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ateliersss · 2 months ago

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Downtime and a Bath

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: Your mate returns from a hunt, in desperate need of a bath. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 1.823 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ I'm not exactly happy with it, nor am I sure if it's even worth publishing, but anyways, here it is. I had an idea three hours ago and wrote the thing in two, therefore the poor quality. But hey, at least it's out of my head.

⇨ Also. thank you to each and everyone of you for letting me reach a 1.000 followers a few weeks ago!

It was nighttime.

Lounging on your nest, you tilted your head back and looked out of the window behind you. Upside down, the twin moons, twinkling stars, and other celestial bodies you couldn’t name were occupying the bottom of your view while the wildlife with its mountains and forests extended across the top of your eyesight.

You sighed at the inky-black sky. Mi’ytiar had told you hours ago his hunting trip would end today and you had hoped it would be at a time you were awake. But according to the moons, the night was already half over and you knew you would soon pass out from exhaustion.

Maybe you could rest your eyes for a little bit. There was no problem with that, right? You were already lying in such a comfortable position — the cushions underneath you supporting your body just right, the blanket keeping it neither too warm nor too cold, the pillows behind your head cradling it perfectly. You could just close your eyes and listen to the crackling of the fire around your nest. No shame in that.

You were just dozing off, losing the inner battle against the overwhelming fatigue, when you heard a dull thud that was muffled by the closed door that led to the main area of your home.

“Wha��” You mumbled and pushed yourself up with your eyes still half-closed.

Seconds later, the door slid open and revealed the imposing sight of your mate.

So he was finally home. It made you breathe out a happy sigh and a drowsy smile etched itself onto your lips. You felt instantly at ease at having your mate back home and by your side. Not that you ever felt in danger being without him on the grounds of his clan, but you could never know who or what could force its way into your home when Mi’ytiar was gone. However, you doubted that they could make it far to you. Not only did your mate have his loyal warriors who had their eyes on you when he wasn’t able to himself, but the three Hell Hounds outside would rip anyone with bad intentions apart.

You rubbed your eyes until Mi’ytiar became less blurry and you let them wander over his figure, noting the state he was in. He was covered in dirt, grime, and what you hoped wasn’t his blood. As much as off-putting his appearance was, you were pleased to see that he complied with your wish to keep whatever corpse he had kept as a trophy away from your bedroom and instead leave it on the table in the main room.

You were just about to open your mouth when you flinched back at the intensity with which he was stalking towards you, embodying every aspect of his predatory nature, eyeing you like his next prey.

“No, Mi’ytiar. Don’t you dare!” You protested when it became obvious he was about to climb on your nest, dirtying it with whatever disgusting fluids his body was covered in.

But he didn’t listen, his mind hazy with hunger and overcome by the lasting high of his latest kills. Bad Bloods were a nice challenge and he was thrilled when he discovered that three of them were hunting on a neighboring planet. Their heads were now lying on the sleek black surface of the table outside.

You yelped when his bone-crushing weight settled on top of you, successfully covering your whole body with his, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. You could hear and feel the greedy intake of your scent through his nose. His tongue licked over every inch of your skin nearby as his hands roamed your body, his claws already ripping on the fabric of your nightwear.

You would have spread your legs for him, would have helped him take off your clothing, offering every part of your body for him to take, to devour, if the fact that he was just ruining the materials you had used for your nest wasn’t the only thing on your mind right down. As well as the disgusting stench that overwhelmed your nostrils and made you gag.

You weren’t the most flexible, definitely not now, but you still managed to pull up your knee and push him away from you by placing your foot in the middle of his chest. You knew you wouldn’t have succeeded if not for a subconscious part of his mind was still able to obey you even though his logical thinking was clouded with primal need.

Mi’ytiar, though very reluctantly, backed down and sat back on his haunches. His claws dug into his thighs and his chest was heaving with heavy breaths, showing how much strength it required for him to hold himself back.

“I’m sorry, my love, but you reek.” You grumbled and eyed him in disdain.

He only growled back.

“Why don’t we take a bath, hm?” You suggested with a head tilt to the door to your right which led to what you would call a bathroom by human standards.

Sliding sideways off the nest, you walked backward, a smirk on your face and your eyes fixed on him as your fingers fiddled with the knot of your robe, a souvenir you had acquired from one of your trips to Earth.

“Are you coming, tanhì?” You asked him, placing one foot behind the other.

The swishing of the door and the different feeling of the floor covering signaled you had entered the bathroom. The first time you had been inside it when Mi’ytiar had shown you your new home, it reminded you of a cave. Despite the usual futuristic and modern Yautja aesthetic, this room had a natural feeling. It wasn’t unlike the bathroom of the apartment you had lived in with your family decades ago. The necessities had been there. Except for a bathtub. Yautja didn’t necessarily bathe. They swam, yes, but bathe?

You didn’t exactly need a bathtub as you hadn’t used the one you had back then, but after a tiring day, it had been nice to relax in the hot water. Someday, you had voiced your displeasure to Mi’ytiar who had scooped you up and taken you to the hot springs not far from the clan grounds but still inside his territory. And although the sight of it was breathtaking — steam rising from the ponds of water arranged like stair steps so the water could run down from one spring to the next like a waterfall — and the surrounding nature was quite romantic, you weren’t exactly comfortable stripping naked where whatever lurking creature could creep up on you.

You didn’t want to complain, of course, and you would eventually adapt to the fact that you had to forego certain human comforts. That didn’t mean you didn’t share how humans lived compared to Yautja with him whenever a difference in their everyday life occurred, be it the bed, clothes, or the bathtub.

Just as you were getting used to bathing in the hot springs, hidden in the rock crevice, you stumbled over the beginnings of what would soon look like a pool when you walked into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It was nestled into the large niche — square, three meters by three meters �� of the room opposite the door where the shower-like setup used to be. When you had asked him what this was about, he had only said “Home.” and left it by that.

Standing in front of said pool, you turned your head to look over your shoulder and watched as the door closed behind Mi’ytiar who had just entered the bathroom. You let the robe slide down your shoulders and to the crook of your arms before letting it pool at your feet. When you turned to face him, you revealed the side profile of your body to his eyes, the swell of your breasts, and the small bump your belly was sporting.

When you thought back to your profession on Earth, you looked like any expectant mother in the late stage of her first trimester. Your baby bump wasn’t that big yet, but you still had to give up on certain items of clothing because they already wouldn’t fit you anymore.

When your belly started to grow, you suddenly remembered that your period should have started roughly two weeks ago. The second your brain had fully comprehended that your mate could have possibly impregnated you, that with the highest probability you carried the product of your mutual love under your heart and that you would soon become a mother, you didn’t waste a second to track him down and tell him the big news.

He hadn’t exactly reacted the way you had hoped. Instead of a positive or negative reaction, instead of pressing his forehead to yours while purring or growling at you to get rid of it, he had just stared. He stood frozen in front of you and fixed your hands which cupped the barely noticeable swell of your stomach.

You had just gained a little bit of weight, he told himself. She couldn’t be pregnant, she couldn’t carry my pup.

How could you, a human, be able to achieve something where others had failed?

He needed answers, so he hastily but carefully picked you up and took you to Cahrein who only confirmed your suspicion. You were indeed pregnant.

Only after a quick talk with the tribal healer, something about “not possible” and “how”, he finally showed you how he really felt — overjoyed. And how could he not? Now that you were carrying his pup, you were connected to your mate in every possible way.

“Are you coming?” You asked him again, one foot dipped into the warm water.

Mi’ytiar didn’t waste any more time getting rid of his armor, not caring about any damage he may cause, as he ripped every piece of it off his body, letting it fall to the ground as he walked to the pool. When he stepped into it, your body was already fully immersed and you swam to where you kept the nourishing oils, sweet-smelling soap, and the washcloth. With everything you needed in hand, you returned to where Mi’ytiar had settled on the bench of the pool. You freed your hands by placing everything on the edge so you could lift yourself up on his lap. Mi’ytiar immediately pulled you closer, one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other embracing your bump.

You didn’t talk while you cleaned him up. You stayed quiet, not feeling the necessity to talk, while he relished in your pampering, only voicing how much he enjoyed it with purrs. And when you were done, you snuggled up to him, cheek pressed against his chest and arms loosely wrapped around him. Mi’ytiar later had to carry you out of the pool, dry you off, and bring you to bed, your sleeping form pressed against his body.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

@rorrika, @lialiwasneverseen, @lil-lilacwitch, @purplekitten30, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan,

@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid, @zaky-ller, @chrishy973, @devilslittlehelper,

@freyablack90

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

#predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator #fanfic

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moviestarmartini · 1 year ago

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la playa - jude bellingham x reader

" yo te lo hice a ti en la playa / justo al frente de la orilla / ella y yo no somo' nada pero solo entre comilla "

pairing: jude bellingham x latina!reader

summary: situationship!jude asked to spend the summer vacations with you. he's been looking at you with something other than his hungry eyes for some time now.

wc: 2.0k

warnings: really short instagram aus at both the beginning and the end, situationship where they both clearly fell for each other but won't discuss it, pet names in spanish, NSFW, semi-public sex, soft dom!jude if you squint, teasing, p in v, praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all), creampie, cockwarming, fluff (aka two big goofs in love).

A/N: i haven't written a fic in more than a year but i'm on break from uni and this man has been plaguing my every thought UGHH i'm also tired of january, it should be spring break already so i'm manifesting that energy into both this fic and the new year !! reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :>

now playing... la playa by myke towers

yourusername verano contigo 🤍

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, settling your phone down after the content had been uploaded.

You met Jude by spare chance. You’d been living in Madrid for a bit more than a year, occupied with your studies by the time the star boy reached the promised land. Jogging in Valdebebas at six thirty in the morning and having a black car pull up next to you was the way you were sure you were leaving this earth, instead finding a footballer asking for directions at the other side of the rolled-down window.

You easily discover the real reason later on. He was not lost, but had seen you around the residential complex; he’d only gotten the courage to talk to you after taking a big jug of coffee that morning, or so he claimed.

You’d noticed he had been staring at your glistening skin as you tanned your backside, but decided against commenting until the cheeky smile started to blossom. “Nothin’ “ He shook his head, but a tiny smile was half hidden behind his plush lips, giving away other intentions. The sun was so bright it was dazing, you’d sat under it for a while now hoping to darken your skin. The heat felt funny inside your tummy, similar to how Jude made your guts churn whenever he hooked your legs over his shoulders. “You’re sitting too far. C’mere.”

“Jude, mi rey, we’ve been holding hands the whole time I’ve been tanning.” You replied shortly, looking at him from behind your shades.

“Not close enough.” He practically whined, tugging at your arm with need, coercing you to get up and sit on his lap under the shade.

“Better?” You asked from your newfound place in his crotch, warm bodies coming in contact as you settled. You noticed him nod, his arm wrapping your waist in a way his forearm rested against your bare abdomen covering your belly button.

“Why won’t you post me?” His lower lip puckered out, eliciting a laugh out of you as you turned to face him briefly before turning towards the vast ocean in front of you. A small groan left his lips at the innocent movement.

After analyzing the vivid memory of his face, and thinking through your words, you spoke up. “Didn’t know if you wanted me to.” Once again, got comfortable in his lap. A sigh followed, coming from the man behind you.

“Have I ever told you how much I like that bikini on you?” Jude spoke after a minute or so of comfortable silence. You felt him toying with the drawstring of the bottoms. You could also feel something poking at your bare ass. “But not as much as I like you…”

“I think you’ve mentioned how you wanted to take it off.” Your voice barely came out; a mumble almost, ignoring the last sentence. Your heart thud against your chest, louder than it had done before when he questioned his presence— or lack thereof— in your vacation post. You peered around the area, only to find the waves crashing close to your beach beds’ location, and pearl-ish white sand spread for miles on end— just the two of you.

You felt him nod again, his chin brushing against your shoulder. Though he confirmed your suspicions of his true intentions, Jude’s hand didn’t undo the strap that held together the skimpy bikini. Instead, his fingers trailed the hem of the swimsuit, barely touching the warm skin. “Can I?”

The tone of his voice was low, the manner only brought goosebumps down your spine. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being eager, or at least the stupor of the hot day didn’t allow you to nod fast enough for you to look desperate. “You don’t know how happy I am to get you like this…” His hand sneaked under the piece at a painfully slow pace. Even though you knew what was going to happen, your breath got stuck in your throat.

“You always get me like this whenever you please.” It could be a complaint coming from anyone else, but it was just the reality of the situation. The relationship between you and Jude was… unclear. Feelings had been owned up to, but a title hadn’t been discussed. In fact, this was the first trip you tagged along; he asked you personally to do so. But you still decided against reading too much into it.

“You were saying, love?” Jude chuckled with malice, smirking at the way your skin prickled up at his touch applied to the bundle of nerves between your legs— which also spread involuntarily to give him better access. The way your words morphed with the moans and delirious sighs brought only further satisfaction to the British national.

“Don’t get all sassy with me.” You complained through a breathy laugh, eyes falling shut. His other hand trailed upwards your torso, to rest against your breasts and get straight into the task of cupping the left one first. The circles to your clit were steady, too steady for your liking. But still good enough to enjoy, and your moans let him know he was doing a stellar job. As per usual.

“What do you want, amor?” You managed to ask. Jude could’ve internally cursed, you knew him too well. A little too well for his liking. Instead of providing an answer, he pressed harder against your clit, the pressure catching you off guard, doubling down the attitude too.

“You,” Jude replied after what seemed years after he couldn’t take any more of your squirming. “Just you, all for me.” You could feel his stubble brushing against your shoulder before his lips pressed onto the length of your neck. It was all too much for you; the heat, the bright sun, the dryness settling in your tongue, his hands touching your body, his hard, clothed cock pressing against your backside, and the coil tightening in your lower stomach.

But he stopped.

Almost bewildered, you gasped, at the same time he undid the bunny ears that kept your swimsuit together. A smile crept onto your face as you turned to face him, thighs on either side of his hips. “You’re looking at me like that again.” You noted humbly, undoing the string of your bra. He couldn’t even formulate a response at the sight of your bare body, eyes scanning every inch, adoring the fresh tan lines.

“How could I not? You’re perfect.” Jude breathed out, leaning forward to catch his lips in yours. It was slow, but oozing with need and passion. You felt a pressure built up in your stomach, sparks, but you hesitated if he ever felt those around you.

“My perfect girl.” He breathed against your lips, hands holding onto your hips as he watched you undo the string that held his swimsuit tighter to his waist. He helped you pull the item down, barely resting at his upper thighs.

He leaned forward once again to catch your lips on his, letting out a tiny groan as you leaned further, just to tease him. “Kiss me,” Jude whined, stomach tightening at the firm grip around his shaft.

“Tranquilo, mi rey.” You cooed, working him up by rubbing his swollen tip on the warm and wet hole before finally sinking down his length. A pair of harmonious groans left both of your lips once you sat in his lap again, hips circling to get accustomed to the stretch.

“I can’t calm down when I’m obsessed with you.” Jude breathed out, large hands helping you steady the pace of your hips. He watched hypnotized by the way his cock disappeared in and out of your warm walls. His eyes were set, as though he wanted to train them to imprint the image in the back of his mind.

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. “Eyes up here, big boy.” The friendly banter defined your relationship; you often wondered if putting a label on things would make that disappear. But it was all just a wall to hide behind the adoration you felt for him, using it to dodge every compliment, in fear that none of his words were sincere. You could tell he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest when meeting your eyes, and the look you couldn’t pinpoint for the whole afternoon reappeared as he tangled his fingers in your hair and drew you right in for a kiss.

A kiss fierce enough to make you weak in the knees.

It was the perfect opportunity for Jude to accommodate his stance to start thrusting upwards, the sweetest noise he managed to squeeze out from the back of your throat was worth the tension in his core. Instantly, your back arched to give him the perfect angle. “I want you like this all the time…” He moaned into your mouth, hands on your hips to pin you down.

“Jude…” You mewled, the sound of skin coming into contact filling the empty air, harmonizing with the waves crashing near the beach spot you both occupied. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, and Jude wasn’t foreign to the squeezing that built-up with every frantic thrust.

“C’mere doll, you’re doing so good f’me. Cum all over my cock, c’mon.” His voice was soft, the encouragement overlapping with his own groans of pleasure. He drew you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. Jude resisted the usual drawn-out teasing and mocking, now finding satisfaction in babying you as he slammed deep into you.

The string of incoherent babbles left your mouth shortly after his praises reached your ears. Jude closed his eyes to both contain himself from releasing at the way your pulsating walls were milking him so deliciously, but to also cherish the way your moans turned up the octave, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his bicep. Yet again, the heat you’ve been withstanding for the entirety of that morning hazed you, making a fantastic team with the warmth of Jude’s strong arms and the faded smell of his cologne mixed in with the salty air.

But all it took to push you right off the edge was a kiss. A single kiss pressed to your shoulder.

Your release consisted of a cocktail of your orgasm and a wave of realization crashing over you. You were head over heels with the man who was currently squishing your face against his buff chest, strong arms wrapped around your waist as he held you down. Groans and chants of your name replaced your meek moans and sighs, his cum filling you up. You allowed him the luxury of doing so every once in a while, and the dream-like stupor that enveloped your mind currently created the desire for him to do so.

The sounds of waves crashing filled the air once more, overshadowing the heavy breathing you shared. You stayed put, even cuddling closer to him as soon as the tremor left your legs. Time seemed to slow down, and you wondered how difficult the task of pulling away from him would soon be.

“Can I post you?”

Jude broke the silence, he’d been busy brushing your hair strands back into place upon the comfortable silence you’d set on. There was an arm still wrapped along the width of your waist. You pulled back to look him in the eyes, expecting to see playfulness in them, but finding a completely serious stare in return. “Since a certain someone won’t post me…”

“Oh, stop it!” You laughed, cheeks flushed at the idea. “If you think it's that great on an idea…” You puckered your lips while replicating his tone, cupping his face and planting a peck on his lips.

Jude smirked, licking his lips to chase the taste of you. But his eyes were soft, full of adoration. That look. It would blossom by just admiring your presence, or during one of his favorite activities– making you happy. “All I have are great ideas. Amazing, even.” He stole a peck off from you. You giggled, and a smile subconsciously peaked from behind his lips.

His heart flipped in his chest for the hundredth time that trip.

Jude, lost for words, just shook his head and reached for his phone. He started to wonder how a person could compete so easily with the grandiose, warmth and shine of the sun above.

But one peek down at you, snuggled up against him, answered all his questions.

judebellingham summer with you 🤍

A/N: used @ keilanilizbeth on instagram as the fc

and that pic on the left has me wishing i could match sambas with jude 😞😞

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #football smut #football fic #𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !

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hubbvrd · 8 months ago

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Little Burrow | Joe Burrow

In which little burrow suprises his dad during training

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Mommy! Mommy! I'm ready," y/n's son Mason shouted as he came running into the kitchen.

Y/n lifted her head from the lunch box she was preparing for her three-year-old son and looked over at Mason.

The little blond-haired boy proudly presented his mother with his Bengals jersey, which he was wearing backwards, but looked so proud because he had put it on by himself, so y/n let out a soft "naaw" before lifting her son up and gently tickling his belly, causing him to giggle loudly.

"You did great, buddy. But we need to get your jersey on right, okay?" Smiling, y/n sat her son down on the countertop and began to put the Burrow jersey, which he wore almost daily, on him the right way around.

"Who dey think gonna beat dem Bengals? Nobody!" , Mason began to chant after wearing the jersey the right way around and snagging a cracker from the lunchbox y/n had just prepared.

"I hear you're ready to cheer on Daddy and the rest of the team at practice already?" Y/n lifted her son up to put him back on the ground, where he gave her a big grin and then clapped his hands enthusiastically and shouted "yes."

Just like Joe, his son shared an enthusiasm for football, so much so that Mason had been talking about nothing else at times since he could talk, and y/n wouldn't be surprised if their son together eventually followed in Joe's footsteps.

"Football with?" , Mason asked y/n as she stowed the lunchbox in Mason's backpack and then tucked her cell phone and front door key into her purse.

"We don't need that one. There are lots of them at Daddy's trainings camp. I'm sure you'll get to play with one." She tousled Mason's hair, which made him giggle.

"Come on, let's go see Daddy."

She picked her son up and carried him into the car, where she put him in his car seat, buckled him in, and moments later left the garage with the car and headed to the training area with Mason to surprise Joe.

—

"Mommy! Mommy! Hurry! "Mason shouted excitedly when they arrived at the training ground and could hear the shouting of the team from far away.

"We're almost there!" y/n smirked slightly as she grabbed Mason's hand and ran over to the field with her excited son, who kept pulling on his mother's hand to show her to hurry.

From a distance, she recognized the team, which was completely engrossed in practicing a few plays, so that y/n and Mason could sneak up unnoticed, although y/n was sure that Mason would betray them sooner or later.

"Daddy?" , Mason tilted his head questioningly as the two arrived at the edge of the field and y/n spread out a blanket on which she and Mason could sit for the next few minutes, keeping Mason occupied every now and then when he wasn't excitedly watching them practice.

"Daddy's over there," , y/n said as she pulled Mason onto her lap and pointed her fingers over to the field where number nine was located.

Wide-eyed, Mason watched his father begin to practice a few throws, at which point Mason kept applauding and began to giggle softly.

With a smile on her lips, y/n watched her son.

"Hello Mason, hello y/n. Good to see you guys." , the suddenly heard Zac's voice next to her, so she lifted her head and smiled at the head coach.

"Hey, Zac. You alright?" Y/n stood up to greet Zac with a quick hug before Zac crouched down and gently tickled Mason's stomach.

"All great and I see you guys are too, right buddy? Are you rooting for your daddy?"

Mason answered Zac with a giggle and then began clapping his hands.

"He couldn't wait to get back here. He actually wears the jersey almost every day." , y/n said rolling his eyes slightly, which made Zac laugh softly.

"That's great, isn't it? That way we're already working on good young talent. Joe said he should play football soon too?"

"No," y/n said quickly, but had to grin.

"I see you haven't agreed yet," Zac replied with a grin, and then picked up Mason, who began to sing The Bengal Song again.

"Shall we go say hi to your daddy and do some exercises with him?"

Zac got a wild nod in response, so the Bengals' boss headed out onto the field with Mason on his arm.

"Listen up guys! I've got a new arrival here!" he shouted across the field, causing everyone to pause in their movement and look to Zac and Mason.

Immediately, the players' expressions brightened and they all began to greet Mason in confusion, causing him to press himself slightly shyly against Zac.

"Look, there's Daddy," he distracted Mason as they came to a stop just before Joe.

He lowered Mason, who moments later spotted Joe and ran toward him, stumbling slightly.

"Hey, Buddy," Joe, who by now had crouched down and spread his arms, greeted his son, who threw himself into his arms.

"Daddy! Daddy!" , his son shouted excitedly and began to tell him that he was wearing Joe's jersey and was eager to play with him.

With a big grin on his lips, Joe pressed a kiss to his son's forehead before picking him up and carrying him over to Logan, Sam and Tee.

"Hey little superstar," Sam greeted the little one and tousled him through his hair, causing Mason to giggle softly.

"Are you training with us today?" , Logan asked Mason, who started nodding vigorously shortly after, making the three of them laugh.

"Let's go then." With a grin on his lips, Tee grabbed the football and thus the four of them began to play a little football with Mason, cheering loudly for Mason every time he threw or caught the ball.

And from the edge of the field, y/n watched them grinning broadly while she held the cell phone in her hand and filmed them all for some time to have some memory of today.

—

"You really need to come back here with Mason" , Logan all but pleaded as he pulled y/n into a tight hug of greeting, then gave her a pleading look as he let her go again.

"Oh, yeah." , Sam agreed with him.

"Please," , Tee was almost pleading.

"I wouldn't mind either" , Joe agreed with his colleagues, after pressing a kiss to y/n's lips. He held the sleeping Mason in his arms, who had fallen asleep after an exciting half hour playing with the boys.

"Don't worry, boys. I'm sure Mason will be begging me to come back here every day now. And he won't stop until he's big enough to be on the field himself."

A big grin formed on the faces of Logan, Sam and Tee and they were satisfied with the answer, so after a short small talk they disappeared into the cabin and left the little family alone.

"That was really a lot of fun. I hope to do this a lot with Mason," Joe enthused. Joe enthused, unaware that y/n had prepared something for Joe and Mason at home, which of course had to do with football.

And who knew if Joe himself would be sitting in the stadium in a few years to watch his own son play and cheer him on.

#joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow #nfl imagines #nfl fic #nfl #nfl imagine #cincinnati bengals

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beardedjoel · 1 year ago

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smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words 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) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess.

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void.

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone.

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly.

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him.

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame.

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him.

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening.

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power.

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots.

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention.

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response.

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life.

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked.

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food.

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue.

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes.

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously.

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better.

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to.

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything.

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth.

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now.

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses.

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now.

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy.

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now.

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment.

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet.

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees.

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further.

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows.

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now.

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him.

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.”

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about.

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help.

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard.

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn.

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one.

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch.

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off.

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there.

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it.

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks.

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were.

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all.

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.”

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him.

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself.

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little.

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you.

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring.

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands.

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response.

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…”

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights.

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back <3

#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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jogetsobsessed · 3 months ago

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One Night - Paul Lahote x reader

She's backkkkk! I know this isn't what you want, however, this survived the great laptop crash of 2024 (unlike the half-finished prophecy pt2 doc). This however is cutie in my opinion and I would be open to writing a part 2 (if anyone wants it). Also, I'm almost to 200 followers which is so crazy? Thank you for all the love!

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“No, no, no, no”, you wailed as you looked at your hands. They were shaking as you clutched the plastic, the plus sign clear as day. Your body slumped down the wall of the bathroom, your body curling into itself as you hit the ground.

What are you going to do?

You were young, too young in your life to start thinking about starting a family. It's not even like you were seeing anyone. This whole situation came about after you had a bad day and just wanted to forget. To forget life and all your problems.

You let yourself have fun, with someone you only kind of knew. At the time that had seemed like the best plan. You knew of him and had met a few times through your friend Emily. It was better than prowling on some meaningless app that you would just delete the next morning. He was nice to look at, extremely cocky, kind of an asshole to everyone else, but always kind to you.

The few times you had met Paul Lahote before your night of fun he had never gone out of his way to talk to you but that was okay with you. All the other boys that hung around Emily’s house could be way too much. Just dropping her off after work would lead to you being pulled into a two-hour conversation because none of them knew when to shut up. Paul however would always hover on the porch or somewhere else in your eyeline. He never came up to join the conversation but never left his spot of isolation either.

So after a bad day at the clinic, Emily invited you back to her place for a drink and you accepted. Emily was your friend, one of the only actual friends you had made since moving to the Forks area six months prior. But you haven't spent much time together outside of work, except for riding to and from the clinic.

But this shift had been so rough on both of you that you needed to vent to each other and get something in your system to make you forget a little. Cut to hours later neither of you notice her fiance and his friends walking in the house to you and Emily losing it on the couch, clutching your sides from how hard you were laughing.

It wasn't even the alcohol necessarily, the two of you had split a bottle of wine but that wasn't enough to get you messed up to the point of uncontrollable laughter. No, it was finally being able to relax in good company, let loose and enjoy yourself.

The boys had just snickered at the two of you, Emily’s fiance ushering them back into the kitchen to give the two of you some space. However, at some point, hunger struck and the kitchen was calling your name.

Emily had declared nachos as the snack of choice and you couldn't agree more. She had charged through the sea of testosterone while you decided to timidly hug the doorframe, not knowing where to place yourself down. The kitchen was full of Sam’s friends and there wasn't a place to sit. You were thinking of slipping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter while Emily assembled plates of goodness.

That was until a particular tanned-skin boy stood up and very subtly gestured towards the chair. A sudden confidence had taken over you, and you certainly can blame that on the wine. Crossing the room in just a few paces you lower yourself onto the previously occupied seat and join the rowdy group at the table.

Looking up you gave him a silent look of thanks as he stood, leaning his back against the countertop. He reciprocated a small smirk before returning his attention to the intense game of spoons that the other boys were trying to rope you into.

After that, the night was a blur. You had played a few rounds of the card game, Emily eventually joining with heaping plates of nachos, placing herself in her fiance's lap. Paul had disappeared momentarily, reappearing with an old wooden stool, sitting directly to your left.

You tried to focus on everything happening, but it was no use. All you could think about was that simple gesture of kindness. The act of chivalry that no doubt was gonna earn him some teasing from his buddies, which is what made it and him so much more attractive.

Thoughts of the beautiful man plagued your mind the whole night and when he offered to drive you back home at the end of the night you accepted. He blamed it on the fact that he wouldn't feel right if he let you drive home after drinking, even if it was just a few glasses of wine and that had been hours ago.

Even though you felt completely sober at this point as it had been hours and you had eaten your fair share of nachos you obliged, how could you pass up the opportunity for one of the most attractive men you had laid eyes on in a long time to drive you home?

Attractive and chivalrous, two things he had going for him.

The ride home was nice, the windows rolled down, and your hair flowed in the breeze. He drove smoothly and slowly, taking the winding corners with ease. A song that occupied the radio 24/7 played, and you were in such a state of comfort that you allowed yourself to sing along softly.

It was weird, you barely knew this man, yet you felt so comfortable around him. Being in his presence was easy.

Once your headlights illuminated the front of your modest home you felt your heart sink. This was it, your night of bliss was going to end. He threw the truck in park, turning to face where you sat. He opened his mouth, to say what you have no idea because you cut him off before he got the chance to speak.

“Do you wanna come in?”.

--------------

That night had been six weeks ago. And since then you hadn't seen or heard from him once. Not that you had reached out much. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward and complicated with a friend of a friend.

Only now things were gonna have to be awkward and complicated, it was sorta unavoidable.

Time paused as you sat there on the bathroom floor. Staring at the pinked-capped stick. Part of you wished you hadn't taken the test, even if that would have just avoided the inevitable for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks.

Your head was reeling as you attempted to comprehend the news. On one hand, you had always wanted to be a mom and had dreamed of it. However part of the dream was a perfect house, a perfect job, and a perfect husband. Someone that loved you and supported you. Having a baby daddy that you hardly knew wasn't exactly in the picture.

------------

At some point your body went on autopilot, you picked yourself off the ground and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. You didn't know what you were getting ready to do, you had already called out after you had woken up before the sun to empty your stomach of last night's dinner.

The brain fog seemed to slightly lift once you were closing your car door, clutching the steering wheel as your life preserver. The pregnancy test in your pocket feels as if it weighs a thousand pounds.

You felt insane.

Who were you to go to this man who you barely knew and just throw this information at him, even if he deserved to know? Because this was his burden too. This wasn't an instance of immaculate conception, it took both of you to get into this situation.

Recalling an earlier conversation with Emily where you had not so subtly asked what Paul did for work you remembered her mentioning the name of the garage.

Since today simply could not get more insane you decided to embrace the insanity and started the drive towards the reservation.

You practiced what you were gonna say over and over, but nothing sounded right.

“Hey, remember me? I'm the girl you slept with once and ghosted, well I'm pregnant”.

“Paul, remember me? Y/N, yeah so you kinda got me pregnant”.

“Hey so remember when I told you that you didn't need a condom, well I say dumb things I don't mean when I’m around pretty people”.

You were so screwed.

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The parking lot was practically empty because of course, it was. Of course, there wouldn't be enough cars for you to blend in and hide for a little bit to gather your confidence. No besides your car there were only three others, and since you knew that Paul's truck was one of them there was a decent chance that the other two were also employees. The large bay doors of the shop were opening, one of the bays occupied with an old Volvo on the lift.

Crossing the parking lot, the man of the hour caught your attention. Paul was alone in the garage. Grease and oil covered his hands and forearms as his attention was focused on the car above him. Patting your jacket pocket you made sure your proof was still there. You had only made it about halfway once he spotted you. He did a double take, a minor look of confusion showing. I mean why wouldn't he be confused, you weren't friends and here you were just randomly showing up at his place of business.

Deciding to pull whatever last shred of confidence you had buried deep down you didn't turn chicken and run back to your car. No, you carried on walking, right up to the edge of his behemoth of a toolbox, slightly leaning on it to gain some support. The nerves make your whole body feel unstable.

The wrench was abandoned, clattering inside said toolbox and he found a discarded towel that was so dirty it looked like it was only gonna make his hands worse. You couldn't help but study the way his body moved, how he looked in his work clothes, and how his muscles were contracting as he attempted to clean off the grime. Jesus Christ you need to get a hold of yourself, you thought.

What you didn't notice was he was doing the same to you, looking you up and down searching for a reason as to why you were here. It wasn't until a breeze blew through the garage, that he realized he didn't only smell the dense forest and the various scents of the garage. It carried a faint smell of vanilla and lavender. But it wasn't just that, it was mixed with pine and rosemary. He bristled at the realization, the unique combination meant one thing and one thing only. It had been weeks since he last saw you there’s no way his scent would hang out on you that long unless…

Suddenly nothing else mattered except what you had to say. He wanted to help, to try and make the situation better. So he started to speak, to try and break this ice. But just like you had done weeks prior you beat him to the punch.

“I’m pregnant”.

The visible look of relief caused him to calm down, the last thing he wanted in this situation was for you to be stressed out. And the thought of you being so scared to talk to him broke his heart a little bit if he was being honest.

“Is it mine?”.

Paul could have ended it all in that moment. Why was he like this?

He knew it was his, he had definitive proof, and he chose to play the idiot and make the woman who was carrying his child feel worse than she already did.

“What the hell are you suggesting Paul? Yes it's yours, I wouldn't be telling you if it wasn't”. You crossed your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable and exposed. The confidence meter has fully run out.

“Yeah no yeah. That um makes sense, I’m sorry. That was a real jackass thing to say. Of course you wouldn't tell me if it wasn't mine”. Paul rubbed the back of his neck as he rambled, avoiding eye contact with you. The magic inside of him was screaming at him, his instincts to protect almost taking over what little composure he held.

He hadn't planned on telling you about the bond you shared. At least not for a while.

You were still kinda new to town, and it wasn't fair to derail your life because you had decided to be a kind person and drop Emily off just a few weeks after you had moved. The bond had set in that day, as he was leaving Emily’s house and heading out to his truck. His eyes had darted up upon hearing Em’s voice and what he hadn't expected was to almost fall flat on his face.

Because for a split second, the two of you made eye contact, it was fleeting and you had returned your eyes to your friend immediately. It had meant nothing to you and everything to him.

Since that day he vowed to protect you but also to not act selfish and to allow you to make your own decisions. Which is why he couldn't help but feel horrible. He had ruined your life.

Paul thinks back to that night, running his mind over every minute, had you been drunk? He had only used that as an excuse to drive you home. But if you had been too intoxicated to make coherent decisions he would never forgive himself.

“Yeah that was a real jackass thing to say”, you sniffled proud of yourself for not bursting out into heavy sobs. Because in all honesty while it felt like a physical blow hearing him question your morals he was handling the situation better than you would have if you were in his position. It was a fair question, you had only slept together once.

The next few minutes seemed to pass slowly. After standing there basking in the awkward silence he told you to wait a second and walked into the attached office. You did as he said, too nervous to take the opportunity and leave. He returned a few moments later with much cleaner hands and a small smile graced his face. God, how you were growing to love that smile.

“Boss told me to head out for the day, don't worry I only told him that I need to take a certain pretty girl out to lunch”, he sent you a wink as he slammed the lid on the toolbox down. Your cheeks grew warm at the compliment, even with how pg it was. I mean this man got you pregnant but him calling you pretty had your chest hammering.

His hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked, ushering you out of the garage so he could lower the bay door. Once it was down he turned to face you with a smirk replacing the kind smile from earlier.

“Come on doll, looks like I gotta feed my baby mama”. He howled with laughter as the small tinge of red on your cheeks turned into your whole face going crimson. “Oh this is gonna be fun”, he said through his laughs.

His warmth on your skin brought you back to that state of peace that you remembered so fondly. You let him lead you towards his truck, thanking him as he shut your door.

As Paul jogged to the driver's side a smile fought against the smirk. This wasn't how he pictured everything going but he wasn't mad. It wasn't like he got some random girl pregnant, no he got you pregnant. And while you may believe that you were just a random girl to him that was not how he felt. But he wasn't going to tell you that, at least not right now. The last thing he wanted to do was stress you out even more than you already were.

So he was going to wait.

He could learn to be content with you being in his life as a girlfriend, or even just the mother of his child. And when the time was right he would tell you.

But for now, he could wait.

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twice-in-a-blue-moon · 6 months ago

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Solomon x GN! reader

Warning: suggestive

Minors DNI!

It's too early in the morning as you mindlessly shuffle your way to the kitchen with the smell of coffee in the air coaxing you along. Being one of two occupants in the dormitory leads you to the conclusion that Solomon's already awake.

Your foot hardly makes it past the threshold, immediately stopping as your eyes land on him -- back turned towards you, leaning over the counter rubbing his eyes with a yawn while he waits for the coffee to brew. The only thing adorning this body is a pair of boxer briefs, so that means you're getting quite the eyeful of his glorious pact marks.

What a wonderful morning already.

As quietly as you can, you sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around him. His muscles tense at the sudden touch, though he quickly relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Good morning," he says in a deep, raspy morning voice that drives you to near insanity. You can almost hear the smile in his words, knowing it's already made his morning just by being in your arms.

You place a little kiss on his shoulder. "Good morning to you, Sol."

That's when your hands begin to wander along his torso, feeling the smooth skin beneath your own, following all the little dips and curves. You go so far as to push your hands beneath the waistline of his boxers so your palms lay flat against his hip bones. You notice Solomon's breathing growing heavier from your exploring.

He chuckles lowly, "what are you doing?"

"Mm," you hum as you continue to pepper kisses along his shoulders and up the nape of his neck, while your hands rub up and down the sides of his pelvis, "just appreciating the morning's gifts."

This makes him groan softly and his arousal to grow steadily.

"You know what you're doing. And it makes me want to do more than just appreciate you." Solomon turns to grab a hold of your hips, spinning you around until you're pushed against the counter he'd been previously leaning on.

You're stuck between two forces who do not intend to budge, a rock and a hard man...place, if you will.

His face draws in closer to yours, his breath fanning across your skin and the warmth of his lips brushing against your own. There's a fire burning in his eyes that almost feels misplaced, as if the deep blue within them could drown out anything that wasn't soft admiration for you. But it's a look you've seen before, one you'd gladly see over and over.

A sly grin tugs on your lips as you decide to push him one last time, knowing what's to come if you do.

Your hands slide up along his broad shoulders before letting your fingers travel down to the pact mark that's occupying the area of his collarbone. Then, out of nowhere, your tongue makes contact with his salty skin, tracing along the lines of the pact mark in a fluid motion. Solomon's knees nearly buckle as he shudders from your intimate touch.

"Fuck it. You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you." he growls, pinning you harder against the counter, and grabbing your face between needy hands to smash his hungry lips against yours.

Indeed. What an even better morning it's become.

#this was honestly an excuse to write about his pact marks mm yum~#i've had this in my drafts for MONTHS jesus someone needs to hound me to clean these bitches out!#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #obey me suggestive #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon smut #solomon smut #jo writes spice

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rinky-dinky-dink · 16 days ago

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Star Sanses But There's More Of Them

Figured I would make a sort of master post for my Star Sanses interpretation! This is just an idea I'm playing around with, I don't plan on making a proper storyline for them at the moment. Just me exploring characters!

Long post ahead-

General:

All five members have star badges, per Blue's insistence ("So they look more like a team!" Ink liked the idea of them all sharing a design element, and Sugarplum thought the idea was fun, so Dream and Red were outvoted). The badges are equippable items to give each member a bit of a boost in combat (exact stats have yet to be decided).

Combat:

The five of them end up a pretty efficient team in fights, especially against Nightmare's Gang (plus Error sometimes). Even when Dream is occupied fully with Nightmare, and Ink's attention is on Error - Blue, Red, and Sugarplum manage to hold their own even as incodes. Combat roles (per the rules of DnD, for no real reason) are as follows:

Dream is the leader, he maintains party focus and morale, and generally decides the strategy going into a fight. His ability to sense the feelings of others allows him to monitor his teammates even during combat, so he can call for a retreat if necessary. (Switches to/also serves controller role, when needed.)

Ink is the group's striker, he's fast and he hits hard with precision, but it can be difficult for him to focus on more than one enemy at a time. Stays up close to the opponents, falls back behind the others on occasion to refill his paints or regain his bearings. (When fully necessary, he can use his brush to take broader strokes and serve as controller with color coded AoE attacks. Can serve as leader in extremely rare situations, but that's not nearly as fun, so he's content to let Dream do it.)

Blue is the defender, he's the tankiest of the group despite his shorter stature. He has the highest base defense of the group's three incodes, since he's essentially a Papyrus. Not much aggression in combat, preferring to help cover the others as they attack. (Can switch to striker role, if necessary.)

Red is the controller of the group, his bones and blasters let him cover a wide area from a safer distance. His stats still aren't great, so he hangs back from up close combat, and relies on Blue to help maintain the distance, especially when he gets tired and needs a bit of time to recover.

Sugarplum is also a controller, technically speaking. He focuses less on direct combat and more on effects, usually ACTing to lower an opponent's AT, DF, or speed. He also hangs back from direct fighting most of the time, and heals the others (mostly Blue) when their HP gets too low.

General Team Dynamics:

Dream: The leader of the group, as agreed by everyone else. He's friendly and easy to get along with, so he serves as a good "face" for the team. (Ink also thinks Dream having his own "gang" is a fun parallel to Nightmare!) Keeps the group on track when on missions, when the others' antics (affectionate) threaten to veer them off course. He's nervous about the responsibility this sort of role comes with, and whether or not his aura is skewing his teammates' evaluation of him as a leader, but he's determined to do his best.

Ink: Local menace. Bastard. Usually the cause/intigator of the team's distractions. Here to have a good time, occasionally at the expense of others. Sends cursed memes to the team groupchat at 3am. Luckily the others don't mind his sense of humor (Red thinks he's funny as hell sometimes), and Blue's general enthusiasm usually just serves as fuel to his fire. Will randomly give his teammates a thoughtful gift (a trinket he found somewhere that reminded him of them), and then steal food off their plate before they can say "thank you." Overall he's having a good time, and the others have just accepted this weird eldritch paint skeleton on their team.

Blue: Underswap Sans! As peppy as ever, always there to cheer on his friends and tell them he believes in them. Tends to get caught up in his own excitement sometimes, but means well! His ability to befriend even the more hostile residents of the multiverse makes him the glue of the team, keeping everyone together and on the same page even when Dream and Ink argue, or Red is a bit too abraisive. Since being exposed to the multiverse and joining the team, he's changed his focus from being a royal guard back home, to being a hero alongside his friends. There are people to be helped, and he's found the recognition he's always wanted but couldn't quite achieve back home. He's still technically a sentry back in Snowdin, and still has to return relatively frequently to keep the whole multiverse thing under wraps, but his brother helps cover for his absence. (Papyrus isn't super fond of the whole concept, especially not Ink, but he supports his brother 100%.)

Red: Underfell Sans! The designated grump of the group, he still hasn't really shaken off the defensive habits he learned from back home. The "tough guy" of the Stars, he's generally not a bad guy once you get past that wall he keeps up. Is steadily improving, unlearning a lifetime of defensiveness and distrust is difficult. (His jacket is heavy, and he would drop it over a teammate's shoulders in lieu of a weighted blanket if they needed it though. Just don't go spreading those kinds of rumors about him.) Has not told his brother about his multiverse-hopping escapades with the other Stars, partially out of worry that his universe will start bleeding out into more peaceful ones. He's dodging that particular conversation with everything he has.

Sugarplum: Underlust Sans! Doesn't really live in his own universe anymore, spends 99% of his time in the Omega Timeline. Doesn't like to talk about his universe, dodges any questions in relation to it (luckily in multiversal etiquette it's considered rude to ask questions about someone's universe, unless invited to do so). Didn't start out as much of a fighter, and still doesn't quite match up to the other Stars, but he can hold his own in a pinch. All the fighting and training and running around burns energy, which helps keep his soul from acting up. Wine aunt energy, always up to date on drama in the OT. Generally pretty chill, with an easygoing attitude that lets him help Blue smooth things over when conflicts arise in the team. Drinking buddies with Red, can relate to having a messed up universe he'd rather not discuss.

~~~~~~~~~

Dream -> @/jokublog Ink -> @/comyet Blue -> @/popcornpr1nce Red -> @/underfell Sugarplum -> @/nsfwshamecave

#utmv #ssbtmot #star sanses #dream sans #ink sans #underswap sans #underfell sans #underlust sans #rambling #masterpost #big big post

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kujoestars · 6 months ago

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The Mechanism of Kafka's Transformation and How It Affects Him

(Crossposting my analysis/theory from Reddit. Also, warning: this post contains both anime and manga spoilers so beware if you are anime-only)

So, something that drove me nuts about the manga's version of the X-ray scene was the fact that there was literally no difference from a normal human chest x-ray. The anime THANK GOODNESS fixed that:

We finally know exactly how Kafka's core looks while he's in human form. It appears to be primarily occupying where the chambers would be with a good amount of myocardium (the heart muscles) suspending it while also continuing to function as a heart.

Notably for me, there's actually a translucent hemicircle up top there where it's supposed to connect to the aorta. In fact, you can see the core is translucent on its left (our right) side while more opaque to its right (our left).

Let me highlight it for reference I hope y'all appreciate the fact I had to do it with a mouse on MSPaint because Reddit won't save images to drafts and I can't drop images from tablet like on desktop:

It appears that Kafka's heart was fully converted and the tissue there is just a facsimile since it appears to be forming a pouch for the core to nestle in.

The anime's expansion of the scene the Mysterious Larva/Young Yoju fused with Kafka ended up perfectly tying in to this. Something I noticed was that Kafka was not actually transforming for most of it. Initially he was clutching at his throat where it entered:

Then just before the transformation started (when his eyes started glowing), he was clawing desperately at his chest:

For reference to anyone who's never studied anatomy, the mid-esophagus is actually resting against the heart, which is why the best form of imaging for the heart is a transesophageal echocardiogram (i.e. stick an ultrasound down the esophagus), which works like in this diagram:

In other words, the Larva's target was his heart and it was burrowing into it from that point. Which is consistent with where Kafka was clawing at in the shot I posted before and why after the change completed, his hand was resting just above that area:

Basically, the theory I have been saving specifically for after this episode is: Everything about Kafka's body is tied to the core.

Yes, that was obvious since we saw him regenerate his entire body from just the core, but what I'm saying here is that that the heart was the only thing the Larva was trying to fuse with. The rest of the body followed instantaneously once the heart became a core. Kaiju cores appear to be storing a lot of energy, so it would fit in with why even the initial change could happen so rapidly. It was a large burst of energy that had Kafka's cells all convert and restructure, and we even see steam coming both off and out of him here in the anime.

All future changes seem to be purely a matter of him controlling every cell in his body like individual muscles or even like how cuttlefish and octopi are able to change their appearance in an instant from muscle contractions and chromatophores.

In other words, the evidence has stacked to full OVERKILL that Kafka is truly a kaiju that can shapeshift into a human rather than the reverse like he and everyone else prefers to think.

Which leads me to my big pet theory right now: the reason Kafka is losing his ability to revert to human form is because he's becoming malnourished. I won't stack the image evidence since I've already done enough and the focus is on the core and Kafka's real biological nature now (I'll save that for a future post, lol), but it only stands to reason that if Kafka is physiologically a kaiju regardless of form, that means he has the metabolic needs of a kaiju.

He was only fine before because he had a lot of extra body fat as reserves and didn't use his kaiju form much. But after entering the Defense Force, he's been in multiple situations where he had to push himself while transformed and consume much more energy. If you pay attention to his body type, you'll notice he's been having quite a bit of weight loss.

Sure, he's been training a lot too and eating better, but following the fight with Isao, he's becoming abnormally thin. Maybe not enough for people to immediately think he needs a sandwich, but as of the latest chapters, I've noticed he's actually pretty lanky now even in kaiju form when previously Kaiju No. 8 was built like a bear.

You could argue it's just art evolution EXCEPT literally no one else had such a drastic change in body type or AT ALL. I'm pretty convinced this is an intentional transition from Matsumoto.

Whatever Kafka is eating as a human, it's not enough to sustain him long term and so his body is going into power save mode. And since his default is kaiju (why else would he constantly slip up his first few months if it wasn't actually his default form?), his body is losing its ability to shapeshift because it doesn't have the energy to. Malnourishment tends to manifest in a similarly piecemeal fashion irl, so I'm not surprised its first sign is just one spot on his hand.

Such a deceptively simple reason for the kaijufication is precisely why I'm very certain that is the cause. Kafka has a lot of issues with loving and taking care of himself. And this series is all about subverting tropes in favor of common sense. It's not some "inner demon" trying to take over (the Larva actually only did that once because Kafka was both in danger and refusing to fight back what it perceived as another daikaiju); Kafka just isn't taking care of himself as usual!

And there you have it, folks. Finally, a clear breakdown of what exactly the Larva did, how the transformations work, and why the kaijufication may not be as scary as everyone thinks. Or rather....not in the way they think. Someone please feed that kaiju properly!

#kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #kn8 spoilers #kn8 analysis #kn8 meta #kafka hibino #mysterious larva #mysterious young yoju #kaiju

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cod-sins · 1 year ago

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Heyyyy. I loved ur konig hcs! 💕. Can we get hcs for Ghost/ konig ab what they would do if they’re civilian s/o was getting stalked while they were away and they call them asking what to do ? xx

.ೃ࿐ Format: Hcs

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Undisclosed. Established relationship.

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW

.ೃ࿐ Word Count: 1.2k

[A/N: Hey anon thank you so much for requesting this, it was so much fun to write I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. :) Also Ghost is more of a full fic than a headcanon sorrey got carried away. 😋]

𝑮𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻

Ghost was stuck in a safehouse somewhere in the deserts of Mexico waiting for his rescue team to come pick him up. He was absolutely done with this mission, having to carry around 30 extra pounds of military gear in the scorching heat just to eliminate a "single fucking target" was no joke. He'd much rather be at home in his flat, throwing something on the telly [lol] and laying around with you. He smiles at that thought.

He checked his watch. 1435 read the time. '3 more hours.' He thought. Three more hours until he arrived back at the base. Three more hours until he makes it to the airport. He glanced up at the ceiling his mind filled with all the things you were gonna say to him, how you would fuss over his injuries and insist on him relaxing in the bath while you cooked for him. He plays out these thoughts in his head until his mind becomes hazy and he begins to fall asleep.

Ghost is a fairly light sleeper so the first time you called he answered immediately.

"Hello?" "Ghost! I'm so sorry I know you said not to call you unless it's an emergency but there's this guy who has been following me around all day and I- "Y/N slow down I can't understand you." He said calmly despite his heart starting to beat faster.

You took a deep breath and resumed. "I was at the grocery store earlier and I noticed this guy who kept following me around. Every single aisle I went down he was there, even after I left the store he kept following me. I don't know what to do he's still waiting for me to leave this building." Your voice trembled as you spoke.

Ghost could feel his blood beginning to boil as you talked. The mere thought of someone trying to harass you or even worse hurt you drove him crazy. He should be there protecting you not waiting around.

"Alright, I want you to listen to me carefully and do exactly as I tell you, do you understand? Do not hang up this phone Y/N. First I want you to tell me where he is and what he's doin'."

You told Ghost the man's location--he was outside across the street pretending to be occupied by a street vendor. He kept glancing at the shop you were hiding in.

"Right listen carefully, I want you to make your way to the closest bank the one we always use. Stay in populated areas where people can see you do not take any shortcuts. Don't go down any alleyways don't give him the opportunity to have you alone. Once you make it to the bank talk to the security guard and tell 'em what's happening. Make sure you point the guy out."

You agree and with a shaky hand you grab your bags and make your way outside. The stalker takes notice of this and begins his pursuit. You hastily make your way to the bank--updating Ghost with every step. As soon as you make it inside you talk to the security guard and tell him your situation. He immediately calls the police which scares the man off while they escort you back home in a police car.

As soon as this whole ordeal is over Ghost forces you to take self-defense classes. He would also like it if you knew how to work a gun but if you weren't comfortable with that he'd opt for getting a dog instead. (Plus he's quite fond of the animal.) He just wants you to be safe he couldn't stand the thought of losing you. ):

𝑲ö𝒏𝒊𝒈

All you wanted to do was go home and fall asleep in you and König's California-sized bed. You had a long grueling day; dealing with shitty customers who thought they were entitled to everything and awful coworkers who barely did their job forcing you to work overtime and pick up on their slack. Whilst working you accidentally burnt yourself cleaning the coffee machine because your boss had distracted you to ask if you could close shop tonight.

You were so busy walking home that you didn't notice the man behind you following your every step. It was only when you tripped and dropped your bag--all your items spiling out that you realized that he was there. He quickly stepped in helping you pick up your items despite your initial rejection.

He was very adamant about helping you even though it was clear you were uncomfortable with the situation. Quickly thanking him you began speeding up your walk while fumbling around for your phone. You glanced back and noticed he was still following you. The sun had begun to set and the remaining light was slowly fading away. Your car was in the shop so you were forced to walk home at night.

You glanced back once more and saw that he was still behind you even though you had taken multiple turns and crossed several different streets. Starting to feel anxious you dialed your boyfriend. It took him a few moments to answer which felt like years to you.

"Hallo?" A tired voice spoke from the phone. The sound of his voice instantly filled you with comfort almost making you forget about the situation you were in. "König I'm sorry to wake you I need your help, there's some dude who won't stop following me. I don't wanna go home yet because I don't want him to know where we live. It's starting to get dark out and my phone is gonna die." You said sounding exasperated. The sound of shuffling could be heard over the phone as you continued down the street.

"Where are you now?" His demeanor had completely changed sounding more gruff and serious. You stammered out your location telling him specific landmarks. A theater, a bar, and a park across the street. König instructs you to head to the bar first, 'get lost in the crowd' he told you. 'Then go out the back way and head to the park.' You do as you're told hovering down while you squeeze between heavily intoxicated people. You make it outside the bar then hurry across the street.

It's now completely dark out and without any light it's hard to see inside the park. "I want you to go hide in the park behind the bushes where he can't see. Stay low turn off your phone light and be quiet." König continues to instruct you as you find a hiding spot. You watch as the man leaves the bar, he walks a few feet down then he turns around still not able to find you.

Once he realizes you're completely gone he curses and stomps his foot then marches off into the distance. You cringe at the thought of what he would do to you if he found you. König brings you back to reality asking if you're alright, you tell him your status and he makes you stay on the phone until you've made it back home.

Similar to Ghost, König would also want you to learn self-defense maneuvers, he'd teach you himself (because he's so big he makes a good example) and he'd equip you with your own knife. König would also give you pepper spray and a whistle and a tactical flashlight. You'd have to stop him at the flashlight or else he'd have you lugging around military gear like Ghost.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Inbox: OPEN

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styllwaters · 1 year ago

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KNIGHT ETHNIC GROUPS, ORDERS AND CULTURES: A GUIDE

MAP OF ETTERA (Knight Homeplanet)

Standard map [continents shown]

Regional map [territories shown]

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

I have here a weeks worth of writing and art because I for some reason enjoy torturing myself! I've been slaving away at this for so long but it's finally done and polished. So! As promised, I'm gonna talk a bit about the different Knight cultures/ethnicities, territories and general social structure.

Knights are one of my alien sophont civilisations from my Vivere 44 headworld. Here are more links from my previous posts:

Introductory post

Knight deities

Knight languages and names

With that being said, worldbuilding textwalls below the cut!

____

First, an explanation of the maps.

CONTINENTS

There are three main continents on Ettera. The two polar landmasses are Thannoeh in the northern end and Nahrui in the southern end. Thannoeh is divided by east and west, and is home to the two major Polar Knight nations. Nahrui is not occupied by any, aside from explorers or scientists. For many Knights, it is a strange, enigmatic land and a topic of great curiosity. In the middle is Val-srat; the central continent inhabited by Mountain and Plains Knights. The landmass is named as such because it is often represented in folklore as a Knight, with Valazear (the ‘Host’) being the southern Plains territories and Srati (the ‘Helmet’) being the northern Mountain territories. The Ihmna Stretch is the section of land connecting the two countries - ‘Ihmna’ is the Ferhahti word for the Integrator organ which joins the host and helmet’s consciousness.

Plant life on Ettera takes on hues of red and orange.

____

Before I get into the different ethnicities, I should elaborate more on how Knight Orders are structured and the different titles; some of the clothing articles are specific to status.

SOCIAL STRUCTURE

Most Knights live in groups called ‘Orders’, which I talked more about in this ask.

The standard roles for an Order are as follows:

Commander - Makes decisions, protects and supports the group. Commanders lead the Order across difficult terrain, plan out hunts, and take care of their members. A Commander might be chosen based on generational succession, experience, or strength. Depending on the rules of the Order, a Commander might be challenged by a Knight who desires their position, although only an elite or lieutenant would be permitted to do this. In more traditional and conservative orders Commanders are always Pike-forts.

Lieutenant - Second in command. The Lieutenant is the Commander’s primary advisor and runs the Order when they are unable to. A Commander may train their lieutenant to one day take their place as leader, or a lieutenant might serve multiple generations of Commanders without ever challenging them.

Elites - A selection of Knight soldiers who are exceptionally experienced, strong and fast. Highly respected by the rest of the Order and carry out important duties such as organisation. They have the highest chance of being the next lieutenant or Commander.

Soldiers - The main body of the Order, fully grown Knights who are proficient in all the skills necessary for survival. Soldiers are tasked with a variety of jobs to keep the Order healthy and running: they are also farmers, medics, entertainers, strategists, builders, etc.

Scouts - Scouts are Knights who make reconnaissance trips for the Order. Their job is to gather information about a potential area to settle or travel through. Scouts also have a range of other responsibilities, such as acting as lookouts, messengers, and taking care of Pages.

There are two types of Scouts - temporary and permanent. Temporary scouts are Squires (16-17 years) who have completed their training and are performing Expeditions, which they are required to do before becoming a full soldier. On Expeditions two or three Scouts will travel a certain distance away from the Order, sometimes miles away, to deliver goods to other Orders or to simply evaluate an area/route. Permanent scouts are lower-ranked Knights who are unable to become Soldiers, prefer a caretaker role, or have been relegated to the position.

Squires - Knights in training. Squires learn from a Soldier assigned to teach them. They may be tutored one-on-one, or taught in a group. They learn the ways of the Order and the world around them. Squires will often be assigned small hunting trips with their tutor, or cleaning jobs. Typically aged 7-15 years.

Pages - The youth of the Order, Knights aged 0-6 years. The pages are fiercely protected by every member of the Order. A newborn Helmet or Host will stay with their birth parent/s until they have assimilated, in which care duty is passed on to a permanent Scout. The Scout raises the Pages alongside several others until they are ready to become Squires.

This structure originated from Mountain Orders and spread to Plains and Polar regions a long time ago. Of course, not every Order follows this plan exactly, and there are countless variations. Some Knights don't live in Orders at all, and may live in pairs (which is common for travelling merchants and explorers) or small groups. Very rarely, a Knight may travel alone. This is the case for exiles.

____

You may already be familiar with the Mountain, Plains and Polar Knight regional varieties, but within these subspecies are various ethnic groups.

THE ETHNICITIES

✦ MOUNTAIN ✦

✦ Ferhahti [Ferhaht]

The Ferhahti Knights are an ethnic group located in the Ferhaht territory of Srati. Their thick fur is of various shades of grey and grey-blue. Their clothing styles are typically beige and tan, often complete with rectangular tassels and red accents. The Ferhahti have a ‘New Years’ festival called Khulaam in which they call upon Etteran spirits to bless them with good harvests, hunting and rain. During these festivals there is music, food, dancing and socialising with others. Allied Orders, usually 2-5, will come together to celebrate. Celebrations last five days. Alliances may be temporary or long-lasting, but the Orders will go on a hunt on the final day to bring down a large quarry. Oftentimes there will be a ‘Herald’ dancer who bears a flag on their horn, depicting glyphs of good fortune.

Since the Ferhahti and Kaata territories are neighbouring, and have no physical borders, Orders from both lands will often meet to trade goods and information. Many Plains-Mountain hybrids are of Ferhahti and Kaata descent due to the close proximity of the nations.

NOTE: Plains and Mountain Knights are capable of producing hybrid offspring, although they will be infertile. Neither Plains nor Mountain Knights can produce viable hybrids with Polar Knights.

✦ Fejga [Fejg]

Fejga Knights (pronounced Fej-ya) make their home in the Fejg archipelago. They are generally of a bulkier physique than other Mountain Knights, have a coat of thick fur and are well adjusted to chillier climates. They also sport a ‘saddle’ marking on their backs and are likely to have mottled/freckled patterns and blue eyes. Their Orders are partially seafaring, with many sailing from island to island in magnificent ships. Fishing is a large part of their lifestyles as the sea provides a stable source of food.

Their clothes are frequently made from leather and wool from domesticated animals. It is deceptively thin, as their pelts already provide natural insulation from the cold. Fejga Commanders wear three silver piercings on their Helmets.

✦ Svunacht [Svun]

Svunacht Knights live within the mountain-bordered territory of Svun and the island of Naahek. Orders have a special ceremony for choosing their Commander. The next in line, usually a chosen Host and Helmet born of the previous Commander and their partner, must journey across the Asall mountain range which borders Svun. It is a treacherous, long passage, and requires the Knight to wear a mask to block out the searing winds. They must also wear a spiked collar as a traditional accessory and safety measure to deter larger predators which roam the mountains. They are forbidden from carrying firearms, only armed with a knife, their wits, and natural defences. Ceremonial garments are required, passed down through generations, and three slips of fabric are worn on their horn for good luck: representing strength, wisdom and tenacity. The journey, called the Meha, is the final step in a long series of rigorous training for future successors.

The painting of Helmets is also a large part of Svunacht culture. It is typically only reserved for Commanders, Lieutenants or Elites.

★ PLAINS ★

★ Kaata [Kaat]

Kaata Knight Orders inhabit the deserts of Kaat. They are perfectly suited to desert life, their tan coats reducing heat absorbed from the sun. Kaata Knights make their clothing from woven fibres of plants that are garnished with gold pigments derived from a natural mineral found in the sands. They are especially known for their proficiency in fine crafts, and often trade jewellery to Ferhahti Orders across the Ihmna Stretch connecting Kaat and Ferhaht. Kaata clothing tends to be highly detailed and ornamental, with shiny beads adorning arm cuffs, necklaces, mandible rings and horn sleeves. The many gemstone and fossil deposits in Kaat are also incorporated into their styles. Like the Svunacht Knights, Kaata also paint their Helmets, although the practice is not restricted to any particular titles.

★ Saisala [Saisal]

Saisala Knights live in and around the deltas and rivers of Saisal, the southernmost territory of Val-srat. The area is filled with marshlands and everglades, and the weather is more wet and humid than the dry plains of Kaat. Saisala forts sport a dark reddish mane that grows right down their backs and bears some resemblance to maned wolves. Their pikes have hooked horns and sloping spines, as well as more ‘splotchy’ red stripes. Their Helmet eyes also have a pale ring around their pupils.

Saisala clothing styles are characterised by draping, ovular shapes and translucent sections of fabric. The green and gold drapes in the drawing are traditional wedding garments, complete with rounded tassels and a horn extension for pikes. The hanging ‘coins’ have engravings which tell a short but sweet poem.

★ Yaemioui [Yaemiou]

Yaemioui Orders live in a similar environment to Saisala Knights, in the wetland territories of Yaemiou. Their coats are pale like Kaata, but come in a greater combination of hues such as orange, grey and vermilion. Fun fact: all Plains Host pups are born with faint spots to help them camouflage, like lion cubs. Most lose these markings as they grow older, but Yaemioui hosts retain them even in adulthood. Their patterns are similar to painted dogs. The Yaemioui have a rich storytelling culture and have records dating back thousands of years.

Their clothing styles utilise dusky, non-bright colours that are usually two-piece. The outfit in the picture is worn by an elder Pike-fort who has carried and sired many offspring. The spine extensions are an indicator of age and experience, and a mark of high respect. The scarf around their neck depicts circles symbolising their Helmet children, and the circles on the larger cloth represent their Host progeny.

★ Balkzaiinu [Balkzaii]

On the island of Balkzaii reside the Balkzaiinu Knights, who have dark stripes on both their Hosts and Helmets and short curly fur. Unlike other Orders, Balkzaiinu communities rarely ever hunt - they were one of the first countries to develop farming and agriculture, and import a lot of domesticated animals to Saisal and Yaemiou. They are also the only country that has no Commanders in their Orders, and decisions are made by a council of higher-ups. They live in a tropical climate which receives lots of rainfall and cyclones. They are also masters in boat making and sailing, and contacted the mainland several centuries ago. Balkzaiinu have different decency standards than other Plains Knights, and in their culture it is considered proper to cover the neck area. Their clothing is generally layered and contains colourful, square designs.

✧ POLAR ✧

✧ Aikka [Ehtte Thannoeh]

Aikka Knights have domain over the Eastern section of Thannoeh. The polar word for East is Ehtte, and West Uesse. Since the country is so close to the Fegj archipelago, the two have been in contact for a long time.

Aikka have pristine white fur and a slightly bluish tinge to their Helmets. As with all Polar Knights, they are much smaller than their Plains or Mountain relatives, but are incredibly tough and hardy as a result of surviving in one of the harshest biomes. Ehtte Thannoeh is associated with scientific prowess, discovery and knowledge, and many famous Knight explorers are from Thannoeh. There are several research stations on Nahrui that are run and managed by Aikka; they have no difficulty working in the icy environment. Aikka Knights are also experts in carving, sculpting figurines and charms from the ivory tusks of marine animals. The outfit depicted in the drawing shows an Aikka Scout wearing a pendant with a carved basilosaurus-like animal for spiritual protection. These pendants are often given by parents to children. Their coat has six pockets for navigational instruments, goggles, knives, a spyglass, medical equipment and more.

✧ Myet [Uesse Thannoeh]

Myet Orders have less contact with other regions than Aikka. Residing in Uesse Thannoeh, Many of them live further inland. Myet Hosts have a more yellowish tinge to their fur and their Pike Helmets have a tan stripe. The Helmets also have a more rounded 'snout'. They have managed to domesticate a large predator which defends their camps and is used as a mount/companion. Like the Balkzaiinu, Myet Orders have a different structure than most, having two Commanders, usually a mated pair, and no lieutenants or elites.

Myet clothing is more minimal than Aikka styles. They usually cover the back with a ‘saddle’ and manipulators with gloves. The outfit drawn is of a Commander, distinguished by the ring of fabric around their horn and eye makeup. In their backpack they carry hunting weapons, and wear a knife sheathed at their side.

_________________

And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading, this project is truly a delight to work on. I leave you with some messy concept art I did a while ago for Mountain Knight clothing styles.

#read my lore boy #i got some asks about people wanting to make knight ocs which inspired me to finish this haha #vivere 44 #speculative biology #spec bio #spec evo #speculative evolution #worldbuilding #writing #my art #art #illustration #artists on tumblr #knights #xenobiology #is this enough tags

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sovietpostcards · 1 year ago

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Russian State Library

The biggest library in Russia and one of the biggest in the world. It was designed in late 1920s, soon after the birth of the new Soviet state, and fully finished in the 1950s. In includes 4 buildings and one 19-floor book repository. There are several reading halls, a cafe, and a whole bunch of book-filled nooks and crannies.

I'm writing this post sitting in the library's biggest reading hall - Reading Hall No. 3. It was opened in 1957 and still retains most of the original furniture and design (only there are now individual power sockets in every desk). Most of the tables are occupied by people with books and laptops. It's very quiet.

The book depository is a huge building that rises high above everything else in this historical area. It had 10 floors originally, each 5m high, but later it was divided into 19 smaller floors. We visited one of the floors. I was impressed to see that the windows are made out of Falconnier glass blocks (made specially for the library in Gus Khrustalny).

There are two automated delivery systems in the library: one delivers readers' orders into the depository (pneumatic tubes) and the other delivers books back to the reader (monorail). We had a chance to see both of them in action, very impressive! They also kept a bit of the old book delivery system that worked from 1953 until 2015. I saw it on pictures before, and it was great to see the granny in real life. :) There are a lot of "grannies" in the library, from the green lamps to rotary phones to wall clocks. The pneumatic tube system has been in place since 1975. People whose job is to preserve books are very likely to preserve everything else.

I loved this anecdote. In one of the reading halls, there's a big painting of Lenin (pictured below). Apparently it was put in place in mid-1950s to cover the bas-relief that was there originally. On the bas-relief there are Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin. After Stalin's death in 1953 and debunking the cult of personality, images of him were quickly removed from everywhere. The library, being true preservers of history, kept theirs but covered it up. It just shows what kind of people librarians are. :)

Although the library is working on running a full digital catalogue of all their 48 million items, if you want access to older editions you'll probably need to use the old paper card catalogue. The room gave me major nostalgy - I remember using this kind of catalogue in my local library when I was a kid. The sound of pulling out a narrow box, then the little built-in table, going through the cards one by one, writing down what you need on library cards. It was a whole process! Of course, the local library's catalogue was WAY smaller.

A few more shots of interiors. Although the building itself was designed in 1920s (during the era of avantgarde and art deco), the interiors were mostly done in 1950s when the main design style was neo classicism.

I enjoyed this tour immensely, so much so that I had to go back and get a library card so I can see more of it, sit in every reading hall and drink a cup of tea in the marble hall cafeteria. Also, the idea of 48 million books at the tip of my fingers makes me giddy. Thank you to my followers for the monetary support and making this real for me: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

#it's a great place to work #i wrote this post finally #libraries #russia

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year ago

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hi!!!! I love your writing so much and I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I'm in the hospital at the moment and it isn't the best weekend of my life!! thinking about if reader got injured and aaron got the phone call that she was in hospital?? thank u!!!

collisions

:( i'm so sorry to hear that oh my gosh, i hope you're alright, recover quickly, and can leave hopefully soon <33 cw; car accident, description of injuries - reader is mildly hurt, anxious aaron

what started as a calm workday, changed with one phone call.

you had been in a multi-car accident, a string of rear-ended collisions, the slick roads all to blame. an ice storm had rattled the area unexpectedly, coating all roadways and making all driving conditions hazardous to the extreme.

aaron had been in the roundtable room with the team, debriefing, when his phone began buzzing, the vibration lightly shaking the surface of the table. caller id read the name of the local hospital, resulting in all color leaving his face. he got up so rapidly a few sheets of paperwork wafted to the floor.

deep in his gut, he immediately knew it had to be in regards to you. the feeling was too intense to be anything else, and god he hoped his intuition was wrong.

but just his luck, it wasn't; he didn't receive much information during the call, just that they were contacting him as your emergency contact, and that there had been an accident with you stuck in the middle. the state of your injuries, he didn't know.

by the time the call ended, dave had trailed out behind in concern, following with the simple instruction to 'go.'

the drive frustratedly and understandably took longer, all cars proceeding with caution. the pace only heightened his nerves; his knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping onto the steering wheel, and when stalled within traffic, his wrist rest atop the wheel, his thumb rubbing against his index finger in his self-soothing manner.

if that wasn't enough, the foot not occupied by the gas and brake tapped in place, as if it would somehow speed things along. even during his drive he witnessed several cars nearly slide off the road, felt his own wheels yearn to move to their own accord at times. and each time, he imagined you and how you must've felt. the fear that must've filled you.

you had to be okay.

the prolonged drive also allowed, in his usual self deprecating fashion, much time for him to blame himself; he should've called and insisted you stay home the moment he heard the hard ice pattering against his office windows. he should've driven you himself. he should've done something. anything.

finally aaron arrived at the hospital, mindlessly flashing his fbi credentials at the first desk he found and mentioning your name, and how he had to see you. if showing his badge actually contributed to anything, he wasn't quite sure, he displayed it in an urgent panic, but he was quickly ushered to where you had been recovering.

when you were finally in view, could he finally breathe.

"thank god," he exhaled aloud in relief. you were sitting upright, responsive, chatting quietly with the nurse who had been doting on you.

"aaron," your eyes lit up, his name leaving you in a sigh.

the nurse informed him you had escaped with a mild concussion, a few bruised, but not broken, ribs. as they relayed the details, aaron silently thanked himself he had taken your car to get a tune up before the winter months released their wrath. if he hadn't, the outcome could've been horribly, horribly different.

"sweetheart." he grabbed onto your hands once the nurse left to attend to another patient, bringing the warmth back to them. he could feel the prick of tears behind his eyes, "are you in much pain?"

"i'm fine my love. jus' shaken up." you answered him, nodding your head in further reassurance, in hopes to relieve the distressed expression plastered on his face. but you immediately regretted the subtle movement, wincing heavily as pain tweaked within your ribs.

"don't move too much." his hands shot out to cup your face, his touch extremely tender and gentle, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. he couldn't help but exhale again, "fuck, i'm so glad you're okay."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

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dolicekiss · 5 months ago

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Hi, how are you? I have a request about Le Chiffre. Female reader and her male colleague are undercover agents for MI6 to get Le Chiffre but he found out who they really are and kidnapped them but Le Chiffre wants to give to the female reader a personal interrogation by himself, warning:non-con, what do you think?

Captured

♡: noncon + le chiffre is the perfect combo tbh i love it

cw: smut (18+, mdni please), noncon, kidnapping, torture, death threats, unprotected sex, impact play, breath play, forced kissing, use of restraints, degrading, throat fucking, oral (male receiving), knife play

Staying in the same hotel as Le Chiffre was no coincidence, it was all planned. Being an undercover agent had its own privileges and advantages, such as staying in luxurious hotels at the expense of the Government.

Your counterpart — another agent helped when it came to use of strength while you were the brain. Le Chiffre was your aim and bringing him alive were your orders. Killing him wouldn't do the world any good because of the potent information he kept concealed in his brain.

You flipped through the pages of magazine, looking at the man swimming in the pool through your cartier glasses.

He had his little blonde girlfriend on the side but she was too occupied with tanning to pay attention to Le Chiffre. You, on the other hand, decided to make your move by standing up and sauntering towards the pool.

Unwrapping the shawl from around your hips, you tossed it and then slid into the pool like a snake. Eyeing your prey like a hawk, you swan around in the blue clean water.

Le Chiffre noticed you when you swam, arms moving like a writhing worm. You could feel his gaze on you and you didn't make eye contact, acting oblivious to him but you knew you'd captured his attention. The whole plan was to seduce him, bring him to your hotel room and get your male agent to knock him out.

But things were not as simple as they seemed.

He stared at you, drinking in your appearance.

You were beautiful, that was for sure. Your frame crafted by the hands of gods themselves, skin untainted like a canvas for him to paint on. Hair like some new creature found in the water, swirling around. You were a beauty and you knew that, hence you used it to your advantage.

You had the allure and Le Chiffre felt the attraction bloom.

You pushed yourself under the water, a small grin on your face before twirling and swimming back up to the surface. Your dance was enticing, how swiftly you moved your little body in the water.

You soon left the pool, walking out of the area with a little towel around you. Le Chiffre’s gaze followed you like you were the prey here.

You found your way to your hotel room and when you shut the door, your colleague greeted you.

“How was it?”

You rolled your eyes. “So far it looks like he wants to eat me.”

Your colleague laughed, obviously satisfied that the plan was working. You were the most beautiful of agents the MI6 had, a strong weapon they used to weaken strong and powerful men.

You decided to take a shower, taking your dress inside. After you were finished with the shower, you dressed up and left the bathroom only to find the room deserted. Not thinking much of it, you moved to the vanity and took a seat infro of the mirror.

Your colleague had probably left for downstairs, maybe to work on something.

You didn't pay it mind — your unawareness of the danger making you vulnerable. You reached for the brush to untangle your wet hair and then something in the corner of your eye moved.

A black shadow.

Your head snapped in its direction but to your disappointment, there was nothing. Empty space by the curtain of the balcony.

“I'm definitely stressed.” You whispered to yourself, in hopes of reassuring yourself but your horrors were brought to life when suddenly black clouded your vision.

You weren't even given time to struggle or react — as you were knocked with the hilt of a gun and rendered unconscious.

— ♡ —

Awaken by a splash of cold water across your face, you jolted up and regained consciousness in a split second. Your body shivered as your vision got used to your surroundings.

You felt tightening in your wrists and realized you were tied up, hanging from the ceiling.

“Look who's awake.”

You moved your gaze up to find Le Chiffre standing before you, one hand slipped inside his pocket. His maroon silk tie complimenting his black suit, a sparking contrast and seemingly the only color in this rusty, dirty room.

Your throat was parched and a throbbing sensation banged at the back of your skull.

This couldn't be.

Your cover could not be blown out, not like this. Unless someone actually outed you to him and you were clueless to who it was. Your colleague was also missing, probably taken captive by Le Chiffre and his men.

You struggled against the rope from which you hung from but that only worked to strain your arms even more. An agonizing hiss left your lips and Le Chiffre smirked, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you.

He looked up at you, tilting his head.

“You thought your little swan dance in the pool would distract me?” He had genuine amusement in his gaze. “I have no lack of women willing to throw themselves at me. You're not special.”

You pressed your tongue against the inside of your mouth.

“I wouldn't even let you touch me with a ten feet pole.” You spat, furry awakening in your gaze.

Le Chiffre’s amusement only increased. “I didn't say I wouldn't touch you. You're a gorgeous woman.”

You flinched when his glove covered hand extended out to brush the wet strands of hair sticking to your forehead. His touch made you cringe and you turned your face away from him, glaring at the crumbling paint on the wall.

Le Chiffre’s scarred eye twitched.

“I brought you here to interrogate you but I must say, your beauty is a distraction.”

You wanted to punch him. If he'd attempted to fight you rather than attacking you from behind, you would've definitely taken him down. Le Chiffre had no morals other than money and making money.

The man was as shallow as a fucking sea shell.

“How did you know..?” You asked, curiosity biting at your abdomen.

He scratched his temple with a finger, walking around you in a stable circle like some animal stalking its prey. “I have spies everywhere, you think I wouldn't know MI6 agents trying to threaten my business?”

You inhaled, apprehension threatening to break your demeanor.

Le Chiffre’s hand moved up to your hair, his fingers tangling in it and tugging your head back. You winced at the striking pain in your scalp, glaring down at him. He only chuckled, tightening his grip.

“Fuck you.” You spat, fury swimming in your blurry eyes.

Le Chiffre tilted his head. “Yeah? I do the fucking here, mon cheri.”

He reached over to the metal rod which held the rope tightly around him. He undid it, watching you fall back on the ground with a loud thud. Your body ached from the abrupt fall and you whimpered — your elbow stinging because of the skin scraping against the concrete.

You looked at the skin and found your elbow to be bleeding and the air clinging to it only made it sting more.

Le Chiffre pulled you up by your hair, forcing you to get on your knees. Thankfully you were in casual clothes so the sweatpants helped protect your knees from grazing over the floor and possibly ending up with the same fate as your elbow.

Your hands flew to grab his wrists, trying to push him off you but the man didn't budge at all. Le Chiffre glared down at you, anger visible in his eyes.

“What information have you transferred regarding me? Trust me when I say I won't ask again, especially this nicely.”

You stayed silent and then your cheek hurt — a stinging sensation spreading through the flesh. Your head had moved to the side from the powerful impact. Le Chiffre had slapped you and you knew more was to come.

“You don't want to open your mouth? Fine.”

One hand gripping your hair tightly, the other frantically reached for the black zipper of his dress pants. Your eyes widened in horror as he unzipped his pants, hand shuffling inside and soon pulling out his hardened cock.

Panic consumed you as well as screaming fear.

“If you won't open your mouth to speak, then you'll open it to suck my fucking cock.” Le Chiffre’s rough hand grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks causing a pout to form on your lips. You still didn't budge, staying firm and resilient.

In result of that, Le Chiffre slapped you once more. This time causing your lower lip to bust, droplets of blood streaming down your chin and smearing over your lips. Tears emerged over your waterline from the sheer pressure and force of his hits, causing you to finally comply and part your lips.

He brought his cock head, driving it into your mouth and you braced yourself. You wished to fight back — desperately but you knew better. All at his mercy, you could only whimper around his cock as it breached the entrance of your mouth. You felt him glide across your tongue, making way into your throat.

Attempting to breathe through your nose, your small hands banged at his thighs but Le Chiffre didn't care. He continued breaching your throat, fucking himself deeper into it and tears welled up — vision becoming a messy blur. Both his hands rested atop your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

Then your nightmare began.

He pulled out, only to slam his cock deeper into your mouth and your throat constricted, sending jolts of pleasure down his loins. Le Chiffre threw his back, drilling his cock rapidly and you choked, gagging sounds filling up the room. No amount of pressure or slaps to his thighs and knees made him falter.

He continued fucking your mouth with sheer dedication and your eyelids fluttered shut, forcing tears to slide down your face. Your tongue laid flaccid, welcoming his thick cock to caress it. Your sobs and choked sounds echoed and Le Chiffre could only groan, his own matching with yours.

The evil man lifted one hand from your head, moving it in front of your face. He pinched your nose together, cutting off your air supply and all access to oxygen. Your face began to turn blue, shoulders squirming as you pleaded him with your blurry gaze.

Le Chiffre held your face against his pelvis, your nose buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair as you continuously fought to breathe through either your mouth or your nose, forbidden to inhale any air.

“Fuck, what a tight throat you've got, mon cheri.” He panted like some wild animal, reaching his end. When he shot rope after rope inside your mouth, you weren't even given chance to spit it out. Bubbles of saliva and cum formed when the man fucked his cock thoroughly into your throat to push down the remains of his climax.

Forcing you to swallow it.

When he watched you gulp, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. His one eye sparkling with malice. “Look at yourself. Lips swollen, face red and my cum dripping down your chin. This is where disobedience gets you, whore.”

You flinched at the insult, glaring at him with a busted lip and swollen lips. He enjoyed that, how rebellious you were despite the vulnerable situation you were in right now. Le Chiffre chuckled and kicked your thigh, causing you to lose balance.

You fell back, on your tied hands glued behind your back and a painful wince left you.

Le Chiffre got on top of you, his weight supported his knees resting on each side of you. Thankfully the man was kind enough to not crush you and you watched with panic filled eyes as he shuffled through his pocket and retrieved a blade. Your eyes enlarged upon locking eyes with the weapon, glinting against the dim light.

“No..”

Le Chiffre scoffed. “Relax, I'm not going to kill you. It is to rid you of these clothes.”

You swallowed, shaking your head but you were allowed little to say in this matter. He reached for your collar, grabbed the white shirt and stabbing it with the tip of his sharp blade. It gave him enough space to dig his fingers into it and tug at it, ripping the shirt.

You were bare underneath the shirt and a gasp left you. Your peaks hardening and Le Chiffre groped you with his gloved hands, fondling the fat and toying with it. His touch harsh and rough. You tried to wriggle but to no avail.

“Stop fighting back.” It was an order, his tone serious and dark. “Do you want me to fuck you or all my guards?”

You didn't say anything, only weept as the monster on top of you grabbed your face, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “Answer me, brat.”

“Y-You.” You whispered but he still didn't seem satisfied. “I want you to fuck me.”

Le Chiffre smiled, nodding his head and releasing your face but not before tapping your cheek lightly. “Good girl. You can be obedient, huh.”

“Asshole.” You couldn't hold back your tongue and Le Chiffre went silent. He didn't say anything, instead pulled your sweats down and no matter how much you kicked and struggled, he still managed to get them off you and reveal you to him. Your dark panties were ripped apart too, leaving you in completely nothing.

You didn't want to beg him but you had to, to try your luck. Tears fell furiously and you looked at him. “Let me go, please. I would not say a word about this to anyone. I will leave MI6 and never look back, please.”

He didn't care for your empty or full promises, being too far gone into his lust for you. The darkness that he kept concealed behind his one good eye, while the scarred one carried remnants of it.

He forcefully pinned your legs down with his, aligning his cock with your hole. Le Chiffre spat in his hand and rubbed it across your glistening slit, fingers prodding at your swollen bud and you whined — back arching off the bed. Your lips, parted released the sweetest sounds and he couldn't wait to hear you make more with his cock inside you.

Le Chiffre guided his thick cock head into your hole, allowing you to adjust to his size and once you had, he snapped his hips and filled you up with his entire length in one go.

Your face contorted, full of pain and you struggled. Forcing your shoulders into him, trying to push him off you and Le Chiffre having enough of this constant resistance, brought the blade to your throat. Brows scrunched and lines ceased in his forehead.

“You fucking move one more time, I will not waste a single second slitting your damn throat and fucking your dead cunt.” His threats made you quiver and you calmed down, sobs growing louder.

Le Chiffre pried open your thighs, holding them like that as he fucked his cock into your cunt. He loved how tight you were, gripping him like a vice and he relished in the pleasure of you. Groans and moans falling from his lips as he drove deeper and deeper into you, each thrust earning loud whimpers out of you.

The force of his thrust was such — he had your body surging forward. The blade managed to cut into your skin, only the first layer, blood leaking out. The stinging sensation was ignored and overpowered by the feeling you felt in your pussy.

“God, such a perfect pussy.” Le Chiffre groaned, sweaty bangs hovering over his forehead. “Oh I'm keeping you. All for myself, mon cheri. Your delicious cunt will accompany me on cold nights.”

Your pain covered face formed into a pleasure one, imitating Le Chiffre’s heated expressions as the sound of his cock slapping into your gummy walls reverberated. You cried, wailed even while he made home inside your sweet cunt. Repeatedly hitting that spongy spot of yours to draw out an orgasm — similar to his.

The man raised his hand and landed it across your breasts, making you flinch and gasp out at the impact. Heavy and painful, you stared at him in surprise but were given no time as he began to pummel his cock into you. Watching how his cock head bulged against your taut stomach.

You were breathless, bruised, a little bloodied and drained.

Yet he had not enough.

Le Chiffre dug his nails into your hips, searing pain welcoming you as he tore the barrier of your skin and made you bleed. Cock pounding into you and you sobbed, trying to reach out for him but your hands were still tied into that fucking rope. Your stomach tightened, walls sucking him in. Squelching sounds filling you with repulsion.

Your orgasm broke free with tremendous intensity as your eyes rolled back and your thighs shook, body riled up. Hot white coursed through you and as you cried out your orgasm, Le Chiffre came too. His thrusts slowly, only for a moment to ride out his climax within you.

“Oh my god.” He groaned, head thrown back as he began to fuck you with newfound vigor which caught you off guard. “Pretty pussy, such a pretty pussy. Can't wait to fill you up with my cum.”

You felt his warm seed shoot into your womb, rope after rope. Each one more thicker and fuller than the one before. The moment he was finished with you, he inhaled long breaths — bated and shuddered. His body still possessed enough strength to stay stable above you while yours twitched profusely from the abuse you'd suffered.

Broken and numb, your gaze focused somewhere else other than his face. Knowing you would find no empathy, not a sign of regret or remorse on his face. It was best to shut your mind off, only frail and worthless tears sliding down your temple.

”I'm not done with you yet, but I'll let you regain your energy. There's more, mon cheri.”

#le chiffre x reader #le chiffre #le chiffre smut #le chiffre fanfiction #le Chiffre one shot #smut #mads mikkelsen smut #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen x reader #casino royale #james bond #james bond fic #hannibal smut #hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter

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