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dilf-hunter-fantasies · 24 days ago

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I was wondering if you'd write anything about Joel and free use?

Love your account babe💗

thank you so much babe, i loved this idea! i hope you enjoy my take on it. i was fantasizing about...

renting a room from joel miller and striking a deal to lower your rent.

3.5k words 🍒warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak au, age gap (reader in college), female reader, brief mention of f masturbation, free use!!, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, use of: sweetheart, darlin'

click here for more of my writing

So you end up short on options for housing after breaking up with your ex. You know it seems weird to be a young woman willing to rent a room from an older man who is …well in all versions you spin it…a total stranger. But, your aunt swears he’s a good guy.

She used to live in his neighborhood, knew his daughter, figured he has the extra room and put you in touch. And all things considered, she hasn’t led you astray. I mean, he hasn’t murdered you.

Okay, it’s not that bad. He doesn’t give off murder vibes either. More like…grumpy single man vibes. But that works out for your arrangement. You’re both pretty quiet and you keep to yourselves. And he’s not too bad to look at. You catch yourself straddling a line between not being the creep yourself and just wanting to get to know him a little bit.

The real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Well with your bank account. You’ve been bleeding your measly savings trying to keep up with life and the job you have isn’t really enough to live off of. It was a dream to find a hybrid schedule and work for a non-profit with a mission that matters to you. But it doesn’t pay for shit.

It’s not like Joel’s overcharging you or anything either. Nothing is affordable.

And now you’re on your last legs. If you can’t keep this together you’ll have to pack it up and crawl home to your family? Not an option. It’s not like you haven’t been applying for other jobs either. But you either don’t hear back or the schedule won’t work with your classes.

So here you are. Pacing back and forth in your sparsely decorated room. Between your bed and your desk, wearing a groove into the carpet, chewing on your fingers and obsessively checking your phone to see if your sage friends have any better advice.

They don’t.

Well, they suggested selling feet pics online, but even if that could be lucrative—it doesn’t get you the money to spend by tomorrow. You toss yourself onto your bed, exasperated. Last resort. You’re gonna have to be honest.

It takes a long time to gather the mental courage. You stare at your ceiling for so long your eyes blur. You can hear Joel in the kitchen and with a deep breath you force yourself up, dragging your feet down the hallway until you see him.

The kitchen is warm, whatever he’d made for dinner earlier smells good. So good it makes your stomach growl, announcing your presence in the doorway. The sound makes you grimace—for a split second you’re tempted to hide. To run back to your room and pretend like there won’t be any consequences if you just don’t bring it up. Ever.

Too late. He shuts the dishwasher with a loud click and turns, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. You immediately regret this idea. Your feel like you’re sinking into the floor. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at him now.

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his voice low and even. He turns back away from you, putting leftovers in the fridge, like it’s no big deal you’ve been standing there silently like a weirdo. “You need something?”

Your throat is suddenly so dry, you can barely unstick your tongue to speak. “Yeah…uh, can I talk to you for a second?”

Joel pauses mid-motion, before shoving the last container onto the shelf and letting the fridge door shut, trapping you in the silence together. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks toward you. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders makes you nervous for reasons you don’t want to analyze right now.

“Sure.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your hands twisting in front of you like they’re trying to strangle each other. His eyes flick down to the motion, and you force yourself to stop.

“So, uh…I was wondering—” You swallow hard. You can do it. “I need to talk to you about my rent.”

His eyebrows lift, and your chest tightens.

“Let’s hear it then.”

“It’s just that I’m in kind of a tight spot right now. Work’s been—well, it’s been fine but money’s tight, and I just—” You’re rambling. Words all running together. “I’m not saying you’re charging too much or anything like that, but—”

“Slow down,” Joel holds up a hand, and the rest of your words fall flat. His voice is calm, but firm. “You sayin’ you can’t afford it?”

“I can!” you blurt out. “I mean, I can’t by tomorrow, but I can soon. I just thought, maybe we could work something out. Like…if you could give me some more time or if I could do something to work off some of what I owe.” Joel tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin prickle. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just thinking, and the silence stretches too long for comfort.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, dropping his arms and leaning his palms on the counter behind him. His voice is lower when he speaks again, quieter, like he’s weighing every word.

“You wanna do something for me?”

Your heart skips, and you blink up at him. Maybe that was a dumb suggestion. You don’t even know what you have to offer. The house is always clean, the yard maintained, he seems to enjoy cooking.

“Uh, yeah?” your face contorts a little as you try and come up with a suggestion. “If you’d consider giving me a discount.”

His lips twitch, just the barest hint of a smirk, and something about it makes the air in the room shift.

“Well,” he drawls, “If I’m cuttin’ you a deal,---”

“You’ll consider it?” You look at him with a smile already starting to break on your face. You can breathe.

“Maybe you can cut me one, too.” He finishes his sentence. Your mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. There’s something behind his words you don’t fully understand, but it’s stuck in the air between you.

“What kind of deal?” you manage to get out, your voice hesitant.

Joel pushes off the counter, closing the space between you in a way that’s casual, but calculated. He’s close enough you can make out the lines at the corners of his eyes, the salt-and-pepper in his beard. His gaze holds yours, steady and charged with something new.

“You say yes,” he starts to explain, his voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that makes your pulse quicken. “And I’ll knock your rent down as much as you need. Simple.”

The room suddenly feels small, too warm, like his gravity is holding you in place.

“Say yes to what, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is soft, just a whisper rolling off your tongue. You have an idea what he’s proposing. The way his eyes flicker with something dark and knowing when you refer to him as Mr. Miller. The crackle in the air between you.

“I think you know what I mean.”

You shake your head, ever so subtly, wrinkling a brow. In what feels like slow motion, Joel tips your chin up, between his thumb and curled forefinger. Your face is on fire. Somehow exposed even though nothing else has changed.

“Whenever I need you. Wherever I want you.”

For a second you think he might kiss you. It feels like everything in your body is calling to him. His mouth is so close to yours. The words are still replaying in your mind.

But he pulls his hand back. “Think about it,” he murmurs and brushes past you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. He glances back at you once on his way out of the room. “Offer’s on the table, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder. “Up to you.”

You’re left standing, still as a stone, heat prickling up your spine as his words replay in your head.

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey!” you call out, starting down the hall after Joel. “Wait.”

He turns, hovering in the doorway to his room.

“Uh, are you talking about sex?”

“Yep.”

Your breath hitches. The corner of his mouth quirks, smug. You look at him with fresh eyes. He’s an attractive guy. Not exactly pleasant, but not a jerk. You can’t imagine he’d have a hard time picking up a date.

“I’m not a whore, you know.” “I know, darlin’.” His face softens a little.

The next couple of days are filled with tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. Whenever you’re in the same room you can feel his eyes lingering on you. He brushes past you in the kitchen in the morning, his hand grazing your hip when he reaches for his coffee mug.

You catch him watching you from across the room, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. His eyes roam all over your body, dark and deliberate, and you can feel the promise in his gaze.

It’s driving you fucking insane. You thought he’d have made a move by now. Hell, you thought he’d have made a move the second you agreed to his deal. But he’d only made sure you each had a few ground rules and that was it. End of conversation.

“Have a good night now, darlin’. Hope you sleep better without having to worry about your rent.”

Right. You didn’t have to worry about rent. You just had to spiral in your own room wondering when it would happen. How he’s going to take you.

It’s got you so worked up thinking about him you keep spacing out during your work meetings. Swiveling restlessly on your office chair in your bedroom, trying to remember to look focused and add your two cents in for participation.

But all you can think about is Joel. You’re on high alert whenever you hear his truck roll into the driveway, the door slamming shut with a thud. His heavy steps coming down the hall. You wonder when he’ll want you. You know he meant it.

You hope he meant it.

That night, his footsteps pause outside your door, his presence thick in the air, setting your pulse racing. It makes you squirm, adjusting the skimpy pajamas you’ve taken to wearing as your heart beats faster. You can’t tell if he’s debating coming in or if he’s just fucking with you, but it’s got you breathless.

The next morning, you’re standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing your teeth when Joel suddenly appears, shirtless and still damp from his shower. He gives you a lazy once-over, stepping close enough that you have to press yourself against the door frame to let him pass.

His voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “You’re in the way, sweetheart,” leaving your cheeks flaming.

The next day, you’re still tense.

Stretching in your desk chair as your coworkers read through their budget updates and data tracking for the grants you’re funded through. It’s hard to stay focused, Joel has taken over all of your thoughts.

Jaz finishes her update and another department leads the rest of the meeting. You’re shuffling your notes around mindlessly, barely hearing a word. Every thought in your head is Joel, Joel, Joel.

Last night, you’d nearly combusted when he finally walked away from your door. You’d been seconds from begging him to come in, to just take you already. By the time he left, your thighs were slick, and the ache was unbearable. You had to handle it yourself, coming hard and fast on your fingers, imagining it was his thick, calloused hands instead.

But now, twelve hours later, the tension is already back. Worse than before. Every noise in the house puts you on edge. His truck rumbling into the driveway. The front door shutting.

The meeting drags on, voices fading into a blur—until a soft knock jolts you back to reality.

Before you can answer, the door swings open, and Joel steps inside like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly in the middle of something.

Your heart races. Your eyes flick to your camera to make sure it’s off. Muted. Thank God.

Joel doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. His dark eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate, and it’s like every molecule of air has been sucked out of the room.

He takes his time crossing the space between you, letting the silence stretch. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he crowds you, hands bracing the arms of your chair, caging you in.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly.

Your throat is so tight you can’t even speak. You shake your head.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

His big hands tug you to the edge of your chair, spreading your knees wide. He runs his palms along your thighs, leaving a trail of heat that burns your skin through your soft leggings.

Your heart jumps to your throat, chest tight.

The thought of your coworkers just a click away only heightens the thrill.

Joel doesn’t hold back. Pulling you to stand. Turning you to face your desk and pressing until you lean your elbows on the smooth surface, framing your keyboard.

You arch your spine eagerly, holding your breath, bracing for his next move. He smooths a palm over the curve of your ass, humming softly to himself, before slipping his hand between your legs.

You tilt your head, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers press against you, making your thighs tremble. You know he can feel how wet you already are through the thin material. All day you’re wet for him, just waiting and waiting.

His touch is firm and you grind into it without thinking, making him laugh under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs. “She needs it worse than I do, huh?” You don’t answer. Just dropping your head between your shoulder blades as he rubs circles against your clothed pussy.

He retracts his hand, swiftly pulling your leggings down, exposing your puffy, wet folds to the cooler air.

You stay folded over, forehead resting on your desk, ass arched in presentation. You don’t know what to expect next, your pulse thunders in your ear as you wait.

His hands frame your cunt, spreading you wider so he can look closer. You’d be self-conscious being studied so closely if you were any less desperate for him to touch you. But all you can do you is silently beg him to do something.

“Christ,” he murmurs reverently, dropping to his knees behind you. “Just a taste first.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. You don’t care.

You gasp sharply the second his tongue dips between your swollen lips. It’s so much better than your fingers and your frustrated, rushed orgasms last night. It’s so much better.

He uses his whole face, diving deeper, as he groans into your pussy. Your meeting is still in progress, but the voices coming through your speakers could be speaking a foreign language. They mean nothing to you right now.

The only thing that matters is between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed at how close you already are. You don’t know if you should say anything. If he cares if he makes you cum. Before you can think any harder, he’s back on his feet and you’re whimpering at the loss.

“I know.”

The soft clink of his belt followed by the sound of him unzipping his jeans has your knees weak. The thrill that shoots through you is like lightning, ripping through your system and activating every nerve in your body.

Be good," he growls, dragging his cock through your slick.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the awe and the relief. The heat, the thickness, the pressure. It’s everything you need, but not enough at the same time. He continues for a moment, coating his length in your arousal as you try to swallow down your needy moans.

He slots his blunt tip at your entrance, adding enough pressure to make you suck in air. Without even seeing it, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Like he can read your mind, or at least your body, he runs his hand soothingly over your spine.

It shouldn’t melt your nerves so fast, but the gentle touch eases your mind. For reasons you can’t explain—feelings really, you feel safe.

“We’ll start slow this time, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

And then he’s nudging into you, working you open around his wide cockhead. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but you welcome the dull ache. Your throbbing pussy has been begging for it. He pulls back, repeating the slow movement, splitting you open for him a little further each time.

It makes you needy, you try to push back against him, but he only swats at your ass. “I told ya to be good.”

Your cheeks feel hot at the scolding.

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.” It comes out more confident than you expected, your voice smooth and low.

You can feel the way his dick twitches at your response before he continues, painstakingly slowly, filling you up. You’re still frustrated, but each time he thrusts into you, your knees almost buckle and you know he hasn’t made it all the way in yet. You’re still hungry for that feeling, for his hips to meet your ass, flush.

You can’t hold back your moans as he drags along your nerves. He already has your eyes rolling back and he’s not even fucking you yet.

Until he stops, held still halfway inside of you. You blink your eyes open, trying not to whine.

He says your name like he’s been calling it and you’ve been ignoring him. “Hmm?” you respond.

“Think they’re waiting for your answer.”

“Oh, shit.”

Joel still doesn’t move. You unmute your mic, trying to steady your voice. “I’m really sorry, uh, can you repeat the question?”

“Just confirming your mid-cycle reports are already submitted.”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

You mute the mic again and Joel slams the rest of the way home, making you cry out in surprise.

He doesn’t hold back now, his rough hand gripping your hip as he takes you, low grunts echoing in your room as he snaps his hips forward. Your ass ripples, bouncing off of him with every thrust and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin fill your ears.

He hits so fucking deep at this angle, you can barely think. His balls slap against you and for some reason that makes you even more crazy for him. You meet his every thrust with the same energy, fucking hard. So hard your desk rattles, but neither of you can be bothered by it’s structural integrity.

He keeps you on edge, pounding into you as the pressure builds. When you shift slightly, his cock drags over the devastating spot that makes you nearly wail.

“Yeah?” he asks as if you could respond right now. “Right there?”

“Mmm,” is all you can manage.

“Good. Let me have it. Rub that pretty clit of yours for me, I wanna feel her trying to milk me dry.”

Fuck. His filthy words nearly send you over the edge immediately, but when you slip your own hand between your legs, it’s euphoric. Furiously working at your slick, swollen bundle of nerves you drive yourself to the brink.

“Gonna–ah!--gonna cum,” You get the breathy, gasping words out right as your pussy starts to clench around him. He groans lowly, making you see stars as your climax tears through you.

The waves are still rolling through your muscles, your core still tensing, when he pulls out. The slick sounds as he pumps his cock rapidly are obscene and you don’t want them to stop. But then you feel his hot cum painting your ass, and you’re moaning in unison.

Then he’s pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slinking out of your room. You grimace. Tuning back in to the speaker still rambling on about god knows what on your computer. Before you can move, Joel is back with a small towel to clean you up.

You’re stuck in a daze. A blissed-out state, as you straighten up and pull your leggings back up. Joel’s about to slip back out the door as if nothing happened. Before he steps out of the room though, he gives you a knowing smirk, “You did good for me, darlin’.”

You’re left staring at the closed door, breathless and trembling, the heat of his touch still lingering on your skin. Rent isn’t the problem anymore. Joel Miller is.

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@lovely-vamp-princess @mushgloomz @untamedheart81 @kyloispunk

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #smut #pedro pascal #free use kink #mickey's fantasies

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writing-fanics · 1 year ago

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don’t mess with the devil

Part ii

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: angst: mentions of death: death?]

Your movements became sluggish. The wound on your side bleeding more and more with each movement, and swing of your angelic weapon. “Can’t even hold a weapon.” Adam mocked, as she glared at him. Already tired and she looked down at her wound. “Who would’ve thought a fucking human, making a deal with the devil.”

“Was it for dick? It was for dick wasn’t it?” Adam laughed, and mocked. You let out a battle cry flying towards him.

You screamed in pain, as the yellow light shot right through your wing. Your wings started going weak, as you struggled to keep up with Adam’s attacks. He laughed and cackled, taking enjoyment in your struggle.

“Where’s your little boyfriend huh?” He mocked, as more and more yellow shots kept hitting your body. Until you could barely keep your body up, “awe, is he not coming to scared to show his fa-”a fist punched, Adam in the face. Causing him to let go of your chin, but you didn’t fall instead.

A pair of familiar arms held you, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t be here sooner,” said Lucifer, as he nuzzled his head against his partner. Then lifted his head and glared at Adam, eyes fuming with rage.

“Sorry, for being so stubborn.” You mumbled, knowing this was the reason he didn’t want you to fight. Even though, he gave you some of his powers. You were still a human. He nuzzled, his head against yours once more. “It’s okay,” He said, as he landed on the rooftop.

He handed you off to Charlie, his daughter taking your injured body into her arms. She looked down at you worriedly, as you took shallow breaths. Your face battered cuts and bruises covered your face, and your right eye was swollen. Landing on the rooftop, walking towards Adam.

“Huh? Okay? Seriously?” Adam panted, as he stood up slowly. “How many of you freaks do I have to fight?!” He shouted, glaring at them.

Lucifer rolled up his sleeves, as he walked towards Adam. “Oh, I’m the only one that matters.” said Lucifer, as he looked up at Adam angrily.

“See, you messed with my daughter and my partner.” his eyes burning with rage. “and now I’m toning to fuck you!” he shouted, and everyone went silent as they stared at him dumbfounded.

Charlie leaned over, “It’s fuck you up dad?” Charlie whispered, and he looked confused as he raised his eyebrow, “Wait what did I say?” He said, and then Adam flew towards him sending them both into a wall. But Lucifer transformed into a white snake.

You could barely keep your eyes open, as the pain became worse. You didn’t know how much blood you were losing, but knew it was a lot. You were just a mere human, a human who fell in love with the king of hell. Him inevitably giving you some of his power in an act of love.

Your memories of how you ended up in Hell, a blur. You still figuring out a way to at least see your family again. But now that seemed to be in vain. You wondered if this was how it was going to end for you. You wondered, what would happen to you a human dying in hell?

Would you be dead forever no second life? Or would you just enter purgatory?

“So, this is what you’ve been up to since Eden?” said Lucifer, taunting him.

“Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy.” He said, as he taunted Adam.

Adam laughs, as he grabbed Lucifer by the tail. “You judgin’ me?” He shouted angrily, as he tried to throw him. But he transformed again, this time into a duck. “You’re the most hated being in all of creation.” Adam shouted, angrily looking at him.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer.” said Lucifer, as he made a V shape with his fingers and dragged it downward from his mouth.

“or the second.” He said looking Adam straight in the face, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” He said, as he backed away making a thrusting motion with his hips. Adam lunched at him, and Lucifer transformed into a horse. Kicking him around, “I’ll fuckin’ end you!!” Adam shouted.

Your vision started to blur, as you leaned your head against the wall You didn’t want to die not like this, not without seeing your parents again. Wondering if they’re worried about their missing child, who they haven’t seen in almost a year.

You’ve been stuck in Hell for that long. Lucifer and You, still figuring out a way to get you back. But you always promised that you’d stay in Hell with him, and visit your friends and family once in a while.

Maybe this was to be your fate, dying in Hell. Where would your soul go? You couldn’t imagine the heartbreak your death would bring to both, Charlie and Lucifer. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing them cry, you’ve grown to love them so much. Seeing Charlie as a child of your own.

Lucifer your partner. The best thing to ever come out of being trapped in Hell. He was so kind and caring, when he found out about your situation. Wanting to help you anyway he could, which led him to falling in love. How his heart swelled whenever you smiled at him, turning his cheeks red.

How seeing you cry made his heartache, knowing you missed your family and friends back on earth. How when that ‘Red Bastard’ at the Hazbin Hotel, took your hand and kissed him while staring mockingly at Lucifer. Boiled his blood.

A smiled grew across your lips, as you grew tired. You were too tired to even notice the beam of light, heading straight towards the hotel. Towards you. Everything went dark.

Y/n?

Y/n!

who’s calling my name?

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #Hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer imagine #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #x reader #fanfic #angst #headcanons #romance #Hazbin hotel x you

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diorcities · 7 days ago

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⠀ ⠀ ── ⇀‸↼ guiding you through self-pleasure !

mdni. you ask, i deliver. requested, happy reading. library.

jisung. he's a hot loser, so bewitched by you, that he asks you to touch yourself when you're far away. “open more.” his hand pumps his sore cock as he watches you spread your legs wider, fingers sunk into your femininity beaming with arousal. his breathing is barely shallow and sonorous, his phone's illuminated screen highlights his heavy, teary eyes on you, as he twists a grimace when you circle your clit. “baby,” he whines at the wet sound coming from you, “go faster. put them back in.” his chest buz and his mind fog with the purest pleasure, as you do what he wishes, tilting your head back from imagining that it's his hands making you feel this good.

jaemin. his whiny moans soak your mouth as his fingers are deep inside you. he's so eager to fuck you, his sore cock is soaked in pre-cum, and it's torture that he can't until he pleases you; you sound so good that he can't stop his motions, pumping his digits around your plushy walls, producing a squelching noise at how tight your squeezing him. “baby, fuck,” he whines helplessly and you gasp, feeling your mind fill with noise before exploding around him. he breaks your embrace when he moves away from you. “jaem...” at first you are a little enraptured, and dazed, your eyes like two black wells blur his figure. “lay back for me, please?” he asks, breathless, holding his camera. “play with yourself for me... and open your legs.”

haechan. “you missed me that much?” he barely lets you leave him all night. head buried in your neck while he touches you over your clothes. you feel his lips on your legs, chest, and neck, yet his hands stay away from where you need them. “please.” you can barely hold back your moans. he makes fun of you, and it's almost embarrassing to feel him laugh against your neck as he grops you “would you spread for me, sweetheart?” your neck burns as you sense his loaded presence lurking you when you do what he says. he puts his hand on yours and guides both of you to your femininity where he exerts pressure just right. when you cry silently, he sighs, troubled. “show me how you want me, yeah? i'll follow.” your breath freezes and his becomes heavy as your soft hands guide his, starting to touch you.

mark. “open more.” his voice is just a deep sound, bathed in layers and layers of elation. “sounds so good, baby. want me to fuck you now?” mark knows that his gaze becomes heavier and heavier as he sees you circling your clit, “yes...” your misty eyes watch him in a trance as you pump your digits in and out, yourself. his songwriting session has been a failure. bringing you here and seeing you touch yourself has made him lose any concentration, now he just wants to wet his cock with your delicious arousal soaking your legs; a moan freezes in your throat as he finally penetrates you all the way in, and your body almost shuts down if not for him bringing your numb hand up a little, “don't stop touching yourself,” he says, rocking your clit using your fingers.

jeno. “should i?” you are hardly more than babbling under his touch yet when he tries to drift his hands down, you stop him. he hums, and you squeeze your legs tightly, “playing with me, love?” he pulls away and hovers over you, eyes going to your hand coming down to your femininity. “will you know how i like it?” his loaded gaze feels intense when you start touching yourself. and he sighs, lips parting open unconsciously when he hears how wet you are. he's troubled the second you start moaning his name, so he spreads your legs and falls spellbound and speechless; but when you look at him, all he does is snort with mockery, “i'll watch then.” he sits between your legs when you roll your eyes and start touching yourself, and his eyes get like two black holes as he stares at you so beautifully and definitely struggling to cum. “don't rush, princess. want some help?” his restless hands glides down and up your thighs, “do it slow and harder, just how you like me to fuck you.”

chenle. he can't help it, he's twisted. he's been away from you for a long time and now all of that intensified has come down to the urge of seeing you touching yourself. and you don't help at all by sending him photographs that he uses to finish, he needs you. to watch you, following his voice of how to use your fingers, aroused by the way you do as he says. “go harder.” his ears fill with your wails of pleasure as you insert two digits and soak in your silkiness. “i want to mark those pretty tits so bad.” his heavy breath becoming shallow, eyes darkening when you play with your clit. his tip flush with creamy load. “want to cum princess?” beads of sweet arousal glisten your pretty pussy, pulsing already. “please, can i cum?” you beg. “show me.” he grins at your features twitching with difficulty, palming his cock faster.

renjun. night calls end up with him guiding you when you miss him that way. he longs for you, holding you close while sleeping, and waking next to you after a lovemaking session. lately, he finds relief when you need him that much. “touch yourself as i taught you.” you're barely shaky breaths when your hand slide down your core, “imaging it's me between your legs.” his voice comes out softly yet charged with a wild feeling. “playing with your clit. twirling my tongue on that tight entrance.” he draws a heavy sigh from you. “you'd like that, huh? wanna go faster?” your moans pace your fingers penetrating you while he gasps on the other side, lowering a hand to his sore erection to take care of it for you.

#nct dream smut #haechan smut #jeno smut #mark lee smut #chenle smut #jisung smut #renjun smut #jaemin smut #nct dream hard hours #♡dream

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adoreangelia · 1 month ago

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Forget About It ─. ꪆৎ

pairing: reader x rafe cameron

warning: suggestive, making out, little bit of angst, fluff (toward the end).

summary: rafe and y/n’s argument get heated and rafe shuts her up with a kiss, turning it into a steamy make out session.

a/n: just some practice with my writing. trying to figure out how I want to write these two losers together.

you and rafe had been living with each other for a while. at first everything was perfect, ya’know ? “the dream” i guess you’d call it.

over time you started to notice small habits rafe had. it didn’t bother you too much— telling him to do this or that and he’d apologize and do as asked.

eventually the small comments you’d make started going through one ear and out the other.

for one the man never picked up behind his self — always leaving his dirty clothes on the floor. sometimes he’d spill something on some sort of surface and not wipe it up.

eventually this led up to an argument between you two— it was only a matter of time before you got fed up.

“I just don’t understand why you can just do what i’m asking, i mean seriously what the fuck is so hard about it?” you shout motioning toward a shit load of clothes piled on the wooden floor of your apartment bedroom.

his eyes dart over to the pile of clothes— and slightly roll at your dramatics.

“well i just wanna know why it’s that serious of a problem for this to be a argument baby.” he speaks his tone of voice almost nonchalant.

“what the fuck— lord please take the wheel.” you mumble to yourself trying to not get more worked up then you already are.

“no, it’s the fact that’s i’ve been asking you this whole week to pick up these clothes.” you scoff at the man’s emotionless response, throwing your hands up in distress. “know what i don’t even care, im leaving and when i come back this shit better be picked up.” turning on your heels heading for the door.

rafe dates a deep breath and speeds matching your steps grabbing your wrist to holding you back from reaching the bedroom door.

it was all a blur— and in the process you ended up being pushed against your bedroom door you and rafes tongues tangled in one another. your bodies flushed against each other.

rafe pulls away kissing along your jaw line before he starts to move down leaving open wet kisses along your upper body.

“fuck rafe” you let out a breathy moan, as your hands tangle in his dirty blonde hair.

your lips locking into one another one of his hands hold the side of your face while the other hikes up under your shirt— gently squeezing at your breast.

your legs squeeze together try to get somewhat friction on your growing heat.

rafe smiles against your lips to himself knowing he’s the one that’s got you feeling like this.

kissing you a few more times he pulls away a string of saliva connecting you two.

his chest rises up and down out of breath from the kissing.

“cm’on doll let me take care of you.” he whispers his warm breath blowing against my skin.

for a moment you forgot what you even pissed off about in the first place until your eyes travel over to the pile behind your boyfriend.

“uh no— get off me.” you grunt your tone of voice changing within seconds.

“when you clean that shit up, i’ll think about it.” a smug smile plastered on your lips knowing he’d do anything to get in between your legs.

“are you— are you serious right now?” he stutters lost for words at the sudden switch up.

giving him a stern look he sighs pulling off of you.

“alright fine..” he mumbles under his breath, “could you atleast help me?”

you nod your head and give a playful eye roll. “i mean, i guess, come on.”

he turns around and walking over to the pile of clothes, you can’t help but notice how good his ass looks in the blue jeans he’s wearing— giving it a smack.

“y/n stop what did i tell you ‘bout that!” he whines turning back to you with a pout.

a/n: guys did i eat 😕

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine #adoreangelina 🐻

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hwallazia · 4 months ago

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ANGELS IN TIBET – 송민기

synopsis . in which mingi clearly can’t keep it inside his pants. not even at the cinema.

pairing . song mingi & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), established relationship, non idol!au.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 1,7k

DISCLAIMER! dom! mingi , sub! reader , exhibitionism , cockwarming in a public space , clit play , reverse cowgirl position , mocking , dirty talk , praise , pet names (dove, good girl, babe & more) , wet kisses ooh , mingi is desperate for yn’s touch and attention.

NIC’S NOTES this was a request that i’ve had pending since april i think? and i’m so sorry for not working on it until now (like fr i’m beyond embarrassed, anon pls forgive me) but she’s finally here! as well as me hehe, i’m trying to get back on track with writing, it’ll take some time tho. for now, enjoy this, loves <3

mingi’s behavior could be defined as needy.

he swung his arm swiftly across your shoulders, keeping you safe and close next to him — close enough to smell his faint natural, manly and rich scent. he kept throwing his head on the crook on your neck and then lifting it, then letting it fall down your shoulder’s blade. why was he so impatient?

you tried to remain calm and pay attention to the damn movie playing in front of your eyes until mingi’s nth sigh struck your peaceful state of mind. “mingi, what’s wrong?”

your soft, low question made him tilt his head up, once again. “nothing.” his short reply caused your eyes to narrow almost shut — which he probably didn’t get to observe since the darkness of the theatre blurred some of each other’s features. an even quieter “then quit squirming” came from your lips and mingi jutted his bottom lip. “but i’m cooold.” he whined in response.

thankfully he didn’t see your eyeroll because he prolly would’ve scattered in tears on the spot. “how can you be cold when you have a big ass jacket on?” you paused, turning your body to analyze his perfectly covered figure. “and a sweater underneath it?” you deadpanned.

“do i look like i know?” he huffed, placing his head back into the juncture of your neck — might as well be a single organ now. “i just feel cold and i’m looking for my beloved girlfriend’s comfortable warmth. is that too much to ask?”

“but how do you want me to—” your complaint was cut out by the loud, clearly annoyed shush of the old lady sitting below the two of you. she angled her body so her bothered gaze met yours, her wrinkles were palpable thanks to the dim, yet shiny lighting provided by the projector. you mouthed an apology and gave her your most sweet, sheepish smile. her soft huff reached your ears and embarrassment spread all over your cheekbones.

“see? now the old lady is pissed at us because of you.” mingi dared to open his mouth and your head gyrated slowly, almost in a comedic motion, and he nearly let out his squeaky laugh at the sight of your unbelievable facet, jaw hang open comically.

“how dare you.” you quipped; eyelids almost closing your eyes as if you were ready to object, yet you remained quiet. you repositioned your figure towards the projected screen, causing mingi to abandon the occupied place. vague and nearly lifeless brain cells tried to recollect and understand what had happened during the time you drifted away from the movie.

mingi’s soft, low chuckle summoned the chilliest of goosebumps creeping down your spine, a slight arch going unseen. “don’t be like that, babe.” he reached for the side of your shoulder to squeeze it and to resume your last position; nose nestling on the lateral part of your neck again. he let a trail of wet, romantic kisses all along the valley of your neck, your ticklish skin made your body squirm and giggle quietly.

“mingi—stop.” you muttered between little and nearly inaudible squeaks, a childish and wholesome smile drawn across your lips. something that mingi could see up close.

he’s just so in love with you. so madly in love.

mingi stopped for a moment, letting your hyperventilated self calm down; sweet strokes, provided by fingers full of affection, were present on the side of your shoulder.

“hey babe?” he hushed in a certain tone. a chilly, gravelly voice scraping through you.

“hm?”

“i think i know a way you can warm me up.”

his mouth paced throughout the length of your neck to land a kiss on its soft flesh before flying to the shell of your ear; an enchanting shudder of anticipation exciting you already. “care to share with the class?”

your words, enveloped in a velvety hue of seduction, caused the little hairs placed on his nape to stand on end. he hummed in satisfaction before responding. “you fancy trying something new, dove?”

one moment, you were cuddling with your boyfriend in the cinema’s seats, watching the movie you had paid for. the next, you were cockwarming his girthy length — don’t worry! the folds of your loose, white skirt hid it perfectly. how sinful it was for a pearl-like fabric to cover such a lewd scene.

your walls clenched and relaxed against the sides of his cock every now and then from the excitement and adrenaline. plus, mingi moved incessantly, excusing himself by implying “he had a cramp” or he was “getting comfy”. if only the old lady could see that you and mingi could ruin a movie screening in more ways than just talking.

mingi’s low grunts tensed your limbs, your mind floating around already. his cock tip kissed your cervix deliciously; white spots filling your dark irises. “fuck, babe. so tight and wet f’me.” his grip on your trembling hip growing stronger as you greedily sucked him whole. “didn’t think you’d be up for this. y’ know, since you’re so shy” he mocked pathetically, whining like you would now if it weren’t for the place where this was taking action.

his big hands abandoned your shuddering hips, swiftly moving under your plush thighs; slim fingers curling up your flesh. you knew he wanted you to move, his uneven breathing and a slight tug on your skin gave him away so easily. but fuck, you couldn’t bring yourself to quench his desire — you already felt too exposed by just cockwarming him. your breath hitched as you clamped onto him involuntarily, your squishy insides making mingi melt in satisfaction. the lowest of grunts fanned against your earlobe.

you couldn’t help the tiny mewl that slipped off your tongue. fuck, everything was starting to be too much.

and mingi’s fingers crawling their way to your swollen clit didn’t make it any better.

your shameless, pathetic moan startled the elderly woman seated a few rows down. again, she gyrated her core to stare in your direction, unamused of the interruption, but before she could meet your eyes, you hid your flushed face in the crook of mingi’s defined neck; teeth digging into the plump flesh of your lips to mute your whimpers and tiny cries from the old woman’s seemly acute hearing.

mingi’s index and middle fingers didn’t stop working on your sensitive bud, but they did slow down their pace, setting now a very tortuous tempo; exasperated exhales fanned against his neck. mingi’s dark, lust-filled irises met the aged woman’s eyes, which were pouring annoyance.

his unbusy hand pointed at the screen, showing fake interest. “this movie’s real good.” he expressed, approvingly. at this rate, an oscar should be given to mingi because of his ability to remain with a calm demeanor given the circumstances. don’t get him wrong though, it took everything from him not to tell the lady to fuck off and let you and him be.

the elderly lady squinted her small eyes with disapproval — not that mingi gave a damn — and finally turned to face the projected screen once again. a quiet, soft exhale was released through mingi’s nostrils, his attention now fully focused back on you.

his deep, masculine tone rumbled through his core, and shivers were sent directly down your spine. “c’mon, angel. pay attention, i didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” he hummed, the intention of teasing was painted in his tone as clear as water. “or is it that you’re gonna cum?”

“ming—ngh! i—i’m s’ close. so fuckin’ close” you exhaled. “faster, fuck—please, faster” you settled your head, so it rested on his shoulder. he didn’t miss the chance to shower your exposed neck with wet, lascivious kisses while whispering the dirtiest things right on your ear.

“well aren’t you a greedy little thing?” mingi cooed at you mockingly one more time and with your bothered and high pitched, yet quiet whimper, he chuckled. “’s okay, babe, gonna give you just what you deserve for being such a good girl.”

your gummy walls clenched around his hardened shaft multiple times as his fingers played with your plush clit like a guitar in a relentless pace.

“let me see you fall apart.” he muttered with the huskiest voice known to men, and with his cock filling you to the brim and his skillful phalanges driving you straight to the abyss perfectly, you reached a satisfying peak, crying out mingi’s name. he didn’t stop his sloppy movements though, completely committed to drawing out the sensation for as long as possible and when you finally felt completely sated, you let your trembling core collapse against mingi’s strong chest.

his hands didn’t hesitate to wrap around your body, a trail of the sweetest praises showering you entirely. a giddy smile was drawn on your lips — your red, swollen and probably broken lip.

when the movie ended, you and your boyfriend made your way to the exit door, coincidentally meeting the hunchbacked old woman face to face. of course, you earned yet another displeased glance.

as you walked toward your apartment, mingi couldn’t help but remember the event that had happened not long ago and decided to express exasperatedly “oh my god, i was ’boutta throw hands with that nosy ass woman.”

you snorted at his comment. “mingi, she’s a poor old lady that just wanted to enjoy the movie in peace and not having to deal with a horny couple of teenagers.”

“babe, we ain’t teenagers. we’re wayyy past our twenties.” he stated the obvious.

you rolled your eyes playfully. “yeah, well, you sure don’t act like it sometimes. who picks a fight with an old lady during a rom-com?”

mingi chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “she started it! i was just trying to give you a little—”

“—a little what?” you interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “a little public embarrassment? because mission accomplished.”

he smirked, leaning closer. “can’t deny you didn’t like it.”

you huffed, trying to suppress a smile. “you and your little horny and helpless self… always getting us into trouble.”

mingi shrugged, unbothered. “i don’t regret a thing.”

“just... try not to traumatize any more old ladies, okay?” you teased, lightly tapping his arm.

“deal,” he said with a grin, wrapping his arm around you. “but no promises if they keep interrupting my movie time with you.”

“what do you mean? we didn’t even watch the movie!”

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #ateez #ateez smut #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi smut #song mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi scenarios #mingi fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic

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solxamber · 5 months ago

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This is Love - Riddle Rosehearts x reader

3 times he notices your acts of love and realizes it doesn't have to be grand and overdramatic like the movies, it could just be like this– sweet and considerate.

crossposted from my ao3!

You’re not speaking to him. He knows why, of course—Riddle's temper had gotten the better of him again. Another argument, another set of rules he enforced too strictly, and this time you’d had enough. He had heard the bite in your words, the frustration lacing every syllable when you told him to “loosen up.”

And yet, despite the tension still simmering in the room, Riddle can’t relax. His back is stiff as he stares at the ceiling, hands clenched under the covers. He doesn't want to admit it, but the silence bothers him. It gnaws at him, the guilt festering. He can feel your presence beside him, but the distance between you feels like a canyon.

How could he have let things escalate like this?

He hears you sigh—sharp, frustrated—and then there's a shift in the blankets. For a second, he’s certain you’ll turn away from him, shutting him out entirely. It’s what he deserves, after all. But instead, something surprising happens.

Your arm. Wrapping around his waist. Gently, deliberately, like it always does before he falls asleep.

Riddle stiffens at first, completely taken aback. His mind races, wondering if this is a trick or just muscle memory. He doesn’t dare breathe. His heart is in his throat. You pull him closer and press a kiss to his hair.

Why are you…? After everything, you still…?

He feels the warmth of your touch seep into his skin, and slowly, so slowly, his rigid posture begins to relax. His breath comes out shakily, and though his pride won’t let him say it out loud, he’s grateful. It’s your way of telling him you’re still angry, but you love him. You always do.

And with that, sleep finally finds him, nestled in the comfort of your embrace.

The cold is biting today, and Riddle feels it in his bones. He’s leaving class with you, rubbing his arms discreetly as he walks. His uniform is meant to be formal and pristine, not warm, and his stubbornness refuses to let him complain. Still, he knows you’ve noticed.

Of course you’ve noticed.

“Riddle,” your voice breaks the quiet as you hurry to catch up with him. He doesn’t even look at you, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from earlier in class.

“Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, his words clipped and precise. But the truth is, he’s shivering. His hands are numb. He’s starting to lose feeling in his fingers, and you can see it all over his face, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

In a swift motion, before he can protest, you slip off your jacket and drape it over his shoulders. Riddle freezes—literally and figuratively.

“W-what are you—”

“Take my jacket,” you say casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I can’t have the Housewarden of Heartslabyul freezing to death.”

The words hit him harder than he expects. His cheeks flame bright red, matching the tips of his ears, and he’s torn between protesting and basking in the warmth your jacket provides. It smells like you, like comfort, and he’s mortified by how much he likes it.

“...Thank you,” he mutters, barely audible, but the soft smile on your face tells him you heard him loud and clear. He tugs the jacket tighter around himself, both embarrassed and… a little touched. Maybe more than a little.

It’s late. Too late. Riddle’s been up for hours, drowning in paperwork and assignments, his brain on the verge of collapse. He’s so exhausted that even the numbers on the page are starting to blur together. Just a few more pages. He can finish this. He can—

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. One moment, he’s sitting at his desk, half-writing, half-dreaming, and the next, he wakes up with his face smushed against his textbook. His eyes flutter open groggily, his neck aching from the awkward angle.

Great. This will set him back for the entire day.

He blinks, trying to shake off the fog of sleep, and looks down at the stack of papers on his desk. The assignments are… finished? Every single one of them.

Riddle frowns. There’s no way he did all this. Is there?

“When did I finish this?” he mutters to himself, flipping through the pages. The handwriting is… definitely not his.

“You didn’t,” you say from the bed, voice casual as you scroll through your phone.

Riddle stares at you, wide-eyed and confused. “What?”

“You were practically dead on your feet, Riddle. I finished it for you.”

He’s too shocked to respond at first. His heart races, a mix of disbelief and something else—something soft, unfamiliar. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to process the way his chest feels tight, but in a good way.

“You… shouldn’t have done that,” he says weakly, though the words don’t carry any real conviction. He’s already skimming through the assignments, seeing how you’d matched his usual style of work almost perfectly.

You just shrug, grinning lazily. “Yeah, well. I wanted to.”

And there it is again—that warmth. The same feeling he got when you held him during the argument, or when you handed him your jacket. It’s starting to become more familiar, more difficult to ignore. His heart does a funny little flip in his chest as he stares at the completed work, then back at you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice so quiet he almost hopes you didn’t hear it.

But, of course, you did. You always do.

Riddle's never been great at expressing feelings that aren't tied to logic or rules. Love is messy and complicated, the kind of thing that doesn't fit neatly into the boxes he's carefully organized his life around. But there are moments—like when you wrap your arms around him after a fight, or when you lend him your jacket, or when you finish his assignments without a second thought—that make him wonder if maybe love isn’t supposed to fit into a box at all.

Maybe it’s supposed to be messy.

As he lies next to you in bed that night, your breathing steady and peaceful beside him, he finds himself unable to sleep. He keeps thinking about everything you do for him, the way you make his rigid, rule-bound world feel just a little more flexible.

“I love you,” he whispers into the quiet of the room, his voice barely audible.

You stir beside him, half-asleep, your arm lazily draping over his waist. “Love you too,” you murmur back, voice soft and groggy.

Riddle feels a weight lift off his chest, something warm and sweet settling in its place. He closes his eyes, smiling into the darkness, and for once, he falls asleep with no worries at all. Maybe this is love.

Masterlist

#riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader

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p0orbaby · 5 months ago

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It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

summary: you’re the new physio, tasked to help leah one on one with her recovery; but lines start to blur the longer you spend with one another

warnings: none

a/n: i enjoyed this one. also trying out a slightly different style so let me know what you think

word count: 2.8k

Leah comes in every morning just after 7:30, always a little earlier than the rest of the team—well, what’s left of the team—who roll in around 8, give or take. You start noticing her patterns by the second week. It’s not intentional. It’s just that she’s hard not to notice. The way she slips into the room quietly, moving like a shadow, like she’s trying not to be seen even though she’s Leah Williamson and there’s something impossible about Leah Williamson going unnoticed. You’re not sure she’s aware of it, or maybe she is, maybe it’s part of the act, something people like her learn over time—how to balance being seen and unseen simultaneously. Either way, she always acknowledges you. It’s a brief nod or a soft “Morning” that comes out like a sigh. But it’s there. And you nod back because it’s professional, it’s polite.

You’re the new physio, brought in because someone higher up decided that ACLs are the new pandemic, and Arsenal’s hit hard by it. One by one, players dropping like flies—tears, rips, stretches that aren’t supposed to stretch. Someone needed to focus on rehab, on these slow and tedious one-on-one sessions. So, here you are. Your life has become a revolving door of knee braces, resistance bands, ultrasound machines, and cold compression therapy. A strange, repetitive kind of intimacy.

Leah is assigned to you. "Take care of her," they say. She’s a captain. She’s the face. There’s an unsaid urgency that comes with her, an invisible asterisk by her name. You feel it in every briefing, every passing mention of her progress. Everyone’s waiting for her return. Waiting for her to be fixed.

Your first session with her is awkward. Stilted. You’re overly conscious of how she sits, her knee elevated, her eyes on the ceiling, like she’s counting the tiles instead of looking at you. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and that weird plastic-y scent that medical equipment always has. You ask her the standard questions: pain level, range of motion, any stiffness. She answers with one-word responses, tight-lipped. There’s a distance between you that you can’t quite figure out if it’s professional or personal. Maybe both.

Weeks pass, and the routine becomes muscle memory. You know when to push and when to pull back. How to make her laugh, how to coax her into stretching just a little more without her getting defensive. You start to notice the little things about her. Like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts after you adjust the brace on her leg, or how she clicks her tongue when she’s frustrated, a soft noise that barely registers unless you’re paying attention, which you are. You’re always paying attention to Leah.

It’s in the middle of a session that things shift. You’re guiding her through a series of exercises—balance work, stuff that’s boring but essential—and she’s sweating, biting her lip as she focuses on not wobbling. You’re right there, hands out, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She doesn’t, but the proximity is there. Too close, maybe. Your fingers brush her waist as you correct her form, and she inhales sharply. You freeze, but she doesn’t move. Neither do you.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice lower than usual, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the weight of her stare, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

"Yeah," she says, but her voice sounds strained, like she’s not sure it’s the right answer. She’s not looking at you anymore, her focus now on the floor, her hands gripping the sides of the bench like she needs to anchor herself. The room feels smaller, the air thick.

You pull back, step away, putting space between you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You can still feel the echo of her skin under your fingers, the heat of her proximity. You clear your throat, force a smile. "Let’s take five”

She nods, doesn’t say anything, just grabs her water bottle and takes a long drink, her throat working, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. You turn away, pretend to be adjusting something on the ultrasound machine even though it’s perfectly fine, just to give yourself something to do, something that isn’t thinking about how her skin felt under your hands.

The next time around is more tense. There’s an unspoken tension now, like a line has been crossed, or maybe it hasn’t, but it’s close. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every brush of skin. Leah doesn’t mention it, but there’s a change in her too. She flirts, subtly at first—offhand comments, jokes that land just a little too close to something more. You laugh, play along, because it’s harmless. It’s nothing. Except it’s not.

You catch yourself watching her more. The way her muscles ripple under her skin as she moves, the way her lips part when she’s concentrating, how her eyes flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if she notices you doing the same. You wonder if she feels it too—this thing simmering between you that’s becoming harder to ignore.

One day, after a session, she lingers. The rest of the team has filtered out of the gym, and it’s just the two of you, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

"Thanks for today," she says, her voice soft. She’s sitting on the edge of the bench, her knee still wrapped in the brace, but she looks more relaxed than she has in weeks. There’s something in her eyes, something you can’t quite read, and it makes your chest tighten.

"It’s my job," you say, but the words feel hollow. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks now, trying to convince yourself that this is just work, that this is just another injured player, another knee to fix. But it’s not. You’re not sure when it stopped being just that, but it has.

"Is it, though?" she asks, and her voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A challenge.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

She stands, slowly, her movements careful, deliberate. She’s close to you now, too close again, and you don’t step back this time. "I think you know what I mean," she says, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You don’t have an answer, or maybe you do but you don’t trust yourself to say it out loud. The air between you crackles with something electric, something that feels inevitable.

She leans in, just a fraction, and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You could close the distance. You could kiss her, right here, right now, and no one would know. It would be easy. Too easy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back. You force a smile. "We should stick to the plan. Don’t want to push the knee too hard too soon”

It’s a cop-out, and you both know it. The shift in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she masks it with a shrug.

"Right. The knee," she says, her tone casual, but the tension is still there, hanging between you like a thin thread ready to snap. She doesn’t push it, though. Instead, she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door. But just before she leaves, she glances back at you, her eyes sharp, like she’s trying to figure you out, trying to decide if this is a game or something else entirely.

You stand there for a long time after she’s gone, the gym feeling too big, too empty. You can still feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body close to yours. You tell yourself it’s just work, just rehab. But deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

It’s never that simple.

The sessions after that are different. There’s a push and pull now, a tension that neither of you acknowledges but is impossible to ignore. Flirting turns into something sharper, more pointed, like you’re both testing the limits, seeing how far you can go before something breaks. But nothing breaks, not really. Not yet.

Then one night, you cross the line. It’s late, the training ground is empty, and Leah’s the last one in the gym. You’re both exhausted, worn down by weeks of slow progress, of frustrations mounting. The conversation starts off innocuous—something about her recovery timeline, how she’s feeling. But it shifts quickly. There’s an edge to her voice, a sharpness that cuts through the usual banter.

"Why do you keep pulling back?" she asks, and there’s nothing light in her tone now. It’s serious. She’s serious.

You blink, thrown off. It’s late, the harsh fluorescent lights above cast everything in this sterile, washed-out glow that makes you feel like you’re in a hospital, or some kind of waiting room where nothing feels real, nothing matters. Leah’s standing in front of you, close but not too close, not like before, but close enough that you feel it—the weight of her presence, the space she occupies, the air between you vibrating, charged with something neither of you is willing to name but it’s there. It’s been there for weeks. Maybe longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You’re tired, too tired to come up with something convincing, and it’s the way she’s looking at you now, like she’s seeing through every excuse you’ve built up, every wall you’ve thrown up between you because you know you have to, because you’re the physio, you’re supposed to be the professional, the one who stays detached, clinical, objective. You’re supposed to care about her body, her knee, not the rest of her. Not this.

But the truth is, you do care, too much, and it’s bleeding into everything. Into the way you touch her during sessions, the way your fingers linger just a little too long on her skin when you’re adjusting the brace, or the way your pulse speeds up when she leans back on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her neck, and you wonder what it would feel like to brush them away. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a line you can’t cross, but the line’s blurred now, so faint you can barely see it anymore.

Leah narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing an old Arsenal training kit, the fabric worn and soft, the logo faded from too many washes, and you notice that she tugs at the hem of her shirt when she’s frustrated, twisting it around her fingers like she’s trying to keep her hands busy, like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something vulnerable, like she’s exposing a part of herself she doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. “You know exactly what I mean”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. You’re not stupid. You know why you’ve been pulling back. Why you’ve been keeping your distance. It’s because this—whatever this is—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s wrong in a way that’s hard to define but easy to feel, like a low hum in the back of your mind that you can’t shake. And yet, the more you try to stay away, the more you find yourself drawn to her. Like gravity. Like something you can’t control, no matter how hard you try.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, and your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You’re aware of how this looks—two people alone in a gym, the air thick with unspoken tension, the kind of tension that feels like it’s been building for a long time and is about to spill over. You glance at the clock on the wall—it’s almost 10 a.m.—and you wonder how it got so late, how time seems to bend around her, how hours slip by when you’re with her but still, its never enough. There’s always more, always something unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Leah uncrosses her arms, taking a step closer. You can see the faint scar on her knee, the way the skin’s still a little pink, a little raw, and it’s a reminder of why you’re here, what your job is, but all you can think about is the way her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching. “I’m not asking for simple,” she says quietly, and there’s an intensity in her voice that catches you off guard. “I’m asking for honest”

The word hangs in the air, heavy, and you feel something in your chest tighten. Honest. You think about what that would look like. What it would feel like to stop pretending, to stop playing this game where you act like you don’t notice the way she looks at you, the way your body reacts to hers. You think about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to what’s been building between you. The consequences. The fallout. The way it would shift everything irreparably, and yet, the thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You take a breath, slow, steady, trying to collect yourself, trying to find the right words, but they’re all tangled up in your head, a mess of things you can’t say, shouldn’t say. “Leah,” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence, because there’s no good way to say what you’re thinking, no good way to explain the way your heart speeds up when she’s near, the way your skin prickles under her eyes, the way your mind drifts to her at night when you’re lying in bed, staring into the darkness, replaying moments in your head that shouldn’t matter but do.

She’s watching you, waiting, and you can feel the weight of her expectation, the way she’s daring you to say something real, something that matters. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re tired of pretending, tired of holding back, but something inside you cracks, just a little, just enough.

“I’ve been trying to keep this professional,” you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over themselves like they’ve been waiting to escape. “Because I have to. Because I don’t know how else to do this without—” You stop, shaking your head, because it sounds ridiculous, it sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is. “It’s not just about your knee,” you say finally, and it feels like a confession, like something you’ve been holding onto for too long. “It’s about everything else”

Leah’s eyes widen, just for a moment, and you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief, or something else entirely. She doesn’t say anything right away, but she steps even closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her sweat mixed with the scent of her shampoo, something clean and floral, and it hits you like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. You feel the pull again, stronger now, undeniable.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, and her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the haze in your mind. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

The words hang between you, suspended in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the gym, the team, the world outside this room. It’s just you and her, and the weight of everything you haven’t said, everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

Leah reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a spark that ignites something deep inside, something you’ve been trying to suppress for weeks, months. You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you disappears, and her lips are on yours, and it’s like everything snaps into focus all at once.

The kiss is rough, urgent, like it’s been building for too long and now there’s no stopping it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of her body against yours, the way her breath mingles with yours in the small, stolen space between kisses. It’s messy, frantic, like neither of you can get enough, like you’ve been starving for this and now you’re finally letting yourself have it.

You don’t think about the consequences, about what happens when this moment ends. You don’t think about the power imbalance, the lines you’re crossing, the mess you’re making. All you can think about is the way she feels against you, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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svgarseason · 1 month ago

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𖹭 cw: mildly suggestive, fluff

══════════════𖹭 MINORS DNI 𖹭═════════════

PT 1 ⋆ PT 2 ⋆ PT 3 ⋆ PT 4 ⋆ PT 5 ⋆ PT 6 ⋆ PT 7

English professor Nanami knew you were having relationship issues. Your boyfriend called him from a blocked number and told him to stay away from you. He made many not so eloquent accusations and threats before Professor Nanami calmly invited the man to put him in a position where he would be forced to defend himself.

Professor Nanami sincerely wishes that he would. Every time he thinks about the disgusting way the man spoke of you, he sees red. You deserve so much better than some insecure prick who steals numbers off your phone and talks about you like you're garbage.

Professor Nanami resists bringing it up with you, he knows you well enough to realize that it would only embarrass you. Although it pains him to see your face a little more drawn and tired for the next couple of days, he knows you are strong. He noticed that you changed your phone background from a picture of you with a man to a picture of you and what appears to be a young sibling. This is heartening. He hopes you have stopped inflicting that loser upon yourself.

Since he can't talk to you about it, he brings you coffee just the way you like it when you forget. He asks you if you've eaten when you don't take your lunch break. He thinks he understands why you are avoiding the cafeteria and the parking lot at this time of day, so he brings you a sandwich and soup from his favorite cafe across the street. It's hard to hold your gaze when you look at him the way you do after he offers it to you.

Even harder than that is looking at you stretched out on your belly asleep on the couch in his office. Hands tucked under your cheek, lips parted, bare legs peeking from beneath the blanket just below the curve of your ass, hair falling over the edge. It caught him off gaurd, that's why his heart lurches and his skin crawls with sparks of heat. That's why he has to step back into the hallway and take a deep breath, try to think of something unpleasant to combat the heat blooming low in his guts. That's what he tells himself, although he's not sure there's much of a point in maintaining the self delusion anymore. You are waking up when he steps back inside.

Professor Nanami 's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts before he even confirms with you that you've been sleeping on campus. It isn't safe. You must not be parking in the parking lot, they close that. You must park down the street. The building is locked at night. Gates are locked. What if you had some sort of medical emergency? No. You can't sleep here. He knows immediately that you've misunderstood him when he sees the way your face falls.

"You can stay with me," he hears himself say the words, drowning out the voice of reason telling him it's wildly inappropriate, that it can only end badly. Perhaps there is still a point in deluding himself, because he needs to be the one to fix this. "I have a spare bedroom. Just until you figure things out. You don't have to explain anything," he is saying but you are already nodding and smiling. Then you are off the couch in a blur of motion, which is a relief because the last thing he needs right now is to get a good look at you in you little tank and shorts. You are hugging him tight around the waist, cheek pressed into his chest, thanking him.

Professor Nanami pats you on the back, fighting for his life not to slip his hands around your waist and let his fingers map out the skin beneath your top. With herculean effort,he peels himself away from the warm crush of your body, the maddening scent of you. He is quick to take a seat at his desk, coat in his lap hiding the evidence his true feelings until you leave to shower and dress, cursing his perversion. Hard from a simple hug. How will he tolerate you living in his house?

𖹭 a/n: just want to say thanks for reading. Really appreciate you guys interacting. I'll be done with this series after a few more parts, so feel free to send me requests (:

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saintgoths · 1 year ago

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☾༺♰༻☽ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴇʀʀʏ ☾༺♰༻☽

mdni - nasty sex. angry sex.

carlos oliveira, ellie williams, sim ghost riley, joel miller, leon kennedy, levi ackerman and will herondale.

this is for you guys helping me reach 400+ followers :)

ᴄᴀʀʟᴏꜱ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇɪʀᴀ

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks as your face had been pressed against the soft mattress, his large hand had been entangled within your locks while the rough thrusting of his hips had aided you into an eternal pleasurable tunnel, your whines mixed and embedded with his soft grunts as he angrily fucked his cock inside your tight cunt, his width twitching between your hearth while mumbling strong words of affront.

“I’m sorry,” you grumbled, your chin wet with your own shameful saliva, yourself incapable of keeping your mouth shut in response to his lewd roughness, eyes blurred with gratifying tears while the thumb of his free hand found way to the tightness of your second hole, your legs spreading further apart in sensual apathy while your boyfriend continued to rip you apart.

Finding the strength to grip your fingers into the bed sheets you had clenched your sex around his size. “I---I can’t take it!” You cried out, “Too big!”

“Shouldn’t have tried to make me jealous, princess,” he sneered, nearing his lips to your ear, “Want me to stop?” He whispered, dragging the hand that had been tied with your hair to your waist, the heaviness of his chest pressing against your back and with desperacy you had shook your head. “Just as I thought, like the slut you are,” he gritted, the thrusts of his length deepening against the softness of your pussy driving you into a delirious ecstasy.

“Yes! Yes!” You chanted, crazed feeling your orgasm heat and peak around your cunt you had moved your hand to the swollen pearl of your sex, desperately rubbing and circling your digits around your bud while you had frantically moaned against your bed sheets, your tears slowly drying against your cheeks as you respired all the animalistic thrusts your partner contacted you with, your eyes twisted shut as your high pushed through your entire body, your juices leaking on outsides of your thighs as your figure inconsistently twitched.

Over-stimulated by the quickness of his pushes, you had allowed Carlos to take care of your body, milking his warm cum against the slickness of your back. “There, there,” he whispered as your body slumped against the mattress, you felt his lips go close to your face once more. “Now, you won’t do that again?” He questioned, his voice laced with cunningness that had caused you to throw a certain look his way.

“Maybe.”

POSITIONS REFERENCE.

ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ

You knew you couldn’t stay angry at each forever, and you knew Ellie would give into you once you met her with bright deer-like eyes; she’d drag you into her small cabin and begin to kiss you, though you had still felt the irritation that had vibrated through her body, but what she hadn’t realised is that you had just been as angry as her or even more

Once your clothes had met the floor, the two of you had continued to re-discover each other’s bodies, your fingers slipping and circling places that would cause her figure to jerk, and the second you had found yourself on top of her, your swollen bud had pressed against her eager pearl, your body circling and thrusting against her slim but muscled figure, your paw finding way to wrap around her neck as your once slow motion had carried into a stronger and competitive rhythm.

“Fuck,” Ellie whined, her back deeply pressed against her mattress as she had wrapped one leg around your waist, possessively and greedily twirling her body with yours as her coloured eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body shivering in pleasure as your juices mixed with each other, the friction sending her into a crazed edge as she held back her cum, embarrassed with how quick you had made her ride to her climax. “Don’t stop!” She cried out and cocky, you had smirked at her, your other hand finding way around her neck as both of your buds humped each other.

“Not stopping anytime soon,” you lustfully smiled, tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth you breathed out a moan as you gently bounced against her swollen pearl, finding yourself wanting to squirt against her cunt you allowed yourself to orgasm against her sex, combining and fusing your nectar with her natural wetness, the view of the whiteness of your ambrosia stirred Ellie into an soaring climax, both of your cunts pulsing against each other as you both resumed to grind in sync, both faces red and covered with love-tears as you had mutually sent each other into a second climax.

With a loud sigh, you had pressed your forehead against Ellie’s, with the both of you exhausted you had rolled your body off her physique and landed beside her. “You looked so pretty fucking me like that,” Ellie worded out and confident, you had sat up with your arms, an encouraging smile embedded on your face.

“Do you still have your strap?” You asked and with a faux-offended look on her face, Ellie clicked her tongue.

“Of course, I do.”

POSITION REFERENCE

ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ 'ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ' ʀɪʟᴇʏ

“You love pissing me off, don’t you doll,” he flared, tightly wrapping his hand around the back of your knee, your arm wrapped around the back of his neck to aid you to be roughly fucked by the tall man who had possessively held you against him, you had a playful smile on your face, content on sending your husband over the edge, your eyes currently doe to his dignity and grace while your cunt had hungrily pulsed around his shaft, your lips snugged behind your teeth as you had loudly whimpered and moaned to his rough and coarse fuck.

Easily drunk off his sex, you had leaned your head backwards, your cheeks rosy and flushed with erotica as your spouse continued to pound his cock so deeply inside your tight cunt. Your closeness sending him into a beastly bawdy lust as he continued to thrust his length upwards, he commenced to tuck his lips against the skin of your neck and shoulders. “You drive me crazy,” he moaned, his dark eyes laced with romantic madness as you aided your fingers to the bud of your pussy, rotating your digits around your clit while your pussy had sweetly soaked his size.

“I love driving you insane,” you whispered before pushing yourself to his lick his tongue, both you hungrily moving towards each other, latching against each other as your mouths had quickly melded with one another, the roughness of the curve of his tip poking and licking the soft texture of your sex while he ardently guided his dick deeper your vagina whilst the heat of his impending climax heated his body, his cock twitching tightly inside of your cunt while your nectar graspingly coated his length.

“Y’know I’d do anything for you, luvie,” he whispered, his eyes potent with anger mixed with thirst. “You know I’d kill for you,” he moaned, his legs then twitching and shivering as he heavily cummed inside your cunt, his balmy semen seeping and coating against your cervix, careful to push as much of his load inside of you, the man had continued to thrust his hips upwards, your toes curling in response as your eyes watered with sex and intimacy. “You love driving me to that point.”

“I don’t know if I should hate that,” he moaned while tightening his grip around you. “Playing with my feelings like this---oh fuck!” He loudly moaned, his second orgasm pushing through, his cum filling your tight area while the bulge of his cock lightly imprinted your stomach.

Moved, you had licked your lower lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gently moved your body with his. Your competitive tastes obsessed with driving you insane, the thought of him handling others in your name had lifted you, while the friction of your fingers guided you to your peeking orgasm, you had pushed your lips against him once more. “I love you,” you moaned, your nectar sheeting around his width, mixing with his juices while you continued to squirt and cum around his cock.

“Shit—I love you too, doll,” he moaned while pulling his length out of your body, you had quickly held onto the table he had fucked you near. Dizzy with the tight and intense orgasm he had put you through, you had sneery smiled at him as you had watched him get to his knees. “Now let me lick my cum out of you.”

POSITIONS REFERENCE

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

The drop-off had went to shit, Tess had been missing and within your thoughts you had believed she had committed herself to another side-quest while pushing both you and Joel to stay in the current crappy apartment you had all currently inhabited; and due to this, you could tell Joel was pissed.

Well pissed off was an understatement to how the man had currently felt but you had understood that your man had wanted a relief, thus you had your second hole roughly ripped open by his girth, your anus wet with your saliva that had once coated his cock after the intense dick-sucking you had gifted the bearded man which had sent Joel to an acute orgasm.

Though, Joel was a man of stamina, he had wanted more, and now he had wrapped his arms around the back of your legs, pressing your back against his chest while fucking you ruthlessly. “Take it like the good girl you are,” he groaned, “Good girl,” he repeated and with your moans over-lapping his comments, you had thorwn your head backwards, mouth opened with un-swallowed saliva as you had attempted to live through his passionate plows.

“Fuck, you’re being so rough on me,” you cried out, snaking your hand towards your untouched pussy, the dew ample and sultry enough for you to easily slip in three fingers, the heavy over-stimulations forcing you to roll your eyes backwards as your walls gripped and twitched around your fingers and his cock.

“Keep doing that imma cum,” he gritted, his voice hoarse as his length began to throb inside your anus while he continued to aid you to bounce on his dick, you could feel your cunt want to spit with your juices.

“More,” you had whined, “I want to feel your hot cum inside of me,” you whimpered while bucking your hips forwards in autopilot. “I want it!” You moaned and satisfied by Joel’s quick turning point, the heat of his load painted and capped your walls just in time before Tess’s knocks echoed on the front door. “Shit,” you had muttered ere slipping yourself off his length, you could then hear Joel scramble onto his feet to pick up his thrown garments.

POSITIONS REFERENCE

ʟᴇᴏɴ ᴋᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ

As much as you had been stubborn, you had known you always became somewhat of a tramp of Leon’s whenever he had wanted you, you the woman who had loved playing games and as much as you had told each other you were just co-workers, every second away from each other he had lusted for you, yearned for your wetness and touch

Though, as much as he had told himself he wasn’t a jealous man, the view of you being touched by someone else had driven him crazy to the point that, he had set up a faux meeting that had involved just the two of you, you on the other hand had thought you’d meet the rest of the members so when you had entered the meeting room to be met with an upset, Leon, you had taken the imitative to wonder what he had up his sleeve, and what had been the commodity up the fabric had involved the two of you naked.

Carried by his strong arms as he aided you to bounce up and down his thick and long shaft, involved you moaning shamelessly against his ear while your wet hearth had squeezed and throbbed around his size whilst his fingers gripped into the skin of your buttocks, you had felt the curve of his thick tip lick and press the softness of your cunt. “That’s it, baby!” You moaned, the high erotic sting pushing you into a lustful end while you had felt his soft lips press against the skin of your neck.

“Like that?” He reassured biting his lips. “Feel so good, so fucking wet---uh!” He moaned out, his size endlessly throbbing and solid between your warmth, “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking early!” He cried out, his legs weakly shaking as he could feel his cum want to spill and seep and paint the inside of your walls, but just as adamant as you, he had kept in his semen while roughly handling your cunt with his length, the curve of his cock brushing against your heat and pulling you into an obsessive cock-drunk state.

“Yes! Yes!” You moaned, your ambrosia reaching and peeking to its end and sheeting and finishing around his size that had resumed to buck upwards, greedy and hasty to find its own climax, Leon’s eyes dark with lust, he clenched his teeth, finding his strength to bounce your body upwards as he began to milk his cum inside of your body.

Relieved, he had pressed your body against the wall, lifting your figure off his dick as he watched the mixed liquid of both yours and his cum fall out of your body. “So beautiful,” he hummed before taking your mouth with his, deepening the dual passionate affection the two you both proudly and stubbornly shared for each other.

POSITION REFERENCE

ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ

With the vibrating of the toy that he had pushed inside your cunt working its way within you, Levi had lost himself with fucking his cock deep inside your anus, his thick size hastily humping backwards and forwards while the Ackerman had possessively wrapped his firm hands around your waist. With your mouth opened, you had looked back at him, your mouth wide as he continued to fuck you into his bed.

With the sounds of the slapping off his balls hitting your ass, you had watched his steel-like eyes examine how intoxicated you had looked by the help of his length. Teasingly, you had squeezed your hole around his dick, over-stimulated with the buzzing off the toy that hummed against your pearl, instigating you to roll your eyes back whilst you had felt his other hand snake around your throat, possessively pulling you closer against him. “Don’t hold it in---I want everyone to know you’re being fucked by me,” he growled and with his permission your mouth had opened wider, your high-pitched moans vibrating off the walls as the pounding sounds of the bedframe had continued to hit against the wooden walls.

“Oh—Captain!” You wailed, “you’re so deep inside of me, feel so---good---ah!” You moaned, feeling a wave of orgasm wash through you, the bustling of the small toy hopping harder against your overwhelmed clit, your body falling numb within his grasp as he continued to pummel his cock down your ass, his swollen sac pelting against the skin off your ass cheeks while the wetness of both of your sweats continued to meld with each other.

“Moan for me like that, brat---let them know!” He grumbled, “ass so fucking tight around me---brat---oh fuck!” He sobbed, his body shaking as his cock began to shoot out his load, his warm semen piling and filling inside of you, helping him move his body faster between you, his fingers leaving bruises against your skin as he had trouble with pulling his cock out, and when he did the rest of his load spilt against your back, leaving you shaking against the bed.

Your ass still up, you could feel Levi press his lips against your anus before giving it a long lick, cleaning up his mess, sucking and whipping your ass with his mouth and tongue before moving it down your clit, helping your toy send you through another intense and addictive orgasm.

POSITION REFERENCE ONE

POSITION REFERENCE TWO

ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴏɴᴅᴀʟᴇ

It must’ve been another run in by Gabriel Lightwood, Will was usually someone who won over his disputes, but this time, the Lightwood must’ve hit a sore spot which had Will knocking on your door when everyone was asleep, he was in one of his rare moments, silent, but there had been a look on his face that had granted him access to your room.

He must’ve taken a walk, a walk in the rain in fact, his dark curly hair had been stuck against his skin such as his shirt had clung against his body, without an utter, the boy had already been unbuttoning his shirt while you had closed the door behind the two of you, though, you had not wanted to do anything with him, not without having him speaking first, so you had leaned against your wall. Arms crossed and eyes with slight judgement. “What happened?” You asked as you had watched him peel off his white garment.

With a quick glance you had watched him throw his shirt against the floor, in thought that you would follow after but you hadn’t. Earning a short piercing look from his ocean eyes and as you had returned with a darker glare, you had tightened your grip around yourself. “I’m not going to take off my clothes and lay with you because you want to.”

“You normally do.”

With your eyebrows furrowed you had ended up clicking your tongue in disapproval. “You’re such a dick.”

“I just need you,” he breathed out. “Gabriel---he…he spoke about you---” without allowing him to say another word, you had grasped his face, melding your lips with his while tucking your hand beneath his trousers.

“This will be the last time you come into my room expecting me to fuck you this easily, understand?” You questioned and with a soft nod, the both of you had continued to passionately embrace each other, mouth tight and swollen by your heated combination, while the two of you aided each other to take off each other’s clothes, naked under the long moonlight that had gently seeped through the curtains.

Will, strong and fast had pushed you against the bed, using you to get into the position he had wanted you to be in the second he had left the drawing room he had once shared with Gabriel, his eyes currently furious with lust, the stiff cock of his had gently stroked against the skin of your cunt, the wetness of your hearth easily welcoming him inside of you, the soft yet fiery friction had commenced a moan from both of your mouths, thus you had abruptly squeezed around him as his arm had welcomed around the back of your knee, aiding himself to dive and thrust deeper inside of your cunt.

“Oh fuck,” Will moaned, “fit so well for me,” he moaned as he quickened his pace with his thrusts, each plow filled with anger and erotica and each thrust quicker and rougher than before, leaning your head back in auto-pilot while your moans resumed to sing in his room, aware to feel the embarrassment and walk of shame that would occur the next day, you helped yourself to grind your body against, the tip of his cock circling and embracing the softness of your sex while your juices heavily capped and painted his shaft, his length then slipping in and out carrying him to his orgasm. “Oh [Y/N]!” He cried in adoration, his swollen sac releasing his climax inside of you, his grunts mixing with your high-pitched moans as he continued to move his body forwards.

Your body ridden stiff as you could sense your own climax attempt to spill against your mattress, your eyes locked with his, signalling your turning point, lustful to his encouraging look that had influenced the peak to your capstone, and thus you had relieved yourself, your amrita glazing and layering around his girth and once you had been done, you had rested your body against Will’s, an embarrassed and breathy laughed emitting from the back of your throat as you could feel Will leave your body.

“Charlotte is so going to be mad tomorrow,” you laughed.

POSITION REFERENCE

masterlist

♆

2K notes · View notes

wendichester · 19 days ago

Text

﹢﹒ ✦⊹﹒cursed love,

summary. love conquers all. or does it?

pairing. sam winchester x reader ; angsty

wordcount. 656

It starts with a sharp, searing jolt when Sam grabs your arm to pull you away from the hex bag. You gasp, jerking back instinctively, and he stumbles away too, clutching his hand as if he’s been burned.

“What the hell was that?” you manage, cradling your arm.

Sam’s eyes are wide with alarm, flicking from you to the cursed object now lying harmlessly on the ground. “I—I don’t know,” he says, his voice tight. He steps toward you, reaching out, but hesitates mid-motion. “Did that… hurt you?”

“Yes,” you say, the pain still fresh and raw. “Did it hurt you?”

Sam nods grimly, his brow furrowing. “Yeah.”

Realization dawns like a slow, cruel dawn. The witch. Her smug smile flashes in your mind before she vanished into thin air, her parting words sharp as a blade: “Enjoy your little love story while you can.”

“Sam,” you whisper, your throat tightening. “I think she cursed us.”

His face darkens, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he processes what this means. “No,” he mutters, shaking his head. “No, we’ll figure this out. We always do.”

But hours later, after scouring every book, every scrap of lore Bobby had, and everything the Man of Letters had in the bunker, you’re no closer to breaking the curse. The truth hangs heavy between you: every touch, every brush of skin, now brings unbearable pain.

You sit slumped on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep from reaching for Sam, who paces the room like a caged animal. He’s barely said a word, but his face says it all—he’s terrified.

“Sam,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

He stops mid-stride, his eyes locking onto yours.

“We’ll figure it out,” you say, forcing a smile that you don’t feel.

His expression crumbles, and for the first time, he looks utterly lost. “What if we don’t?”

“Don’t go there—”

“No, listen to me.” His voice is raw now, like it’s costing him everything to keep it steady. “What if we don’t find a way to fix this? What if… what if I can’t touch you ever again?”

Your heart aches at the crack in his voice, and you want nothing more than to reach out to him, to comfort him, but you don’t dare.

“We will,” you insist.

“But what if we don’t?” he repeats, his frustration breaking through. “You mean everything to me. How am I supposed to—” He cuts himself off, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Sam…”

He takes a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d rather live with the pain than live without you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You press your hands to your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Sam says, his voice breaking as he kneels in front of you, keeping a careful distance. “Don’t cry, please. We’ll get through this. I’ll find a way. I swear.”

You drop your hands, looking at him through blurred vision. “I don’t care about the pain either,” you say, your voice trembling. “I just… I can’t stand not being close to you.”

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the distance between you feeling like an uncrossable chasm. But then Sam clenches his fists, his jaw tightening with determination.

“I’ll fix this,” he vows, his hazel eyes burning with resolve. “Even if it takes everything I’ve got.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay,” you whisper.

And as he rises to his feet, you see it in his eyes—the sheer willpower that has saved countless lives, that has pulled both of you through the darkest moments. If anyone can find a way to break this curse, it’s Sam.

But until then, all you can do is endure.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx

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kaces-graham-crackers · 4 months ago

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To Die For - Halloween Special

Monster Hunter Wednesday Addams x Werewolf Reader

Summary: Y/N, a lone werewolf, finds themself hunted by none other than Wednesday Addams of the infamous Addams Family—but this isn’t a typical chase. Wednesday wants to understand them. As they set a trap for a darker creature lurking in the woods, alliances blur, and both hunter and hunted face more than they bargained for.

Word count: 5.5k

The air was thick with the scent of pine and rain as you moved through the dense forest, your breath coming in sharp bursts. The moon was high, hidden behind clouds, but you didn't need its light. Every instinct and nerve in your body was attuned to the woods around you, heightened by the curse coursing through your veins.

You stopped, catching a scent—something unfamiliar, cold. It wasn't the usual wildlife or the damp earth. It was different. And it was close. You knew what it meant. They'd sent someone after you. And that someone was closer than you expected.

A figure stood on the edge of the clearing, watching with an intensity that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. Dressed in all black, she was still as stone, her pale skin almost ghostly in the shadowed forest. Her eyes, dark and calculating, were locked on you. She wasn't afraid, and she wasn't here to run. She was here for you.

Wednesday Addams.

You'd heard the name whispered through the underground networks of the supernatural. A hunter—someone who sought out the monsters that lurked in the shadows, just like you. Most avoided her, too afraid of her family's infamous reputation, but not you. You had faced far worse than a cold-hearted girl with a knack for finding trouble. And yet, something about her unnerved you. Without taking your eyes off her, you moved back a step, your pulse quickening. But Wednesday made no move to follow. She just stood there, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, as if she had all the time in the world to watch you squirm. "Running won't help you," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "I'll find you either way." You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. You'd outrun hunters before. But something told you Wednesday wasn't like the others. This wasn't just a hunt. It was a game to her. "I'm not in the mood for games," you growled, your voice low and rough as you fought against the pull of the full moon's power creeping under your skin. Wednesday's expression remained unchanged, her gaze gleaming in the dark. "Who said anything about games?" You weren't sure what it was about her—her calm, almost detached demeanor or how she watched you with that piercing gaze—but it made you uneasy. And yet, there was something else, too. Something that made your chest tighten in a way you didn't want to acknowledge.

But before you could say anything more, Wednesday took a step forward, closing the distance between you in one swift motion. "I'm not here to kill you," she said softly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Not yet." The unspoken implication hung in the air, thick and heavy. You clenched your fists, fighting the instincts rising within you—the urge to run, fight, and protect yourself. "Then what do you want?" you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes fixed on yours with a calculating gleam. "I'm here to observe you." Her words stopped you cold. You'd expected a fight, a chase, something far more dangerous. But curiosity? Curiosity from someone like her? That was something you hadn't prepared for. You narrowed your eyes, trying to gauge her intention. "Observe me?" you repeated, disbelief lacing your voice. "What am I? A science experiment to you?" Wednesday's gaze remained unwavering, unreadable. "Something like that."

The forest seemed to still be around you, the air thick with tension. You felt the full moon's pull lurking just beneath your skin, a dangerous reminder of what you were. But Wednesday stood there, completely unphased, her calm presence unsettling. "And what happens when you've finished your little study?" you asked, your voice low, challenging. Wednesday's eyes flickered, but her expression remained controlled. "That depends on what I find." You let out a slow breath, realizing you wouldn't get a straightforward answer from her. Not yet, anyway. She was too clever, too controlled. The mystery of her intentions hung in the air, thick and unspoken, but it was clear this wasn't the usual hunt. Why me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the gnawing unease crawling up your spine. Wednesday took another step forward, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "You're different. I don't hunt monsters just because they exist. I hunt them because they interest me. And you, well… you're fascinating." The word "fascinating" sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't exactly comforting to know you were the subject of her twisted intrigue. But there was something else in how she said it as if she saw something far beneath your surface. "Different, how?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Her gaze never wavered, studying you like she could dissect your essence with a glance. "You don't embrace what you are. Most werewolves lose themselves to their instincts, run wild and reckless." Her voice was calm and calculated. "You maintain control—calm, aware, even rational." You bristled at her words, unsure whether to feel insulted or complimented. She was correct; you didn't give in to the hunt as others did. While your instincts were just as strong, you managed to channel them, a level of restraint that had taken you years to develop. "I've observed creatures like you before. But none who... moderate themselves," Wednesday continued, her tone clinical. "A werewolf who seems determined to remain civil." She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. "I wonder… just how far that control extends." Her words hit something deep within you, stirring a mix of pride and resentment. You knew what she meant. To a hunter, a monster was expected to behave predictably, to follow their instincts blindly. But you were neither fully human nor beast—which seemed to disturb her. "Curiosity can get you killed, Wednesday," you replied, your voice steady despite the underlying challenge. You should leave me alone. Wednesday's eyes darkened slightly, yet her expression remained as controlled as ever. "You don't really have a choice. I'm not leaving until I figure you out."

You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the familiar heat rising in your chest as the moon's pull grew stronger. But despite the anger building inside you, there was something else—a strange pull toward her, like a dangerous curiosity of your own. She wasn't like the others who had come after you. She wasn't here to kill or capture. She was here to… understand. And somehow, that made her more dangerous. You took a step back, unsure of how to proceed. But Wednesday, ever the enigma, took the choice out of your hands.

"I'll be around," she said, her voice soft but with an edge. Turning on her heel, she disappeared into the forest's shadows, leaving you alone, heart racing, mind spinning. Watching. She'd be watching you.

Later that night, you prowled through the dense forest, your mind consumed by the routine of your werewolf form. Your senses were heightened—each sound crisp and clear—the rustling of leaves, the distant howl of a predator, the wind shifting through the trees. You moved fluidly, focused on tracking a small rabbit. Tonight was supposed to be like any other—no drama, no interruptions.

But something felt off.

You paused mid-step, your ears twitching as a strange scent drifted. It was sharp, unfamiliar, and sent a cold shiver down your spine. Instinctively, you crouched low, muscles tense, as you scanned your surroundings for the source. The forest had gone deathly silent. The wind shifted, carrying a low, guttural growl—deep and menacing. It wasn't coming from you. Your heart pounded as your eyes darted through the shadows. Just beyond the trees, something was moving. It was larger than anything you had encountered in these woods before. Its shape was indistinct, obscured by the darkness, but its eyes—glowing faint red—pierced through the black, locking onto you. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to back away. Whatever this was, it wasn't human. And it wasn't friendly. Before you could react, the creature lunged, crashing through the trees with feral speed that caught you off guard. You barely leaped aside in time, claws digging into the ground as you dodged its massive form. It landed heavily, the earth trembling beneath its weight. This thing—whatever it was—wasn't like you. It was something else entirely.

The creature turned to face you, its eyes gleaming a deep, unnatural crimson pulsing with intelligence you hadn't expected—cold, calculating, and predatory. It was far larger than any werewolf, its shape unnervingly twisted, with sinewy muscles and long, limbs that moved in an oddly graceful yet erratic manner. Completely furless, looking like it had mange. Under the dim moonlight, you could make out a distorted, warped form—a creature that seemed barely contained, as though it might burst from its own skin at any moment. And then it let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the forest, vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. The sound wasn't just menacing; it was unearthly, like a warning echoing from another realm entirely. This was no ordinary beast. It felt ancient, primal, as though it had been born from something dark and forbidden, something meant to stay hidden in the forgotten parts of the world. And tonight, for reasons unknown, it had surfaced. You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet.

Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing.

You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet. Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing. Before you could react, the creature let out a guttural, almost amused growl, the kind that felt too close to a chuckle for comfort. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you braced yourself, baring your teeth, ready to lunge if it came any closer. But the creature merely tilted its head, those burning red eyes narrowing as if it were studying you. Then, to your shock, it spoke. "Don't listen to her," it snarled, the voice low, jagged, and disturbingly clear. "She's told that to the others." You stiffened, the words echoing in your mind as confusion and unease collided within you. Others? Who else had Wednesday hunted like this, and what did this beast know? Your pulse raced, the forest around you feeling darker, smaller, as if the creature's very presence warped reality. You fought to keep your voice steady, masking your unease with a low growl. "What are you?" The creature's grin widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth that gleamed in the faint moonlight. It moved closer, each step slow and deliberate, as if savoring the tension. "I'm what she can't control," it rasped, a sick enjoyment dripping from every word. "You think you're special, different—but she only tells you that to draw you in. To make you weak." It leaned forward, and you caught a faint, metallic scent that was sickeningly familiar.

The creature's breath was warm and rancid, tinged with something that made your stomach turn. Yet it was those eyes—those ancient, intelligent eyes—that held you captive, radiating a dark amusement. "Don't you see?" it continued, its voice now a mocking whisper. "When the time comes, I'll be there to help you. To tear her apart once and for all." A chill ran down your spine, the forest suddenly feeling claustrophobic as the creature's words echoed in your mind. It seemed to drink in your reaction, reveling in the tension between you. It knew something—something about Wednesday, about you—and it enjoyed every second of the torment it was sowing. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to back away, your instincts warring with the questions churning in your mind. "Why are you telling me this?" The creature let out another rumbling chuckle, stepping back into the shadows, its shape beginning to blur as if it were part of the darkness itself. "You'll understand… soon." And just like that, it melted into the night, leaving you standing alone, heart pounding, and mind spinning with questions. What had just happened? And what did it mean?

Upon stumbling back to your cabin, you stopped in your tracks when you saw her—Wednesday—sitting at the small table, a notepad open in front of her filled with intricate notes and sketches. An entire observation kit was laid out beside her: crossbows, silver-tipped arrows, vials filled with strange liquids, tools crafted with a precision too deliberate for casual use.

Your heart raced, the shock of seeing her in your space sending your senses into overdrive. "How did you get in here?"you snapped, barely able to keep the irritation from your voice. "You need to leave."

Wednesday's gaze lifted, her expression impassive, unphased by your outburst. "I don't leave until I get what I came for."

Your mind reeled, the creature's words still fresh. "That thing out there—it mentioned you," you said, your voice harsher than intended.

Wednesday's eyes sharpened, her mouth setting into a line. "What did it say?"

You hesitated, those chilling words echoing in your mind. "It said… it said you'd told others the same thing. That I wasn't the only one." The knot in your stomach tightened. "Whatever you're doing here, it's not just about me."

For the briefest moment, a shadow of something crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She closed her notepad and stood, her focus now entirely on you.

"That thing you encountered—it's a Hyde," she said, her voice cold yet steady. "A monster driven by pure chaos and destruction. It's been following me since Nevermore."

"A Hyde?" you repeated, confusion and intrigue mingling in your tone.

Wednesday gestured to her open kit, pulling out a crossbow and a vial of poison with practiced ease.

You stared at the crossbow in her hand, your mind reeling as you absorbed everything she was saying. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because you didn't need to know," she replied matter-of-factly, loading the crossbow with a silver-tipped arrow. "Not until now."

Your chest tightened as you processed her words. She had known this whole time—about the creature, about the danger—and hadn't said a word.

Without missing a beat, Wednesday tossed you a small vial, and you caught it just in time. “Poison,” she said calmly, her gaze unflinching. “If the Hyde comes for you again, don’t hesitate. Use it.”

You stared at the vial, unease prickling your skin. “And what if I don’t get the chance?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she took a step closer, her gaze intense. “That’s why I’m here.”

The weight of her words settled over you, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of her sudden closeness, her cold commitment to a plan she hadn’t even shared with you. You stared at the vial in your hand, its weight feeling heavier than it should.

The reality of what was happening settled over you like a thick fog. You didn't know if you could trust Wednesday, but her words rang with an unsettling truth. The creature—the Hyde—wasn't just some random beast. It was hunting Wednesday, and now you had inserted yourself into the middle of it.

"I still don't trust you," you muttered, eyes narrowing as you pocketed the vial.

Wednesday didn't flinch at your words. In fact, she seemed almost amused, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "You don't have to trust me," she replied, her voice cold and precise. "You just have to survive."

Then, to your surprise, Wednesday's hand lifted, fingers cool as she brushed them along your cheek. Her gaze remained detached, yet you saw the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—an intensity just beneath the surface.

"I wouldn't want my experiment to get hurt," she murmured, her voice steady and emotionless, though her touch lingered a moment longer than it should have.

You blinked, stepping back to regain some distance, your heart racing as the weight of her words sank in. "This isn't just an experiment," you muttered, voice strained.

Wednesday's gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, assessing. She pocketed her crossbow, securing the kit with quick, calculated movements before returning to you. "Think what you want," she said coolly, her expression unreadable. "But if you hesitate, even once, it won't end well."

Wednesday glanced away, her focus shifting to the open path between the trees as though reading an invisible trail.

"We set a trap," she said, a note of finality in her tone. "Tonight, while it's still hunting. The Hyde will come."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her plan settle over you, the reality of the danger clearer than before. "And what's the bait?" you asked, your voice low.

Wednesday's eyes flicked back to yours, her gaze calculating. "Us."

Hours later, Wednesday moved ahead, leading you through the dense trees until you reached a small clearing, moonlight spilling down to illuminate the space. The air felt still, a heavy quiet settling over the forest as you both stopped, sizing up the open area.

"This should do," Wednesday murmured, her voice low as she took in the surroundings, her hand brushing over the crossbow at her side. She moved with a calm intensity, arranging her equipment with a precision that left no room for doubt.

You followed her lead, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The clearing felt both vulnerable and strategic, a perfect place to draw out the creature—and for a moment, the gravity of the night settled over you.

Wednesday glanced back, her expression unreadable but her eyes glinting in the pale light. "Remember, it's watching. We need to make this look real."

You nodded, heart pounding as the scene took shape around you, the forest stretching out in every direction. Here, exposed under the open sky, there was nowhere to hide. Just you, Wednesday, and the beast that hunted you both.

Your pulse quickened, but you met her gaze, unwavering. "So, we just… wait for it?"

Wednesday's expression remained steady, almost clinical. "Not quite." She walked to the other end of the clearing, placing her kit down, spreading out items with meticulous precision—a few vials, silver-tipped bolts, and herbs that gave off a faint, sharp scent. Every tool seemed perfectly positioned, each a calculated step in her plan.

"We'll make it look real," she said, a faint chill in her voice. "A fight. The Hyde craves chaos, discord. It will be drawn to the scene."

The idea of faking a battle with Wednesday unnerved you, but as you nodded, your instincts braced for what was to come. The forest grew quieter around you, the night holding its breath.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "Always."

Without another word, you lunged at her, your hand outstretched to grab her arm. Wednesday moved like a shadow, sidestepping your attack with practiced ease, her expression unreadable. You gritted your teeth and spun around, aiming a low swipe toward her legs. She leapt back, her movements fluid, almost like a dance.

"You think this is all my fault, don't you?" Wednesday spat, her voice cold as ice. "You were always too weak to handle it."

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, they felt real. You growled, pushing aside the sting of her remark as you charged again, this time with more force. "Weak? You're the one who kept this from me!" you snapped, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her backward.

Wednesday stumbled slightly, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with something dark. "I didn't owe you anything," she hissed, her hand shooting up to grab your wrist and twist it painfully. "You were always just a liability."

The pain in your wrist was sharp, but it only fueled your rage. You shoved her again, harder this time, and Wednesday retaliated by slamming her elbow into your side, knocking the wind out of you. The force of her blow sent you staggering, but you caught yourself, eyes blazing with anger.

"This is all on you!" you shouted, your voice carrying through the trees. You lunged forward, tackling her again, but this time, you grabbed her crossbow from her side and tossed it to the ground. You pinned her beneath you, your heart racing as you stared down at her. For a moment, it almost felt real. The anger, the hurt—it all bubbled to the surface.

Wednesday didn't flinch. Instead, she glared up at you, her cold eyes unyielding.

"Pathetic. You're a pitiful excuse for a beast—frail, lacking the resilience of those I’ve effortlessly dispatched. Survival? It was never in your nature,” she spat, brandishing a blade from her belt as she swiped at you.

"Fight me," you growled, your voice thick with emotion. "Or are you too afraid?"

Wednesday's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, and for a moment, you saw something almost like pride flash across her face. She gave a small, cruel smile. "Afraid?" she whispered, her voice low and venomous. "Not of you."

That was the cue.

Without warning, Wednesday kicked you off of her, sending you sprawling to the ground. In one fluid motion, she snatched the crossbow from the dirt, her fingers moving with deadly precision as she loaded it. She raised it and aimed—right at you.

Your thumping, and for a split second, you wondered if she might actually fire. But then, just as she pulled the trigger, the bolt flew past you, into the darkness behind. A loud, guttural roar echoed through the trees.

Out of the shadows,

the Hyde arrived,

larger and more menacing than before, its red eyes locked onto her with a predatory gleam.

Wednesday's gaze flicked to you, her voice steady. "Now."

She fired her crossbow, the bolt finding its mark in the creature's shoulder. The Hyde let out another furious roar, lunging forward, claws raking the ground as it charged. You jumped at the beast, claws tearing into its thick hide as you dodged its ferocious strikes, its movements wild and aggressive.

. But it was stronger than anything you'd thought. Wednesday fired bolt after bolt, her shots precise, but the creature was relentless, absorbing each hit with raw, unyielding power.

As you circled the Hyde, its focus split between you and Wednesday, you caught a glimpse of her expression—a fierce determination, her eyes never leaving the target. She reloaded quickly, her movements fluid, calculated, the faintest sheen of sweat on her brow betraying the effort.

The Hyde lunged at you again, its claws slicing through the air, and this time, you couldn't move fast enough. The impact threw you backward, pain flaring as you hit the ground hard, your vision swimming. You forced yourself to rise, catching Wednesday's eye as she aimed again, this time with something stronger—a vial of poison.

In a final act of defiance, you charged the creature, gripping its shoulder and ripping a chunk of flesh away. The Hyde let out a guttural scream, stumbling back before it retreated into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

You dropped to the ground, exhaustion crashing over you as your vision blurred. Blood seeped from a deep wound in your side, soaking into the forest floor. Your limbs felt heavy, and the pain was radiating with each beat of your heart.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Wednesday raise her crossbow, her gaze locked on the retreating figure of the Hyde. She was ready to give chase, her cold determination unwavering. But then, she glanced back, her eyes landing on you, crumpled and bleeding on the forest floor.

In an instant, her stoic demeanor shifted. Without a word, she abandoned her pursuit of the Hyde and hurried to your side, kneeling beside you with surprising urgency. Her hands moved quickly, searching through the small pouch at her side as she pulled out a bundle of gauze and a small vial.

"Stop…" you muttered, trying to push her away with the last bit of strength you had. "The Hyde… you need to go after it."

But Wednesday ignored you, her focus entirely on your wound as she uncorked the vial and poured its contents onto the gauze. The sharp, herbal scent filled the air, and she pressed the soaked gauze firmly against your side, stemming the bleeding with practiced hands.

"Don't be an idiot," she muttered, her voice cold but edged with something you hadn't heard before—something almost like concern. "I'm not letting you bleed out on my watch."

You winced at the pressure, biting back a groan. "But the Hyde… it'll get away."

Wednesday's dark eyes flicked to yours, her expression unreadable but firm. "It's not going to get far. I'll deal with it soon enough. But I'm not letting you die here."

You tried to protest, to urge her to chase down the creature, but she held you in place, her grip unyielding. "If anyone is going to end you, it's me. Not some mindless monster," she said, her tone cold and detached, yet with a hint of something almost… protective.

Despite the pain, a faint smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"That's sweet…coming from you."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, though you caught a flicker of something that almost looked like amusement. "Save your sarcasm," she said, pressing down harder to stop the bleeding. "If you can joke, you're not dead yet."

You let out a shaky laugh, though it quickly turned into a grimace as another wave of pain surged through you. Wednesday didn't flinch, her attention unwavering as she continued to tend to your wound with surprising gentleness.

After a few tense moments, the bleeding began to slow, and the edges of the pain dulled slightly under her careful treatment. You felt your breathing steady, the worst of the pain fading, though exhaustion weighed heavily on you.

"Thank you," you murmured, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Wednesday glanced at you, her expression still cool but softened.”Don't make me regret it," she replied quietly.

You felt a warmth spread through you, despite the cold forest air and the sting of your injuries. She may not have said much, but her actions spoke louder than words. She could have left you there, but she didn't.

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt her shift beside you, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder in a steadying gesture, as if anchoring you to the present. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was her face, framed by the shadows, a silent promise lingering in her gaze.

Back in the cabin, you and Wednesday tended to each other's wounds, the silence between you comfortable, though heavy with the exhaustion of the fight. The small flickering fire cast dancing shadows on the walls, its warm glow a sharp contrast to the cold forest outside. You could still feel the adrenaline thrumming through your veins, but a sense of relief had settled over you, knowing the Hyde was gone for now.

Without warning, there was a deafening crash as the cabin's window shattered. The Hyde barreled through, its massive, bloodied form illuminated by the firelight. You barely had time to react before it lunged, claws outstretched, its eyes fixed on you with a vengeful fury.

But in an instant, Wednesday moved, her body positioning itself between you and the beast. The Hyde's claws slashed across her side as she shielded you.

"Wednesday!" you shouted, horror flooding through you as she flew into the wall, with a sickening thud.

The sight of her blood, of her hurt, ignited something primal within you—a fierce, overwhelming rage. The Hyde barely had time to react as you felt yourself transform, the beast within you rising to the surface with a force you'd never felt before. Claws extended, senses sharpened, you lunged at the creature, every muscle fueled by your bottled instinct.

With a savage growl, you attacked, tearing into the Hyde with everything you had. Its roars echoed through the cabin, but you didn't relent, every strike more brutal than the last as your claws ripped through its thick hide. It tried to fight back, but your rage gave you strength beyond anything you'd ever known.

In a final, explosive burst, you brought your claws down one last time. The Hyde collapsed to the floor, its lifeless form finally defeated. You stood over it, chest heaving, the adrenaline fading as the weight of your actions sank in.

Turning back, you felt yourself return to your human form, exhaustion crashing over you as your gaze found Wednesday. She miraculously managed to slump herself against the wall, her hand pressed to her bleeding side, her face pale but her expression calm.

You rushed to her side, dropping to your knees as you frantically checked her wound. "Wednesday, I… I'm so sorry."

She rolled her eyes. “You're insufferably slow," she muttered, her tone sharp as she stifled a wince. "Did you somehow miss me saying it would return?”

Ignoring her words, you fumbled through her kit, searching for the vial she'd used on you before. Your hands trembled as you unscrewed the cap, but Wednesday's hand reached out, stopping you. She took the vial from you, her fingers stained with blood, and poured the medicine over her wound with practiced ease.

You watched her, still frantic, your mind racing. "You shouldn't have taken that hit… I should've protected you."

Wednesday let out a soft scoff, her gaze unwavering as she stared back at you. Then, with a surprising gentleness, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on your lips, her touch as fleeting as it was reassuring.

"You're too dramatic," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I'd die for you any day, and besides,"—her smirk returned, edged with a warmth that softened her usual cool exterior—"I'd rather go down saving you than by any creature's hand."

The sincerity in her words caught you off guard, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You held her gaze, the intensity of the moment settling over you both like a silent promise.

For the first time in a long time, there was no danger, no threat. Just you and Wednesday, the faint light of the fire casting a soft glow over her face. You swallowed, still reeling from everything that had happened, but her words—her confession—anchored you, grounding you in a way you hadn't expected.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Wednesday gave a small, approving nod, her hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer. "Now, can you finally help me with this wound?" she deadpanned, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

You smiled, your relief flooding through you, and you set to work, carefully tending to her injuries. And as you worked, her steady gaze stayed on you, her words—I'd die for you any day—echoing in your mind, a reminder that, whatever came next, you would face it together.

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