lover's caress. And as he draws nearer, his presence envelops me in a cocoon of warmth and safety, a sanctuary in the midst of chaos. Every touch is a symphony of tenderness, a silent declaration of love that transcends words. In his embrace, I find refuge from the storm that rages within, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us whole.Â
As Aaron kneels before me, his touch a gentle caress against the bruises that mar my skin, Iâm overcome by a flood of emotions too powerful to name. Each stroke of his hand is a silent prayer for healing, a testament to the depth of his compassion in the wake of tragedy. His lips leave sweet kisses in the wake of his touch, a balm against the wounds that still linger beneath the surface. I watch as his eyes flutter for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in the depths of his gaze, and in that fleeting moment, I see the depth of his love reflected back at me.Â
With trembling hands, I cup his face in my palms, the warmth of his skin a welcome embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. There is a tenderness in his touch, a reverence that speaks volumes of the bond that binds us together in the aftermath of despair. And then, with a courage born of desperation, I guide his face down, my heart pounding in my chest as our lips meet in a chaste kiss. It is a moment of vulnerability, of raw emotion laid bare in the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief.
As Aaron pulls away slightly, his eyes search my face with an intensity that takes my breath away. In the soft glow of the dimly lit room, I see a myriad of emotions flickering in the depths of his hazel eyes â love, longing, and a hint of vulnerability.Â
His lips brush against mine once more, a silent question lingering in the space between us. And then, as if drawn by an irresistible force, he leans in again, his kiss infused with a newfound passion that ignites a fire within me. I feel the heat of his touch against my skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine as our lips meet in a tender embrace. There is a hunger in his kiss, a longing that mirrors my own, as we lose ourselves in the depths of our shared desire.Â
But even as the intensity of our passion grows, the kiss remains gentle, tender, a silent affirmation of the love that binds us together. In the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief, we find solace in each other's arms, our hearts beating as one against the darkness that threatens to consume us whole.
âThatâs enough Princess, you need your rest. We have all the time in the world for this.â Aaron breaks the kiss, albeit reluctantly to help me finish getting dressed as my heart jackhammers in my chest but this time not from fear but from anticipation.Â
With his help, I slip into clean underwear and a pair of his oversized tracksuit bottoms, their warmth a comforting embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. He tends to my hair with a care that speaks of love unspoken, his fingers deftly weaving it into a bun as if to shield me from the chaos that threatens to consume us both. I make a mental note to ask him where he learned such a skill, a reminder of the mysteries that still linger between us, waiting to be unraveled in the quiet moments between storms.Â
And then, with a quiet resolve that belies the weight of our shared sorrow, he holds out his shirt from the day before, a silent offering of strength in the face of adversity. I meet his gaze, the unspoken bond between us a lifeline in the darkness that threatens to tear us apart. With trembling hands, I slip my arms through the fabric, wincing at the ache that still lingers beneath the surface. He helps me button it up, each touch a reassurance that I am not alone in this battle, that together, we can face whatever demons may come. And as he leads me towards the door, the rest of the team awaits, their concern a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the aftermath of tragedy.Â
As Spencer's eyes meet mine, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirls within their depths, threatening to spill over in a torrent of tears. His words hang heavy in the air, suspended between us like a fragile thread on the verge of breaking. JJ's grip tightens on Spencer's arm, her own expression a mirror of his turmoil, while Emily's hand flies to her mouth in a silent gasp of shock and disbelief.Â
Morgan's jaw clenches with a fierce determination, his gaze a steel blade slicing through the tension that hangs thick in the air. Rossi's expression is stoic, a mask of controlled fury that belies the storm raging beneath the surface. And yet, despite the turmoil that threatens to consume us all, they remain steadfast by my side, a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the face of adversity.Â
I shift uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of Aaron's embrace. His arms are still wrapped around my waist, a shield against the storm that rages within and without.Â
"I-I don't want to be alone tonight," I whisper, the words a tremulous plea that hangs in the air between us like a fragile thread. And in that moment, it's as if a switch is flipped, the rest of the team springing into action with a sense of urgency that borders on desperation.
Morgan and JJ move with purpose, their movements swift and sure as they push the two double beds together, creating a makeshift sanctuary amidst the chaos that surrounds us. The others disappear from the room, only to return moments later with armfuls of pillows and duvets, their hands a flurry of activity as they arrange them with meticulous care.Â
With a courage born of desperation, I turn to JJ and Spencer, my voice a tremulous whisper in the stillness of the room. "Will you sleep with us tonight?" The words hang in the air, laden with unspoken emotion, a silent plea for solace in the midst of our shared grief. They nod in silent understanding, their expressions a mirror of my own turmoil. Rossi takes the couch without complaint, a silent sentinel in the night, while Emily and Morgan settle themselves on the floor amidst the pillows and duvets, their presence a silent reassurance in the darkness that threatens to consume us whole.Â
I nestle my head against Aaron's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the silence that surrounds us. Spencer's arm is thrown haphazardly across my waist, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights, while JJ's fingers brush against my hip in a gesture of comfort and support.
Thatâs how I fall asleep: My team, my family, surrounding me and the hope of something growing between me and Aaron in the future. Those words echoing in my mind.Â
We have all the time in the world for this.
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