#I was so.... enthusiastic the other night when I was able to sit down and actually get a plot summary and rough outline written out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rebeccccccaaa · 8 months ago

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Too Sweet

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Spencer Reid x Reader

:: Practically at his beck and call, Spencer knows you’re too sweet for him. He knows he shouldn’t use you but he can’t stop himself when you’re also all too enthusiastic to fuck him ::

warnings :: smutttt, casual sex (kinda lol), oral (fem receiving), over stimulation, insomnia!spencer, spencer spitting facts (literally), reader is described to have hair length long enough to stick to your cheeks, obviously reader is described as afab, not sure what else i should tag so let me know what i miss :)

author’s notes :: hello, hello! honestly i saw this tik tok edit of spencer with this song (Too Sweet - Hozier) and felt a bit inspired by it and also loosely by lyrics too. please be kind as it’s been a couple years since i last wrote a fic and it’s my first one about dr reid too, so let me know if you guys like it, comment, reblog, all that jazz and critiques are more than welcome! Enjoy!

WC :: ~4k

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It was pretty late into the night, it was the first weekend in weeks that the team was able to really enjoy. Spencer sat in a corner of his apartment, a glass of whiskey sat on the table as he flipped the pages of a book he’s read a thousand times before, albeit it was one of favorites.

He was hesitant to call, he didn’t want to pull you away from enjoying your weekend but when it came to his pleasure, he put himself first. You were always too nice to say no to him and he knew that. It made him feel sleazy sometimes, but this was who he was now. Rugged, damaged, fucked up. He’d been through a lot. But in those moments where you squirmed and whined beneath him, he felt satiated. You were his drug now.

“Hello?” he mumbled when the call picked up.

“Spencer,” your voice was a whisper as you practically sang his name.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded.

“It’s a little late don’t you think?” he poked.

“Then why are you calling?”

You knew why he was calling. He only ever wanted one thing from you when the sky was dark. You didn’t mind it though. You basked in it. You kind of liked it. The feeling of having sex without commitment. Your job didn’t give you enough time for a commitment. You didn’t feel humiliated or belittled by Spencer’s desires. In fact, his lust for you turned you on in most cases. Most.

Spencer was still a good friend to you. Regardless of sleeping with him, he was your closest friend. And recently, you noticed changes in him. Maybe you’ve kept a closer eye on him more than before but you were a little concerned. You had the right after everything he’s been through. He seemed more tired than usual, even though he was still punctual with work. Although you didn’t sleep in his bed after every time you slept together, when you did, you pretended not to notice his exits and long absences in between the long hours of the night. You could barely hear his ever so quiet footsteps roaming the living room. The clanking of coffee mugs in the kitchen and his quiet ‘Shit’ when he thought he was being too loud.

Three subtle knocks rapped his door, so quiet Spencer would’ve missed if he had breathed just a bit louder. A grin spread across his face subconsciously, glancing at the clock before taking long strides to the door. It was almost midnight. You stood in the doorway with heavy eyes, not the drunk kind, but the tired kind. He moved aside to let you in. Just like last time; and all the other times you showed up at his door for him.

“I thought you went out tonight,” he questioned, rhetorically.

“I did. For a bit,” you told him, “I just had one drink, then went home.”

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, you already know the answer. And Spencer knows you know too, though he tried at first to be more subtle in his nightly fixtures. He simply sighed with amusement. You set your things down on his couch, eyes adjusting to the dim lights that hardly lit the room. The glass sitting on the table in the corner caught your eyes though.

“What are you drinking?” you asked.

“Uh, whiskey. Neat.”

“Ew, why?” you joked.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged. A whiskey wouldn’t exactly be Spencer’s first choice of drink but then again his first choice of drink wouldn’t even be alcohol. If it was, he would probably be content with a beer, or something of the sort. He was sort of going through a phase during nights. He was sleeping a lot less too.

“I just didn’t take you for a whiskey kind of guy,” you teased.

“What kind of guy did you take me for?” he poked; he wasn’t really talking about drinks anymore though.

“Water,” you joked, making him laugh.

Spencer stood before you now. His hands were slightly hesitant this time to rest on your hips.

“Is everything ok, Spencer?” you asked him.

“Yes,” his voice was a whisper.

You didn’t believe him, but you knew better than to press him. He was a stubborn guy and whether you did or didn’t you weren’t going to get an answer. You slid your hands up his chest before cupping the back of his neck with your hands. The kiss was chaste. You didn’t want to sleep with him if he was having second thoughts.

“Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind I can head hom-,” you were telling him.

“No, don’t,” he rushed out.

“I’m fine; I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he confessed. This surprised you, not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t think he would tell you.

“Well, then maybe I should go. That way you can finally get to bed before the sun comes up for once,” you joked with him, “Besides, you’re the one who's always telling people how important sleep is to the human body.”

Your words shocked Spencer this time. Admittedly, in the back of mind he suspected that you could sense him leaving his bed, or your bed sometimes, and that one or more times he’d been a little loud dwindling in the next room. But he didn’t realize you were fully aware of his nightly escapades. You knew him too well. You were too sweet to him. Spencer knew after all the fucked up things he’s been through he didn’t deserve your friendship; or anything more despite the fact.

“Did you know that elephants sleep the least of any other animal?” he told you, he doesn’t know why. Maybe to distract you, or seduce you. Both outcomes came often enough for him to make it a guessing game.

“You’re not an elephant.”

And then there were the ultra rare times when neither outcome happened; just now being one of them.

“Sleep deprivation has been associated with reduced sexual desire and arousal,” he tried again.

“Well, I can help with that,” you teased. There we go.

He leaned down to kiss your lips but you pulled back in tease, smile on your face; you knew how pussywhipped you had this man. He didn’t want to fight it, he was growing desperate for you with every passing second. Rolling his eyes, he dipped his head in the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips, pulling you closer to him from your waist and lower back. Your hands began to unbutton his shirt, he was still wearing the clothes you saw him working in earlier that day.

You stopped him, never been one to have sex anywhere other than the bedroom, taking his hand already knowing where to go after doing so many times before already. Although, it wasn’t like his apartment was a confusing labyrinth. He followed you like always.

You reached the edge of the bed, sitting instinctively. Your hand went straight to his belt, undoing it with ease. Spencer pulled your hands away from his hips before sinking to his knees to the ground. He pulled your hips to the very edge, scratching the skin as he desperately pulled at your pants bringing them down your legs. Of course you let him.

He pushed you back and you fell on your elbows, still able to see him so clearly. See him dip his head and kiss the skin on the inside of your knee, his eyes lingering on yours. You let your head go for a second, basking in the feeling of his lips. They always made you feel so warm and tingly. One thing about Spencer, he loved foreplay. All the little things that lead up to sex. Most of the time, he craved the foreplay more than the sex itself.

He moved your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips. His nose ran along your inner thighs. Your skin erupted in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath coming from his nose. His fingers fiddled against your hip bones and you wiggled a bit becoming desperate by the minute for something more than just this teasing.

“Spence,” you whined, looking back at him.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, you’ll never learn patience will you?” Spencer bartered.

“Spencer, I don’t come to you to learn patience,” you spat, not with any malice however.

“You won’t come at all with that attitude,” he snapped back, hiding a grin between your legs.

“Spencer!” you gasped.

He chuckled lowly, bringing his hand between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side to expose you to him. You were glistening, slick beginning to leak from you already. Spencer could feel himself getting hard. He precariously tried to not buck his hips into the bed like horny teenager.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

He stepped up quickly letting your legs drop harshly. His fingers curled over the hem of your underwear pulling them down and tossing behind his shoulder before returning to his previous position. He felt like he was possessed. Acting and moving like it was primal, instinctive. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to satisfy you.

He kissed all the places except the place you needed the most. You curled your toes anticipating his next move, longing for his lips, tongue, fingers, anything to bring you pleasure. Just when you were about to sit up, ready to nag at him, his lips wrapped around your bud.

Your shoulders gave out at the feeling. Your body electrifying instantaneously. Your eyes trained on the ceiling, focusing on everything about Spencer in this moment, the sounds, his touch, his tongue. His tongue dipping in you every now and then, making you moan feverishly. His hands spread out, pinning your hips down to the bed to try and get you to stop wiggling your hips, but he wasn’t too successful in that.

“Knock it off,” he groaned, removing a hand wrapped around your leg to bring his fingers to your entrance.

“It’s not enough; I need more,” you whined.

“No, you want more,” he debuted, “You’re being greedy.”

“And you’re being mean,” you quipped, you always had something to retort.

“Ok, fine,” he stood up.

“Stop!” you whined, “Please, come back. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he sat on his knees again, instantly bringing his fingers up to rub slow circles that made your toes curl.

He purposefully let them every now and then prod at your entrance make your hips jerk in surprise. He could see how wet you were, all of the slick telling him how needy you were. He looked up to look at your face. His eyes catching your nipples peeking through the fabric of your shirt from the pleasure already, smiling to himself.

“Sexual arousal can cause an increase in blood flow to not just female genitalia, but also the breasts,” he told you, feeling your thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

“Is that your way of telling me my nipples are hard because of you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he stated before diving straight back between your thighs.

His tongue did circles like his fingers, the wetness and warmth much more stimulating than before. His fingers slid inside you, curling when he couldn’t push them any further. You moaned out, reaching your hand down to comb your fingers through Spencer’s shaggy hair. The noises of everything bounced off the walls of Spencer’s shallow bedroom. It sounded vulgar but so sexy. Your heavy breathing practically syncing together.

Your thighs squeezed more and more as you got closer to your climax; you didn’t care if you were suffocating Spencer. If he died, he died pleasuring you and neither of you minded it in this moment. Your hips grinding against his tongue chasing you release frantically. Spencer pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly, leading you to ecstasy.

Your breaths became shaking, as did your moans. You were overcome with pleasure as your orgasm hit you so suddenly. You could feel Spencer’s smile growing against you, you knew that he wasn’t going to withdraw despite reaching your climax.

“Oh god, too much, Spence.”

“First it was not enough, now it’s too much?” he taunted you, fingers still pumping in and out you strenuously.

“Spence!” you wailed, your voice trembling embarrassingly.

When he wouldn’t give out, you pulled at his hair as you sat up and pulled his mouth away from between your thighs.

“Oh ow, ow, ow!” he whined.

“Jesus, you were gonna give me a heartache,” you whined.

“Actually the possibility of having a heart attack during sexual activity is exceedingly low. So you wouldn’t have had anything to worry about; if anything you would get a small headache,” he explained.

“You’re giving me a headache,” you whined, making him laugh.

You pulled him from the back of his neck, crashing his lips against yours. You loved to kiss Spencer. You always felt the closest to him physically when you kissed. Which is ironic since he was quite literally inside you most nights. Kissing, the art of kissing, was practically your love language. You always gave small pecks when you were together, privately of course.

Spencer was worried at first, that kissing was too intimate that things would complicate fast and feelings would get hurt. But as time went on and things continued to stay normal between you, he just began to relish in it rather than worry about nothing. At least that’s what he’s convinced himself of.

He suddenly remembered the first time you slept together. You were in his apartment one night going over some details of the case. Nothing so major, or frightening, but something wasn’t adding up. You decided to take a break, cracking open some beers and just talk. One beer became two, then three, then four and then suddenly bottles littered the pitiful coffee table in front of you. You were very clear with him, “I don’t just sleep with anybody.” But you were a woman with needs just as much as Spencer was a man, “Neither do I.”

“Things have to stay the way they are if we do this,” he told you that night.

“They will,” you assured him.

You rested your forehead against his seeing his eyes seem different. Spencer always did this. Everytime, just for a minute or even a second, he would disappear behind his eyes, like he was reminiscing on a memory you couldn’t describe.

“You did that thing again,” you said with a small grin on your face.

“I know,” he blushed, “Sorry.”

“You ever gonna tell me what you’re thinking about when you do that?” you questioned.

“Nope,” he smirked, making you giggle.

Spencer stood straight up shagging his shirt off before scrambling out of his pants. He crawled back over you settling his hips between your thighs as he dipped his head down to attach his lips to your neck. Your hand curled around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair as his breath and lips tickled your skin. Your hips fit together snuggly, grinding against desperate to chase each other’s highs.

Spencer reached into the drawer beside your head to pull out a condom. You snatched it from his hands with a devilish smirk on your face tearing it with your teeth. You spat the foil corner from your mouth, pulling the condom from its package before tossing it aside. You reached between your bodies stroking Spencer. His face blushing red, contorting with pleasure as it’s the first of the night to feel some sort of friction he needed from the beginning. The reason he called you in the first place.

Spencer let his hands trace your skin. Though you wouldn’t react, your skin erupted in goosebumps. Feeling him prodding against your entrance, your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat. You always anticipated this part. No matter how many times you and Spencer spent the night together, you couldn’t ever get used to the flips your stomach made at this time.

Spencer pushed his hips into you, his length stroking your walls making your hum in delight. Spencer’s breath became heavy as he pulled out just enough before rutting back in you with skill. Your face began to feel hot as Spencer began to find a good rhythm. You could feel the sweat building on your forehead, the air cold against your scalp.

You looked at Spencer’s face; the veins bulging from his forehead and his neck. You cupped his cheek with your hand, catching his rhythm with your hips. Your breath became heavy, your hums became moans. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most vocal lover you laid with. Not that Spencer was your lover of course. That‘s not what you meant.

“What’s going on in that pretty little brain?” Spencer’s voice took you from your sudden trance; his pace beginning to slow. He brought his hand to your face, pulling the stray hairs that stuck to your cheeks from your sweat away.

“Nothing, just don’t stop,” you sighed, pulling his lips down to yours again.

Spencer picked up his pace again, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. You felt overcome with an ambitious heat throughout your body. You pushed Spencer’s shoulders up trying your best to cool down without stopping your chase to your high. Spencer sat on his knees gripping your hips, practically ramming his hips into yours. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Oh god, fuck,” you cried out. Your thighs squeezing Spencer’s torso as you began to get closer to your climax.

“Shit, it’s like I can’t get enough no matter how many times I have you squirming beneath me,” he gloated.

You could see Spencer's chest begin to get red, his knuckles however turning white. Your hands reached down gripping his wrists. Prying them away, before sitting up to straddle his legs, as they stretched forward, adjusting comfortably. You held on to his shoulders sturdily, finding an entirely new rhythm to chase your high.

Spencer’s hands ran up your back, sliding under your shirt that you had yet to take off. No wonder you were overwhelmed with heat. He peeled the tight fabric from your skin, tossing it to the ground like he has so many times before. He unhooked your bra with ease, his eyes instantly trained to your chest. He couldn’t help his hands following, massaging the soft skin. Spencer looked up to you as you bounced up and down. Sweat dripping seductively down the valley of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer whispered, staring up at you.

“I know,” you joked breathlessly, giving him a playful wink.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh at that. The both of you were itching for a release now. Your bodies squirming against one another, aching to give the other the release. You leaned back placing your hands on his thighs, moving your hips faster and harder than before.

“Spencer, I’m getting close, I feel it,” you whimpered, “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close,” he breathed out.

“Fuck,” you cried.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go,” Spencer mused, he reached between you two, fingers circling quickly between your thighs to bring you to climax even faster.

You gasped out, chest heaving as you felt the waves of pleasures wash over you suddenly. You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping from you as you threw your head back; arched back and thighs tensed. Spencer’s hand held your body close to himself, and you curled forward wrapping your arms around his head as you climaxed indefinitely. Spencer grunted below you, his legs stiffening and jerking upward. Curses whispered from his lips.

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, relaxing and slumping your body over Spencer.

“Treat me good, like always,” he whispered, his hand coming briefly to stroke your hair gently.

He rolled you over, laying you lazily on his bed before climbing out of the bed swiftly. He stumbled his way to dispose of the rubber. He grabbed a small towel from a drawer along with something to cover himself. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you as your eyes slowly blinked, telling him you were exhausted.

“You want to stay the night? I can see how tired you are.”

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning,” you quipped with a small grin on your face.

Spencer laid beside you, covering your body with the blankets. You curled by his side, your leg falling over his hips. He turned the lights out, but the soft golden glow from the lights in the room next door streamed in. His arm wrapped around you, fingers softly stretching your back. Steady breaths against his chest gave him a sense of comfort. He was always a bit jealous how easily sleep came to you; how peaceful you looked when you did. Spencer tried to close his eyes. He tried to let rest wash over him like a blanket. What felt like seconds was an hour. And another hour. He peeked at his watch laying on the nightstand beside him, three o’clock the time read.

Sighing, he sneaked out of bed, careful to not wake you. He skulked towards the kitchen, eyeing the small glass of whiskey still on the table. He couldn’t help smirk to himself over it. He opened the cabinet grabbing a mug, pouring a bitter liquid into it. He took a big swig of his favorite beverage, basking in all the flavors, when suddenly a beautiful figure stood before him.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet.

“I’m guessing you haven’t slept,” you tiptoed your way to him, you could hear him sighing.

“Is there anything at all I can do to help you?” you whispered, carefully placing your hand on Spencer’s warm back.

“No, but having you here is enough.”

You were beginning to blur the lines between your arrangement and your friendship. But neither you nor Spencer could muster up the courage to stop what you’ve started. Spencer indulged in your sweetness, the way you were always there to satiate his desires, the way you opened yourself to him like heaven’s gate. And you, well you would never admit it. Being in love with Spencer that is. You’ve known him for years; seen the best parts of him and helped him through the worst. You knew him the best of anyone you’ve known before. And he could say the same too. He’s never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you.

You were perfect for each other. And yet, Spencer wouldn’t allow himself to bask in it. He truly believed he didn’t deserve you. That all the demons that haunted him in these dark hours were undeserving of your kindness, compassion, gentleness. Simply thinking about you was often enough to calm him in tense situations. But he would never tell you this. So here he was, standing in the kitchen with his coffee black at three in the morning wondering why you couldn’t see that he would never be enough for you.

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suguann · 13 days ago

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✎. you aren’t happy about your roommate’s party until you meet the attractive guy down the hall.

tags. fem!reader, future installments will contain smut, age difference, original characters, college student reader, one-night stands, angst, dirty talk, hurt/comfort, size kink, unplanned pregnancy

featuring. simon

It’s your first semester living off-campus, and Finn is boundlessly enthusiastic about all things that involve cheap liquor and crowded spaces, even more so now that she roped you into being her roommate after promising to split the cost of furnishing an apartment that’s probably too expensive for two undergrads working part-time, low-pay jobs.

You don’t like parties, really.

Movies and the social connotations surrounding parties have always made them seem like some monumental proverbial chip in your college experience; the real thing, once the bright-eyed shine of trying something new wears off, is more or less a bunch of random people packed into a room like sardines who abate their social awkwardness with alcohol and loud music.

So, no, you can’t exactly say that you enjoy the thought of Finn’s friends (and everyone she hardly smiles at) cramping up your already tiny apartment—especially when one of them is Miller from one of your business classes, who gives you the creeps.

And leave it to Finn to invite him, anyway.

"Now he knows where I live," you grumble into your bowl of cereal—something probably too sweet and (definitely) full of sugar for breakfast.

Finn shrugs, not at all worried for you, as she pours more sticky orange batter into the hot pan on the stove. "The guy has a crush on you. I think it's cute. And he seems harmless."

“Harmless until I end up in a ditch somewhere.”

You don’t have to see her face to know she’s doing that thing with her mouth whenever you say something she thinks is ridiculous. “If you’d agree to split the Netflix bill, you wouldn’t be stuck watching horror movies. Why do you only own horror movies, again?”

"That's easy for you to say.” You roll your eyes, ignoring her question. “You don’t have to sit by him every week.”

(As if that would ever convince her to change her mind.)

"Ow! Shit!"

You look up right before Finn drops a steaming pancake onto her hand and rushes to the sink to run it under cold water. The mutilated pancake lay forgotten with the others that didn't survive her last several attempts.

"Finn, I think this is unnecessary," you tell her after swallowing a mouthful of cereal. "Can't you do something more practical? Like sticking a note to their door?"

Finn looks up from the sink, her wild, red curls bouncing from the movement. "Oh, come on! Don't chicken out now. I've already made fifteen of these things." She points her pink spatula at the tower of not-quite pumpkin-shaped pancakes on the counter. "Plus, who's going to turn down free food? Now, go put on your costume and hand these out."

You shovel another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, scowling. "I'm not wearing the costume you picked out. It's so...inappropriate."

You’re pretty sure Finn picked out your costume from the dicey sex shop down the street rather than an actual Halloween store—the amount of mesh compared to solid fabric only solidifies the theory.

Finn finally turns the water off and gives you a stern look, amused eyes set under a furrowed brow. "I can find the one you own in the children's section at Costco."

You roll your eyes. "I really don’t feel like flashing my tits to the neighbors while offering them breakfast.”

She grins, wide and teasing. "You have nice tits, though.”

"Yeah, I'm sure the old woman down the hall would love to see her neighbor in the equivalent of a thong and nipple coverings at the start of her day." You don’t think you’d ever be able to look her in the eye again.

"Miss Yado is cool,” Finn says, returning to the stove to continue cooking. “She'll probably just tell you to wear a jacket or something."

You pick up your empty bowl and lean over the counter to put it in the sink. "I didn't know you talked to our neighbors."

Finn shrugs, flipping the pancake in the skillet. "She normally walks her dog while I'm heading to class. I stop to talk to her sometimes when I'm not running late."

“Oh?”

She shoots you a wry grin over her shoulder. "You'd know the neighbors too if you didn't scowl all the time."

In response, the corners of your mouth tip down. "I don’t scowl."

"Now, would you go change? These are getting cold."

Several minutes later, you come out of your room wearing the same costume you'd worn the past two years. Finn pouts when she sees you forwent the one she had picked out. However, she doesn’t do more than shake her head and shove a handful of food containers full of pancakes into your hands.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to smile,” she tells you before the front door closes behind you.

You start on your end of the hall, going door to door and handing out the small containers. The whole time, you’re wondering why Finn couldn’t do this herself, considering you’re hardly a people person as is. Thankfully, nobody seemed too annoyed about being bothered on a Saturday morning—only one neighbor shut the door in your face before you could say anything.

But it’s fine. You’re not going to let it ruin your day. Plus, you only have one person left.

There’s a small pit of nerves in your stomach when you knock this time—half expecting another door to the face. What you don’t expect, however, is the tall and imposing guy who answers.

Who also doesn’t appear to be any less annoyed.

Your mouth opens and closes helplessly, all words stuck to the back of your tongue, watching as stray water droplets drip down from his wet hair and travel down the side of his face before dispersing into the dark stubble lining his jaw.

You stare. And stare. Eyes, most likely, bugging unattractively out of your head.

How did Finn never mention the super hot neighbor who lived six doors down the hall?

He gives you a once-over, and part of you suddenly wishes you’d gone with Finn's costume instead. Only because here, at that moment, you’re willing to admit that maybe the one you have on looks like a six-year-old picked it out—especially when this guy, who is way out of your league, scrutinizes it for a second longer, mostly your frilly crew socks.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice low as if he hasn’t been awake for long.

You blink, mild embarrassment rushing through you from the sudden realization that you’ve been standing there and saying absolutely nothing.

"Hi, um, I'm your neighbor from down the hall. My roommate and I are throwing a Halloween party, and we're inviting people in the building." Annoyance slowly melts off his face.

"Thank you,” heavily tattooed arms cross over his broad chest, and he leans against the door frame (and you definitely don’t stare at how his biceps seem to strain against his black t-shirt). “But I think I'm getting a little old for parties."

The corners of your mouth tip up in what’s the beginning of a smile.

"Okay, sure. You're, what, twenty-five?"

It’s a stupid joke, and for a moment, you panic, afraid he’d been unimpressed, but then his lips quirked slightly. "Not quite. Nice costume. Let me guess, fairy?"

"Witch, actually. I’ve always gone with something more original," you babble and bite your lip before you can say something else.

"It’s cute."

Cute?

You’re unsure if you should feel elated that he thinks so or self-conscious—that he might be making fun of you—so you settle with a mumbled “thanks.”

"So, what's with the container?" he asks, nodding toward your hands.

"Oh, um, my roommate thought she could bribe people with food to come to the party." Truthfully, it’s to prevent potential complaints from the neighbors, but you decide not to mention that part, although you think he knows by the way the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

You give him the plastic container and watch as he stares into it with a furrowed brow. "It's a... pancake?"

"Er, yeah. My roommate likes to go above and beyond for everything."

"What's it supposed to be?" he asks, glancing up at you.

"Um, a pumpkin..."

You look between him and the container and find Finn had accidentally mixed up her presentable pancakes with the throwaways. And the pumpkin shape is...well, it isn't.

"Ah, I see," he nods, his slowly drying hair falling onto his forehead. "That makes more sense."

You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles to the surface. "You think you can do better?"

"Yes, actually," he grins back, all cocksure, with a flash of white teeth. "Maybe I’ll bring some over some time."

"I won't tell her you said that." However, you can't wait to rib Finn later.

"Right, it probably wouldn't make a very good first impression." Then he sticks out his free hand, "Simon."

You shyly shake it—ignoring the little skip in your chest at how big his hand is compared to yours—and tell him your name, too.

His eyes flicker down to his watch, and he curses under his breath. "Well, it was nice meeting you. But I have to finish getting ready for work."

Only then do you take note of the tactical pants and heavy boots he’s wearing.

When you meet his gaze again, you find amusement there, and you consider, with a new rush of mortification, that it probably seemed like you’d been openly eyeing his crotch.

You clear your throat, the back of your neck feeling hot, and you pointedly pretend your voice doesn’t hitch when you breathe a soft, tremulous, "Okay, sure.”

"Tell your roommate I said thanks for breakfast."

"Yeah, I'll tell her. Um, I guess I'll see you around." No longer able to make eye contact with him, you turn away and begin walking (though it’s probably closer to running) toward your door.

And you definitely don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s still standing there.

You spend most of the party hanging out near the front door, quietly hoping Simon might show up—even though it seems unlikely. After all, he did mention that he’s too old for parties, and a small, insecure part of you wonders if it was his polite way of turning you down.

"The guy was running late,” Finn had tried to reassure you. “I'm sure he was thinking about how to beat expressway traffic before the lunch hour rush hit. Not about the crazy lady in a witch costume running away from his door."

That was the initial deciding factor between your witch costume and the one Finn’s been trying to force you into—only so you don’t have to hear another person call you cute just to seem nice.

And leave it to Finn to jump at the opportunity to help you get ready, though she nearly freaked out when you popped into your joint bathroom with an old tube of mascara that you rummaged out of your nightstand.

"Do you know how many germs are probably on that thing?" Finn’s nose scrunched up as she threw it away in the waste bin near the toilet. "Please tell me you haven't used it since you bought it?"

You had rolled your eyes. "Probably not."

Finn sighed, then smiled. "Luckily for you, I own more than a crusty mascara tube."

You were about to argue, but when Finn told you to sit on the toilet lid with a dangerously sharp liner pen, you’d clenched your jaw instead, unsure what you were more scared of when Finn brought the pen close to your face: that your friend might potentially stab you in the eye or that you’d come out of the bathroom with raccoon eyes.

Thankfully, when Finn finally finished, neither was the case, except the number of looks you’ve been receiving anytime someone stops in the kitchen to get more drinks is something you hadn’t anticipated—especially when one of them happens to be Miller.

You’ve been avoiding him and his overly bare chest from the moment he walked through your front door. It grew more challenging after Finn left your side (the traitor) to talk to a guy you’ve seen her hanging around with on campus a few times.

And with the apartment feeling smaller than it already is, you’re only option is to blend in with the group hanging around your kitchen island.

You’ll be fine, Finn said.

Right, you think as you adjust the scanty tube top under your mesh shirt, trying to cover more of yourself with what little fabric you have at your disposal, and you wonder if it’s too late to change—

A knock at the door makes you perk up, regardless of how noisy the room is, with eardrum-shattering music and loud college students. You pull it open, expecting to see Simon on the other side, only to be disappointed when it’s one of Finn’s friends and her girlfriend instead.

"Hey, Roma." You realize you probably sound rude and attempt to give them your best smile—which is more or less a grimace.

Roma smooths out her extremely short referee-style dress. "Sorry, we're late! I couldn't remember where you lived. There are way too many blue apartment buildings around here..."

Everything she’s saying goes in one ear and out the other when you spot Simon stepping out of the door to the stairway across the hall. You hold your breath, waiting for him to look up from his phone.

But he keeps walking.

"Uh, yeah," you say distractedly before speeding up the conversation. "Hey, Finn is in the living room, but I'll see you guys inside, okay? I need to do something."

You step around them to catch up to Simon, which you learn isn’t easy in heels. So you call his name, hoping he hears you and smiling when he turns toward you. And you don’t miss how his gaze trails down your body slowly.

It makes something inside you quiver as you nervously play with the short hem of your skirt.

“Hey,” he says, sounding every bit as tired as he looks—his shirt from that morning now wrinkled with bluish hollows under his eyes—though he tries to hide it with what you think is an attempt at a smile.

And your cheeks burn because you feel guilty.

"Hey," you repeat dumbly.

Your eyes lower as his smile melts into one of faint amusement at your lack of tact. You fidget, shifting from one foot to the other. Maybe, you think, you should have let him walk into his apartment before you could embarrass yourself further today.

After a moment, you meet his gaze again.

"Uh, I just wanted to see if you still wanted to come over…But I imagine you're probably not up for it, so I’ll leave—"

Simon surprises you when he shrugs his shoulders and says, "Sure."

Your mouth gapes, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Wh-what?"

"I just need to shower and change, and then I'll be over. Okay?"

"I... yeah, okay," your nod is shy, trying not to betray eagerness.

A lazy grin stretches across his mouth. "Nice costume, by the way," he disappears into his apartment before he can witness how his words make you flush.

And you walk back to your apartment feeling a little more floaty than when you left.

masterlist

#.things i write #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 imagine #fem!reader

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sapphicmsmarvel · 17 days ago

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azriel: mr grumpy and his miss sunshine

Notes: super domestic

god im so fucking single it actually fucking hurts

This man would prefer to never see people.

He loves his family and you, those are the only people he needs.

You however, are a little social butterfly. Everywhere you two go, someone knows you. When random people say ‘good morning’ to you, you smile brightly and respond enthusiastically in kind. Or, you’ll randomly just speak to a stranger and end up laughing with them.

You do not see yourself this way but he does. And then everyone in the inner circle would make jokes about you talking to random people and how it stresses Rhysand out because he doesn’t want you kidnapped.

“By no means are you ignorant to the world's threats, I just don’t trust people with my figurative baby sister.” He explained when you asked him if he thought you were stupid.

He called you his sunrise, you were bright, warm, sweet, you gave him hope. Meanwhile, you called him a grumpy bat. Sometimes you called him a grumpy old bat. Depends on if his bones were creaking or not.

You were a magnet for people. Randomly, people would say things to you. Or you’d offer to help people if they needed it (but only when you had one of the guys with you, you didn’t trust everyone easily).

You made friends everywhere you went, he however, kinda just sat behind and watched you interact with people. Made sure people didn’t take advantage of your kind heart, and nobody was being a pig with you.

Azriel loved how social you were, he also adored how introverted you were.

For example, while out at Ritas, he’d watch you be chatty and then just slow down. He can see when you start to zone out when your social battery has completely run out. So he’ll always say that he’s tired and wants to go home so the blame doesn’t go to you because it makes you anxious and you’ll feel the need to apologize constantly.

You two would hold hands coming home, bumping into each other and giggling. You may be socially burnt out, but you never felt that way with him.

He loved the “after” part of a night out. Watching you wipe your makeup off delicately with cloth, then hop in the bath with him. You’d delicately wash his wings as he hates feeling like they’re dirty. You two scrub each other down. When he gets to washing your hair, he’s so incredibly gentle with his hands. The idea of even accidentally pulling your hair hurts him. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he massages your scalp. He’ll then massage your shoulders, causing your head to drop down, your chin against your chest causing your spine to slightly stretch out and release the tension from being social.

After the bath, you'd do your skincare, he’d watch as you gently apply toner, serums and creams. Then you’d throw on his ratty tunic and a pair of oversized shorts. You’d sit your (fine) ass on the counter and pull his hands into your lap to apply creams on them. Because he insisted he wanted to take care of his hands more.

Once you two ended up in bed, you’d turn on the lap by your bedside and begin to read your novel. He would write in a notebook. You suggested he try journaling when he talked about his thoughts overcrowding his brain.

Eventually you two would settle down together, he would lay on his side, his arm around your waist pulling you to his chest. Your head on a pillow that holds both of your heads with his arm underneath it. He refused to let you sleep by the window because he wants to be able to protect you.

The window’s open, letting the cool night breeze in. The only sounds are your breathing and the drapes billowing.

You felt content in your husband's arms. Knowing he may be a grumpy introverted bat, but he’s yours. He loves you as yourself.

He’s your home.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acofs #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #azriel x reader

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whimsiwitchy · 3 months ago

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Controversially Young Girlfriend (part five)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men.

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: the wait is over. yay! This isn’t how I expected this part to end but I let my mind take charge…plans change. I hope the end is okay, i’ve never written anything like that before so i’m a little nervy for y’alls reactions lol. let me know what you guys think! Enjoy <3

part five: new york changes you

The whole ‘friends for now’ deal you set with Hugh has been an enthralling experience so far. A month has passed since that night in your living room, a month of struggling to resist the charisma of Hugh Jackman. Right now, your two lives couldn’t be more different: your album had dropped three weeks ago, one week after the deal was made. It has been an absolute success with four of your songs sitting in the top ten since the drop. You were doing interview after interview and rehearsals for your tour started up this past week. Meanwhile, Hugh was living the simple life. He has been done with his Deadpool and Wolverine promo for some time now and he’s been enjoying his free time. That was something you didn’t have much of as of recent- free time. You were trying to balance the few moments of freedom between all of the people you cared for, which mostly consisted of Ashley and Hugh. It’s gotten to a point where you were inviting your friends to the tour rehearsals just to be able to see them. When the idea first popped up, you had been afraid that they would be too distracting but the outcome was the opposite. Having a mini audience that weren’t part of the tour team, allowed everyone to make changes to things with the input of outside opinions. Ashley and a small group of your other friends were rehearsal regulars now.

You’d been seeing Hugh more privately, both of you agreeing to stay out of the public eye for a little bit while the dating rumors died down. Ashley had been a little too enthusiastic about your decision to be Hugh’s friend and nothing more. You loved reminding her that it was hopefully a temporary situation while we decided if being together exclusively was the right choice for both of us. She liked to ignore that part. Her despisement towards Hugh has been a mystery to you. She was always a little protective over you, as any normal friend would be, but it had never been to this extent.

“Ash, do you wanna come to rehearsal tomorrow. We’re finally putting the choreography on the actual stage. I think you’ll like it. It’s gonna be fun.” You ask. The two of you were currently at Target shopping for her new apartment. “Uhhh of course. I need to catch up on all of the songs I missed. Then maybe you’ll consider putting me up on stage.” The last sentence comes out more singsongy than usual as she tries to convince you. She has brought up being on stage so often, you were beginning to feel bad, but she was a shit dancer. You didn’t have the heart to tell her. “Cool. I have to be there at seven, but I was thinking you guys could show up at noon. That’s when we’re scheduled to move over to the stage.” Her eyes light up. “Ooo. Who else is coming? Please tell me you invited Taylor again, she’s fun.” She rambles on as she pushes the cart through the lamp aisle. “Oh. I didn’t invite the girls again. It’s uh…it’s just gonna be you and Hugh.” She puts the lamp she’s been observing back onto the shelf. “Actually, I just remembered I have plans tomorrow.” She states flatley and starts to push the cart again. You follow her, waiting until you enter an aisle that was free of people before confronting her. “Ashley, don't be like that.” You whine. “I’m not being like anything y/n. I just forgot I had plans.” She shrugs as she busies herself by looking at the bathroom decor on the shelves. “What do you have against him?” You blurt out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Cut the shit Ash. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I can’t even mention his name without you trying to change the subject. I can’t even talk to my best friend about the guy I like because of this weird fucking grudge you have against him.” She stares at you, giving you a few slow blinks before speaking again. “Fine. I’ll be there but I can’t promise I'll be civil.”

You didn’t push her any further, her answer was good enough for now. Target wasn’t the right place to fight with her about this and it probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. As much as you loved Ashley, she had a tendency to do and say wherever she pleased but when it came back to her, she played victim. It was becoming harder to deal with now that you weren’t children anymore. Later that night, while on facetime with Hugh, you decided to warn him about the shitshow which he was bound to end up in tomorrow.

“I’m not really sure what her deal is honestly. She won’t tell me why she doesn’t like you.” You pout. “It’s okay baby, not everyone is going to like me. I can handle it.”

The endearments had been something that Hugh didn’t drop after the ‘just friends’ talk. You thought about talking to him about it but the words sounded too good rolling off of his tongue. You argued that it wasn’t any different than your other friends calling you ‘babe’- it wasn’t the same at all but you didn’t care. You knew it meant more to both of you.

“I know, but it would be really nice if you two could be friends, ya know? She just gets too overprotective I guess…” You tell him, not really believing your own words. “You don’t have to come tomorrow if you don’t want to. We can pick another day for you to come if you feel like it’ll be too awkward.” “Tomorrow is fine y/n. Everything will be okay. Don’t think about it too much, I’m sure I can charm her a little bit, get her on my side.” He assures you.

Ashley was on her worst behavior and it was pissing you off. It felt like you had covered Hugh in blood and thrown him to the sharks- when you think about it, he probably would have had a better shot at fighting off the sharks. The entire day so far had been full of eye rolls and snarky comments. When you had a moment alone with Hugh, all you could do was apologize for her behavior and he swore it was fine, it wasn't your fault. Ashley was acting weird towards you the entire morning. When you offered her to get up and learn some choreo, she brushed you off saying that she still needed to wake up. You glanced over at Hugh and Ashley every few minutes as they talked. It looked civil. The music was too loud to hear what the conversation was about and it was making you nervous. Hugh kept his eyes mostly on you as he spoke but Ashley’s were set on Hugh, never looking your way. You tried your best to ignore it, focusing on doing your job.

For one of the songs, you would be giving one of the dancers named Ethan a lap dance. He had become a good friend over the past year you had known him and he made the whole grinding on him thing a lot less awkward than you thought it would be. “Are you and eye candy over there still playing friends?” Ethan asks as he gestures towards where Hugh and Ashley sat. “Yes..but it’s more lenient. Kinda like dating but nothing exclusive.” You explain, eyes on Hugh. He’s looking back at you and you’re sure he can tell that you’re talking about him. “You should do the dance for him, since he’s a special guest today and all.” He offers, smirk present on his face. “You don’t think that would be too mean? I want him to want me but I don’t wanna ruin the man. At least not yet anyways.” A similar smirk to Ethan’s was rising to your lips at the thought of Hugh being flustered over you. “I think you should do it.” You think about it for a moment and shame yourself for how quickly you made your decision. “You’re a bad influence.” You tell Ethan. Hugh’s eyes are still on you and you point your finger at him and wiggle it, motioning him to come here.

“I’m gonna go sit down, have fun.” Ethan says and goes down the stairs to the stage as Hugh walks up them. “What’s up sweetheart?” He asks. “Ethan isn’t feeling well right now, would you mind standing in for him? You don’t have to do anything, just sit in that chair.” You point to the metal fold up chair that sits in the center of the catwalk. “Yea I can do that.” His smile is authentic, happy to help. “Thank you baby.” You say and you reach up to leave a quick kiss on his cheek. You pick up the mic that you sat on the stage floor earlier and turn it on. “We’re ready to go for the next one.” You announce through it so the sound crew could hear you. They announce ‘places’ and Hugh sits down in the chair. You walk over to the marker on the floor that indicates your starting position for this song. It’s about five feet behind Hugh’s chair, leaving him clueless on what’s happening.

The song starts and you strut to the beat until you reach the chair. Your hands are on either side of Hugh’s chest and you move your hands around the same way that you had practiced many times before. His chest was hard and you could feel the muscles of his pecs. You slide your hands up to his shoulders and walk slowly around the chair until you're right in front of Hugh. The song slows at this point, giving the perfect moment for you to slowly drop yourself into his lap, arms around his neck. There’s three quick beats and you bounce up and down. Hugh’s eyes are wide in surprise. He’s a lot taller than Ethan and his thighs hold more muscle. It took a moment to get used to as the routine went on. The entire dance was pretty stereotypical: a lot of grinding, ass popping, and touching. You spent a good majority of the song whispering the words quietly to Hugh. He kept his hands to himself, not wanting to interrupt whatever move you had to do next. When the song ends, you’re out of Hugh’s lap and standing a foot in front of him for your ending pose. The crew gives you the okay to move and you turn back to Hugh, mischief present in your face. “Thank you Hugh!” You squeal, giving him a quick hug once he stands up. “Yea. yea…You’re such a tease.” He says the second part low enough so only you hear. As he walks back to his seat, you could have sworn you saw him trying to discreetly reposition whatever was happening in his pants.

During your lunch break, Ashley’s strange act continued as she made up some excuse for her to leave- you could tell she was lying. Hugh and yourself ended up ordering subs from some local deli and ate in your dressing room. “So what do you think about everything so far?” You ask, referring to the choreo you’d been learning for the past three hours. “It’s…fun.” You huff at that. “You’re so terrible at describing things Hugh. Oh my god.” You complain. “I’m sorry…It's good.” You give him a blank stare, not satisfied with his answers. “Okay okay, don’t give me that look. You’re phenomenal…watching you dance and feeling you dance on me is making it really hard to just be your friend.” He shrugs, taking another bite of his sandwich. His answer makes you blush, familiar butterflies fly around your tummy. “Oh.” It’s all you could say. “You don’t have to accept my invites if it’s too hard on you.” “Hm. That’s not it, babe. I definitely want to be here. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that little stunt you pulled earlier.” He winks as he refers to the lapdance.

Comments like that had been frequent throughout the past month. Hugh Jackman was a natural flirt. That was a fact you had the pleasure of learning from personal experience and the displeasure of learning from the internet. You had seen countless videos of him being a flirty slut- as a married man. It worried you and had been something you’d been thinking about nonstop since the discovery. Him flirting with you was one thing, but you didn’t like the idea of him flirting with others when he was ‘yours’. You’d also seen videos of him mentioning multiple times that he liked older women, which had become another concern that ate at your brain. Last week, Hugh had come over for a movie night and you planned on casually mentioning the apprehension you had around the issue.

“Sooo, I heard you liked older women?”

Casual had never been your thing.

“Uh..yea. It’s a preference of mine.” You could tell that the question made him uncomfortable. The tiny little toxic part of your heart was happy about that. You let out a short hum. “What was that for?”

“What was what for?”

“Your little ‘hm.’.” You shrug as you speak your next words. “It’s just interesting.”

“What’s interesting.” “You having a preference for older women.”

“How is that any different from you liking older men?” He asks genuinely and you could honestly smack him right now for not seeing the issue and you would if he wasn’t across the couch. “Hm. I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m currently interested in an older man and you’re straying quite far from your preferences Mr.Jackman.” He lets out a deep belly laugh. “Why are you laughing at me?” You cross your arms, a small pout sits on your lips. “You're jealous.” He smirks. “I’m not jealous. I’m skeptical.” “There's no reason to be.” His eyes are gentle. “If you say so.” You didn’t want to damper the mood but your mind was filled with ‘what ifs’ and you needed reassurance.

“Hey. Come here sweet girl.” He motions for you to sit closer to him. You crawl over and his arm drapes over your shoulder. Your head rests on his chest and his cheek is resting on the crown of your hair. “I promise you have nothing to worry about. I like you and only you.” “Pinky promise?” You look up at him, holding out your pinky. He lets out a chuckle and links his pinky with your own. “Pinky promise.” He was looking down at you. You were staring in his eyes, watching the reflection from the flame of the pumpkin pie scented candle that sat on the coffee table flicker. He slowly leaned down, allowing his lips to softly touch yours. It was a lazy kiss, lips moving every few seconds. You could feel every part of Hugh’s lip slide against yours. The slowness of it all was arousing- the heat from his body wasn’t helping. The upward stretch of your neck became sore after a few minutes, giving you the perfect excuse to climb into his lap. The makeout session lasted about thirty minutes, never speeding up, both of you enjoying the intimacy of the demure, slow kisses. You ground your hips into his in an undemanding manor, not wanting to rush the moment, just needing to feel him against you. A few whispered moans were thrown about, a few neck kisses here and there. The rules were beyond broken that night. You liked to imagine what would have happened if there wasn’t a knock on the door from the food you ordered earlier.

Your cheeks heat up at the memory as you pick an onion off of your sandwich. Hugh was right, you were a tease. That night, he had initiated the kiss but you turned it into so much more. You could've stopped it, blaming it on the pain in your neck, but you wanted more. With Hugh, you always wanted more. It was your stupid idea to be his friend first and it was torturing you. “What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Hugh asks, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Nothing...These onions are too strong.” You flick the onion you picked off onto the paper that was once wrapped around your sub. “You sure that’s it? You can talk to me babe.” He’s sincere. He’s always so patient and caring towards you. It makes your heart swell. “I was thinking about our movie night.” You admit. “Anything in particular from that night?” He asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about, the wide smirk on his stupid perfect face makes that obvious. “I wasn’t thinking about that, you perv. I was thinking about how I forgot to tell you that I’m going to New York next week.” He didn’t need to know that you were for sure thinking about every detail of his dick that you could remember and you really did forget to tell him that, so you weren’t technically lying. “Hm. I wonder what made you forget?” Smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.” And you did ignore it, immediately talking about your upcoming trip. “It's kinda gonna be my first time there. I performed a show there but I was gone the next day. I have an entire four days to explore this time. Well except for when I work but whatever.” You shrug at the end, voice filled with excitement ready to see the city in its full glory. “What do you have scheduled when you’re out there?”

“I have a photoshoot, meetings, then the Tonight Show.”

“First time on Fallon?” you laugh. “First time on any big talk show, I'm so fucking nervous.”

“Don’t be. Jimmy’s a great guy and you’re good at talking. It’s easy to pay attention to you.”

“Do you pay attention to me because I'm a good talker or do you pay attention to me because you think I'm pretty.” You were completely fishing for a compliment and you carried no shame for it. “Both.”

Hugh had become a really good friend and not just because the two of you shared an occasional kiss. He was there for you when you had no one else. The next day, Ashley came over and you tried to ask her why she lied about needing to leave rehearsal early. She either gave a vague answer for each question or completely dodged it. You never asked Hugh about what they talked about, wanting the answer from your best friend, but it was looking like you would have to turn to him to get closer to the truth. You invited her to New York the second you found out you were going. Trying to get her out of her funky mood, you brought it up, asking if she was excited that it was coming up so soon. She quickly agreed to the excitement but each word came out flat and uninterested. About an hour after she left your house, you got a text.

bestie boo: hey. i’m actually not gonna be able to make it to new york. sorry, ttyl.

The text caught you off guard but it wasn’t a total surprise due to Ashley’s behavior while she was at your house. That didn’t mean it hurt any less though. The consistent dodginess from her made your throat tighten up. Your first instinct was to text Hugh, so that’s what you did.

You: hey, are you busy rn?

Hugh <3: Hi baby. No, I'm not busy. What’s up?

You: can you come over? :(

Hugh <3: On my way!

When you opened the door for him, worry was written on his face. “What’s wrong?” He takes off his shoes, the same way he has the past few times he’s come over. “I feel like you’re always asking me that.” You slump over slightly. “I gotta make sure my girl is okay.” All of the sadness you had over Ashley almost vanished entirely. “I’m your girl?” You ask looking up at him. “Of course you’re my girl y/n. Just waiting for the day you wanna label it.” He smiles down at you and offers his hand. “Now c’mon, tell me what’s got you all blue.” You grab his hand and he follows the familiar route to your living room couch. He sits down and pulls you down towards him. You’re sitting next to him, your side against his. He pulls your legs up so they lay across his lap and he rubs slow circles into your thigh.

“What’s got that pretty face of yours frowning?” He pinches your thigh lightly as he asks the question. “It’s Ashley, she’s being really weird Hugh. She always tells me things and now she’s just…not.” He has his own frown now. “I’m sorry baby….Is this about me again?”

“Kinda but not totally. I just wanted to know why she doesn’t like you. You’ve become so important to me and I plan on having you around for a while. She’s been my best friend since we were kids, I want her to like you and be able to be around you.” You put your hands over your eyes, your palms applying pressure on them to prevent the tears from falling. All the pent up frustration was starting to reach its limit. “Hey, look at me.” He grabs your chin, a gesture he’s done more times than you can count. “Don’t let me come in between your friendships.” You sigh. “It’s not your fault Hugh.”

“I…I think it might be my fault a little bit.” He admits with a guilty expression, making your heart sting. “What do you mean?”

“She uh… Ashley might have flirted with me yesterday. I shut it down but…” He sighs nervously. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how to tell you to be honest..” The room around you both felt stuffie and too small. The tears that were held back by the palms of your hands just a few minutes ago, spill out. You were feeling too many emotions: hurt, anger, betrayal.

This wasn’t the first time Ashley had done something like this. She’d done it with Pedro when the two of you were already together. The only difference is that she felt so guilty that she confessed. This time, Ashley was too much of a coward to tell you what she had done to your face. You didn’t want to lose your best friend but you couldn’t keep her around when all she seemed to do was hurt you. Hugh holds you as you cry, not saying a word. He leaves little kisses on your head and tells you that ‘it’s okay’ over and over. He let you cry without knowing what it was you were crying about. You felt so stupid to have let this slip past you. It had been almost the exact same situation before. Ashley acted weird towards Pedro, she starts being vague, and then you find out what she did. Déjà fucking vu. You couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s funny sweetheart?” Your mind had been racing so fast, you almost forgot that Hugh’s was still here holding you. He had gone still, the only reminder of his presence was the weight of his arms around you. “I just can’t believe she did it again without me noticing. I feel dumb.” His body jerks in surprise. “Again?”

—

It was Saint Patrick's day and you were at Ashley’s place getting ready for a party. It was a weird holiday to throw a party for but people used any excuse to get drunk. Leading up to this day, Ashley has been yapping non stop about going to her first celebrity party but tonight, she couldn’t have been more quiet. You excused her behavior for nerves, not questioning it more. Her demeanor has been different for a few days. Ashley wasn’t one to open up quickly or talk about her problems. You only pried as much as you could before being shut out and right now you had been completely blocked off. You tried your best to ignore it, trying to focus on the night ahead of you.

Billie is who had invited you to the party as the two of you grew close. Being the same age, doing the same job, and experiencing the same things made it impossible for the two of you not to be friends. The party was going to be filled with people you’d never met before, so you asked her if you could bring a person or two- Ashley and Pedro. It was when you told Ashley that Pedro would also be coming, that her prior eagerness for the party dissipated.

Just as you sat down to start your makeup, Ashley finally spoke. “Y/n…I think I’m gonna skip out on the party tonight.” You lift your head to look at her through the mirror.“What, why? We’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

“I just don’t feel like going anymore.” She’s scrolling through her phone. “You’re such a shitty liar, Ash. What’s up? Why don’t you wanna go anymore?” You turn the spinny chair your in to face her. She put her phone down and the look on her face was one you wouldn’t ever forget. It was a look full of guilt, shame. You were trying to comfort your best friend while she was about to tell you the most heat shattering words. “I don’t think it’s smart to be around Pedro.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “Why not. I thought you guys were good now, that you liked him?” She’s fidgeting with her hands. “Y/n we kissed.”

“Who kissed?” You ask, hoping you were misinterpreting what she was saying. “Me and Pedro.” You hadn’t misunderstood her words.

Your heart shattered. Pedro has only been your boyfriend for a little over a month but it still hurts. You were still in the honeymoon phase, where everything felt like love even though it was just over infatuation with the new relationship. Without thinking about it, you started collecting your things to leave, gathering the makeup you just placed onto the table back into its bag. “What are you doing?” Ashley asks nervously. “I’m leaving.” She didn’t try to stop you.

When you got home, you felt numb. There was a strong ache in your chest where your heart sits but there wasn’t an ounce of emotions flowing through you. The betrayal of the person you trusted most in this life was worse than any other pain you could think of. You spend hours laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, when a knock finally pulls you out of whatever trance you were in. “Hey baby. Ashley texted me saying I should come check on you.” He steps into the house and follows you down the entry hall. “Oh I didn’t know you guys were on texting terms now…” You trail off for a second, not leaving Pedro enough time to say anything before you speak again. “Huh…You know, I guess it would make sense, seeing as you guys are apparently on kissing terms.” You stop and stare at him, looking dead in his eyes. He winces. “She told you about that.” The statement pisses you off. “What the fuck do you mean ‘she told you about that.’? Were you planning on keeping it a secret?” Your voice gradually rises alongside the anger in your body. “No, but I-”

“but fucking what Pedro? You kiss my best fucking friend and then hide it from me??” Your finger hurts from the pressure of pointing it into his chest. “I didn’t kiss her.” You ignore him. “When did it happen?” “Baby, listen to me. I didn’t kiss Ashley.” He ignores you. “WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?” You scream at him, all of the emotions spilling over. You sink down to the floor, abandoning your prior standing position, and you cry.

“I didn’t kiss her babygirl. I would never hurt you like that.” He sits down next to you, his back against the wall. You don’t speak. “It was last Tuesday, when she came over to talk to me like you asked her to. She said it was because you wanted her to like me, for us to be friends. She started acting differently and before I knew it she was kissing me. That’s all that happened baby.” He explains as he runs his fingers along the baby hairs on your forehead. “You didn’t kiss her?” You look into his big brown puppy eyes, searching for the truth. “I didn’t kiss her.” He affirms. “I promise, babygirl.”

“Pinky promise?” He interlocks his pinky with yours.

You didn’t speak to Ashley for two weeks after that incident. You wanted so badly to know why she did it, but in the end you didn’t think it mattered, each outcome still ended with her being a selfish person- a bad friend. You didn’t really talk things out either but you decided to forgive her. The friendship was too important to you at the time to give up but you wouldn’t let her be anywhere near Pedro again. The idea of them being friends was out the window.

—

“What a bitch.” His thick accent shining through extra hard with his own anger.- it makes you laugh. “I don’t even know what to do at this point. I don’t think I can trust her anymore.” he nods in agreement. “I know sweetheart but I'm here for you, no matter what you decide to do. Okay?” it's your turn to nod. “Okay. Thank you Hugh, really. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You look up at him, giving him a small smile and a quick kiss on his side. “You know what sucks more than possibly losing my best friend for good?” You ask, humor shines in your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Losing my New York tour guide.” He laughs. “You’re laughing now, but it’s serious. She created these crazy itineraries for us to be the most obnoxious tourist. Now I have to rely on my own planning skills, which aren’t great.” Hugh goes quiet for a moment. You search his face for his thoughts and he seems unsure of what he’s about to say.

“I could..uh. I could go to New York with you. I kinda need to go anyways, been meaning to go.” He says and when you don’t speak right away, he panics. “You don’t have to say yes. I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I understand if you want some time for yourself..” You giggle at his overthinking. “Hugh, I would love for you to come to New York with me.” He lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. “Okay good. That’s great! I needed to go back a few weeks ago actually so this works out for the both of us.”

“Why didn’t you go back when you needed to?” His cheeks go red. “Oh my god! You totally stayed because of me didn’t you?”

“Maybe..” He admits. “I was scheduled to fly back to New York before your album party, but then you texted me. I couldn’t pass that up.”

“You keep acting like this and you’re gonna make me fall in love with you Hugh Jackman.” A smug smile falls onto his lips. “You better.”

The few days leading up to you leaving for New York were short. Hugh left for the city the next day, promising he would see you the moment you landed, sealing the promise with a quick kiss. You busied yourself with tour rehearsals and interview prep. It had been a lonely few days. Hugh was gone and you weren’t talking to Ashley, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You and Hugh texted daily but it wasn’t the same as being in his presence, a presence you had come to enjoy having around. You were close to saying ‘fuck it’ and be fully committed to him but a part of you was still hesitant. Too much has happened recently, it feels like you can’t think straight half the time. Your last relationship was only a few months ago, your best friend was trying to steal every man you liked, and you’re at the peak of your career. You needed a mental breather.

LAX airport was cold and stuffy. People were walking casually towards their destination with a few runners here and there. While you loved traveling, airports made you feel uneasy. There were so many people going to the most random places on the most random days and random times. It was uncomfortable to think about. You sat there in silence, too afraid to wear headphones. You liked to know what was happening around you at all times, a freak peeve. When it was finally time to board the plane, you were already exhausted from it all. Almost seven hours later, you landed at JFK airport in New York City. Once you turn off airplane mode on your phone, you see a few texts from Hugh. He insisted that he could pick you up from the airport and take you to your hotel. Your ‘personal chauffeur” he jokingly called himself. You texted Hugh back as people hurriedly grabbed their belongings and scurried down the thin aisles.

You: just landed! see you soon hot stuff ;)

He told you beforehand that he made arrangements to pick you up in a private area, away from prying eyes. You weren’t nearly famous enough to know what that means, so you simply followed the instructions he gave you. It was a little confusing at first, having only been in the busy airport once before. With some help from workers, Hugh was finally in your view. He had a big smile on his face with his arms open wide for you. You walked with a little pep in your step, suitcase rolling behind you. When you got close enough, you let the handle go and ran the rest of the short distance to Hughs arms. His embrace was warm and welcoming, a familiar place.

“Missed you sweet girl.” He mumbles into your hair. You pull back slightly, arms still holding him. “Missed you too.” Your voice is shy, almost forgetting how it felt to have his attention on you. You had missed him, more than you thought you would. Hearing his voice again made life feel real again after the past mundane days you’ve endured. The walk to his car was intimate- his arm sat atop your shoulders as you walked side by side. He insisted on rolling your luggage for you and wouldn’t take no for an answer when you protested. A true gentleman. He opened the passenger door for you, making sure you were in before putting your suitcase in the trunk and hopping into the driver's side. He looked a lot more presentable than you did. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt that hugged his biceps in a way that almost made you drool. It was simple but he looked delicious. Your sweats and hoodie couldn’t compare. His beard had finally grown in, no longer the prickly stubble that rested there a month ago. It was full and you hoped he would let it grow to that length that made him look even more expensive.

“The option to stay at my place is still on the table if you want it babe.” He says, resting his hand on your thigh as he begins to pull out of the hidden parking lot. There was something so attractive about a man driving. Hugh’s side profile was godly and him driving really did something to your brain. “That wouldn’t be very friendly of us Hugh.” You rest your hand on top of his. “I think that’s the friendliest thing I could possibly do. Offer you a place to stay while in town instead of staying in a dingy hotel.” He eggs on trying to convince you. He first pitched the idea the night he offered to come to New York with you. You immediately declined, not wanting to invade his space. You wouldn’t know how to handle it, it made things too real. He had been over to your house countless times, but you had never been to his. You thought it best to keep it that way. You weren’t sure you could control yourself around him when you were surrounded by all things him. “Nothing is ever friendly between us Hugh.” He squeezes your thigh. “I have to argue with you there baby. In my humble opinion, we are too friendly.” He glances over to you and gives you a wink. He hasn’t been afraid of letting his intentions known. To let you know that he wants you, not as a friend. You’ve seen just how bad he craved you and it was tempting. He knew he had a dangerous effect on you, one that you worked really hard to control.

“You’re always so horny.” You mumble. “It’s hard not to be when I have a gorgeous girl like you around all the time.” God he was so good with his words. His voice and his way of speaking. It was no mystery as to why he had people swooning for him left and right- you included. “Whatever.” You open your phone to text Stacy, letting her know you landed and in good hands. It was weird flying solo. You got so accustomed to flying along Ashley or Stacy. You weren’t particularly mad at the change if it meant you got to see Hugh’s face light up just at seeing you again. “Will you at least come over once?” He asks, hopeful. “I’ve seen your house, I’d really like you to see mine. It’s where I live most of the time. It would mean a lot.” The squeeze on your thigh lingers, his grip lasting longer than the previous one. You didn’t know how to explain that you really didn’t want to do that- be in his house. You didn’t think he would understand what you mean when you say ‘it’s too much’. The desperation in his voice, the yearning he felt to have you in his home. You couldn’t say no. “Yea I can do that.” The small smile that rested on his lips grew, his face lighting up. It made your stomach twist up in knots.

The hotel that Stacy booked for you was grand. The elegance and class in the places you’ve stayed at while traveling has never failed to amaze you. Growing up, your family didn’t have a lot of money. When you went on family trips, the cheapest hotel, usually a motel 6, was your usual nightly accommodations. The places you stayed in now would have little you screaming and running around. The whole ‘entering fame’ process had been a huge culture shock that you were still learning to navigate appropriately.

“Hm. Not too shabby, my house is better though.” Hugh says as he sits your luggage to the side. He had put a hat and sunglasses on, trying to make it less obvious that it was him- trying to hide that it was him who was with you. The hat, sunglasses, and beard combo was doing a number on your body. It took a lot of strength to keep yourself from dragging him to the bed and riding him until you were satisfied. Though, you’re not sure that you could ever be fully satisfied with Hugh. Not because you were scared he wouldn’t be good in bed but because you knew once he had you, you would need him again and again until you physically couldn’t handle him anymore. You felt him that one night on the couch, movie night, you knew that man was packing and that it wouldn’t take much for him to bruise your cervix.

“Hugh, please.” You warn him. He puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry…Just don’t forget that it’s an option.” “I don’t think you’d let me forget..” You let out a breathy laugh after. Hugh sits down at a small table and watches you as you walk around, exploring the room. You unpack a few things to make it easier on yourself later. “Are you up for exploring today?” He asks as he walks into the bathroom, where you’re placing your toiletries along the vanity counter. “Oo! I’d love to explore. I have one weird request though.” You're still facing the mirror when Hugh comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, sitting a little higher due to his height. “What’s that baby?” He’s watching you through the mirror, as you organize your skin care. “I wanna go to Trinity Church to see Hamilton's grave.” You say nonchalantly. Hugh laughs and questions you. “I need to sing the ‘he’s buried in Trinity Church near you’ line from Hamilton.” Hugh continues laughing. “What!?” He barely gets the words out. It somewhat offends you. “I thought you’d understand, being a theater nerd and all but I guess not.” You cross your arms and try to break through his hold to walk away. “Mhm. I’m sorry, come back. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. You’re just full of surprises.” You relax in his hold.

“Does that mean you’ll take me?” You look at his eyes through the mirror. “Yea i’ll take you.” He smiles. You look at Hugh in the mirror, observing how the two of you look together. He looks really good holding you and not to toot your own horn, but Hugh and yourself made an attractive couple. He looked good on your arm and you looked good on his. “You're so pretty, baby.” He whispers. “Every time I look at you, I’m blown away that you’re hanging around with me.” His arms tighten around you. “Hmm. I think we look good together, don’t you?” You reach your neck up to look at him as best as you can given the angle. He studies your two bodies in the mirror before agreeing. “Yea we do.”

Walking around with Hugh felt freeing. You’ve been trying so hard to keep things private lately that every time you weren’t in the secure confines of your house with him, you felt panicked. It was something that crossed your mind before the two of you left the hotel but he assured you that it wasn’t very likely that someone would notice both of you. You were a little doubtful in his words, opting to dress in a way that protected you from the early fall breeze and from making it too obvious of who you were. Hugh had been right though, you both were able to walk around pretty freely, undisturbed. He brought you to trinity church first and reluctantly filmed a video of you dramatically singing the line from Hamilton. To you it was peak comedy and Hugh was being a big hater. He took you to a few of his favorite places, hidden gems. It was perfect. You wanted to hold his hand, bodies brushing against each other as you walked, but you couldn’t. The night ended by Hugh taking you to get traditional New York pizza. He ordered a large pepperoni and you both walked back to the hotel. The moment your room door was opened, you were pulling your heeled boots off. The walking destroyed your feet but you’d gone beyond your daily step goals- a win is a win. Sitting at the table with Hugh, you both grabbed a slice of pizza. He waited for you to take a bite first, looking for your reaction. When you took a bite, you let out a moan- you weren’t sure if it was because it tasted that good or because of how hungry you were. “That good?” Hugh asks in amusement. “Yes, I was starving.” He chuckles and takes his own big bite. The two of you down the entire pizza at an embarrassingly fast rate. “Did you have fun today?” He asks you. “Yea, I really did. Thank you Hugh.”

When Hugh left, you scrolled through all of the pictures and videos you had taken today. You snuck a couple of Hugh and you might have stared at them a little too long. You watched the Trinity Church video so you could post it on TikTok. As you uploaded it into the app and were giving it one last watch before hitting post, a sound caught your attention. You grabbed your headphones and connected them to get a better listen. As you were singing, you could hear Hugh quietly laughing in the background. The sound brought a smile to your face, replaying it over and over just to hear it again. You hit the ‘post’ and called it a night.

The next morning was an early one. You had to be at the photo shoot at five am to get ready, meaning you were out the door at four. Stacy met you down in the lobby and led you to the car she had waiting for you. “How was your first day in New York? You and Ashley have fun?” She asks as she buckles her seatbelt. “Oh, Ashley didn’t come, we aren’t friends anymore. My first day was good though, really fun.” You smile at the memories of the day prior, ignoring the small pain from hearing Ashley’s name. Stacy gives you a questioning look. You sigh before explaining, “She was being weird and it turns out she was flirting with Hugh the other day when they came to rehearsals. She didn’t even have the decency not to do it in the exact same room.” Her expression turns to an understanding one. “Well, good riddance. I knew after the first time that the girl was nothing but trouble. Good for you babe.” She types on her phone for a moment before turning her attention back to you- your staring out the window, taking in the somewhat empty streets that were full of people the night before.

“So, what did you do yesterday that was so fun?” You don’t look at her when you respond. “Hugh took me exploring, showed me the city.” She snorts. “Hugh, huh?” You look at her sheepishly. “Yea. He felt bad that I didn’t have someone to go with me so he offered.” You shrug. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “I told you.”

“Told me what?”

“That you wouldn’t be able to stay away from that man.” She shakes her head. You sometimes forgot just how well Stacy knows you after years of her by your side. The car comes to a stop outside of a short building, shorter than the other ones around it anyway. You sat in hair and makeup for a while, talking to the artists as they worked. You always liked making conversation with the people that helped you, it was always interesting hearing everyone's stories. The photo shoot wasn’t anything crazy. It was a well known photographer that had worked with major stars, her most recent model being Zendaya. It was a huge compliment that she wanted to work with you. It wasn’t like other shoots you had done before, this had been way more artsy and free. You were so used to doing things for brands or for your own music, where everything needed to be a certain way. It was nice to work on projects where you didn’t have to think but just be you.

When the shoot was over, you sat in a small lobby with Stacy as you waited for the car to come pick you up. You opened tiktok to see what people were saying in the comments of your latest post. Most of them were freaking out over the laugh in the background, over analyzing it to find out who it was. There were a few comments that speculated that it might be Hugh and it made you laugh, shocked by the crazy detective skills your fans had. You kept scrolling when you saw a comment that caught your attention.

‘Y/N GET YOUR MAN UNDER CONTROL SDJFJSDF’

You clicked on the ‘view replies’ tab under it trying to figure out what they were talking about. Thankfully, other people were just as confused as you were with multiple ‘context?’ comments under it.

‘look at hughs recent instagram post 😭’

In curiosity, you closed Tiktok and opened instagram. You went to the search bar, clicking on his username from your recent searched section. You click on the most recent picture making it enlarge and you let out an audible gasp. “Are you okay?” Stacy asks. You almost forgot where you were for a second. “Yea i’m fine…funny tiktok comment.” You tried to play it off, hoping she’d buy the excuse. It seems to work as she gives a small nod, looking back down to her phone. You look back down at your own device, in complete and utter shock. You knew he was built, seeing other pictures he had posted and endless edits of his greasy hawaiian rolls from Deadpool and Wolverine.

This however seemed so much slutier. He was in, what you assumed was his home bathroom, taking shirtless pictures of himself. You could tell it had been recent because his beard and hair were the same length that it’s been for the past week. You felt frozen, not knowing what to do. He looked absolutely scrumptious. Pulling out your airpods from your purse, you put them on to listen to the attached audio. You had no fucking clue how you were supposed to look him in the eyes the next time you saw him. His voice was something special. It had the ability to make your knees weak at the sound. This was no different. It felt like he was teasing you subtly. You quickly screenshot the picture and swipe out of instagram, opening your message app.

You: I leave you alone for less than 24 hours and you’re over here posting thirst traps for the internet…

Hugh <3: I just wanted to thank my team. As the caption said…I am grateful.

You: hmm you say it’s being grateful, I say it’s being a SLUT!!

You: you look really fucking good though…

Hugh<3: 😂😂😂

Hugh<3: Thank you baby. Do I get to see you today or are you still busy?

You: I have meetings the rest of the day :(

Hugh<3: It’s okay sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow?

You: I have fallon tmrw night but i’ll be free at 8pm if you wanna meet up then?

Hugh<3: That works for me. Text me when you’re done for the day, okay? Talk to you later baby

The car finally stops signaling that you were at the first meeting of the day. There were endless introductions, hand shaking, and smiling. It was a lot more tiring than it sounded. Stacy was doing most of the work, covering major details for whatever was being discussed- again you mainly sat and listened. There were a few times when you really had to pay attention as key points were being made but nothing would be final until your team and lawyer looked over whatever deals were being discussed. There was a short two hour break of freedom that Stacy and yourself used to grab some food. Then it was right back to work. You were somewhat grateful for Stacy scheduling all of the heavy work stuff on one day because it meant you didn’t have to do this again on the remaining days of your trip. Stacy liked to set it up that way, giving you more time to be free from work, you loved her for it. The two of you had dinner together and went your separate ways after. You got back to your hotel at ten and to say you were worn out was an understatement. Your head was hurting from all the talking and bright fluorescent lights of each office you sat in today.

You: I’m finally freeeee!!

After hitting send, you hopped in the shower. The best thing about staying in an expensive hotel was how great the water pressure was. The hot water felt like heaven against your sticky skin, the thick body glitter from the photoshoot finally slipping away. You let your mind wander back to the picture that had been in your mind all day. Running your hands down your body, teasing yourself while imagining that it was Hugh��s wide hands instead. You let your hands disappear in the place that ached the most, working as your mind played the fantasies that ate away at you. You could almost feel Hugh’s mouth whispering against your ear as the feeling of ecstasy washes over your body, the running water muffling the sounds of your pleasure.

Hugh still hadn’t texted you back when you had gotten out of the shower. It was unusual for him to take so long to respond but given the time- and his age- he was probably asleep. The downside to dating older men was their need to be in bed so early. You giggled to yourself thinking about the thought of Hugh being knocked the fuck out in bed after yawning since the clock hit 7pm. Laying in bed, you whipped out your phone opening twitter. You tweeted a quick post, reminding your fans to watch Jimmy Fallon tomorrow night. You scrolled lazily for a while, feeling the sleep take over you but when you saw one post in particular, you felt wide awake.

‘Hugh Jackman and ex-wife seen walking around New York together a year after separation.’

You had no right to feel the jealousy and anger that sat tight in your chest. His ex-wife was something you were completely aware of but it was a subject neither Hugh or yourself had talked about. You understood that she would always be around, after being married to her longer than you’d even been alive. You laugh in disbelief. It sounded so stupid when you put it like that. The age gap never bothered you until you put it in perspective. You couldn’t help who you liked though. The overthinking hit faster than you could stop it. You wondered why he didn’t tell you that he was seeing her today. His smile in the picture was a little too wide, he looked too happy. He wasn’t even yours to claim, yet you wanted her to know that he had you now, that he wanted you. The vile thoughts that danced around your head were making your temper rise. You set some alarms and tried to get some sleep. Most of the night was tossing and turning, thinking about Hugh’s ex-wife.

Hugh<3: Good morning sweet girl. I’m sorry for not getting back to you last night. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to text me lol

It was what you saw first when your alarm went off. It was sent a few hours ago since you gave yourself some time to sleep in, given the trouble you had getting to sleep last night. You ultimately decided that you wouldn’t be mad at him for it, you didn’t have a reason to be. If the two of you were official, things would be different, but you weren’t. You were going to try your best to swallow the jealousy and let it be.

You: good morning baby! I figured that’s what happened lol

Hugh<3: Are you excited for Fallon tonight? 😄

You: yea…only a tinsy bit nervous

Hugh<3: You’re gonna crush it babe, I know it. I still get to see you after yea? Miss you

You: I miss you too :(

You: do you wanna meet at the hotel after or…?

Hugh<3: I can pick you up and we can go to my place?

You stared at the message contemplating it. Hugh’s house was already a fear of yours but his house at night seemed a lot more intimate. You felt the need to be that intimate with him though- it was fueled by the pictures from last night, you knew it was. If that hadn't happened, you’d be saying no, making up excuses not to. You needed the validation too much to think straight.

You: yea we can do that :)

Once you get to the Tonight Show studio, you barely have time to put your things down before you're being guided around. Thankfully, you warmed up your voice before leaving your hotel room just in case you didn’t have time to do it here. The crew had you and your dancers do a quick run through of the song to make sure everything was working before you were sent to your dressing room to get ready. Kat, your stylist, and Amari, your makeup and hair artist, were already in the room ready to get to work. You took the time to catch up with both of them, the three of you falling into a familiar routine. Your nerves started to build up as it got closer to the filming time. About twenty minutes before you were called to stage, Jimmy came back to introduce himself. He was a really sweet guy, super bubbly and humble. It eased your mind a little bit but they shot right back up when your name was called. “Y/n L/n everybody!”. The studio audience erupted in cheers as you walked to Jimmy’s desk. “Welcome to the show, how are you doing tonight?” He asks. “I’m doing amazing, thank you so much for having me.” The cheers finally slow down. “So, I got told that this is your first late night show interview, is that right?”

“Yes, it is!”

“I’m honored to be the first.”

“I’m glad it’s you who popped my late night talk show cherry, Jimmy.” You joke, using your song's title as a pun, which he does his famous laugh at. The interview was going really well, most of the questions being ones you’ve answered countless times before.

“There have been a few rumors going around after a tiktok you posted the other day and I have to ask.” You nod ready for whatever question he’s about to ask. “Is the laugh behind the camera Mr. Hugh Jackman?” Your smile falters for a second before you put it right back on. This was something you weren’t prepared for at all. You let out a laugh. “The fans can keep speculating. A girl never kisses and tells.” It probably wasn’t the best answer- you know it wasn’t the best answer- but it’s all you could come up with in that moment. You just hoped no one noticed the split second your calm facade slipped, that it felt longer than it had actually lasted.

Hugh was already there when you were free to leave, having texted him in the spare moment you had while getting changed into your performance outfit. Once you were in the car, he didn’t hesitate to ask how it went. “It was good. He uh…he asked about you.” You don’t why you were concerned about how he would respond, but you were. “About me?” He glances at you quickly before focusing on the road again. “Uhh..yeah. I posted the Hamilton video on tiktok and you can hear you laughing in it. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal but people started to guess it was you. I’m sorry.” You slump down into the seat, waiting for his anger to come but it never does. “Don’t apologize baby. I want people to know I’m with you.” He never fails at knowing what to say, his words always flow out of his mouth effortlessly. “I kinda redirected the question though, not really giving a solid answer. I don’t know, it really threw me off.” He nods. “They like to do that, be sneaky.”

It took a little longer than expected to get to his place, New York traffic moving at a snail's pace. When you do finally arrive, he’s pulling into an underground parking garage that sits under a skyscraper that you can’t see the top of. The elevator ride up was easily the longest one you’d ever been on, his penthouse being on the 56th floor. He opens the door and turns on the light switch that is conveniently placed in the entrance. “Welcome to my home. Mi casa es su casa.” He jokes and you let out a short snort at the stupid joke. “Would you like the official Hugh Jackman house tour?” Excitement was radiating off of him and you thought it was cute that he was this worked up about you being here, in his space. “I’d love one.” He offers his hand and you take it. Your once icy hand being warmed up instantly from his large, warm one.

As he dragged you to the living room, you started to feel that uneasiness again, like you shouldn’t be here. It kept nagging at you in the back of your head but you refused to pick at it. This was making Hugh happy, you weren’t going to ruin that because of whatever issues you were hiding. After showing you the living room, he pulls you into a large kitchen. A vase full of bright pink flowers, balloons, and a cookie cake that reads ‘congrats’ sits on the counter. You let go of his hand and walk over to the island while he stays put. You run your fingertips over the soft petals of the flowers, peonies- your favorite. “Do you like them? I uh..wasn’t sure what your flower preference was, so I chose peonies because of your song.”

The gesture makes you emotional. You’d never had a man go out of his way for you like this. He hadn’t known what flowers you liked but he remembered your song title to fill in the blank. A song where you had one line that says: ‘you got me roses when you know I like peonies’. A song from your debut album. “I love them. I love this.” You gesture to the display. You walk back over to where he stands and reach up to grab his face, bringing it down to give him a quick peck on his lips. “This means a lot to me, thank you Hugh.” The previous perturbation vanishing from your head, that cherished easiness you felt with Hugh slips back in. You were meant to be here.

“Shall we finish the tour?” You ask, spirits high. “Of course my lady, right this way.” He leads you room to room, giving you a mini explanation for each one. It was an average home, well average for a millionaire. It was obvious that a single, older man lived here but not in a bad way, there just wasn’t a woman's touch on the place. “This is bathroom number two, the one I use most frequently.” Something about the room seemed familiar as you looked around. There were a few art pieces on the marbled wall, a large mirror across from them. You were looking at the suspiciously large mirror when it clicked.

“OH MY GOD!! This is the thirst trap bathroom! I can’t believe I have the pleasure of being in such a sacred place.” You move around the space in a theatrical way, pretending you were in a place of true importance.

“Oh god…shut up.” He groans in embarrassment. “Could you reenact the moment? It would really help me get the full feel of the room.” You’re still teasing him but that question came back to slap you right across the face. You see a smirk on Hugh's face and he’s reaching his hands down and starts lifting his shirt off- but not in the practical way but in the super sexy crossed arms way. “WAIT! I was just kidding.” You practically scream at him, not mentally prepared to see Hugh shirtless in person. He stops and shrugs, turning around to leave the room. Before you can stop yourself, the horny part of your brain is speaking. “Wait no, keep going.” He slowly turns around with that stupid sexy smile of his and the raised eyebrow thing he does. The atmosphere of the small room changed instantly. He’s pulling at his shirt again, painfully slow in your opinion. As he inches it up, you analyze each slither of skin that’s freed. There is a patch of hair below his belly button leading down into his pants. A strong v-line and a thick vein practically popping out of his skin, begging to be traced with your tongue. The shirt goes higher and higher, revealing more of his chest. Each ab pops out and it’s like a gift from God right in front of your eyes. He pulls the shirt over his head, biceps flexing slightly, and drops the shirt onto the floor. You're frozen in place, not believing that this is real.

You never have been one to believe in karma but you must have been a saint in your past life to deserve this. You see his mouth move but don’t hear a word he says. All you see is the hairy chest you’d been thirsting over, moving closer until it’s right in front of you. He grabs your cheeks between one hand and faces your eyes up towards his own. “Are you okay y/n?” He has a worry behind his eyes.

“You’re like really hot. It’s actually frustrating how hot you are.” His grip on your face loosens as you speak. “You asked to see, I was only fulfilling your wishes.” You felt dizzy. He hadn’t even touched you and the way your whole face sits in his one hand and the way his abs are begging to be licked, had you flustered. You were drunk on Hugh. “You're wandering again…maybe I should put my shirt back on.” He goes to reach for it but you reach out, lightly grabbing his arm to stop him. “Not yet.” It’s mumbled and quiet, aimed more towards yourself than it was to him.

Hugh stands back up, his height towering over you. You couldn’t decide if he had always been so tall. Towering over you in a way that made your heart beat faster. Your mind was battling itself: the arousal wanting nothing more than for Hugh to do whatever he wanted with you while the more reasonable side knew that there were too many things that needed to be talked about before crossing this line. The line had been crossed many times before with the kisses, touches, hand holding- the night on the couch… Sex was different. You weren’t fond of casual sex, it was too intimate an act to categorize as such. Whatever was happening between Hugh and yourself was far from casual though and you trusted him not to hurt you.

“You’re kinda scaring me here, pretty girl. Are you okay?” You couldn’t tell him that seeing his chest had sent you into a horny dazed confusion. You looked up at him, into his worried eyes. He was always so concerned about your well being and he cared so much about everything going on in your life. God, you prayed that this wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

“Kiss me please.” Your voice is shaky, unstable. “Are you sure baby?” His hands rest on your shoulders, eyes searching yours for any doubt.

“Please Hugh. I need you to kiss me.” His once troubled eyes turned dark as he bent down, kissing you like he never had before. The kiss was messy, full of hunger. His hands trailed down your sides until they cupped under the base of your ass. He effortlessly picks you up to sit you on the bathroom counter, lips never breaking contact. You could feel his tongue prodding at the entrance of your mouth as it asked for permission to enter. Granting access, your lips open, a throaty moan draws out as you feel his tongue swipe against yours. He pulls back for a moment. “Can I take this off? Is that okay?” He asks, referring to your shirt. His usual thick australian accent was soft in his breathy voice. You nod shyly and he doesn’t hesitate to reach down. You put your arms up to aid him as he gently pulls the shirt up and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck baby…so fucking pretty.” His hands cup your bra covered breast, thumbs softly trailing over your stiff nipples causing you to drop your head back with a moan of pleasure. “We never finished the tour, sweet girl.” His hands are still fondling you and you lift your head back up to look at him. “What?”

“There’s one more room I didn't get to show you.” His hands finally drop from your chest and he’s grabbing your hand, leading you towards whatever room it was that you hadn’t seen. He opens the door and the air surrounding you smells like Hugh. It was almost enough to make you pass out, head already light and fuzzy.

You don’t have time to look around, Hugh immediately turning you to face him, attacking your mouth once again. His hands are reaching for the button of your jeans, pulling them down slowly once he’s got them open. Hugh��s lips escape yours and trail down your neck, your chest, the sides and your body, and finally your stomach as he slowly lowers himself to sit on his knees. He lifted each of your feet, helping you out of each pant leg. At each lift of your leg, he also pulls each sock off, kissing your calves as he does so. You're left in nothing but a black bra and thong. “Mhm. Can I touch you baby?” He asks looking up at you. You nod, the position he was in, all too arousing. He practically growls at your answer and starts leaving messy kisses on your thighs, his hands gripping the back of them. His lips trail up higher, ghosting over where you needed him the most. You could feel his breath through the thin cotton of your panties. Your own breath hitches as he licks a long teasing path between your two folds, the cotton dipping into them from the weight of his tongue. He looks up at you through his lashes, asking for permission. You mouth a small ‘please’ the only word that seems to be in your vocabulary at the moment.

His thick fingers slip between the fabric and the skin on your hip on either side of your body, pulling the soaked thong down your legs. Before he continues, he’s standing up and guiding you to the bed. “Get up there and spread that pretty pussy for me baby. Wanna see it.” You waste no time doing what he asks, climbing up the unusually tall bed and laying on your back. You don’t open your legs right away, shyness creeping in. You were almost fully exposed to Hugh, the only thing still covered being your boobs, while he was almost fully covered, only his shirt being off. “Don’t go all shy on me now baby.” He says, guiding your legs open, pussy on full display. “Fuck..look at you sweet girl, all wet for me.” His thumbs pull back each fold, exposing the pink that was partially hidden. He leans town and licks from your entrance to your clit. “Mhmm fuck.” You moan out at the feeling. His tongue felt hot against your warm center, beard tickling your skin as he moved. The sound encourages him to continue. He dives down again, tongue lapping around your needy clit. The constant pressure causes your body to jerk voluntarily. Hugh brings both of his hands to hold you down at your legs, tongue still abusing the small bud. Loud moans escape your mouth as his tongue trails down to your entrance sliding in. “Oh fuck me.” You moan out. “Your pussy taste so fucking good.” He mutters against your skin. His right hand moves from its position on your hip, his middle finger sliding down to your opening. He slowly slides it in, the small stretch feels too good. He starts moving it, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves over and over again. “Fuck baby, i’m gonna cum.” You warn him. His head dips back down, tongue returning to your clit and one suck is all it takes for you to come around his finger. You let out a string of moans and curses, Hugh never letting up until your climax is over. He does one more lap around your pussy with his tongue, cleaning everything up before moving up the bed next to you.

“Been wanting to do that forever baby. Knew you’d have a perfect little pussy.” His words make you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. Even with your own orgasm washing the need out of your body, you were still turned on. The sight of your slick in Hugh’s beard and the very noticeable tent in Hugh’s jeans made it worse. You sit up and go to move. “Where are you going?” Hugh asks, sitting up on his forearms to look at you. You don't respond, instead you reach for the button of his jeans. “You don’t have to do that baby.” He assures you. “I want to.” It was the first coherent sentence you’ve been able to muster and it makes Hugh fall back into the bed. You pull his jeans and boxers off in one go, too impatient to wait. His cock springs free, red and angry. It was long, thin, and veiny- exactly as you imagined it being. It made your mouth water. He had a thick patch of pubic hair and it turned you on even more, you were such a whore for hairy men.

You sat yourself between each of his thighs, running your hands up and down them. He’s watching you as you take your right hand, wrapping it around the base of him. He sucks in a breath. You're looking him in the eyes as you lean your head down, letting your tongue swirl in slow circles around his tip. “Fuck…” You take the tip slowly into your mouth, sucking on it while your tongue still circles. Your left hand replaces the right on his dick, right hand moving down to cup his balls. “Shit..” He hisses out. “Haven’t done this in a while baby, not gonna last long at all.” He confesses but men coming fast had always been something that excited you, so you got to work. Your head dipped lower, taking more of him in your mouth while hollowing your cheeks, creating a dangerous suction on him. Your pace was steady as he moaned. “Yea baby, just like that…mmm fuck.” He was a talker and you loved it. You took him out of your mouth, moving down to his balls instead. You sucked on them as your hands worked his shaft. He was breathing rapidly. “I’m gonna cum baby….ohh fuck baby don’t stop.” You immediately moved your mouth back to his tip, sucking every drop of cum from him, not letting any go to waste. You can feel his thighs clenching next to yours. When you're confident that he was done spewing, you swallow it down happily and smile up at him.

“You’re a dream, you know that? So fucking perfect for me.” He sighs in content as you crawl up to lay on his chest. “You really believe that?” You ask. “I really believe it, y/n. Haven’t felt this way in a long time..” You didn’t want to ask him what that meant, he would tell you eventually. “You wanna stay here tonight?” You look around, seeing the time on the digital alarm clock he had on a bedside table. It read 11:30pm. “Yea, if that’s okay.” You didn’t want to inconvenience him, even if he’s the one who asked. “More than okay sweet girl.”

The two of you took a quick shower together, the main goal was to get clean so you could hit the hay. Hugh strayed from that a little bit at the sight of your boobs, which he hadn’t seen fully during the fun you had earlier. He gave them small kisses, worshiping them as you washed your hair. He gave you a shirt to sleep in and you opted to go commando, not wanting to put your dirty underwear back on- Hugh didn’t complain about this. His own pajamas being his boxers and nothing else. The two of you laid in Hugh’s bed, you cuddled on his side running your fingers through the hair on his chest. A silence fell over the room, sleep creeping its way in.

thank you for reading!

part six

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#hugh jackman #cyg #controversially young girlfriend #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman x popstar!reader #hugh jackman x female reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman fluff #popstar!reader #female reader

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arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months ago

Text

Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

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fairytaleendingss · 8 days ago

Text

Room for One More?

Chapter 2

Summary: Your rivalry with Remus continues as you spend a night out with his friends at Sirius’ concert.

CW: Alcohol Consumption, mentions of vomit (briefly), references to sex.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x reader

Chapter 1

—

A few days later and you were finally settling into your new home. And as far as roommates go, the boys were pretty good ones.

James was usually out early in the morning at the gym or Rugby training and he’d often return with coffees for everyone. Sirius was a natural born entertainer and always had a joke or a silly anecdote to amuse you with when you returned home from work.

It was just Remus that hadn’t warmed up to you yet. However, you had no idea why. You’d done everything you could think of to win him over. You cleaned up the kitchen for him before he got home from his lectures, you left extra for him when cooking dinner, you even offered to do his laundry when he was too busy studying for upcoming exams. But still, nothing. No matter what you did, you were greeted with a cold disinterest and one word answers.

By the time the weekend rolled around, you were exhausted, both from him and your long week at work. You were hugely looking forward to Sirius’ show. You figured it’d be the perfect way to unwind.

—

You were squashed into a booth next to James and a girl named Dorcas, twirling your straw in your hand.

The bar was full, thick with energy and cigarette smoke. It was dimly lit, some dive down a back alley. Apparently Sirius and his band played here every Saturday night.

“So y/n! Mary tells me you want to be a writer!” Lily called across the table, barely audible over the clattering of glasses and loud talking that filled the room

“Yeah, it’s something I’m working towards,” you replied. “Although I’ve been working on my novel for a couple of years now but it’s still not quite there yet.”

“Oh cool!” Peter chimed in. He was sitting beside his girlfriend Sybil, a hand around hers under the table. They looked positively smitten with each other. It reminded you of how glaringly single you were.

“What’s your book about?” Dorcas asked.

You sighed. “I guess you could call it a fantasy.”

“Oh is it one of those ones about wizards and magic and stuff?” James pondered enthusiastically.

“I mean, kind of? Not really.” You replied.

“Oh good,” Dorcas mused. “I don’t really like those kinds of stories. I’ve always found them to be a bit childish. I mean, the idea of wizards living amongst us? it’s a bit absurd if you ask me.”

You giggled. “Yes well, I’d say mine is more of a high fantasy. Anyway, enough about me. What do you all do for work?”

You took a sip of your drink.

“Well, I’m a primary school teacher.” Lily offered.

“Oh wow. And how do enjoy that?”

She giggled, her dimples appearing as she did. You had to admit, she was stunningly beautiful, with long auburn hair and astonishing sea-foam eyes. You understood why James had been pining after her for so long.

“I love it,” she responded. “It’s wonderful knowing you’re able to shape a young person’s life.”

“That sounds really rewarding,” you responded.

“It is,” she smiled. “But it’s far from impressive compared to what some of the others do. I mean, Dorcas here is a lawyer and Remus is studying to be a doctor!”

Eyes fell on Remus and you watched as he recoiled slightly under the attention.

As the conversation drew on, you learned that Peter was a Banker, Sybil read tarot cards for a living and Dorcas’ girlfriend Marlene played lead guitar in Sirius’ band.

“Just wait until you see her,” Mary exclaimed. “She’s incredible.”

“I’m looking forward to it!” You replied. You took another sip of your drink and realised you’d finished your glass. Upon looking around the table you saw that the others were in a similar position.

“Looks like I’m in need of a refill. Next round is on me guys!”

There was a slew of cheers from the group as you slid out of the booth and made your way towards the bar. You placed your order and then took a seat on a stool as you waited for the drinks to be made.

You were scrolling through instagram when you felt a presence beside you. Looking up, your heart sank slightly when you noticed it was Remus.

“I thought you could use some help carrying everything,” he muttered, taking a seat beside you.

“Thanks but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah well, I could use some space. The table was getting a little crowded.”

Your eyes raked over his figure, you saw the was he was nervously fiddling with his hands. It dawned on you that maybe the bar scene wasn’t really his thing so much as it was his friends’. He seemed to be a little overwhelmed.

“Okay,” you relented.

A few drinks were placed on a tray in front of you, and Remus reached out to grab his, taking a long sip. Your eyebrows raised.

“You’re drinking straight whisky? That’s pretty hardcore.”

“It’s referred to as a whisky neat,” he responded matter-of-factly (as if you hadn’t been the one to order it for him). “And it really isn’t that bad. I have a pretty high alcohol tolerance. Why? What did you order.”

“A gin and tonic.”

“Exactly my point.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him. You could help but scoff.

“Are you implying that I can’t hold my alcohol?”

Remus shrugged, taking another sip. “I’m just saying that some people have a higher tolerance is all.”

A mix of irritation and downright anger began to build in your gut. You’d had enough of him. His coldness towards you, his constant condescending remarks. Fuck it, you thought, I’m done being nice. If he wanted to start something, then so be it.

“Fine,” you challenged. “If you’re so sure about that, £20 says that I can out-drink you tonight.”

He turned to face you, a brow quirked questioningly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just shake on it, Remus.”

“Fine. It’s your funeral.”

You shook hands. Then you turned to the bartender.

“Excuse me, I’d like to change my order. Could I get a whisky, neat?”

—

The band came on around 10pm and the crowd cheered wildly.

Sirius was the first to enter, clad in black and leather, looking like a true rockstar.

His eyes twinkled beneath the stage lights. Even on the narrow bar stage, he managed to look ethereal.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?”

The crowd roared once more, you among them.

“That’s good! We’re Snakes and Lions and we have a few songs to play for you. Is that alright?”

The crowed cheered again.

As the first notes of the song trickled through the room, you couldn’t help but stare up at Sirius. His long flowing hair, the tattoos that peaked out from under his black tank top, the way his eyeliner brought out the grey of his eyes.

A glance to Remus beside you, told you he was feeling the same way. He was staring up at Sirius like he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And you couldn’t blame him.

Still, you felt and odd pang of jealously shoot through your gut.

You decided to push it down, instead venturing to the bar for another drink.

As the set drew on, you could feel yourself beginning to sway, not only from the music but also the alcohol in your blood.

The room began to blur in a dizzying haze and you found yourself leaning into James who stood beside you, for support.

You continued to watch Sirius perform, entranced by the way he moved around the stage, his voice baring into your very soul.

At one point, when he he introduced the band (Barty on drums, Marlene on lead guitar, Evan on rhythm guitar and his little brother Regulus on bass), he sent you a wink and you felt your heart leap in your chest. You felt like you were watching a celebrity.

Still, amidst the music, your mind continued to wander to Remus. Your bet had carried on and you continued to down drink after drink out of sheer spite.

You were determined to beat him. Determined to prove that you could hold your own, that there was a spot for you in his home, whether he liked it or not.

By the time the band finished playing, you were far past the point of no return.

—

There was a light on somewhere. It was too bright, shining directly into your eyes. You groaned and rolled over, sinking in to your mattress. You tried to go back to sleep but you couldn’t. You needed to get up and turn the light off.

As you blinked your eyes open, you realised the light wasn’t in fact coming from the ceiling but from a window.

That’s odd, you thought, I don’t remember there being a window there.

The room was blurry as you looked around. It was clearly morning, that much you could tell, and there was a throbbing pain in your head. Last night was definitely a mistake.

It was then that your gaze fell on the football paraphernalia that sat on the dresser and the framed jersey that hung above it.

You shot upwards like a bullet, your eyes widening as you glanced around the space.

This wasn’t your room. It was James.

You gasped loudly as you looked down at yourself. Fuck! You were in your underwear.

You frantically looked around the space, searching for anything you could use to cover up. There was a black t-shirt thrown over a chair in the corner.

A sniff told you it was clean and you hastily threw it on, not caring right then that it wasn’t yours.

It didn’t cover much but it’d have to do for now.

It was at that moment the door swung open. You froze, wide eyed like a deer caught in the headlights.

James just looked you up and down for a moment, balancing a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Oh good. You’re up.”

“W-what happened last night?” You blurted out in a panic.

“You don’t remember?” The boy queried, moving to place the coffees down on the bedside table.

You shook your head.

“We didn’t… ah? You know?”

“Oh no! Nothing like that! We didn’t sleep together if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair in relief.

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

James just smirked. “Oh no, it’s much more embarrassing than that.”

You looked up at him nervously, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “Shit. What did I do?”

James moved to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, muscles in his biceps flexing as he did.

“Well, you stumbled into my room at 2:30 in the morning complaining you were bored.”

You grimaced.

“Then you collapsed in my bed and refused to leave. Which I didn’t mind, by the way. But then you complained that it was too hot and insisted on taking your clothes off. I barely stopped you from getting completely naked. You were on a mission.”

You groaned as he chuckled at the story.

“James, I’m so sorry.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there.”

“What? Mostly naked in our roommates bed?”

He snorted. “Yeah sure. Something like that.”

He gestured towards the coffee that sat on the bedside table and you took a sip, letting the warm drink sooth your aching throat.

“I’m sure you have a hell of a hangover,” he sympathised. “Why don’t you finish your coffee and then go and have a shower while I whip up some breakfast.”

You smiled up at him gently. “James, you don’t have to-“

“Stop apologising,” he cut you off. “I’m happy to. Besides, what are roommates for if not to make you meals?”

—

It was a while before you re-emerged, having showered and now wearing clothes that were your own. You weren’t bothered to dry your hair though. You resigned to let it drip down your back.

You trudged into the living area to see that the rest of the boys had beaten you there.

James was standing in the kitchen cooking what smelt suspiciously (and deliciously) like bacon.

Sirius was lounging on the sofa, half watching a random action movie that was playing on the TV, set to low volume.

You assumed that choice was made for the benefit of Remus who looked a wreck. He was sitting at the dining table, face down with his head resting on his arms.

An evil sense of satisfaction washed over you when you realised that he was nursing a hangover just as bad as your own.

“Well!” You made sure to exclaim loudly, smacking your hands down hard on the table as you took a seat across from Remus.

He flinched and groaned as he sat up, sending you an irritable look.

“Last night was fun.”

Sirius chuckled from his across the room. “For some of us more so than others.”

“Y/n definitely had fun,” James teased as he approached the table, placing a plate of bacon and eggs before you. You slapped him playfully on the arm as he walked away.

You glanced around the room as you began to eat, your brows furrowing when you noticed something odd out of the window.

“Guys, why’s the pot plant out on the balcony?”

“I’m airing it out,” Sirius said absent-mindedly. “Remus threw up in it last night.”

A delighted smirk overtook your features. “Did he now?”

The boy just groaned, thumping his head back down onto the table.

“Here mate,” James stated, placing a plate of food down beside his head. “Eat something, it’ll make you feel better.”

You had to admit, you did feel better after some food. And James was a bloody good cook.

Then, suddenly an idea flitted through your mind.

“Did anyone keep a copy of the tab from last night?”

“Yeah I’ve got it in my wallet, why?” James confirmed.

“Could I see it please?”

He placed the receipt in front of you on the table and you began to add up the drinks that you remembered yourself and Remus ordering.

“Aha!” You shouted after a moment, jumping up and walking around the table. Remus looked up at you, displeased.

“I beat you! Pay up!”

“What’s this?” Sirius questioned curiously.

“Remus bet me £20 that he could out drink me and I proved him wrong!” You exclaimed.

“Hey, don’t put this on me,” Remus muttered. “It was her idea.”

“It looks like you’ve been a bad influence on our poor Remus,” James teased.

“Yeah, he never usually drinks that much,” Sirius added.

You looked at him suspiciously. “Huh? Really? That was big game you talked last night.”

“Remus is all talk,” Sirius joked. “Deep down he’s really just a little softy.”

“Fuck off, all of you,” the boy groaned.

“Not until I get my £20!”

James barked out a laugh.

“Come on buddy,” he stated in Remus’ direction. “You heard the girl, pay up!”

—

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy

@navs-bhat

@shushbruv

#marauders #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders au

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sp00kymulderr · 29 days ago

Text

it might be nice

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. FEELINGS. Angst. love. just...feelings. Mention of f receiving oral, reader is a not a us-citizen (visa stuff), commitment and intimacy issues all round, did I mentioned feelings? This just kinda started writing itself, i appreciate there isn't enough Dieter in it but it is what it is. Unedited, unbeta'd.

Words: 1.1k

Summary: It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now.

"We could get married"

You look up from your book, drawn back from your far away to the sound of his voice. Dieter is looking at you expectantly.

Your eyes widen as you process the four words that just left his mouth.

"Dee, we…why would we…" You trail off, drawing your legs up and out of his lap, his thumb presses down on the arch of your foot once more before he lets it go.

The conversation had moved on hours ago. Over takeout you'd mentioned trepidation over being able to stay in the country, struggling with your visa and having no sponsorship since you couldn't seem to get a fucking job right now.

Dieter had listened, sympathised, and then eaten you out for dessert just to make you feel better about your situation.

It helped. He'd been pretty mediocre but extremely enthusiastic when you'd met, but now you'd taught him some tricks he knew just how to turn your mind off for a moment.

The conversation was finished the moment he put his mouth on you, or so you thought. He could help you pay for an extension but he wasn't influential or wealthy enough to sway the embassy into letting you stay longer.

"I'd bribe the fuck out of them if I could, you know that"

You did know that. You knew he'd do anything for you. He'd been saying it since the day he met you, once famous (more like infamous) movie star turned rehabilitated recluse with no one willing to be by his side until that day.

He'd met you in a Dennys, of all places. 3am waffles served to his lonely little corner booth because he found it hard to sleep these days, and he got hungry at random times. You took the late shifts because they paid the best, and you could be available in the day for calls from your agent that never came.

It hadn't been sexual at first. It hadn't been anything but a displaced, alone man and an exhausted, untethered waitress sitting in a booth and sharing free fries because chef made too many and they'd only go to waste. It had been whispered giggles, and sharing ridiculous Hollywood horror stories, and 'same time tomorrow' over and over again.

No one in LA had made you laugh. Not until you met him.

Dieter hadn't heard genuine laughter in years. Now he got to hear it every night.

Back in the now, you shake your head. He's being silly. He's trying to make you laugh again.

"Don't be stupid" You playfully shove his shoulder with your foot, but his face falls into a frown, and you feel a little crack in your heart at the sight. You watch as he stands, rubbing fingers across his forearm and muttering a little 'Stupid, yeah'. The tremor you feel inside you is nameless, and you will it to remain that way.

In the last six months of your knowing each other, there have been times when you've felt this same feeling. An ache at the thought that he could be anything other than happy. You'd long since left Dennys for the upward trajectory of the Cheesecake Factory but still when the late shift rolls around you feel a tug at your lips and a name on them, even when you'd seen him only hours before.

You're not an item, that's the thing. You're not a couple. Neither of you have ever said the words outright, no 'I want to be with you', 'I want to be yours'. Not to each other, at least.

It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now. It's enough, it's enough, it's enough. Enough that he will sit up all night long and read lines with you again and again and again. Enough that he tells you not to come over on his bad days but you do anyway, and hold him while he cries.

It's enough to be just this. Because more would only make it hurt more when he relapses, when you have to leave.

When you have to leave…

You close your book, set it down on the table that's strewn with pages for your latest audition. Last night he'd coached you through every single line, and then told you with passion just how perfect you were. You can hear him in the kitchen, and you know he's making himself a decaf latte with way too much caramel syrup and a dash of the kitkat sprinkles because that's what he always makes when he might be starting to crave something else.

That's how you know he wasn't making a joke. That's how you know your hurt his feelings. That and every look he's ever given you, every smile that lights up his eyes that's only been for you. That and the way his hands never stray far from you, always grounding himself with the touch of your skin to his.

"Dee…" You pad up to him slowly, watch as he tenses at your presence. Another prickle in your chest, you can't let him think you don't feel...what it is that you feel.

"Would it be so bad?" He asks without turning, the tinge of dejection in his tone making you reach out. "I'd treat you good, you know. We wouldn't even have to live together or anything…it can just be a way for you to stay. That's all. I didn't think it would be so bad for you"

God, you've had him right in your grasp this whole time. The two of you dancing around your feelings all because of fears you didn't even fully realise you had til now.

"I'd- I wouldn't even tell anyone you were my wife, if you didn't want me to. I wouldn't expect anything from it. I just…fuck,"

You turn him around with a pull to his arm, shake your head and bite back something hopeful and beautiful that inches up your throat,

"I don't want you to go"

Your arms are around his middle, a stifled sob as you bury your face against the soft, worn fabric of his favourite t-shirt - your favourite by extension because everything he loves you love too. He smells like him.

You breathe him in.

He smells like home.

You look up at him and smile. Not the pretty smile you give to casting agents - the one that makes you look perfect - but the big, happy, loving one he saw the very first night you two met in that Dennys at three in the morning on a random Tuesday. The one he gives you back is the same; he's smiled a thousand times on camera, in films and press appearances and award shows. No one else but you has ever seen this smile.

You take a deep breath. The crack in your heart starts in fusing back together.

"We could get married"

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #probably ooc Dieter but I don't care ily soft caring scared sober Dieter #idk what this is sorrry

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beardedjoel · 1 year ago

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smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night.

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for?

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him.

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something.

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway.

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it.

Your underwear.

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs.

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut.

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder.

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows.

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you.

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these.

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in.

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements.

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him.

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now.

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out.

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood.

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire.

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion.

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts.

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first time you seen one like mine?”

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice.

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel.

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it.

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you.

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do.

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel.

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck.

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg.

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides.

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my fifties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday.

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you.

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips.

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving.

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves.

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air.

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest.

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response.

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.”

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace.

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest.

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out.

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat.

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in.

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways.

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you.

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall.

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear.

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…”

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now. “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences.

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man.

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance.

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it.

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention.

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation.

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek.

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours.

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response.

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks.

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened.

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job.

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear.

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp.

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin.

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm.

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you.

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek.

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you.

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly.

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident.

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved.

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip.

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing.

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet.

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you.

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now - cloudy and out of control of your own body.

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #x reader #tw: blood #<<< for the cover photo

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ryebread0605 · 7 months ago

Text

Baking Bred

trey clover x gn reader

my requests are open if you’d like to give some ideas! (Aka plz send me ideas)

nsfw content below the cut MINORS DNI

Trey had invited you to help out with preparing the baking for the unbirthday party, and you being the good friend you are graciously accepted.

It was no secret the two of you liked each other, except to the two of you. Ace would often tease that the two of you were the most dense people to ever be enrolled into Night Raven College.

“Hey (y/n), can you grab the sugar for me? It should be in the pantry, bottom shelf” Trey called out as he continued to mix up the dry ingredients for the pastries.

He couldn’t help but watch as you bent down, feeling immense guilt as his eyes wandered to your ass. Surely a friend shouldn’t be looking at another friend this way, right? And yet, he found himself in a trance and unable to look away as you stood back up.

Walking back to him, you handed him the sugar before curiously noting the blush spreading on his cheeks. You tilted your head slightly, confused as to why he couldn’t look at you, when in reality he just felt so utterly embarrassed to have stared at a close friend in that way.

”Trey? Is everything alright? Did you hurt yourself?” God, he really wished he could come up with some excuse right now but the way his pants tightened against him told him he couldn’t.

“Y-yeah! S-sorry I just.. I’m.. I have to go to the bathroom!” Before you could respond, he dashed out the door. Blinking in confusion, you looked to his phone sitting on the counter as a text from Cater popped up.

‘Dude, just go for it! We all know they like you back, just man up and ask (y/n) out already! We’re all tired of hearing you rant about your crush on the other!’ Your eyes widened in shock. He.. returned your feelings? You barely had time to think as Trey was dragged back into the kitchen by Ace and Deuce who seemed to be scolding him while he just looked even more embarrassed.

With one last shove, the two boys pushed him inside and locked the kitchen doors to leave you two together in there. Finally, everything clicked for you as you stared at Trey poorly attempting to conceal his erection. He liked you, and something you did turned him on. That thought alone had you biting your lip as arousal flowed through you.

“I-I guess you know?” Trey wasn’t dumb, he knew by your look that you’d figured him out and to his surprise, you simply responded by pressing your lips against his. He tensed for a second before melting into the kiss, gently wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

Each kiss felt like pure ecstasy, getting more and more passionate until he picked you up and laid you on a bare counter. “(Y/n), a-are you ok if we..” he trailed off, looking a bit sheepish until he saw your immediate enthusiastic yes. He began to unbuckle his belt as you quickly tugged yours off as well, arousal clear to him as he chuckled softly. Fabric got tossed to the side as he wet his fingers with his own saliva, coating them well before lining them up with your hole.

“Remember, if you want to stop at any time, tell me ok? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and I’ll stop immediately. Are you ok if I continue?” While you did appreciate him saying that, god you just wanted him in you already! With another enthusiastic nod, you moaned softly as one of his fingers entered you slowly. It felt like pure heaven. He smirked at the reaction, loving how much just one of his fingers made you so pleased. Slowly, he added another and scissored them inside you, stretching your walls gently.

Covering your mouth to muffle your moans, you were sure you’d climax right then and there as the knot began to form in your stomach. As you cried out, just about to hit the peak, he pulled his fingers out and left your hole desperately clenching around nothing but air.

“Don’t worry darling, you’ll be able to cum I promise~” His voice held a much more dominant tone, one that made you feel weak at the knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, his hard cock pressing against your twitching hole. With one hard thrust, he pushed halfway in, groaning into your ear as your body shook from the mix of pain from stretching and pleasure from finally having him inside you.

“T-Trey please, I-i can handle it just please I want to make you feel good!” You cried out after he allowed you time to adjust to his size. After confirming you’d be ok with him being a bit more rough, he began to thrust into you deeper and harder. Each rock of his hips sent you closer to that peak again, the sounds coming from both of you being utterly sinful in the best way possible. His lips were on your neck, leaving his mark to show everyone who made you feel good. Shaky moans escaped your lips before you finally felt the knot snap, arching your back and crying out his name as cum leaked from you. Trey continued to thrust harder, hitting that one spot just right that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. He flipped you over, pressing your thighs up and into a mating press as his movements became rougher and more frantic.

“I’m gonna fill you up. Every last drop will be put into your tight little hole darling” the way he groaned out each word just fueled the sheer pleasure you found yourself in, the idea of being filled by him exciting you in ways you never knew possible.

With just a few more thrusts, he released into your hole with a moan directly into your ear, the warm liquid filling you and the sound of squelching filling the air as he rode out his climax. Once he pulled out, both of you were flushed and panting. Quickly, he grabbed an unused towel to help clean you up as his phone buzzed with a new text. After reading it, his face turned dark red.

Cater: ‘congrats on finally having the balls to confess but did you two really have to be so loud?’

The unbirthday party was sure to be extremely awkward, yet despite that the glimmer in both your eyes spoke for itself. As Trey helped you get dressed again he smiled at you softly.

“I hope this means you’re my partner now (y/n)” With a small laugh, you agreed and kissed him gently again. So what if the whole dorm heard you two? At least not they can’t complain about you two ranting to them

#disney twst #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #trey clover #twst smut #Twisted wonderland smut

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hanfourz · 4 days ago

Note

HI POOKIES i'm soso busy this week i can barely read anything here omg </3 but i loved your latests work, vamp riwoo especially... wow. happy november btw !!! i also find nnn super funny for some reason, how do you think the bonedo legal line would be like during nnn? :p

— 🐈‍⬛

🪼- oh i feel u, it's been kinda crazy lately (ᵕ—ᴗ—) thank u so much!!! im so glad u liked vamp!riwoo. as a riwoo fangs enthusiast i Had to do it. it's so funny bc cherry literally was just talking abt how she wants to do a post abt bnd doing nnn and then we saw this 😭

🍒 - im so sorry for letting this rot for so long 😭 i will try my best to explain so. it's so funny cuz i literally talked about it with ki right before we got the ask! great minds think alike☺️

warnings: SMUT [MDNI!!!], hc format, mentions of oral (f. rec), light mentions of bondage (kinda), cocky taesan & leehan lolol

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ sungho

give it a week until he falls down on his knees (quite literally). you just look so beautiful how could he NOT want to eat you out on the spot? (of course, you never wanted to admit to yourself that you badly needed it too) but knowing how obsessed he is, seeing you dressed up... you should've known the night would end with him in between your legs.

↘ rest under read more !

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ riwoo

i give it two weeks until he's way too horny and is begging you to touch him. while you refuse because you enjoy teasing him so much. he was so confident about making it through the whole month. now he's laying on the bed, tied up, waiting for you to touch him :( and how could you deny him when he whines so prettily for you?

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ jaehyun

poor guy wouldn't even last 5 seconds. :( he's so obsessed with you. he's like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time when he sees you. doesn't matter what you're doing or how you look or how long you've been together or how often he gets to touch you. he's begging you to let him touch you, even though you both decided together to participate. you should have known neither of you were gonna last. you can't get enough of each other.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ taesan

either two seconds or he's pulling it through, no in between. you two make it like a competition to see who'll last longer. he gets needy like halfway through but he will never admit it to himself, he's so annoyingly overconfident. and he would rather die than lose to you. so he teases you until you're the one begging for him then teases you for not being able to last. like he wasn't purposely putting his hands on your tits or making you sit on his lap...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ leehan

3 weeks until he gives in. when you tell him that you want to participate he's like "you sure you can live without my cock for a whole month?". you decide to teach his cocky attitude a lesson and you try everything to rile him up. (which really isn't difficult to do.) "you're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" what, you? never! "what do you mean? i haven't done anything." you bat your eyes at him, feigning innocence. he grabs you by your waist. "just say you want me too, and I'll give it to you" but you will not give him the satisfaction, you refuse to lose against leehan's charm. no matter how tempting it is. "i don't need anything, but it seems like you're the one who can't keep his dick inside of his pants. you just need to say that i won." is all you say and he decides he needs to fuck that smirk off your face.

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inkykodo · 1 year ago

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STRESS RELIEF

Warning: Sub!bottom reader!, Dom!top Miguel, Rough play, Breeding kink miguel!, Voyeurism, use of pet names (Good boy etc.), office sex, oral sex, gagging and unprotected sex

This Smut is intended for amab readers, fem aligned readers dni

(This is my first smut fic i ever wrote so im sorry if its a bit rough or amateur i thought i just might try doing this 😭, i also added a bit of fluff in the end lol)

After A hard day of chasing miles morales he eventually escaped with the help of his friends. now he has to find Miles all over again and not to mention the anomaly "The Spot" thats constantly being a pain in the ass to even get a finger on. disappointed Miguel went back to the spidey HQ to asses the situation with layla; its late at night and everyone already went home so he has to pull an all nighter for this one. as he was about to enter his dark and quiet office when he noticed a cubicle being lit up by a computer; he went over to check at the cubicle.

"hey! who's there? (y/n)? why are you still here? you should be home." Miguel asks with frustration and disappointment. you were his assistant but he doesn't want you to work late hours just like him. he worries that you'll be exhausted.

"oh sorry sir. i was just doing paperwork and theres quite a few..." you say let out an awkward laugh as you rub the back of your neck. Miguel puts his hand on his hips as he squeezes the bridge of his nose with the other one; "just get it done... and will you get me a coffee while you're at it? if you dont mind." he said with a deep and exhausted voice. "uh yes sir, ill get you a coffee as soon as possible!" you say immediately as you get up and go to the coffee shop just across the street. Miguel sighs as he turns his back and entering his office again.

you grabbed your coat and prepared to exit the building into the cold and windy night. there were rarely any cars around as you walk across the street; the silent buzzing of the lamp above you as you walk, the damp sound of your boots thumping the ground, your hot breath as you exhale around the cold air; it was all so calming to be just by yourself and not worrying about any reports or documents to get done. ring you enter the coffee shop and greet the barista "hey! (y/n)! nice to see you" Joe plasters a wide grin on his face as he waves at you. "hey Joe can i get the usual?" you chuckle as you approach the enthusiastic barkeep. it puzzles you how someone could be this energetic especially when its late at night. "one latte and café americano coming right up" Joe smiles as he gets to work and you sit down by the window silently observing the place you work at. The towering building reminds you of so much; the first time you went there for your job application, the people you met and hanged out with. ever since you started working here it's been great; you were able to hold down a job and live a comfortable life. ding Joe rang a bell and you snap out of your melancholic trance. "Here's your order (y/n)" you get up from your seat and hand him the payment "Thanks Joe I'll see you around" you chuckle as you wave goodbye and head back to your boss who's waiting for his coffee.

You reach the 20th floor and exit the elevator; you make your wake to his office. "ugh... (y/n)" you hear muffled moans when you approach the door when you hear his deep growls your body immediately tenses up. "you're so cute..." You peep through a slight crevice through the door. you see him then and there stroking his throbbing cock as he calls out your name. "im close... (y/n)" you gasp as you back away and clear your throat. "Sir? your coffee is here" you knock on the door. "Oh- uhh come in!" coffee in hand, you enter his poorly lit office. he always preferred it that way although, you always wondered why. "Here is your coffee sir a caffé americano just as you like it" your body tenses up more as you know he's hard down there and its because of you; as you place it down Miguel suddenly grabs your wrist his talons flexing and protruding "i heard you peeping at me through that hole (y/n)" as Miguel pulls you close to him your body freezes on the spot "do you want a better view cariño?" he leans in and you can see his tip dripping wet with precum.

"Please... Miguel..." you try to avoid his gaze but he grabs your chin and tilts your head downward as he forces you to look at him "Please what cariño?" Miguel lets out a deep and menacing laugh "Be clear with your words boy." Miguel says sternly as he grips one of your thighs with his hands. his sharp talons poking your thigh but not enough to draw blood. "Please... continue..." Miguel's lips curled into a grin "That's more like it. good boy" Miguel begins to move his calloused hands; as it travels up your body he lets his fingers slide through your smooth and soft skin. "your skin im feels like a soft cloud mi vida.." Miguel says as he leans in your neck leaving behind a couple kisses here and there. Miguel continues tracing the shape of your body and he lands on where he started. He pinches and twisted your nipples it tingled and burned against his touch. this turned you into a moaning and whimpering mess. "Miguel... that feels so good..." you bite your lip and you begin to move your hips rubbing against his huge boner. the shape of his girth and the way he was playing with your chest like stress balls drowned you in pure ecstasy. "Getting impatient now are we cariño?" Miguel stops what he's doing and he grabs your waist "Such small and slutty waist i wonder how they'll feel when i use them" He grabs your ass and spreads them "oh and im sure these will feel good too" Miguel looks you dead in the eye letting you know what he's about to do next

"im sorry sir i didn't mean to-" Miguel cuts you off mid sentence as he lifts you up and he places you on his lap. you can feel his boner pressing against your rear as he stares you down ready to absolutely swallow you whole. "shhh callate ahora... we can keep this a secret cariño" Miguel leans in close to your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe; his fangs slightly poking your ear. "you're so adorable cariño all tense like that... i could eat you up right here..." Miguel's hands creep under your clothes as he traces your back. his warm hands making you involuntarily whimper as you arch your back; Miguel smirks as he heard you let out a quiet whimper "Que lindo (How cute)" Miguel removes his hands as he violently rips your buttoned down long sleeve polo. this makes you gasp and "that was my favorite shirt..." Miguel chuckles "Well, you look better without it" Miguel looks up at you as his smug expression seems to be clearly enjoying your reaction. "What do we have here?" Miguel's eyes fell to your chest, letting his calloused hands travel to your waist and closer to your thighs. But something glimmering caught his attention. "Oh?" A low chuckle would rumble as he traced his fingers around your nipple piercing, "What do we have here?" he flicks your pierced nipples. "where have you been hiding this huh? such a naughty naughty boy" Miguel continues to flick and twist your pierced nipple as he takes the other one in his mouth. "ahh... Miguel..." Miguel smiles deviously as he takes your swollen nipple in his mouth. "Hold still cariño" Miguel growls as he plays with the metal object that's attached to your nipple using his tongue. you start to moan and whimper as he plays around with your swollen and sensitive chest; "Miguel... too good..." your chest rises and falls as every sensation shoots pleasure up your brain and makes your whole body start to shake. Miguel stops abruptly as he smirks and leans in your ear "Yeah? Beg for it then."

as he was about to tear your clothes to shreds you two were interrupted by a facetime call. he picks you up and sets you down under his desk and his bulge throbbing right in front of you. the shape of his dick under his Spider-Man suit was impressive. his hard cock pressing against the tight fabric as he sat down properly; it was irresistible. your eyes were fixed at his cock glaring back at you as if its taunting you to suck it. you hear miguel talk with one of the Spider-Man that he worked with earlier you decided to have your turn with him. you slowly unzip his Spidey suit his cock immediately springs out and it even slaps your face. Miguel's eyes widened as he looked down at you; his eyes fueled with surprise and rage "Uh miguel? Are you listening?" Miguel Clears his throat and looks back up "Uh yes, you were saying?" Miguel continues his conversation with the nice lady hes on the phone with. You slowly licked Miguel's tip; the w way his precum drips down your tongue like a busted faucet makes you want to lick it up more. you start licking the base of his shaft and then his glans. "So it seems that the spot wa-" Miguel abruptly stops with a groan as you lick up his leaking tip. "Miguel? you good?" Miguel snarls at you knowing he cant do anything yet "yeah im fine, im kind of busy right now ill call you later" Miguel bids farewell to the nice person as he ends the call. you dont even notice their conversation as youre too busy licking up and lapping his dripping dick. Miguel growls at you "You really want my dick that badly huh? you cant wait to slobber all over it? have at it then" Miguel grabs a handful of your hair as he lines up his dick to your mouth and pushes; He pushes it in deep all the way to the base of his huge cock. "how do you like that huh? i bet youre enjoying the taste of my cock now its all the way down your throat like a good slut you are"

your protests were muffled by Miguel's whole length down your throat. "MmpH!" was all you managed to say as you gripped on his thighs trying desperately to pull away. "Whats wrong (Y/n)? wasnt this what you wanted huh?" Miguel snaps at you he sounded pissed and he wants to put you in your place. Miguel then pressed down further you chin dripping with spit and drool as it sticks to Miguel's balls; he lets go just to catch your breath. "Hah... hah..." your chest falls and rises rapidly as Miguel's precum dripped down his shaft. "We're not done yet cariño" Miguel laughs sadistically as he grabs you by your arms and pins both your hands on his desk "since you clearly want it so bad, ill give it to you good" miguel rips apart your pants his rough hands traces your waist. he moves down lower as he reaches your ass and he feels around. "oh this will be good" his laugh gets deeper and colder as he bends over; his hot throbbing dick pressed against your lower back. "You'll regret playing me (Y/n)" his talons flex as he opens your ass wide open. rip the sound of fabric tearing as he finally rips apart the last remaining clothing you had on. "your puckering hole is just waiting to get fucked" Miguel slaps his drool coated dick on your rear he whispers to you "im gonna make you cry and beg for more"

/Time skip/

Miguel stops abruptly as he opens a drawer and takes out lube you stare at it as he squeezes some on his hand "wait- why do you have lube in your office?" you pant as you ask Miguel "Its better to be ready and not need it or need it and not be ready" Miguel says panting as he rubs some of the lube on his dripping dick. an idea flashes through your mind as you push him down his office chair. "its my turn to take the wheel" you say as you get on his lap and line his dick on your hole. you slowly lower yourself down halfway and you stop. His impressive size was appalling; it already felts so good half-way in you. savoring the sensation you try to prepare yourself for his girth. Miguel seems annoyed as you suddenly stop moving. he grabs your slutty waist and rams you down his fat cock. you let out a lewd moan as it crushes your prostate. you gasp as you try to collect your thoughts from the sudden sensation burning your mind. Miguel pants and squeezes your ass as he begins to thrust on your fat piece of cake. he growls and squeezes down not letting you go anywhere but deeper down on his cock. he watches you bounce up and down while you make noises of pleasure making him smile proudly. "yeah.. thats right be a good boy and take my cock like a slut." Miguel pushes you down deeper as his cock directly presses on your g spot. "Miguel... please..." you beg miguel as he stops and just keeps his cock in you. its throbbing and twitching like crazy. "Not yet Cariño... i wanna see you ride me." Miguel Sneers as you squeeze down on him. As you start riding in your own pace Miguel leans back and puts his hands on the back of his head enjoying the view before him. the more you ride his cock them more it seems to grow inside of you. As you moved yourself up and won on him you began to drool. the wet slicking of his dick on your ass felt so good; everytime it hits your prostate you were sure too see a glimpse of heaven. "You look so good in this position Cariño" Miguel reaches down and feels your hips and thighs as you ride him. saddling up to make yourself feel secure as he guides along your waist as he watches you ride.

After hours of nonstop fucking, (y/n) could only focus on the pleasure he was receiving. His mind could only focus on the man who gave him ecstasy. His voice was starting to hurt from shouting Miguel's name. "Too..ah..much" (y/n) whimpers begging for release. "Hush cariño... im almost there..." Miguel's rough voice drowned out y/n's moans. (y/n) practically lost count of how many times he came. "I can't..." (y/n) moans out.. "yes you can, baby.." Miguel's thrusts were getting rougher and faster. the wet slapping of skin crashing against each other echoes through the office. "do it for me cariño... Just one more" That was a lie. Miguel didn't plan on stopping not until the sun was rising. After one final deep thrust he finally released his final load "Agh...! Cariño im cumming!" Miguel buckles his hip as he grabs your ass and pushes it deep inside you as he came. "Miguel- youre filling me up!" (y/n) yells in surprise as miguel shoots his load deep within (y/n)'s gut. "Fuck im gonna give you my babies" Miguel keeps on going; shooting his load deeper into you it felt like a bump was appearing on your tummy as he does so. Miguel snuggles his lips on your neck as he finally lets his cock slip out of your gaping hole. your shaking legs finally give out as his seed slowly drips onto hour thigh "That was alot..." (y/n) says breathlessly. "Apologies, cariño... i got carried away." Miguel's voice seems to be at ease; somewhat satisfied i guess he had some stress relief. miguel picks you up and cleans after you. he takes you to his apartment since he ripped apart your clothes and gave you some of his clothes. "Thank you Miguel..." You thank him as you grab his clothes. as you put it on his clothes seem too big for you; the sleeves of his shirt droops below your elbow which exposes your neck and his baggy pants that looks like a pajama. "(y/n) you look so cute...) Miguel stares you down with admiration as he grabs you by the waist and outs you down in bed. "Can we cuddle? i feel tired after what we did at your office" (y/n) says sheepishly as he grabs Miguel's arms around his waist and presses against him. "Sure Thing cariño" Miguel kisses you around the nape of your neck as both of you drift to sleep.

#male reader smut #miguel o'hara #x male reader #miguel ohara x reader

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djarinova · 8 days ago

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In shades of grey in candlelight / I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason

Spencer Reid x gn!reader content - reader is in an unfulfilling long term relationship, thoughts of cheating, best friend!Reid, friends to lovers, slight angst from reader longing to be loved properly again, cheating is slightly romanticised, confessions, teeny amount of angst words - 3k (how did this even happen omg) reputation event masterlist

♡—How long should you hold on to something after it's proven time and time again to be the source of your pain? And why does missing your best friend hurt so much more than missing your boyfriend?

It had been almost 4 weeks since you'd last spoken to Spencer—a mix of his work, the weekend he spent visiting his mother and the looming sense of… something… that had been hanging over your head like a dark cloud had kept the two of you apart for longer than usual.

Spencer would have been able to identify the issue that had been plaguing you, he's always been good at that—even before he'd joined the BAU.

He had been able to figure out that you'd failed a maths test when you were 12 years old. He had been able to tell when your parents had had a fight when you were 15 years old. He had been able to correctly work out that you'd ordered yourself the wrong flavour of milkshake—over the phone, without seeing your face—when you were 18 years old. And as you got older, your problems getting more and more adult, he had been able to figure out through missed calls and unanswered texts that you'd had your heart broken again. And again. And again.

That's what he would have said was the cause of your behaviour over the past few weeks—you've changed your hair, thrown out a bunch of old clothes, rearranged and then rearranged again almost all the rooms in your flat and you've been out drinking with your friends twice already this week (not that this is a particularly bad thing, or even entirely unlike you, but you mentioned to Spencer once that going to a bar or pub for a drink was only really fun when you were with him, and it had lit a spark deep within him that he refused to acknowledge). But this time you know he'd have gotten it wrong. You haven't broken up with anyone, you're still very much coupled up and there's no sign of your boyfriend wanting to dump you at all.

That's the problem.

You roll your eyes, there's no point in feeling sorry for myself. I'm the only one that can fix it.

You scoff. The faint smell of your neighbours baking wafts over you, and you can hear him and his boyfriend giggling through your shared wall. A lump in your throat begins to form, and the familiar sting behind your eyes returns as you busy your hands with tidying away the washing up (that you had accidentally washed three times now.) The tears that fall feel like they're burning your skin as they run down your cheeks, as though the droplets are going to leave small scalding streaks from your eyes to your chin.

A new wave of bitterness envelopes you and a strangled yell escapes your lips before you have the chance to think. You hear your neighbour's pause, likely raising their eyebrows at each other as if to say what the hell is wrong with next door before quickly returning to being the lovey-dovey super cutesy couple that they are. And they are. Super cutesy. You've seen them around the building before, even one time accidentally ending up in the same café after a building wide fire alarm went off. They invited you to sit with them—your boyfriend was with his mates—as they didn't want you left on your own so late at night. It was nice, awkward, sure, but nice. Conversation was easy, they seemed to bounce off of eachother in ways that you and your boyfriend never have—at least not for many years now. Their laughter was contagious and yet as you said your goodbyes and slunk back to your lonely apartment you couldn't help the twinges of envy that plagued the back of your mind.

He doesn't look at me like that. He is never that enthusiastic about dating me. He would never gush about our first date like that. (And deep down you know he could say the same things about you.)

So, yeah. That wasn't very fun to sit with.

You somehow feel happy knowing that Spencer would incorrectly guess the reason for your ongoing sadness. For some reason the thought of being unknowable to him has you frenzied… A strangled noise escapes your throat—a laugh! Christ. It was a laugh, despite how bitter and angry it sounded.

Maybe frenzied isn't the right word… But god! You don't know! At least he would actually care. At least he would want to try and get to the bottom of your feelings, to try and understand why you've been jumpy and on edge and almost hyperactive in the way you've been non stop moving recently.

Tap tap tap.

The noise makes you jump out of your skin, heart thumping in your chest as your eyes dart to the clock. It blinks back at you.

20:37

You chastise yourself, it's probably next door coming to ask if you could keep your yells of frustration down while they're having a relaxing evening. Embarrassment floods over your face and you can feel the tears threaten to fall again at the thought of being confronted about your outburst. You can imagine the look of pity on their faces—although a hidden part of you hopes that they're coming to invite you over, to welcome you into their warm home, to smell their freshly baked bread and taste the chocolate chip cookies.

Your feet pad heavily against the wooden floor as you walk out of the kitchen towards the front door—tap tap tap. A further set of knocks has you almost tripping over your feet as you rush the final few paces. You swing the door open without a thought, not wanting the neighbours to have to knock again.

You spare no thought to the tear stains that have marked your face…

“I'm so sorry I didn't mean to be—Spencer? Wha–what are you doing here?” You splutter.

“I tried calling, but you didn't answer. Have you been crying?”

“I—well, yes I have but it's fine—I didn't expect to see you, you've been so busy lately.” You take a deep breath, for a brief second—and it was brief—you had been relieved to find that it was only Spencer behind the door, but it didn't take long for the embarrassment to claw its way back up your spine and sink its teeth into your flesh once more.

His eyes bore into you as if he's trying to look inside you. He scans your face, your movements, he watches your hands fidget nervously with the hem of your shirt—before you notice him noticing you and you flatten your palms against your sides in an awkward, unnatural manner.

“May I come in?” He asks, his voice is gentle and it's almost enough to make you fall to the floor in despair.

A hum is all you can manage in response. You quickly side step out of his way, locking the door behind him as he removes his jacket and scarf and hangs then neatly on the third hook from the left—the one that's always left bare, just for him.

You clear your throat. “What are you doing here, Spence?”

He pauses mid stride—he’s already halfway to the kitchen and if you had known he was coming over then there would a cup of coffee on the side waiting for him, in his favourite burgundy mug, the one with a chip on the lip—and tilts his head at you as if to say isn't it obvious.

“I'm here to see you.” He states, incredibly matter of factly, as if the mere question coming from your lips is completely ridiculous. Why else would he be here?

“I—” You start, but Spencer disappears around the corner before you are able to get any more words out. You huff, feeling slightly unnerved by his sudden arrival and subsequent behaviour since setting foot on your doorstep. There is nothing else in the world that can make you as happy as he can. Something which both terrifies you, and excites you a great deal.

You step foot into the kitchen and you are unsurprised to find Spencer already in the process of making himself a coffee. He pauses once more when he catches sight of you and he holds a second mug out towards you in question. You shake your head. You don't think you'd be able to stomach anything until you can get him to speak to you properly.

A thought suddenly occurs to you, and it may be the first time you ever fully allow yourself to truly think it. Because although it's not unusual for Spencer to visit you in the evening, sometimes even coming over as late as 1 or 2 in the morning—he gets back from cases at the most unpredictable times—do people think you're seeing each other? The two of you have been friends for years, it's not weird for a friend to come over at all hours of the day… right?

“Spence, are you alright?” You pause, eyeing his very full cup of caffeine. “Haven't you just got back from a case? I can make up the sofa bed if you want to get some sleep.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Why do I feel so weird about asking him to stay over? We're friends. It's what friends do.

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He ignores your questions, but you can't bring yourself to be annoyed at him. Not when his knuckles are white from how hard he grips the cup and his eyes flit from your hands to your eyes to your mouth and back to your hands.

Wait—your mouth?!

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He repeats. He closes the gap between the two of you with only a couple of steps. His steaming coffee is still clutched in his hands, but his fingertips seem restless, as if he knows where he wants them to be, but he just can't—or won't—move them there.

“Okay.” You whisper.

Your mouth feels dry—maybe turning down Spencer’s offer for a coffee was a mistake… He's barely an arms length away from you now, if you were to reach your hand out towards him it would brush up against the navy cardigan he has on. It looks so soft and you can't help but wonder how it would feel around your shoulders. Would it be baggy? Would it fit perfectly? And would Spencer want to come back from a case to find you curled up on the sofa while wearing it?

Your neighbour’s laughter ripples through the air like thunder. It's gone before you have time to register the noise fully, but it's enough to snap you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from Spencer's torso. It was as though he was waiting for you to make eye contact with him again, because he immediately puts his cup down on the side—more clumsily than usual, you'd be surprised if there wasn't an extra chip on the lip now—and takes the smallest of steps towards you. You are almost toe to toe now.

“I–uh–meant to ask you earlier… about your boyfriend.” He hesitates. “Presumably he's not around…”

There's two ways you could take his question.

Part of you wants to lie, to say that no, he's not around, you dumped him months ago—when your friends first told you that you should—and that you weren't expecting any company tonight. It would be just you and Spencer, no interruptions. Besides, Spencer knows that your boyfriend doesn't live with you, it's been the topic of many a heated discussion, but… could you just pretend you misunderstood? Could you say that no, he's not around, he's probably out with his friends somewhere. Could you admit that he hasn't texted you back in almost 4 days? Could you say he's not around, in fact, he hasn't been around you for 12 days?

But Spencer doesn't give you any time to think through what to say. You gasp when his hand touches your arm and he laces his fingers through yours without so much as a word, as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. As if he had done it a thousand times. The certainty with which he touched you has your heart pounding. What is he thinking? All you can do is blink up at him. His eyes are swimming with questions, but the only one he voices is, “Is this okay?”

Your head moves before you can think and he breathes a deep sigh of relief. You haven't felt as calm as this in months, and yet somehow it feels like you're suffocating. His touch is warm and the dusting of pink on his cheeks has you feeling a rush of anxiety—but the good kind, the kind of anxiety you get when your crush looks at you, the kind that comes hand in hand with a first kiss… And yet you know you need to pull away. Before something more happens.

You force yourself to pull your hand out of Spencer's and the emptiness returns immediately. You stumble away, bumping into the counter as you do so, and you utter a small yelp when your hip hits the corner. Tears sting your eyes and before you know it Spencer has his arms around you. Somehow knowing what you need before you are even able to think it. You choke out a broken apology—for what, you don't even know—and all Spencer can think to do is squeeze you against his chest, whispering soft comforts into your ear.

You stay like that for a while—long enough that the pain at your hip is now only a dull ache. Your throat is dry from all the heavy breathing and you feel a slight throbbing pain in your head, but you do, somehow, feel a little better.

That is until your emotionally fried brain catches up with itself. And then you cringe, hard. Embarrassment floods your veins and you feel your cheeks heat up by an alarming degree—like someone, somehow, is holding the sun directly against your skin. You are acutely aware of how closely Spencer is watching you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, unsure of whether there's a look of hurt, confusion or pity on his face—unsure of whether it matters—and all you can do is stare through your blurry eyes at what you think is your feet, but what could just as easily be a pair of furry, blue alien slippers.

You scold yourself. You fell apart all because he... held your hand? God. What a mess he must think you are. And—oh! How he probably thinks you are the worst person in the world for even entertaining the possibility of his feelings for you when you aren't even single. If he even thinks that what you did was entertaining the possibility. Or maybe you completely misread the situation and he was only trying to comfort you as a friend... But what if he thinks you have no interest in him? What if he thinks he's ruined your friendship and your relationship? What if you're reading into things far too much and he doesn't like you like that and he thinks you're a bad person for even thinking about kissing him–not that he would know that, he can't read your mind–and you've certainly never thought about kissing him before and especially not right now–he doesn't know how much you long for him to sweep your off your feet—

"I like you Spencer."

You blink. Slowly you bring your head up and meet his gaze. He takes a shallow breath, as if he had been holding it for quite some time.

Christ.

You only meant to think the words, and yet somehow they slipped past your tongue out into the space between the two of you. An accidental confession of something you hadn't even consciously thought until 0.2 seconds ago.

Well I can't take it back now.

He holds your gaze. His vision blurs ever so slightly and he blinks back his unshed tears before they get the chance to overwhelm him. He clears his throat before speaking, but even then his voice is low, quiet, as if trying not to spook an animal.

"You... do?"

You nod, and he takes another obvious sigh of relief, deeper this time.

"I do. I like you a lot actually."

It's as though hearing you voice your feelings for him has broken down the very last wall between the two of you. Your mind flits briefly to thoughts about your boyfriend, before shutting them down so violently that you almost feel sick. You taste metal in your mouth and you realise with a start that you'd bitten down so hard on your lip that you'd drawn blood. You reach for the closest available source to wash the bitter taste away—Spencer's coffee. And he watches as you take a sip, your eyes are closed but somehow he can sense that they are closer to shedding tears than his are. He reaches an arm towards you and gently begins to rub soothing circles on your waist. The touch sends an electric pulse throughout your entire body and you almost drop the mug in shock. It's like all at once you realise just how stupid you were for allowing yourself to be so miserable for all this time. Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who barely touches you when one touch from Spencer has your insides burning? Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who doesn't care about your feelings unless they are positively affecting him, when the first thing Spencer asked you tonight was if you had been crying?

For right now all you care about is the way Spencer's eyes glisten when they look at you, how warm his hands are when they touch your face and how the quiet laughter from your neighbours no longer makes you feel as lonely as it did before.

You felt like such a fool. But it seemed like realising this fact was enough to set you free. It seemed like the acknowledgement was enough. You didn't give any thought now to the things you would have to do this coming week—the breaking up, the collection of your things from his place (although at this point there is only a toothbrush and a single pair of joggers that haven't moved from their place on the back of his sofa since you washed them and left them there). Hell, even the possibility of having Spencer there with you hadn't crossed your mind.

#help meeeeeee i am plagued with thoughts about him #need to gnaw and chew and bite him #and have him love me #something something save me spencer reid something something etc etc #you get it #everyone say thank you to this fic for keeping me sane over the last couple of weeks #and for helping me to not have a /total/ breakdown (i am still on the edge but. we are managing....for now)#spencer reid fic #reputation.event #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #sage.fics #spencer reid fanfiction

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