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saltwaterburns · 6 months ago

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even my phone misses your call, by the way

Summary: Elle knows perfectly well that it's a bad idea and that she'll probably regret it when she sobers up, but she still picks up her phone and dials the number of the one she misses the most - you.

Pairing: Elle Greenaway x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of a slightly graphic event that happened to the reader, allusions to smut, a few y/n's, no happy ending (for now?)

Author's note: It's day 3 of me watching season 2 after Elle left and it's safe to say that I'm still incredibly wounded, so what better way to project my feelings onto everyone else than writing this! :D For a girl who hates reading angst I sure do love writing it, so buckle up. I'm dedicating this to @bbbbadoobee i hope u like it pls dont hate me

Word count: 4,4k+

Elle knows she shouldn't. She left the BAU for a reason, and it's late. She glances at the clock on the wall, wincing as the time reads close to 3am. But as she sits in her bleak living room, her third bottle of vodka sitting unfinished on the table right next to her phone, she doesn't care about making good decisions. She's lonely. Desperate.

Leaving didn't make her feel any better. She's been lonely for years. She found a home within the BAU, and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to get over it. Get over her team, that at one point became her family.

She's drunk, and she's tired. She should go to bed. Instead, she picks up her phone, and calls you. She misses your voice the most.

It's been years. She doubts you'll answer. She listens to how her phone calls once, then twice, and on the third time when you pick up, she relaxes. "Y/n...it- it's me."

"...Elle?" You ask groggily, sitting up on your bed and trying to rub the sleep away from your eyes with the back of your hand. Wait, what? Elle? You voice your thought.

"Wait, what? Elle? Elle Greenaway?"

Her heart immediately lurches towards you at the sound of your sleep-ridden voice. She can see you so clearly in her minds eye, how you're sitting on your bed, the strap of your sleep top falling off your shoulder, how the freckles painted on your skin form constellations, the same ones she used to trace with her lips.

"Surprise, I guess." Elle responds, her tone a bit off in attempt to seem casual. Her heart is racing right now, but her voice remains steady. "Did I wake you?"

You stay silent for a beat. You don't notice it at first, but the hand you just used to pull the blanket tighter around you and now is resting on your lap is shaking. You can feel your throat constricting and your eyes beginning to sting, both from the lack of sleep and the emotions you're feeling.

"Yeah, yeah you did, but it's fine. Is- is everything okay? I didn't know you still had my number."

Her heart sinks, hearing how off you sound. Your voice quivers a bit, and she can only imagine your face right now, probably pinched and hurt.

"Of course I do." Elle says, and her voice softens a bit. Maybe she shouldn't have called. What was she thinking would happen?

"I just..." She struggles to articulate her thoughts as she rubs a hand over her face. "I needed to hear your voice."

"I, um, I miss you, Elle. We miss you, back at the BAU," You whisper, looking up at the pale ceiling of your room, taking a deep breath to force the tears down. "How are you?"

Your question feels like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she can't speak. Because how is she actually doing?

"Oh, I..." She hesitates, and swallows the lump in her throat. "I'm...I'm fine." After a few moments, she adds sheepishly, "And I, I miss you guys too..I miss you a lot."

"Did you continue with some sort of federal work at your new um, home?" You ask as casually as possible, the word home leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, because her home should be here, with you, not wherever she is right now.

She's glad you're not prodding her for more information, asking more questions that would be too difficult for her to answer. But she does cringe a bit.

"...No." She finally replies, and her voice is more than a bit embarrassed. "I went...in a different direction."

"That's, that's good, actually. I hoped that you wouldn't. Thought that it would be better for you to leave this life behind, get a chance to heal."

A moment of silence follows that. You don't know what else to say, so you're twisting a strand of your hair around your finger as you wait. But you've always been curious, always digging a little too deep and as you're speaking to her for the first time in years, you can't help but ask.

"Are you happy, Elle?" Was you leaving us worth it?

She listens as you speak, and her heart hurts because when you say it like that, it sounds like you know what's best for her. She thinks for a moment you might tell her to come back, to heal with all of you.

But you ask her if she's happy instead.

And her heart hurts even more because it's the most difficult question you could've asked her.

"Define happy." She says, finally.

From those two words alone you know that she isn't, not fully at least. The perks of being a profiler, you suppose.

"Can you sleep without waking up in cold sweat? Have you managed to stop reaching for a gun that isn't there? Have you stopped being hypervigilant when walking on the street?"

She swallows thickly once you ask her those questions. And the fact that she can't answer any of them with a yes makes her temples ache.

"I..." Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head as if you can see it. "I don't...no. No, not really." She finally says with a sigh. "I can't sleep, I still reach for a gun, and I'm paranoid as ever that someone is after me."

You rest your forehead against your knees that you've tucked under your chest and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood to keep your tears at bay. All that pain, and and suffering and everything that she's gone through still haunts her, as if her leaving this life behind hasn't had any impact at all.

"I haven't seen you in so long. Did you grow your hair out? Or did you keep the bangs and the bob?"

"The bangs and the bob." She says, and she winces as she realizes how much she actually misses you. If she concentrates hard enough, she can almost feel the ghost of your hands playing with her hair. "I have a few more grays now, though. I'm a real old lady."

You can't help but let out laugh at that, but it comes out wet. You cringe at that. An average person might've missed it but you know that she heard and you know that she has put it together that you're crying. You cringe even more.

"I'm not the youngest anymore either, Greenaway. Sporting a few greys myself under these luscious curls. Thankfully it's not too visible."

You're right - the wetness in your laugh doesn't go unnoticed. Her eyes immediately tear up as well, and she swallows against the lump of guilt in her throat, because she knows she's the reason you're crying right now.

"Yeah, well, you're too pretty to go grey anyway." She's teases right back, but her words are also laced in bittersweetness.

"Always the charmer, huh?" You bite your lip in a smile, feeling giddy for a moment. "Is there, um, anyone special for you nowadays? Are you tied down?"

"No one special, no tied down." She says quickly, maybe too quickly for it to be casual. After a few moments of silence, she adds, hesitantly, "Is there someone special for you right now?"

You shake your head, because how could there ever be someone who isn't her in my bed and in my heart, but then you remember she can't see you so you somehow manage to utter a soft "No."

"There isn't. There hasn't been one, really, ever since you left. You're always in the back of my mind." Your voice quietens as you say the last part.

She can feel her heart start racing when you respond, her body tensing up. She can't believe what she's hearing. There's no one special in your bed, no one in your heart...not even in these last YEARS since she left?

There's this strange, overwhelming sensation that rises up in her. One part of her wants to be angry that you've wasted away waiting for her. But the other part of her, the part that has her heart racing can't help but feel happy. Hopeful.

You keep talking, not giving her a chance to say something in between. "I know what you're gonna say. I can imagine your face and your expression so clearly. You're mad that I've wasted years waiting for you, even though I knew that the chances of me ever seeing you again were close to none. But I just couldn't help it. You can't blame me for that."

She actually laughs aloud at that, because you know her so damn well. She's frustrated, because of course, you've guessed right. She doesn't want you to have waited for her, especially in vain.

She never intended to see any of you again, especially you. And of course, you couldn't help it, because that's who you are. Loyal to a fault.

"You're right, I'm pretty damn frustrated right now." She responds, and her tone is more fond than angry.

"How can you expect me to move on after what we had, Elle? After those nights in the jet? After the nights curled together under the sheets? After we've taken bullets for each other, after I've stitched you up with my bare hands and bailed you out of jail? After that night we spent together right before you left the next morning, leaving me to wake up to an empty bed?" Your voice breaks in the middle of your ramble, and you can feel the hot trails your salty tears are leaving on your cheeks.

"How can you blame me for waiting when you're the only woman I've ever loved?"

You leave her, for the first time in a while, completely speechless. Every event you name flashes before her eyes, so familiar yet so far away. There's so much she wishes she could say, but she's always been a coward when it comes to voicing what she feels.

"Why did you call me, Elle?" You ask, your voice no louder than a gust of wind. Your bed feels extra cold tonight, too large for you to sleep in it alone. You curl up on your side, clutching your phone in your hand.

Why did she call you? She asks herself the very same question, and the guilt begins to chew on her when she realises she doesn't have an answer for you.

"I...." Her voice breaks. "I don't know. I just...I wanted to hear your voice. I missed you, I guess."

Her answer is as unsatisfying as you guessed it would be. For some reason you hoped that she'd confess her own love for you as well, telling you everything you've longed to hear for all these years. But her answer is as vague as always, and the disappointment burns.

"Did you know that Gideon left, too? And that Hotch and Haley got divorced?" You ask meekly, toying with the silky sheets under you.

She knows. She hates herself for it, but she's kept tabs on all the team since she left. She knows about Gideon, about Hotchner's and Haley's divorce, about Haley's ....

Every single time she finds herself reaching for her phone, about to type in a phone number, she has to remind herself that it's healthier for her not to reach out. But each time, it has gotten more and more difficult.

Her voice comes out soft and remorseful. "Yeah, I know, I...I've heard."

Oh.

"I got taken hostage a few months ago. Barely made it out alive, was in a coma for two weeks. Did you know that?"

Her blood runs cold in her veins as you say that, her heart rate increasing immediately. Her hands begin to shake and her eyes widen.

"No. I- no, I didn't know that. You...?" Her voice falters as she begins to ask that question, and she pauses before trying to finish that sentence. "You were in a coma? What happened?"

There's something satisfying about hearing her panic, however cruel that might be. It feels good to know that she didn't reach out because she simply didn't know.

"There was a bomb. I was too close. Hit my head against a block of concrete so hard my skull fractured and my two of my ribs broke off, piercing my lungs."

The moment you say all of that, she actually feels dizzy with panic.

Imagining you lying on the floor in pain, struggling to breathe, struggling to stay alive.. She can feel her nausea rising as her stomach twists.

Elle can't speak as she thinks about all of it. You could've died. She almost lost you and she wouldn't even have known. Would Garcia have told her?

"I'm okay now, though," You whisper softly with a smile, hoping that she can hear it through your voice. "Sometimes I get really bad migraines, but the doctors say I shouldn't have any other complications."

She tries to collect herself, steadying her breath as you tell her that you're okay. Mostly okay, she should say. But you're here, so that's what matters.

"Y-yeah?" She asks, her voice a bit shaky. "How long ago was this, baby?"

Baby. She always used to call you baby. It used to fill you with fluttering butterflies but now it just feels like swallowing acid.

"I think it was at the beginning of the year. It's July now, so 5 months at least." You hum in thought, counting back the months on your fingers. A car drives past your window, the lights flashing, and it feels melancholy. You can't help but let your mind wonder and imagine it's Elle, coming to see you. But she won't, you know she won't.

"Five months..." Her heart aches to think of you going through all of that, dealing with that alone, while she didn't even know. Didn't even check up on you. She hates herself for it, even more than usual. She feels like she's going to throw up.

"Y-you never, did you..?" She can't even get out her question, swallowing heavily. "...call me?"

"...I tried to. I asked Garcia if she could find any way for me to contact you, but she never managed to. You disappeared pretty good on us." You laugh a little, but there isn't any humour behind it. Just a little hurt.

Her heart sinks at your answer, and she closes her eyes in anguish. Goddamn it. Of course you tried to call her. Of course you wanted her there.

"Yeah, I..." She tries to speak, tries to find her words, but she can't. Not when she knows how badly she hurt you.

"M'sorry." She finally murmurs, a bitter feeling bubbling up her throat.

You coo at her. "It's okay, Elle. I'm fine now, aren't I? And you're on the other end of the phone. No need to fret about it now. I didn't mean to make you feel bad with all of this, by the way. I wasn't trying to rub it under your nose. I was just curious if you knew."

She swallows at that. Even now, even after she's abandoned you, left you behind, caused you pain, you're still trying to comfort her. Trying to make her feel better, trying to tell her what she wants to hear.

She doesn't know why she expected something else, but she hates it.

"You're too kind for your own damn good, you know that, Y/n?" Even saying that is hurting her.

You don't know what to say to that. You've never been good with compliments or praises of any sort, so you just blush and change the subject.

"Did you know that Spence and Morgan still talk about you? Oh, Elle would've known this and Elle would've liked that gets thrown around the office pretty often."

A faint smile tugs on her lips and a small laugh escapes her.

Thinking about Spencer and Morgan still having her in their thoughts doesn't make her feel exactly good, but it makes her feel something.

"Really now?" She asks, her voice still a bit rough from earlier, trying to mask her excitement. "What do they say about me?"

"They still value your opinion very highly, even after all this time. It wasn’t always like that, though. Your name has a lot of respect at Quantico now, but it was a very sensitive topic for a good while. You're missed....I miss you, too." I reminiscence, letting my eyes fall shut. If I try hard enough, I can pretend that she's here and that we're talking face to face, not thousands of miles apart.

"Where are you? Are you still in the US? Or did you leave?"

"I'm still in the US," She replies softly, the corner of her lips pulled back in a sad smile. "I'm in New York. I...couldn't imagine going farther than this from here."

"The Big Apple, huh? I've never been. It sounds awesome, though. I'd love to go one day as a tourist, not as a profiler. Fly economy and all that stuff." You laugh softly, turning to lay on your back.

She grins widely because the thought of you walking around New York, on a vacation, having a good time - it seems like a faraway dream to her.

"It is awesome.There's quite a bit to do, and to see. Especially for a tourist that's not on call."

The hours of the night are catching up to you and you can feel sleep pushing it’s dull claws into you, but you don't want to tell her that. Hanging up could mean never talking to her again.

"Is the subway really as dirty as they show in movies?"

She responds with a snort and an eye roll. "It's worse. Far worse."

"Yeah?" you ask, giggling quietly. "You're having hand to hand combat with the rats?"

"It feels like it, honestly," She grins at your question. "Fighting them for a seat, that is. I feel like I've seen more rats and roaches than human people."

You let out a loud laugh at that and cover your face, letting your phone drop from your hand, your heart feeling light.

A genuine laugh escapes her at that, and the sound of it surprises her. When was the last time she had laughed like that? Was it back when she had just started at Quantico?

For a moment, it feels like the years between the two of you have disappeared, and she's in your bedroom, laughing with you as the night deepens. As the noise calms down and both of your breathing returns to normal, you feel tears prickling in your eyes yet again.

"Will I ever see you again?"

Her body goes rigid at that. She was just having a good moment with you, giggling and laughing, and now...her stomach is in knots.

How could she answer your question? She wants to say "yes, of course", but that wouldn't be true. She wants to say "no, probably not", and that wouldn't be fully true either.

Instead, she swallows and says, "I-I don't know, Y/n. I don't know."

You expected that.

"Tell me that I will, Elle. Tell me that you'll be here tomorrow morning, that you knocking on my door will wake me up. Even if it’s a lie. Please tell me." You beg, a sense of urgency and desperation in your voice.

Her heart thumps wildly inside her ribcage as she listens to you. It's like her heart and mind are having a mental battle, because they want completely different things.

She wants to be there. She wants to be the one to wake you up by banging on the door, she wants to see you in all your glory, hair and clothes messed up from sleep, your cheeks puffy...she wants that more than anything in the world.

But it's not so simple. Her mind is reeling with all the reasons why this can't happen, why she shouldn’t grant you the peace of her saying it, but she can't help it. You’ve always been her vice.

"Please tell me that I'll see you tomorrow." you plead again, your voice cracking. Your heart is constricting inside your chest.

Her resolve begins to crumble at your desperation. God, you're begging her. And she can't find it in her to disappoint you.

"You'll see me tomorrow," She finds herself saying, her voice barely above a whisper. It hurts her to say it, because it's a lie. Because it won't be true come the morning, which means she's setting you up for that same disappointment she tried to avoid just now.

You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, nodding along, feeling reassured. Kind of.

"Will you- will you hang up, now?"

She doesn't want to. She wants to keep talking to you, but she knows she's keeping you up. She can hear the tiredness that’s laced in your voice.

"Yeah..I should," She murmurs begrudgingly, her voice thick with emotion.

Your resolve breaks.

"I love you, Elle. I don't think I'll ever stop," You can't help but confess, the words feeling like shards of glass leaving your mouth.

Her heart shatters into dust when you say the words. It's the most beautiful and yet the saddest thing she's heard in years.

She knows, of course she does. She’s always known that you loved her. Back when you were sneaking around with each other, when you were convulsing around her fingers, your climax having you cramped up, the three words always fell from your lips one way or another. She just didn’t have it in her to say them herself. But now, she has to cover her mouth to stop herself from confessing the same. Her breathing wavers and her hands shake.

"Don't say that, Y/n. Don't say that," She all but begs, her voice strangled and strained.

"You know that I do. My heart is yours and yours only. You know that, too." you keep on going, your voice thick with emotion.

The words pierce her like a dagger right into the heart. She can't deny it and she can't tell you to stop, so instead, she responds with a soft, broken, "I know, I know you do. And you know that I feel the same.”

"Say it, Elle. Please? Say it properly." You plead her gently, toying with the straps of your sleep top. You suddenly notice that it's one of Elle's old shirts that she left here. You swallow back a sob.

She feels her heart beating erratically as you urge her to say the words. It's such a simple thing, just three little words. Three words that she's wanted to say to you for years, but always held back.

"I love you, Y/n," She finally confesses, her voice quavering. "God help me, I love you."

You laugh softly and close your eyes as you finally let the tears stream down your face freely. Hearing her finally say those three words was probably the most painful thing you’ll ever experience, but it feels euphoric. After all these years.

She isn't sure how to label what she’s feeling. Relief? Anguish? Saying that she loves you should make her happy, but all she feels is a deep aching pain because she knows that it isn't going to change anything. But what’s done is done. She can't take it back now, and she's just made the whole thing so much harder.

"I'm sorry," She apologizes, her voice cracking now. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I love you, I've always loved you, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, honey. You know I'll always forgive you, and this time it isn't even your fault. Thank you for loving me. I love you, too. I'm ready to hang up now, if you want. I know this can't be easy for you either."

She can't speak past the lump forming in her throat. How do you always manage to forgive her? Saying that this time it's not her fault. You're so kind, too kind. But you’ve always been like that, and she feels sick for taking advantage of that. She wouldn’t deserve you even in a million lifetimes.

"Yeah," She manages to croak. "I should go, and you have to get some sleep. It’s late."

"I don't know if you'll call me ever again, but thank you for doing it today. It feels nice, talking to you again. I missed you terribly."

Her heart breaks hearing that you think this might be the last time she ever calls, even though there’s a high possibility that it is. She wants to tell you that she'll call you again, and again and again, but she can't. She can't promise you that. She can't make you false promises, not anymore. So instead she just murmurs, "I missed you, too. Night, baby."

"G'night, Elle.." you whisper, barely audible, and press the end button. A small click sound echoes around the now eerily silent room and you let out a wail, falling on top of your pillows in sobs.

Elle can't move for a few moments after you hang up, just sitting and staring at the wall. She feels numb. Cold. Empty. Why the hell did she do that?

She can still hear the sound of you crying, it was so distinct and full of pain, even through the phone. She's the one that did that, she made you cry. It’s just like the day she left.

With a pained cry, she brings the phone down to her lap and buries her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

You don't know whether to hate or to love her for picking up that phone tonight and pressing that call button. Your heart feels strangely light after finally being able to free itself from all the emotions it’s had to carry over the years, but your soul feels terrifyingly empty. What now? You just go back to your everyday routine and pretend that tonight didn't exist?

The same thought is racing through Elle's mind. There's a small part of her that's glad she managed to hear your voice again, but everything else...god, she just made things so much harder for the both of you.

You're going to wake up tomorrow morning, and there won't be anyone at your door.

That realization, that she did that to you...it kills her. But right now, she can't undo it. What's done is done.

It's stupid, but as you lay on your cold sheets, alone yet again, falling in and out of consciousness, you can't help but hope that you’ll find her behind your front door as the morning comes.

hi please excuse the repetitive words and the medical talk idk if your ribs piercing your lungs is either survivable or puts you in a coma

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #elle greenaway #elle greenaway fic #elle greenaway x reader #elle greenaway x fem!reader #elle greenaway angst #elle greenaway smut #criminal minds imagine #elle greenaway imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x fem!reader #elle greenaway x you #elle greenaway x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n

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adelliet · 2 years ago

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Joel miller x f!reader

Ur too young for me

Summary: it's your mom's birthday party and her boyfriend Tommy is of course invited, but none of you were expecting he'd bring his brother too, which you had no idea he even have one.

Warnings: 18+, rough but soft, unprotected sex ( p i v ), age gap, drinking alcohol, teasing, sexual allusions, fingering, flirt, dom & sub

A/N: Hi! Sorry I wasn't active these days…trust me I have load of ideas and concepts, but I have no time :/ also sorry for the mistakes, of there are any, english isn't my first language! Enjoy, sedning love <3

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You stood in the corner of the kitchen, far away from all those 40-50 year old people, who were talking so loudly that if you wanted to, you could hear every detail of their conversation. But you didn't care about that, you didn't care about any of that, and the only reason you're here is your mom. She does enough for you, so you want to at least pay her back and attend this boring senior party where absolutely nothing happens. The only good thing here is alcohol.

Since there are enough people here that mom won't see you drinking Gin or Vodka through them, you take the opportunity to get drunk to the point of unconsciousness so you don't have to spend any more time here. However, when you wanted to pour another glass of Vodka into the red plastic cup, you felt a woman's grip on your forearm. Before you could turn around to see who it was, you were led to the front door.

Of course, it didn't take you long to realize that your mom was dragging you to the door. "So, straighten up and be nice" your mom ordered as she smoothed the dress over her stomach and reached for the handle. You just rolled your eyes and looked at the door in disgust until Tommy appeared in it. A really forced smile appeared on your face by the second and you tried not to be mean like your mom told you to.

Tommy is a nice guy, you gotta admit, but you don't even know why you "don't like" him. Like it was some kind of natural instinct because none of the guys mom found after dad died were smart or nice. They all acted like whores and wanted only one thing from mom. Maybe your hatred is also from trust issues, but you haven't had much time to think about it now. Your mission to get drunk must succeed, so you did everything to make it happen. “Hi Tommy” you greeted him and wanted to offer your hand for a shake but he forcefully ignored her and pulled you to his chest as he wrapped you in a hug. At first you thought how gross it would be, but it felt pretty good. When he finally let you go, he hugged your mom too and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. Your mom was as red as a tomato and her happy smile just couldn't be shaken off. You were glad that she was happy after such a long time.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought my brother too" this sentence that came out of Tommy's mouth caught you both by surprise. You stared wide eyed at Tommy until you heard footsteps coming down the hall towards our door. "You have a brother?" Mom asked in shock and Tommy nodded. Then he said something to her, but you stopped noticing everything that was happening around you as soon as you saw a muscular, mature and slightly older man standing in the doorway. He was tall, with a light gray beard and hair so silky you fought the urge to run your fingers through it. Wearing a green plaid shirt with a gray belt around the waist and slightly flared jeans. You wouldn't say that such a sexy and attractive man is Tommy's brother. Now the fun begins.

All of a sudden, everyone fell quiet and there was an awkward grave silence as everyone but one stared at the man standing in the doorway with a serious face that exuded genuine respect. Seeing this man on the street, you wouldn't want to mess with him. The silence became too long and deep, so our birthday girl decided to break it. "You must be Joel, is that right?" mom asked sweetly, suffocating you a bit to get a better view of him. You couldn't believe it. Tommy was literally standing next to her and she was even redder than before paying attention to this man. On the other hand, you should not be surprised. You don't see such a handsome man very often.

“That's right" Joel spoke and his voice was even more beautiful than you imagined. A deep husky voice, to hear it so grainy in the morning, oh my god. He accepted your mother's offering hand for a shake, giving you a better view of his soaked and muscular whips. He must work out at least 3 times a day.

You couldn't take your eyes off him. You looked at every detail of him, his sharp beard, the beautiful brown eyes that looked so sweet, but they were formed strictly. You imagined how his body must look under all those clothes. It must certainly look like it was created by god himself. When your mom finally pulled away and finished chatting with Joel, she made room and now you could see the handsome guy face to face. You started to get nervous. What's going on?

You were never nervous with any boy before, whether you liked him or not. This is weird. Everything is strange and especially your feelings that you can't describe right now. "And you are?" a manly deep voice interrupted your thoughts and you regained your composure a bit. You made eye contact with him and that was your bottom. You could feel your knees buckle and your legs shake. The heat was boiling inside you and your heart was beating at least 4 times faster, as if you were charged with some energy.

"Y/N" stuttered a little but you finally answered, and accepted his massive hand that he was offering you. His grip was strong, he surrounded your entire palm with his, fingers thin and long enough, god you had to move away from him or you wouldn't be able to hold on and it would end badly. "Nice to meet you" he added but no smile appeared on his face. You didn't know how it was possible, but the fact that he wasn't smiling at all added 100+ points to his attractiveness.

“Nice to meet you too” you squealed so quietly, that you couldn't even hear yourself, but Joel heard you very well because you could see his corners lifting slightly up, when you spoke. "Well…how about we all introduce ourselves hm?" Tommy jumped into your eye contact and broke it. You, Joel, your mom including the other people, were looking at Tommy, but you knew very well that everyone was interested in Joel. You were jealous a little, but at least you could do anything and everyone's attention was on the massive man, not on you.

You decided to take advantage of this and carefully sneaked into the kitchen with maximum stealth, where you picked up two bottles, each a different type of alcohol, and hide yourself in the bedroom, as you sneak there the same way you sneak into the kitchen. Everything went so smoothly you couldn't believe it. Everyone was really only looking at Joel, both women and men, including your mom. She looked at him suspiciously peacefully, but at the end of the day you decided not to deal with it and to fulfill the mission you ordered from the beginning of the party. Get drunk.

~~~

After a few minutes and a few sips of Vodka, the bottle was already half empty and you felt a slight dizziness, but still nothing terrible. You stared at the wall and all you could think about was Joel. You tricked your thinking into drunkenness, even though you knew full well that thinking about Joel Vodka really wasn't to blame.

As you were about to take another sip from the bottle, you suddenly heard dangerous footsteps approaching your room. You immediately took the bottle out of your mouth, even doused yourself a little and hid it with the other one under the bed while you cleaned yourself up and checked your breath for the smell of alcohol. Suddenly the door opened aggressively and to your surprise Joel was standing there. He looked quite stressed and as soon as he entered your room without permission he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it. He rubbed his face with his large palm and exhaled until he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed. He was so startled that he jumped slightly on the spot and had to grab his heart. "Oh my God" he breathed out and you tried as hard as you could to fight the urge to immediately imagine his light outpouring in some deviant scene in your head.

“Sorry, didn't know you're here” Joel apologize but entered in the room anyways so, it's too late to apologize. “It's okay” you assured him, but you didn't ask the crucial question that was running through your head. Why is he even here? Shouldn't he enjoy partying with people of his own age and equal? Shouldn't he be enjoying the fame and being the center of attention? Probably not his cup of coffee. He looked pretty tired and beat up, like he'd just been hit in the head with 40 footballs.

He laid down on your bed without any warning or question, automatically covering his closed eyes with his hand. You bounced a little on the bed when he jumped there. You watched him and looked at him like a he was some treasure. “Those people are wild” he complained and when he finally spoke in a normal tone, your body calmed down a bit. You laughed at his good point and pulled the bottles from behind the bed. You wanted to drink one of the bottles but the familiar voice stopped you. "Aren't you too young to drink this?" you slowly turned over your shoulder only to see Joel, even hotter and more attractive than five seconds ago. One hand was tucked behind his head, the other rested on his chest, and his beautiful brown eyes were only fixed on you. "You're not my dad" you snapped at him and drank anyway. You have no idea where you got the courage. It sure does the drinking.

"Fine, but I won't hold your hair when you gonna throw up in the toilet" he got comfortable and finally closed his eyes after he said that. His words took you a bit by surprise and left your head spinning, but you ignored it anyway. "What are you doing?" you asked him curiously and slightly offended as your pupils widened. "Taking quick nap" again, that deep husky voice that made you cross your legs and ignore the throbbing down there. "And who let you lie here?" you asked him in a sussy voice, but immediately ducked your tail as Joel mopped the floor with you. "Who let you drink alcohol?" Shit, he's good. You decided not to answer and drink again.

You looked at him. You watched his nostrils expand every time he breathed air out, you watched his chest rise slowly and calmly, it was so calming to watch him that you got tired too. Your bed isn't very big so there wasn't much room left for you with Joel taking up most of the space, but she decided to rub herself in and lay next to him. He turn to side so now he wasn't laying on his back, but on his side. His face was right in front of your back, but you decided to not really care, or at least, try to not care.

But you couldn't lay down without touching Joel at all, and right now you were touching a really sensitive spot. You could feel your ass in that tight red dress touching Joel's pelvis. A normal person would have moved forward a bit or just ignored it, but the alcohol in your brain was starting to take over and so were your wild thoughts, so you decided to do something that could get you into trouble. You lay with your back to Joel, unable to see his face just imagining it. You slowly started moving your hips from side to side, provoking Joel. You waited for his reaction but nothing so far, just his sleep breathing purring into your neck, but no reaction at all. So, you didn't stop and keep going, maybe add a little more power.

Suddenly you heard an annoyed deep exhalation and at that exact moment you felt Joel's hand on your tiny neck. He had it propped up under your head, so you were practically lying on his arm. You gasped a bit from the surprise, because you weren't ready and expecting this to happen at all. You though that he may be telling you to fuck off or something, but definitely not this. His huge palm was covered all over your neck, his grip strength was small, but he would only need to add a little more strength and you would be suffocated in no time. You played a dangerous game but you loved it. "What do you think you're doing?" he barked at you quietly, his half-sleeping voice were sending chills down your spine and a flame of fire to your feminine parts. You felt your nipples harden and goosebumps appeared all over your body. "Getting myself comfortable" you said innocently, trying not to let your plan be known, to make Joel hard by teasing him with ur ass. You were so horny in your life right now, you never been like this before.

“Do that again and you'll regret it" he hissed making it clear that he was pretty pissed off but what did you take from that? That a dangerous game was starting to turn and you decided to provoke Joel even more and put yourself in more danger. Of course you were frozen when he said this and you waited a moment until you heard that cute purr on your neck again and his grip softened. You then started slowly moving your ass again, but this time, in a different direction. You weren't afraid to challenge him at all and moved your hips back and forth, hitting Joel's lap hard. You could feel the slowly growing bulge in his jeans, but it didn't last long as Joel huffed aggressively and woke up again, now even angrier than before.

Not only did he tighten his grip around your neck, but his other hand literally pressed down on your hip with si much preassure. He was holding your body so hard you thought he was going to break your bones. Your breathing quickened but it wasn't that you were afraid. The reason for your rapid heartbeat, pulsing and breathing was all too clear, you were so turned on. You could feel the wettness in your panties, dripping off to your inner thight and landing on the mattress. And it get so much worse.

"Didn't you hear me the first time you little brat?" he growled into your ear and squeezed your hip even more, making you curl your toes and stretch them out. So much pressure, so much tension, so much horniness and lust that you screamed ‘I want to have sex’ without even turning your face to Joel. You ignored his question, which may have been a mistake. "This is wrong you realize that?" he was asking you questions in anger and frustration, but you felt as if you were speechless and unable to verbally respond to them in any way, but that didn't matter because Joel could clearly read what was on your mind from your body movement.

"We're going to be in trouble…" he breathed out, his voice a little calm but grainy and so deep it was as if the bear himself was speaking to you. You felt his hand on your hip as it slowly traveled lower on your lower abdomen but it didn't stop there for long as it then traveled to your thigh where Joel then left his palm print as he squeezed it hard. That imprint will be there for a long time. You squealed softly, full of temptation and your body as hot as concrete in the summer. Joel felt very good about you and knew what to do. He always knows what to do.

"Tell me, has anyone touched you like this before?" another question, which was already much more pleasant when Joel was rubbing your thigh, his palm moving up and down and slightly returning the provocation when he sometimes went lower, where your thighs met and where you needed his hand the most . But he never stayed there very long, which frustrated you even more than being at your mom's party with old people. “Answer my question”

His grip on both your neck and your thigh twitched and gained strength as you remained silent and tried to enjoy this. You shook your head in disapproval but it wasn't enough for Joel. "Words" the grip even tighter and you felt that you were starting to feel your neck slightly. "No" you finally answered, all shaky but as soon as you said it, Joel's grip on your neck took away that strength, but on your thigh it was the oppostite and be just added more. "Good girl...where did the courage to speak go, huh?" this was a sarcastic question and you both understood that you weren't supposed to answer it.

After a bit of teasing, Joel decided to start doing something more, maybe it's because of his hard dick, which twitches every time you move or make any sound. "Will you be a good girl and be quiet?" he asked as he forced his hand he fell between your legs and caressed your inner thigh, where he sometimes 'accidentally' flicked his finger against your wet panties. He let out a small giggle when he felt how wet you already were, but decided to save his comment until after your answer. "Y-yes" you stuttered, all hot and eager as you moved your hips to feel Joel's fingertips just a little bit where your flame was heating the most. "So wet and we haven't even started..." he sighed as he finally touched his fingers to your panties and began to slowly and gently rub.

You let out a cute quiet sight, but you try really hard not to be loud, as Joel told you. "Good girl...you wanna feel my fingers inside you, don't ya?" what the fuck is happening. Are you fell asleep and this is a dream or are you that drunk that you are imagining things...or is this really happening? Is the most hot and attractive man in this house and in your whole life rubbing you through your panties and saying dirty stuff in your ear? What kind of porn-story is that!?

“Please~” you moaned, head turning so you could scream into the pillow and not be hearen, but Joel didn't fucking let you. He likes how you you begged and pleaded but he wasn't going to let you trick him into not controlling your squeals and whimpers, so he lifted his shoulder that you were laying on and rolled your head back to the original position it was in before. “No cheating, or you won't get what you're asking for” god his voice only added to your wetness and body temperature, you were as hot as a falling meteorite. This was the worst torture what could you have experienced but you deserved it. You shouldn't have provoked Joel with your ass and none of this would happened, but do you regret it? Absolutely not. This is so much better than be drunk, which you practically were.

“Do you want it?” He asked you as his body get closer to yours, that you could feel his muscular chest hiding in the clothes and his popping bulge wanting really hard to get out of there. His hot breath was know on your back of your neck, and you couldn't move. You were locked in Joel's touch and there was nothing to do than listen to him and do what he told you to do, so you could finally get what you fucking need. “Yes” you answered, this time full of confidence which Joel likes but not as much as he heard you begging.

“Beg for it” he said as he put much preassure on his two fingers rubbing against your wet panties that were probably soaking inside. Your clitoris was plumbing as much as your hole, fuck this man. "Please" you moan once again, trying really hard to give him his ego and the dominance he lost for a moment but regained immediately. You could feel his annoying grin ear to ear as he heard you. “See how easy it is” he stopped rubbing your vagina over the soft material which made you freeze a bit and you let us out with what you had at least for a little while and now you lost it but you didn't wait too long as Joel took off your panties in one jerking motion until they came down to your ankles and you shook them to the ground. "Let me feel how wet you really are" and before he finished this sentence, you could feel his bare fingers, rubbing your labia back and forth. Finally. The exhalation from the feeling that you have finally passed to the next stage kicked you so much that you forgot your promise and let out a slight loud sight. Joel immediately covered your mouth with the hand that was originally on your neck. "Shhh...we have a deal honey, don't break it" your eyes rolled back as he started to looking for your clit by his one finger and find it immidietly, then started doing small circles around there, making you go crazy and scream into his hand so fucking loud.

“God…you have no idea what're you doing to me” he whimpered into your ear and you could tell from his voice and shaking that he was in such tension and he couldn't last very long without interacting with him and his needs. You wanted to help him, but he wouldn't let you. You couldn't even turn or look at him, just trying to lie in a still position and not make a sound, which was quite hard task for you, especially when Joel added strength to your clit and started rubbing it hard and fast. You automatically pressed your thighs together, squeezing Joel's hand as well. You felt so close, but there was still something missing, which Joel filled in after a short time.

He stopped teasing your clit, but instead stuck two fingers straight into you. As soon as you let out a loud controlled sigh and your eyes squeezed tightly, Joel started curling his fingers inside you, slowly but with passion. His fingers were big, string and long, so when he goes deeper, he hits your g-spot really fast. You started shaking, eyes with tears when you couldn't move and could only scream Joel's name into his own hand, that were still covering your mouth. "You're close, aren't you?" he teased you a bit, but you nodded your head roughly and moved your legs when you really felt the climax coming. Joel makes it even worse, when he uses his thumb rubbing your clit too. It was totally over for you.

The tension were so close and you were tense and hard, but suddenly Joel pulled his fingers out of you. You opened your eyes in confusion and furrowed your brows as you angrily turned to face Joel and were on your back on the bed. Although you were upset that he didn't finish you off, the sight of him licking his fingers and muttering happily while doing so made you forget about it right away. "Did you think it would be that easy?" he asked provocatively and before you could react Joel was on top of you. One hand resting on the bed as a helper to keep him from falling, the other hand on your hot red face, softly rubbing it with his thumb. You liked this angle better.

Joel didn't leave you in the pleasure for long though, breaking your eye contact with him as he forced his lips to yours. You felt his hard erect cock, pushing in his pants and rubbing against your inner thighs, very close to your core. The passionate and ardent kiss turned into an intense kiss that clearly indicated that it would go to the next level soon. Joel's hand on your face very quickly moved to your neck where it stayed long enough until Joel couldn't take it and used it to pull off his pants freeing his partner. All this time, you were glued to each other not only with your bodies, but also with your lips. Your saliva was mixing and you were trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could because you couldn't tear yourself away from Joel.

The atmosphere was starting to thicken and your bodies were starting to heat up, forcing you to roughly unbutton Joel's shirt, finally exposing his godlike body. Joel didn't let himself be talked down to and decided to cooperate as he slid his arm under you and lifted you up a bit pulling you closer, your lips still on his. Joel was unzipping your dress while you were unbuttoning his shirt and when all the buttons were done, you tore the fabric off of Joel like a wild animal, and immediately broke the kiss to look at the miracle, you wanted to see since the moment you met Joel for the first time, a few hours ago.

Those toned muscles, those muscular abs, and that unshaven hairy chest that clearly indicated what an alpha male Joel was. It looked even better than you imagined. You couldn't hold it for much longer, knowing that every second you were getting closer to what you so desperately needed, so without any warning, you stuck your tongue in Joel's mouth again and gently ran your hands over his massive body. You swear you felt an egotistical smirk from Joel, but chose to ignore it.

You weren't the only one who wanted to see the other naked. Joel was so curious about you, so excited and mostly so horny that he literally ripped your red dress off you. You immediately pulled away from his lips and shot a ‘are you serious?’ look. "Are you fucking kidding me?! They were expensive!" you raised your voice after him, but Joel could care less right now. He was so amazed by your body, that he ignored the fact that you literally yelled at him. If you weren't almost naked, you would be in so much trouble. "You look much better without them" he said in his husky-bear voice again.

There was only one thing standing in his way now, apart from your angry face, and that was your black bra, which Joel passionately lunged for and in one graceful movement, with no effort in, unhooked your bra and gently threw it to the floor. It was a strange feeling to see Joel not knowing where to look first. He loved your body, if he could he would have hearts instead of pupils. He didn't know where to look first. He wanted so badly to squish your body and leave huge purple and painful hickeys everywhere, but he decided to save that for another time. He couldn't resist, and after a few minutes of just watching and admiring your naked body, he had to go, and he wasn't afraid to take a challenge.

He cup one of your tits, he slowly squeezed, and your natural reaction was to throw your head back and sink your teeth so deep into your bottom lip that you could feel the blood coming out after a while. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen" you melted at his words. You felt his cock twitch almost every two seconds, and all the blood from his body was just there. He was so close you could feel his head and a little wetness on it as the pre-cum started to form. He was just as horny as you, he wanted it just as much as you, but the only difference was, that he was so fucking patient.

In a snap, his mouth was on your neck, sucking and leaving red fresh marks on your sensitive neck. You weren't thinking about anything but Joel's tongue, hand placement and his definitely huge dick, you want to feel inside you so badly. Just make things worse, he started to teasing you. His head of his cock was really slowly started brushibg against your labia, and you thought you gonna cum already. He is fucking asshole.

He wanted it as much as you did, to push his member inside you and fuck you so good, but he loved the feeling of you being helpless and able to plead for Joel, which is exactly what you did. He had you wrapped around his finger, manipulated you didn't even realize what Joel was doing to you. All you focused on was sex. “Please~” you sighed, throwing your head back and pulling Joel's hair slightly, as the feeling of his teeth on your shoulders and the top of his member softly rubbing you, and start teasing your clitoris too. Joel loves your fingers inside his hair, your moans and sights, but he wanted more. His head with his lips went lower on your body, stopped when he met one of your tits, and start slowly sucking and licking your nipple. You never were on this kind of ‘stuf’, like breast playing, but gosh it felt so fucking good! He also included his other hand in the game, which he used to roll your other nipple and his elbow was resting on the bed so he wouldn't lose his balance. On top of all that, as if it wasn't enough, he added power of provoking your pussy and not only started to speed up, but also started getting inside a little bit.

“Fuck~” you moaned, thugging Joel's slightly gray hair more and arched your back, when you started feeling your legs shaking and your underbelly hurting from how hot it was. Joel wasn't stopping with playing not only with your breast but even with your vagina, having you under his control. “Tell me, how much you want it?” he asked you as his hips still moves around you and played with you like with some toy, but you were so desperate and helpless for him, that you would do anything to get what you want. “Badly” you sighed and lick your lips as Joel started giving sweet kisses on your nipple and softened. “How badly?” you wanted to punch him so much. “So badly I~…I'd do anything” he loved seeing you in that state.

When he first saw you in that door, he never could have imagined it would turn out like this but he liked it maybe more than he should have. But Joel wanted to hear you begging, begging for his cock, begging to be fucked by Joel Miller. "Anything huh? What do you offer…" his mischievous grin widened as he stopped whatever he was doing giving you a chance to breathe in oxygen and reply in a notmal tone without sighing or moaning. Of course you took advantage of that and straightened your body so you could look into his eyes. You completely forgot about the question, how fired up you were, and the whole situation as you lost yourself in Joel's eyes. 'All eyes are the same' they say, but he showed you that's not true. You can read so many things in them and stare at them for hours as you melt into Joel's hands massaging your hips. "Hm? Did you hear me?" he woke you up a bit from the day's vigil and you thought about your answer. "Anything you want...I'm all yours" this was exactly the answer Joel needed to hear. Not only did you allow him to do whatever he wanted with you, but you also admit you are only his. Joel is very possessive and your answer gave him even more ego than he already had, which seemed impossible. "What a needy girl...I'll do what you want so badly for the last minutes hun, but you need to beg" this is where the final game starts. Joel started rubbing the tip of his dick against your labia again, making you open your mouth out wide and squeeze really hard your eyes. “I am begging you Joel…please~” this was a lullaby to his ears. "What? Didn't hear, can you said that again?" fuck this man. "I. am. begging. you." you blurted out and when Joel realized you couldn't talk anymore, he decided to take pity on you.

He carefully leaned back and directed his cock to hit. You were starting to find it really weird that he wasn't saying anything and not really doing anything either out of nowhere, so you opened your eyes, but when you looked down, at that exact moment, Joel thrust his cock into you. Even though it was what you wanted so much, it extremely hurt.

You hissed in pain and dug your nails deep into Joel's back leaving gashes. It looked like he had been attacked by a wild beast, which actually wasn't that far from the truth. He did nothing for a while and let you get used to it and wait until you stopped destroying his huge back. "U're okay?" he asked nicely and placed one of his palms on your face when he saw tears coming from your eyes. You nodded roughly through gritted teeth, but Joel didn't believe you. You didn't look like you were 'good' or enjoying yourself like you were a few seconds ago.

“S’okay…we have as much time as we want” Joel's voice was suddenly soft and caring, that you wouldn't believe your ears. After a few seconds, when you didn't feel the pain as much, you nodded to give Joel's permission to continue. He understand your sign immediately and push more into you, he stretched you more and you felt so full. Pain started to surround you again, but Joel's hand on your hip and cheek made it better. Added to that were his lips on yours, sweet small kiss making you feel butterflies again. “God that's a lot” you sighed in laugh as you finally felt better and open your eyes.

But your laughing immediately stopped, when you saw Joel's face, which was not as happy as yours. You frowned at him and cocked your head to the side in confusion. "It's only halfway" he whispered and your eyes widened by at least 7 inches. HALF?! IS HE FUCKING KIDDING?! You already felt full and the thought of him having to push that much length into you one more time intoxicated you so much that you closed your eyes again and tried not to think about it.

"'Kay, do it" you said quickly and your whole body was in such tension. "Are you sure? We don't have to rush this-" "I am." you snapped at Joel and your brow furrowed and your teeth clenched as you felt him continue. It really hurt a lot, you couldn't imagine such pain even in your worst dreams, but when Joel was all the way in, you knew it would only get better. He waited again for a while as he kissed you passionately, trying to distract you, which was half working.

His kisses and the way he squeezed and touched your body sent chills down your spine and juice into your already big fire down there. After a bit of kissing and groping, Joel began moving his hips very gently, in a circular motion. This movement sent pain to the back of your head and you couldn't help but let out sighs of happiness. The pain gradually fades to pure pleasure, and as your moans began to sound more intense, with more force and volume, Joel began to change direction and speed.

“Fuck…you have no idea what you're doing to me” Joel gasped as his orgasm started feeling closer, so does yours. Pain wasn't there anymore, only pleasure instead. Very soon you started to feel on your edge, cuz Joel didn't search for long and found your g-spot very quickly, then he just hit it every time, whenever he thrust into you.

His thrusting started being more aggressive, more intense, that the whole bed started shaking too. Joel needs to cover your mouth again, and this time really put strength on your lips, because you no longer had control over the sounds you made or over your body. You twitched in tension whenever you felt the strange sensation of going to the bathroom.

You couldn't hold it for long, and you could tell by Joel's expression and the way he wasn't continuing at the same pace, stuttering and sighing much more often, that he was damn close too. A few more thrusts and you already arch your back, but Joel did it again, he stopped.

It frustrated not only you but also him, but he knew very well what he was doing. As if your fury could not be greater. First he didn't give you that first orgasm, then he ruin your clothes and now he doesn't want to give you another orgasm? What is wrong with this man?! "Joel-" before you could even ask him anything, Joel grabbed you closer to him and roll that he was laying on his back while you were sitting on his lap, this time he was under you. You were still inside him, not moving a muscle. You looked at him confused, but not for a long time when he said: "I wanna see you ride me" and that made your pussy pulse again.

Right after he said that a devilish grin appeared on your face from ear to ear, and you started moving forward slowly. Joel was sighing the same way you were, he was looking at your belly, then your breast and then deep into your eyes, repeatedly. You only looked at his face in the hope that he will tell you instructions, because you never 'ride a man' before. Joel corrected you with his hands on your hips, gently pushing you back and forth as you let him lead you.

After a moment, when your vagina and yourself calmed down, you threw your head back and opened your mouth wide. "Joel~" that was only thing you could say, correctly, moaned. This position makes your orgasm come even faster to you, and you just hoped you wouldn't be so loud, since Joel can't really reach your mouth and can't shut you down.

"Yeah, good girl...just like that" he said as he started making you go up and down on his cock, practically jumping on him. At first it was slow, you couldn't even hear the smacking of your ass against his thighs, but after a while when the atmosphere kicked into high gear and in your liquid started to accumulate in the vagina, your slaps whenever you land back on Joel's legs started being louder and louder. After a few seconds, Joel didn't even have to continue guiding you because even though you didn't know what to do, your body definitely knew. Joel was admiring your body, your breasts moving up and down to the rhythm, your moaning and literally screaming his name, it was beautiful. "Joel I-" "I know baby, I know~" Joel groaned as an angry wolf and his grip was thick and strong, just as your pussy. You both felt the climax coming, it started being so intense that Joel is definitely going to have red marks of your ass on his thighs. The bed started to creak so much that you thought it was going to break but now you weren't focusing on that at all. All you focused on was your orgasm, which was so close, and you finally reached it when Joel pushed you a little and started rubbing your clit. You came first but Joel didn't let that stop you from riding. The post-orgasm feeling was amazing, but you started feeling overstimulated. Of course you wanted Joel to reach his orgasm too, but your vagina was just as tired as you. It didn't take long and luckily Joel did and respectfully and honestly, his face and the sound that came out of him when he squirted into you was something like euphoria for you. The overstimulation thing fades out really fast, as you saw Joel, breathing heavily as you and when you realize, YOU make a man come. It was amazing and you had so many mixed feelings right now, that you don't even know how you feel. The only thing you know for sure is that you are fucking exhausted, that's why you passed out right next to Joel, breathing heavily as he did.

It was akward silence, except your and Joel's loud breathing, trying so hard to catch breath and not pass out by low oxygen in body, and the people talking loudly in the other room, where the party is still going. you were quite surprised that the celebration wasn't over yet. Even though the sex with Joel seemed endless, it only lasted a few minutes, that's how good the fuck was. You tried to ignore your surroundings and focus on only two things, breathing and thinking about what the hell happened. It's wrong, this whole situation is wrong, this shouldn't have happened, but these negative thoughts immediately passed you when you felt Joel's large, muscular arm under your neck. He then pulled you closer to his warm manly body. Even though you were both covered under the covers, you could still feel the nakedness and sweat from the other. You couldn't find the words. Even as your breathing calmed down and so did Joel's, you didn't know what to say. You wanted to thank him so badly because the way he made you feel and relieved you was unforgettable.

“Thank you…” you chirped softly but loud enough for Joel to hear you. As soon as you said it with a shaky voice, Joel scoffed and made you tilt your head, so you were looking into his eyes. "Are you kidding me? Are you thanking me right now?" he asked eagerly, and it was clear that Joel thought you were being sarcastic, but when you remained silent and formed your lips into a thin line, Joel rolled his eyes and sighed in disappointment. "Boys haven't been nice to you in the past, have they?" he asked, softness in his voice as he rubbed slowly and comfortably your back by his big palm. You sigh as a clear answer. "Oh baby...don't worry, you have me now and I'll show you how a man should treat a girl like you" the way that he said that made you blush and you needed to burn your face into his chest , making him giggle a bit. "But promise me one thing" still rubbing your back and sometimes stopped at your hair, slightly played with them. You look up at him again and give him a shy little 'hm?'. "Do not tell anybody about this...especially not your family members" it was like all your power and confidence just woke up, as you imagine ur mom finding out about this.

“Are you kidding me? Do you think that my mom would jump with happiness that I slept with…basically my uncle? Oh my god saying that out loud makes me want to puke…” The typical ‘dad laugh’ came out from him and he agreed. Your mom would literally tear you and Joel appart on pieces, then cook the bodies and serve it on parties like this…like some Jeffrey Dahmer in female version.

Well, I think she needed to hear us because there is absolutely NO WAY that she came to my room without knocking, that's what she always do, and of course, cough us. The timing was too damn perfect so I couldn't bealive that. I think mom is some kind of wizard and she is just plying with time, when she is alone.

She stare at us, in shock, behind her was Tommy, who stare as same as my mom. I and Joel stare in shock too, we had no idea what to do or what to say…

Well, we're FUCKED-

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#pedro pascal #smut #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x y/n #joel x you

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years ago

Text

Viktor x gn! Reader - The river meeting the ocean

A/n: I had to write for my guy here

Summary: You love Viktor, you love the idiot even if he doesn't see it. But what happens when he does?

Warnings: allusions of sex, some past abuse from people (it's not mentioned who or exactly what happened), crying, maybe unrequited love (idk go figure it out), swearing, kissing, I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three P's:

[Pronouns used: You/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: romantic! Viktor x reader, platonic! Jayce x reader (he's literally only mentioned once I think)]

"You know you don't have to bring me food." Viktor muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear with an almost annoyed look on his face as he frowned slightly.

Rolling your eyes you place the tray of food in front of him, interrupting any work he's been doing. Practically forcing him to actually take care of himself and eat.

"Ya, and if I didn't do that and force you out of the lab to sleep you would be dead." You deadpanned as Viktor stubbornly glared at his food as if it were the enemy. As if eating food would be starting a war.

And Viktor is undeniably stubborn.

Yet one look from you, he picked up his fork and started eating.

Your face relaxed a bit once he did, and a small smile was bestowed on your lips. Relief coursed through you like a title wave as you were incredibly worried for the scientist as he never took care of himself enough. Though you would never admit it out loud.

You go to leave the laboratory as you've seen your job done but Viktor's voice stops you in your tracks.

"Y/n, please don't come with food again, I- ah, I don't want your pity."

Your chest is filled with rage and your hands fists but you know, you know it's not necessarily his fault. You've had problems all your life with loving people, that doesn't mean it's Viktor's fault why you're so in a rage. He doesn't know, and with the way people often treat him you shouldn't be so surprised yourself he's asking this of you. In truth your logical side of your brain is completely surprised he didn't ask you of this sooner.

You've had people in the past who told you you loved too fiercely. That you were too much to bare and that you needed to quote on quote; "tune it down."

So you learned to stop showing your love for people and in this moment it makes you want to scream.

Because Viktor doesn't get it, he really doesn't. His intelligent golden eyes with all his observing still can't seem to grasp it and it kills you. Seeing as you don't want him to feel like you're 'too much,' but it seems like he isn't getting that you love him - because you love him more than the moon and stars combined.

You love him more than you love your favorite food, you love him so much you want to scream from the rooftops and hug him to death and just tell him; "You're fucking amazing."

But you won't, it would be too much.

Yet you can't help but snap at him; "I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't want to Viktor, I feel no pity for you."

And that was true, because when you pitted someone you thought of them as beneath you. Although if you were to hate or love, (you were the latter) it meant that you saw them as an equal.

"Then why do these things for me? Why... Why would you help me if you don't-"

Oh Viktor, you're nearly as oblivious as Jayce!

"Because I love you, you insufferable fool!" You hiss at him as you finally turn around to face him - to look him in the eyes and finally spill out your love confession because you rather he know that you thought of him as an equal rather than someone above him.

And perhaps your heart was leading you, (or maybe it was your anger issues, who knows.)

Quickly though, your face contorts into a horrified expression at what you just did as Viktor's beautiful face turns into one of shock.

You're hand lands on the door handle and you pull it open faster than you have ever in your life and sprint out of the room before Viktor can even get in a word.

Good thing too, because in your mind he didn't have anything good to reply to that confession.

If only you knew how wrong you were.

_______________

You locked yourself in your room, you hadn't come out in hours as you had been a bit preoccupied crying and moping around.

You couldn't believe what you had just done, you had just confessed a couple of hours ago. You could have possibly salvaged the friendship between the two had you maybe stayed to explain yourself. But no! You just ran away like the coward you truly are.

A new fresh wave of tears came bursting down your cheeks, forcefully taking control of your body as you shook and sobbed. How could you be so dumb?

Covering your mouth you tried to calm yourself because deep breaths obviously were not working at the moment so you tried to hold your breath instead. It didn't work and you just sobbed more in despair as your cries escaped your lips.

Then there was a knock on your door.

You didn't know who the fuck was at your door right now but you were going to strangle them.

Perhaps if you just didn't answer they would go away, you closed your eyes and calmed yourself trying to make as little as noise as possible.

There was another knock on the door.

Damn, they were persistent.

You were sure your hair looked like a mess, and your clothes looked crumpled, as well as your face probably had tear streaks down your cheeks, with red rimmed eyes and a snotty nose from weeping but you didn't care.

You were going to rain hell on however decided to disturb you.

Stomping over to the door you rip it open with a force of a elephant. Anger raided all around you and your dark expression certainly relayed a message.

They were going to regret ever knocking on your door.

When you did open it though, the face of Viktor is revealed to you and like a child... You slam it right on his face.

"For fu- Y/n I did not walk all the way up here for you to not even speak to me!" Viktor bangs his fist against the door.

You didn't reply, you didn't know how to reply.

It's silent for a few seconds before there's an audibly loud sigh and you think Viktor lets his head fall onto the door as he whispers desperately; "Please, just let me in."

One, two, three seconds debating with yourself, screaming at yourself to just leave it close, to avoid further embarrassment. Before opening the door, because you couldn't deny the stupid man anything.

Viktor had no idea just how much power he had over you, with a single word you would burn the world down for him if he told you too. Yet you would disobey every word of his if it was vital to save him.

His figure is revealed to you and he limps into the room, very obviously tired since it is a pretty long way to these parts of the dorms.

It's quiet, as both of you struggle with what to say before Viktor throws his hands into the air and pulls you towards him and kisses you firmly on the lips.

It's like a river finally meeting the ocean for the first time, it's like taking a sip of water when you're dying of thirst.

Then he pulls away and you know you want more than just a sip.

You pull him back in and your lips shift together sloppily, nothing like what you've been told it's like to kiss someone. If somebody were to walk in right now you're not quite sure they'd know you guys were even kissing both of you were so bad at it. It probably looked like you were devouring each other at best.

But that was the truth wasn't it? As you stumbled back onto your bed with him underneath you, you realized you were devouring each other. Yet you've been starving for so long you think you might you just deserve each other.

When you both withdraw your foreheads are still touching as you breathe heavily trying to catch your breaths. Viktor couldn't even open his eyes as he kept them closed as the sensation of your lips on his replayed in his brain.

Then you realized you were straddling him and that probably wasn't very good for his leg.

"Shit Viktor your leg-" You go to move but he pulls you back down with his hands on your hips.

"Don't, it's fine."

Suddenly the entire situation dawns on you and a small chuckle leaves your throat before you explode into giggles letting your head rest on Viktor's shoulder.

"How are we adults?"

Viktor can't help but join in on the laughter at your comment nodding his head.

"I really do love you."

Titling your head you observed his face, as your hands traced it. From his dark brown hair, to his golden eyes, all the way to his sharp jaw line until you cupped his cheeks.

"I love you more than I thought possible, you- you impossible man. You make me want to slap you and kiss you all at once. I love you so much I demanded that the stars listen to my pleas. Viktor I-" Your voice cracked and tears filled your eyes for the second time that day.

For a moment Viktor is silent and you fear that familiar pan of "you were too much," come over you. And you wonder if maybe you really were.

"Sorry was that too much?" You ask, voice groggy with tears in the back of your throat.

Viktor shakes his head and kisses your face. "Never is it too much, Y/n L/n I wish you would suffocate me with your beautiful words and loving actions."

"What? Like; Viktor you're so fucking amazing we should plot world dominance together?"

He laughs, and of course it's gorgeous. You didn't think it was humanly possible for a laugh to be gorgeous but of course Viktor would be the only human alive to have a gorgeous laugh.

He does end up staying the night, and he ends of being late to work the next morning and Jayce is wondering if you two finally got together.

Words: 1707

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Arcane taglist: No one yet!

#Viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane #viktor the machine herald #machine herald viktor #jayce #jayce talis #delusion writes

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rozhliena · 3 years ago

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mc x belphegor hatefucking

blowjob, mc does not get pleasured at all, power dynamics, allusions to bdsm but it's really not all that, unhealthy relationship like seriously mc is a terrible person, takes place after the syrup debacle but before simeon's play

Some things don’t change in the House of Lamentation. No one is anyone’s keeper down here, so no one cares when Belphie slips away to the attic after dinner. They barely care when you follow suit because they’re all too busy arguing with the angels and talking about the next big ball—you don’t care about all that. There’s enough stress from everything else, which is maybe the real reason that you wind up chasing after Belphegor.

“Got room for one more?“ you ask, don’t wait for a reply before you open the door on your own.

“Rude. What if I’d said no?” But Belphie moves over to give you a place to sit.

“I’d use that pact.” He shrugs, even though he looks disbelieving. You sigh. “They’re so loud.”

“Usually you can handle it.”

You laugh, forcing it out. “Usually I’m not this tired.”

“Take a nap,” he suggests. “I’ll even let you sleep with me.”

And you shake your head at that, closing your eyes. “Not that kind of tired. I mean I need to blow off steam.”

“Oh.” He says this one a bit too meaningfully. You open one eye and he’s looking at you, head tilted, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you need help?”

Usually, you would laugh and say No, thank you very much, but you’re tired and need to do something, anything, and Belphegor can’t be the worst lay you’ll have by any stretch of the imagination. After everything, what else could you have left to lose? So you put some approximation of trust in him, and take a breath. “Yeah, sure. But no hands,” you say. Don't command, just on principle. “Don’t touch me.”

“Fine by me.” Immediately he backs you up against the wall, because he’s into that. “Do you want to tie my hands behind my back?”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” God, you could get claustrophobic in a place like this. The attic ceiling is maybe six inches from your head, and even less for Belphie. You run your hands through his hair, tugging hard enough that it has to hurt, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Watch your mouth,” he says, then nips at your ear, which makes you shudder less from the sensation and more from the sound, some imagined grind of metal on metal, you don't know where it comes from. You impulsively pull his head back by the hair, watching how his eyes glitter as you do.

“It’s kinda pathetic,” Belphie whispers. You sigh and bump your forehead against his, wishing you could stop all this, the mind games and the seeing, but of course you can’t. He presses his mouth to the edge of your lips, and he's smiling. “You keep coming back to me. Even now.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you ask, sharply. “I don’t want to hurt them.” You dig your nails into the back of his neck, hoping to draw blood, or at least to leave angry red marks in his pale skin. “I can’t—I don’t want to.” You can’t talk like you usually do, articulation gone, words lost to the space between your bodies. You shift your weight so his back is to the wall now. He seems to like that a lot, grinning when he speaks again.

“Do you think you’re hurting me?” He goes and says your name so sweetly you could believe it means something.

You reach under his shirt, drag your nails down his back, feeling the bones in his spine, trying to break skin. You imagine the terrible sound of flesh uneasily coming apart. Belphegor doesn’t even flinch. “I hope I am.”

He laughs. His hair brushes up against your face when he leans down, eyes locked on yours. “You’re terrible,” he says, some undercurrent to the words, like fondness, or respect.

You don’t respond because you already know it. Belphegor kisses you softly, no clack of teeth, no teeth at all. You undo his jacket, pull off his shirt, and then his undershirt. Belphie draws back and you knew he’s letting you look, but there’s nothing much to see. Nothing that you haven’t already seen. He’s thin, skinny like some of the boys you could have fucked for fun anytime back in the human world, all ribs and hipbones, but this is the first time you’ve really looked at his body in the light. Makes you want to ruin him more.

You yank off your own shirt, not giving him a moment to ogle, and then kiss him hard, hands gripping his neck. He makes this strangled sound in the back of his throat, a cross between a gasp for air and a sigh, and you feel his hands try to grab your waist before he remembers the order. Good boy. You would never say that one aloud, but you pull back to compliment him on his restraint, lips brushing against his ear.

“Why are you so afraid of commitment?” he asks, before you can speak. He smells half like Beel’s body wash and half like something else entirely—it’s impossible to say what. Forget the compliments, you think. You put some pressure on his throat as you sink your teeth into the lobe of his ear, just enough to leave marks. Intake of breath, rise of shoulders, and no other reaction. You wonder how far you’d have to go before he breaks into his demon form and tries to kill you again. Wonder if that’s something he’d do at all, now. You don’t like thinking about it. Force him down to the ground—though it isn’t really forcing when he complies like this. He looks pretty and fragile, splayed out on the floor of this attic, soft and exposed like the lamb that he isn’t.

“I’m not,” you say, letting go of his neck to feel him up, thinking that he’s probably never let a human do any of this to him before, run their hands along his bare skin, kiss his neck, all that. It feels almost like an honor to see the red marks on his white flesh, even though it’s more of a trophy than anything else. You press your thumbs under the rise of his hips, feel him stiffen for a moment before he relaxes. At this rate, you’ll really have to suck him off.

“Then why don’t you do something?” he says, a little strained, but not undone enough.

You want to pretend you don’t know what he means. Instead, you kiss him loosely on the mouth, hands moving up to his ribs, thinking that his premolars could make scars if he used them. He tastes like something sweet, something with a note of tang to it, but you can’t place what. It doesn’t even matter. You run your hands along his chest and hear him groan, this tiny noise that you would have missed if you hadn’t been paying close attention. Finally, something interesting.

“I don’t want to break anything,” you say when you pull away. Unless it’s you. His face is pink, but his voice is as even as ever.

“What are you scared of?” His eyes seem to flash with a light of their own, and you don’t care anymore.

“Nothing,” you spit. You crouch down, eye level with his hips, and reach out to undo his belt. You look up and lock gazes with him, wondering if you’re imagining the shudder of his body. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

It isn’t difficult to get him hard—already he is, already you could stroke him stupid, throat him right till there’s nothing left inside him. But what fun would that be? The gratification too instant. Hand on the bulge in his boxers, massaging it till he squirms, till he can’t meet your eyes anymore. That’s more like it. You want to ruin him, one way or another, or at least to frustrate him. You pull his boxers down and hover your mouth over his cock, letting your breath fan out over the head of it; his hips almost buck up despite himself. There it is. You could have fun with this. “If you move I’m not even going to let you come.”

“Like you’d let me anyway,” Belphie says curtly, but you see the look in his eye, that demonic urge to prove you wrong. His lips curl up in something like a grin. “Whatever. Fine.”

You click your tongue. “Brat,” you say. You trace the tips of your fingers along his shaft, watching the shudder of his long eyelashes, then abruptly wrap your hand around it and laugh at the way he gasps, how his head falls back against the pillows, the red rising to his face. “Who’s scared now?”

You take him in without warning, rolling your tongue around the tip of his cock, watching. Waiting. To his credit, he doesn’t move, except for his eyes, frantically locked on yours. Good. You grab the base of his cock and pull at the same time you bring your mouth farther along him, letting the taste of pre-cum fill your mouth—a bit earthy, sweet. You hear a mild “Shit” under his breath, feel his muscles tensing with the urge to fuck you in the face, but he doesn’t move.

His cock hits the back of your throat and there’s a groan, then, involuntary if you know anything about him, but lusty. You can’t laugh like this so you swallow instead, drawing back just to press a kiss to the edge of his hip, still working him hard with your hands. You kiss him gently enough that the subsequent edge of your teeth elicits a whimper from him.

“I’m going—”

You hum, run the tip of your tongue along his skin, sucking a scarlet mark into it. “You going to come?”

Belphie inhales sharply. “I’m going to—kill you,” he says with difficulty, which does make you laugh, no humor to it. You bite down on whatever skin you can get between your teeth, the thin, tender portion just in the dip above his thighs, relishing the feeling of—ruining something. Being unfair, because none of this is fair. He sure wasn’t.

You twist his cock just enough that he hisses, half-pain half-pleasure, throbbing in your hand. Never again. You lick your lips, the aftertaste bitter on the tongue, acrid down the throat. Push his hips down, spreading his thighs apart as far as he can go, and scoff, giving him one last look before going in for keeps.

“Be good, why don’t you?” Brushing your lips over his tip, licking along the length of it till he gasps, bringing his cock back into your mouth, too good to him. This is far more than he deserves. You shouldn’t even let him come at all. But he stays still, he’s good at that, the only moving part of him the involuntary twitch of his cock. You raise your brows and fondle his balls, finally taking him all the way down the throat. You listen for the tiny, sweet moan in the back of his throat, feel the jerk of his hips. How about now?

He shakes silently, but you hear another intake of breath and hope he’ll be beyond coherency by the time you’re through. Belphegor cries out your name breathlessly, a sound that burns—you suck him down, swallowing, maybe too good at taking it, satisfied with his vibrations of pleasure because you think they’re all you can get from him—

But he comes like he’d never come in the millennia he’d been alive, thick and rich in your mouth, back arching so well it’s almost beautiful. You take all that, pleasantly surprised, and pull off to examine his flushed face. Quiet but not brooding, that perpetual sulk evened out into something else entirely. When he looks like this you can’t resist kissing the jut of his hip in earnest now—the pleasure of the flesh or something like that, nothing major. The rise and fall of his chest under your hand sure is something, and you look at the bruises on his skin with some pride.

His dick is softening already; you tug it lazily once more just to hear him whine, smallest vocalization. Your hands drift along his body, chest and hips and thighs and neck. You kiss up his stomach to his nipples, kiss those, too, flicking your tongue against them just because you can. Belphie shifts weakly under you now and you’re surprised that he’d even lasted that long, if nipple stimulation alone can get him like this. You move to his neck; his pulse strong beneath your thumb, just as strong under your teeth. There’s that urge to tear out his throat, but you let him off with a small hickey that will fade soon enough.

“Was—was that good enough for you?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically breathy, that post-coital daze caught up to him. You gauge his expression, almost-glassy, eyes framed by those long lashes of his.

“Just awful.” You catch his mouth with yours, slow and deep. Afterglow physicality, nothing to it—you would do this with anyone after giving them head, and he tastes sweeter now than he had earlier. Belphie moans against your lips, all semblance of dignity lost.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmurs.

“Whatever. Was it good enough for you?”

He kisses you softly. “Worst cock-sucking I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

“And how many of those have you had altogether, including this?”

“One.”

You snort. “So it was also the best.”

“I guess you could say that.” Belphegor draws back, looking at you through his lashes, almost too at home on the floor. “What about you?”

“I’d like to think I give a good blowjob.”

“You know what I mean. Did you let off enough steam?”

So that’s where this is going. You scoff. “Yeah.” It could be nice, the fact that he asked, but the fact that he’s the one doing the asking is too much. His eyes aren’t so glazed-over now, and it’s harder to have that approximation of trust when they’re clear like this. “I’ll jack off on my own, thanks. Your brothers will be wondering where we went, anyway.”

“You hate relying on other people, don’t you? Or being indebted.”

“I hate when you touch me, is what. I can’t stand it.”

He goes quiet at that. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” You’ve been through this one already. It doesn’t heal anything. It doesn’t bring you back to life. “Put your clothes on and clean up a little. I’m washing up.”

In the tiny attic bathroom, you wash your hands till you can’t even feel the residue, rinse around your mouth and gargle till the taste of him is gone, wipe yourself down just for the sake of it. You splash your face and stare into the dirty mirror, cold water dripping down your chin. Keep looking till the weak, diluted expression in your eyes becomes just that—an expression and nothing more. And soon you can’t recognize yourself at all.

#obey me #omnsfw #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me belphie #obey me smut #spiicings

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stinkysam · 4 years ago

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Eustass “Captain” Kid - A bad day

Warning : alcohol allusion (once)

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : you're in bad mood and you're not sure yourself what you actually want despite the answer being quite easy to obtain.

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

Note : I would give this a 5 out of a 10.

He's more of a "act first, think then" type of person so he won't really stop what he's doing to check on you to know if you're doing alright, which means he won't quickly notice your change in mood.

It will take a few interactions for him to understand what's happening. At first he got confused because he didn't understand what you were on about which made him frustrated and somewhat mouthy.

After a few spikes sent your way he'll finally catch on and get kinda awkward as he's not sure how to help you out.

He'll change the ship's direction, wanting to find the closest marine's ship to get you to fight. Punching people is always fun.

He doesn't care if you want to do it or not. He's not going to let you mop and piss yourself off all day. There's many things you can do to clear your mind and feel better.

Since music sometimes makes him feel better he's gonna make you listen to some with him. Move your stupid ass over here and open your clogged ears.

Though he has a clear preference for punk, rock or metal genres, he doesn't care if yours are different. If it slaps it slaps. He just wants you to sing, scream, dance, whatever while having your fun.

He's most likely going to make himself so pumped he'll start a fight somewhere.

He'll toss food at you. Sometimes a shitty mind space is because of hunger. He'll make sure you eat it without being too obvious. Keeping you in the corner of his eyes or checking back on you after a few minutes.

He'll force you to spend time with the rest of the crew. As stupid as they are, they're somewhat fun to have around. Plus Killer can drum so you can have a small party, happily running to the reserve to get the good drinks.

Nothing works ? Being around people doesn't help at all ? Punching some marine dudes doesn't feel exhilarating ? Not even hungry or thirsty ? What the heck do you want then ?

Oh.

Alright sucker, get movin', it's disgustingly mushy o'clock. In his defence, physical affection is not always in the top of his mind so he kind of always forget about that option.

The first few times he was quite stiff but with time he grew used to it and is more casual with cuddling you. After all, he trusts you and it's not that bad of an activity even though he prefers movement.

He's gonna complain, saying you should've said earlier you just wanted to cuddle, but in all honesty he doesn't care much. Despite looking like he's only fueled by anger and spite, he knows it's not the same for everyone. Which he kind of hates because things would be easier to understand.

Probably has asked you how you could feel this many things once. Yeah yeah yeah, can be soft sometimes, alright shut up, ain't the point- don't change the subject, asshole.

His right hand would keep you close, fingers softly scratching your scalp as you nap and wait.

He doesn't immediately pull away once you feel better, he's gonna enjoy your closeness a little bit longer especially since you're now both vibing. But quickly he'll want to do other things.

Now are you in the mood to kick people ? Or steal cool weapons ? Because his collection is going quite slowly nowadays. Maybe create chaos ?

He would laugh at you for looking "so tough and bold" and still needing a hug to feel better. But he doesn't because was the one cuddling you so you'd have room to attack him back.

#Male reader #One piece #One piece x male reader #eustass kid #Eustass kid x male reader #m!reader

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lightrises · 4 years ago

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"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part III/VII)

"shock therapy"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: language, grief, allusions to suicide, mentions of death, let me know if I missed something

A/N: okay this is... Kinda dark, but I mean, expected given the prompt I'm working with lmao, I'd say enjoy but... Well, enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

It began with small actions, like waking up earlier than me, or taking on making breakfast himself.

I thought he was feeling better.

Then came the big actions, like deciding to switch places with me an working with the clients while I made the shippings.

I started to feel something was off the third day since the exchange; I escaped the office to visit him and he could have easily passed as the giant mannequin in our façade.

"Are you alright?" I questioned in a worried whisper near his ear.

"Of course." I knitted my brows, puzzled at his response. He noticed how odd it had been due to my face, and that forced smile fell for a second as he leaned on me to place a kiss on my crown. "Don't worry about me, darling."

Before I could insist, his attention was stolen by a couple of very confused clients.

The following night in the flat, while we were making dinner, it seemed he had gone back to his usual demeanor, so I figured he was making extra effort to look happy in front of the customers.

I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong, though, something between us; I couldn't pinpoint it, yet knew it existed.

It was that same night that I got a grip of what was going on, when the bed's weight shifted, shaking me out of my sleep just in time to hear a muffled sob followed by a shaky breath.

"George?" His eyes met my own as I propped myself on my forearms.

"Did I wake you?" He questioned, his voice as quiet as mine. "Sorry, love."

Sometimes —more often than not— when he called me that name, I would feel butterflies in my stomach, and the fact that it was normally accompanied by some kind of physical contact didn't help at all.

He extended his arm to reach my hand, his thumb caressing the back of my palm. "Go back to sleep." He commanded in a soft whisper, getting up and walking towards the door.

As the door closed, my chest ached at the mere possibility of us going back to the first week we spend together in the flat after the war.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I went straight to the kitchen and splashed my face with water before pouring myself a glass of milk.

Y/n had the brilliant idea of throw away all the alcohol in our apartment to avoid falling into bad habits as a copying mechanism, and, in all honesty, it was one of her best ones.

Grabbing the glass, I made my way to the living room, plopping down on the couch; I wouldn't even try to fall asleep there— it was proven impossible during the first week.

I had to snap out of it and start to sleep in my own room; the war left us all scarred in s million ways, and one of them included that even the slightest, quietest movement would wake you up, and I knew for a fact that Y/n wasn't getting one single night of sound sleep, and I was the one to blame.

"Oi," Speaking of which.

"What are you doing up?"

"Checking on you." She responded, leaning against the doorframe "You alright?" I nodded, but she walked to the couch either way, sitting down and letting herself fall over my chest. "You've been acting weird." She mumbled, snugging her face on my chest and consequently making my heart swell. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

I hummed, my chin resting over her crown as my arm wrapped around her. "I know." I murmured, knowing very well it was lie.

There was several things I couldn't and wouldn't tell her ever, but I wouldn't let her know that. "C'mon, go back to bed."

"Not without you." It wasn't more than a mumble, since she was beginning to fall asleep on my chest, but it was loud enough to trigger me.

How many times I had dreamed of having her just like this, how many times had I yearned to wrap my arms around her and never let go, to kiss her, to sleep with her before the war; I still did.

I still wanted to kiss all her sadness away, to be able to call her mine; I still loved her in a way I shouldn't, and somehow it felt even more wrong now that Fred was gone.

It took me a moment to realise she had, in fact, fallen asleep. I carried her back to her bed and lay her down, carefully pulling the sheets to cover her.

I lay down too, promising myself I would face my fears the next day— I owe her that, at the very least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n had left the apartment to go down the Diagon Alley to buy groceries and a new blouse.

It's now or never, I thought to myself, standing at the start of the hallway. I took a deep breath and made my way to my room with my bags hanging on my shoulders.

You can do this.

I reached for the knob with shaky hands and turned it.

You can do this.

My arms pushed the door open in a swift movement, my eyes anxiously scanning the room as if I was expecting to find a monster inside.

But there was no monster, it was just my room; a bit dusty and with a musty smell, but still my room.

I left my bags on the floor and sat on the edge of my bed. It wasn't scary, nor haunted, as I thought it would be, and I felt a weight off my shoulders; Y/n would be able to sleep the nights through, instead of waking up every now and then to my gasps and sobs.

Since it had been way easier than I thought it would be, I decided to take it a step further; I would have to enter there sooner rather than later to clean, so why not now?

Oh, what a big mistake I had made.

READER'S P. O. V.

"I'm back!" Somehow, I had managed to climb upstairs whilst carrying all the bags without tripping. "Did you know that Florean Fortescue's has three new ice cream flavours?" I threw the Twilfitt and Tatting’s bag on the sofa and made my way to the kitchen. "Don't be mad but I got you something at Twilfitt and Tatting’s!" Laying the groceries over the counter, I frowned at George's lack of responses. "George?" I left the kitchen and took a look around the flat; maybe he was down in the shop?

I was about to go downstairs when I saw a crack of light down the hall, one coming from a partially open door —from Fred's door.

My heart pounded hard against my chest as I made my way to the part of the house we rarely got to.

I knew George had to be inside, but the fact that no sound was coming out of the room —no sobs, no weeping, no ragged breathing— was about to put me under cardiac arrest.

What if during the last week he had gotten worse —rock bottom kind of worse— and that was why he had been acting so distant? What if those 'don't worry about me's had been foreshadowing something terrible?

I shut my eyes, my pulse hammering as I pushed the door open, dreading to find a horrifying scenario.

Open your fucking eyes, Y/n.

I couldn't help the sigh of relief when I saw George kneeled in the middle of the room, alive and breathing.

Then, I doubled checked and realized that maybe he wasn't that much alive. I circled the ginger so we could be face to face, and my heart shattered at the sight in front of me; his eyes were puffy, his cheeks pale, his nose red and streaks of freshly shed tears wetting his face. His hands clutched onto something that I quickly recognised as Fred's blazer, and my breath caught up in my throat.

"George..." I called his name in a quiet whisper; somehow it felt like we were trespassing.

He then looked up at me, eyes hollow, and spoke words so harsh that they burned, even if they weren't meant to hurt me. "It should have been me."

"George—"

"It should've been me there, I should've gone with Percy."

"Please—"

"It should've been me, not him." I felt my eyes watering, slightly blurring my vision as the man before me kept talking. "He had a life— he had you, I didn't have anything but him." His gaze was now casted down, and I no longer knew if he was speaking to me or to himself. "What am I compared to him? It should be me six feet under, not him."

That last sentence was what snapped me out of the state I was in. "Look at me." I commanded, kneeling in front of him and cupping his cheeks. "Do you think Fred would've wanted you to think that?" His lower lip quivered; we rarely said his name out loud anymore. "He would have beaten your ass. Don't you dare think like that ever again, you hear me?"

"But it's true—"

"No it's not!" I yelled, making him flinch. "It's not, George." I repeated, this time softer, my thumbs caressing his cheeks soothingly. "You're sweet, creative, caring and smart, and I'm so happy to have you here with me." His eyes closed, eyebrows knitted and lips pursed. "You're your own person, and that person is amazing." He leaned on, letting his forehead fall on my shoulder, my hands travelling to his back and hair as his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I miss him, Y/n." He confessed. "I miss him so much— it hurts."

“I miss him too, but I can’t let you lose yourself because of him.” I explained, planting a chaste kiss on his temple. “I cannot lose you too, okay?” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm sorry." His breath fanned on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I wanted to get better, so you didn't have to take care of me."

"Oi," I squeezed him tighter, if possible. "We're taking care of each other." His face buried deeper in the crook of my neck and I had to hold back a content sigh. "We can do this— together." I stated. "You can't go on your own for shock therapy— it doesn't work like that." He nodded. "You gave me a big scare."

"I'm really sorry." His hand, which, until then had been holding onto the blazer, let go of it in order to rub my back.

We stayed like that in silence for Merlin knows how long before I spoke against his shoulder, "I bought chocolate strawberries ice cream."

"Is that a thing?" I hummed affirmatively. He slowly pulled away, his hands leaving my back to rest on my waist before they held mines, pulling me up with him. We gazed into each other's eyes for an instant that felt like an eternity. "I didn't mean to scare you, love." He assured me, pulling me into another hug, this one only long enough for him to kiss my crown.

"I know." I pulled away, giving him a small smile that he managed to return, most likely involuntarily. "Wanna try that ice cream?" He nodded and I led him out of the room. "I also bought you a tie at Twilfitt and Tatting’s."

"Why would you buy anything from there?" His voice was starting to recover some strength as we walked to the kitchen with our hands interlaced.

"'Cause it was a very pretty tie." I defended myself, going to the sofa to grab the fancy bag while George went to grab a couple of spoons and the ice cream. "Look."

He walked to me and examined the tie. "Okay, it's quite pretty." He agreed, offering me one of the spoons.

"Told you." I handed him the tie and he gave it another look before leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"You didn't have to buy me anything." That small smile appeared again, making my heart swell.

"Well, I wanted to." I went to sit on the couch and he followed my lead, carefully leaving the tie over the backrest so he could open the tub.

"Sweet." He commented, dipping his spoon into the ice cream and handing me the container. We ate it in silence and, once we finished, his voice filled the room. "I think I might go for a nightwalk."

"It'll do you good." I nodded, bringing my knees to my chest and curling up in the couch after he took the spoon away from me and got up to leave it in the sink.

"Do you wanna come?" His quiet, almost sheepish question made my head turn to the kitchen door. "I mean— you've just come back but—" He left the kitchen, staring at me expectingly, scratching the back of his neck. "uh... if you wanna come, I could use some company."

"I'd love to." I didn't even notice the way my gaze lighted up until I saw it reflected on his own features, that shone with the slightest tinge of joy.

The fact that I was able to do that only by smiling at him made my tummy flutter.

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giorno-plays-piano · 5 years ago

Text

Sleep tight Part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, allusion to breeding.

Words: 3571.

Summary: You know someone tried to break into your apartment, but no one believes you since you live in the very same building as famous Captain America. Who is willing to risk it?

Part 1

____________

Your instincts were telling you to ran and shout and scream until somebody would be aware that you were trapped in your own room with a psycho beneath your bed. You needed to get out and find your cousin before it was too late, before he took you away like he promised and did to you whatever his sick mind was telling him to.

Strangely, your legs were not moving as if you lost control over your own body. You were shaking feverishly, but you couldn't force youself to stand up.

Wasn't it too late already? He knew who you were. He knew who your cousin was. He knew all the places where you could hide and all your relatives who would try helping you. How easy would it be for him to kill them all? He was Steve Rogers, the man who had never failed. If he didn't get you now, he'd make sure to tear your world apart in revenge.

You tried moving your legs but failed miserably again. Did your own body betray you? Was it Captain who gave you more of his medicine?

You were stuck here. There was no way out.

"S-steve?" You whispered, bending down a bit and looking at your feet.

When he touched your ankle with his cold hand, a ragged scream ripped from your throat - you were watching him getting out from under your bed like a spider, a mutilated monster, a nightmare in a form of a man. You landed on the floor with a heavy thud, trying to get away from him, crawling to the door, but Steve was already on top of you, injecting another medicine with syringe into your neck. Though he didn't finish yet, you already felt your body freezing. You were getting cold, your eyelids heavy. You thought it was the end when you closed your eyes, listening to Steve's loud heartbeat right above you.

Of course, it wasn't the end. He didn't plan on murdering you now; he only wanted to take you to the other location where you would be safe and sound with him. He'd prefer you to stay conscious, but you had enough stress already with that unhealthy lifestyle of yours, too much work on your shoulders, and lack of sympathy from the people surrounding you. Steve couldn't demand too much from you - you needed some rest.

_____________

The awakening was torturous. Your neck hurt badly from the rough injection, and your head was spinning. You felt like you were on a ship constantly rocked by the waves only to discover you were laying on a bed in a simple room, not a cabin. You didn't recognize this dark empty place, but it was the least of your worries.

You couldn't feel your body below waist.

Moving your fingers, you weakly grabbed the blanket that covered your body, feeling the soft cotton texture. Your arms lost their strength, but they still felt like a part of you. But your legs... regardless how much you were shaking, your body refused to move even the slightest bit. It was like your lower half wasn't intact anymore. Like somebody cut you in half.

No. No, please, no. NO!

"Shh, honey." His quiet voice cut through the heavy silence, and you find him sitting in the corner of the room in complete darkness. "Please don't stress yourself. It's not good for your health."

You'd laugh at his words if you could, but you weren't able to force even a single sound out of your mouth. He did something to your body. He broke your spine. He made your legs completely useless to you. He made it so you would never leave him, unable to walk.

When Steve got up from his place, you looked at him with pure horror, your eyes filled with tears and open so wide it hurt. He had a concerned expression, watching you tremble with fear. Wasn't he supposed to be happy because he had finally caught you?

The closer he came, the more your teeth chattered almost to the point of breaking. He had taken away your legs. He broke you and he would keep doing it more and more because no one was going to save you from America's most favourite hero. You would die in agony in his hands because he wanted you to.

"Everything is going to be alright, darling." His hand brushed against your forehead, and you whimpered, a thread of saliva running down your cheek from your half-open mouth. You couldn't make yourself speak to him, too shocked and frightened to death. "We're almost there. It's going to take one more day or so, and then we will finally settle down. You don't need to worry about anything."

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

His eyes watched your madly shaking figure, and Steve reached out to take your frozen palm in his.

"Why didn't you tell me you're cold, honey?" He frowned and stood up immediately, making you let out a little cry. "Wait a second, I'll give you more blankets."

Blankets. As if you needed any. As if you cared about your body that wasn't functioning properly, half of it just a useless piece of meat now. You felt like you couldn't breathe anymore, gasping for air and feeling like somebody squeezed your lungs with a stony arm.

Steve had returned from the other side of the room shortly with a pile of blankets and carefully unfolded them one by one, covering you with several layers. When he saw you choking, his hands flew to your chest, but your eyes were already rolling back from the lack of oxygen. It didn't take you long to go into the great darkness, sinking into it, feeling nothing at all, even the man's shouting quickly fading away.

It took you even more time before you awoke the next day, your body aching from staying in one position for long, apparently. You were feeling groggy again just like all those mornings in your apartment when your life seemed so boring and uneventful to you. Little did you know, it was heavenly comparing to the complete nightmare you were living in now.

You suddenly realized you could curl your toes on your right foot. And then on the left one too. Your hips felt warm under that huge and heavy comforter.

You could feel. You could feel your lower body.

Then you were crying so hard that at one point you became afraid of being suffocated in your own tears. Steve Rogers didn't break your spine. He did something to you, but your body recovered, nevertheless. Oh, you were strong. You were so strong. He would have hard time trying to break you.

Your euphoria was slowely going away with every minute you spent in solitude in that pretty little room with floral walls. It was the complete opposite of the dark place you woke up after being kidnapped - the new room was furnished very nicely, way better than your own apartment stuffed with cheap things straight from Ikea's sales, and it smelled like roses. Was there a vase with flowers somewhere? It could be. That sick psycho was still playing the role of your loving fiancee.

Wait. Was he under your bed? WAS HE UNDER YOUR BED?

Caring little for the noise you made, you leaned down and lost your grip on the headboard, falling to the floor. You hissed in pain, but then saw there was no one hiding beneath and let out a loud sigh. Relief washed over you. Steve wasn't there. You were completely and utterly alone in the room.

You spent some time listening to any sounds, but you didn't hear anything at all. If Steve was somewhere close, he decided not to show up just yet.

Trying to move as quietly as you could, you got back on your bed and glanced over the room - it was so girly with light pink bed sheets, pillows, chair's upholstery and even a carpet. There was a beautiful vintage vanity with a large mirror - lifting your head, you caught a glimpse of yourself and quickly laid back. You weren't ready to see that just yet.

It was light as day here, but you didn't find any windows. You doubted he would give you a chance to escape through one, and you heart sank at the realization: it wouldn't be surprising if he locked you somewhere underground. Maybe he didn't chop off your legs, yet he took away your opportunity to run away, nonetheless.

Anyway, you could still cry from happiness knowing you were able to walk. It felt like the biggest present somebody could give you.

You didn't know how much time you spent there, staring at the white ceiling and imagining Steve Rogers waiting with an axe behind your door. You didn't hear any sounds whatsoever, even the clock if there was any in the room. Slowly, you started moving your legs again and then clenching your fists real tight. You were in full control of your body, and you wept a little at the thought.

Soon you lifted the comforter and stepped on the pink carpet. Did he put floor heating in here? Your feet felt oddly warm.

Dropping your gaze to your pink silk pyjamas after that, you almost threw up in both disgust and fear. Did that sick pervert do anything to you when you were unconscious? You glanced at the door nervously and took off your top, covering yourself with the comforter in a second. Then you looked at your skin, touching your neck, your breasts and your arms: as far as you could see, there were no marks on your body. It didn't hurt. After that you put the top back on and took off your pants, repeating the same manipulation and finding nothing. Good. He didn't rape you, at least. He couldn't hide this with whatever medication he forced you to take.

Watching youself in a mirror, you wiped a tear running down your cheek. Well, you didn't look as bad as you expected. Certainly not that bad, even after all those horrible things that happened to you.

You searched the room for anything that could help you protect youself but found bothing, not even a pen. You tried grabbing a lamp from your nightstand like the last time, but, apparently, it was glued to the surface. Anyway, how would you protect yourself with it against Captain America? He could break your body in half with his bare arms, and he certainly could have more syringes with whatever fucking drugs he used on you.

You had to go with empty hands. You cringed at the thought, but moved on regardless.

The door was unlocked, and you threw a quick glance at the corridor before stepping away and waiting for Steve to storm into the room. He wasn't there, still, and you swallowed the knot in your throat before opening the door wider with your shaking hands. The dark grey - or green, you weren't sure - colour of the corridor walls made you feel nauseated. It was so much different comparing to the pretty room you woke up in. These walls, however, looked like the walls of a prison.

Was it prison? Had that room ever been a cell before? You covered your mouth with your palm and tried to pull yourseld together. No, it wasn't the right time to vomit. You needed to move.

The room you walked out just now was in the middle of a very long corridor with doors to your left and right. With a lack of light you saw poorly, but you were sure there were no people, at least. After you spent a bit more time standing there to give your eyes time to adjust, you realized that this place had to be huge - the corridor was abnormally long.

Having no clue where to move, you went to your left, feeling very disturbed by the huge difference between the corridor's and your room's appearances. If Steve spent so much money and efforts decorating that place with beautiful furniture and other pieces of interior, why he didn't care to do it anywhere else? Was the room you woke up in the only decent one here?

Oh, you didn't want to open one more door. Breathing heavily, you were covered with cold sweat as you reached for the door knob and softly pushed it, jumping back to the wall beside you.

No sound, no movement, nothing.

Tears were clouding your vision, and you spent one more minute trying to wipe them off before you gathered enough strength to move further. The room you opened was a bedroom just like yours, but not so girly - the walls were covered with light green color, yet the furniture looked as exquisite as in your room. No vanity, however, and nothing to give you at least some protection too. You moved forward.

All those rooms looked pretty fantastic, you had to admit with displeasure. They all were comfortable and completely new.

You stumbled upon more bedrooms, several living rooms, a dozen of restrooms, a walk-in closet, two kitchens and an almost empty cabinet. Although all of them varied in size, you still saw no windows anywhere. And when you found a nursery you cried hard, clenching the fabric of your pyjamas with your teeth.

This place was a maze with more corridors and God knew how many rooms. You had no idea how Rogers could have this house - or whatever it was - running. Well, with his position of Avengers' leader he probably had a fortune to spend.

Oddly enough, all rooms looked pretty as pictures, but not the corridor. It was ugly in every part of the house as if you were supposed to be repulsed to even step outside the room. Maybe it was his intention, you thought. The other strange thing was that Steve was nowhere to be found - you checked every goddamn bed and sofa he could be under, but saw only a dusty floor. Where was he? Wasn't he supposed to be here with you? Not that you objected, though.

You felt tired and hungry after your long jorney. There was food neither in the kitchen nor in any other room, and your stomach hurt at the thought of chicken nuggets. You'd give up anything for your usual McDonalds meal.

Before you chewed your lips thinking of hot French fries, you heard the distant sound of the door opening - a very heavy door. Probably a metal one.

You were in a bedroom you discovered at last without even realizing what you were doing. The thought of Steve coming to assault you, kill you, and dismember your body caused you to have a panic attack when you were getting behind a huge chair standing in the corner of a room. You couldn't hear anything but the blood pounding in your brain. You didn't remeber whether your screamed or not when the man entered.

Dragging you out the corner you were tucked in, he pushed your head into his chest and then put you onto the bed gently, holding your arms in his when you struggled and kicked involuntarily, not realizing what was happening as the world spin around you. He reached out for his pocket and took out one more syringe - you saw it later as he left it on the nightstand while you were laying on the bed with your body going limp again. But after taking away your strengh, the drug made you regain your sanity instead.

You were laying under the blue blanket, Steve sitting close to you and watching you with a sickly sweet smile of his as he caressed your hair with his hot palm. A few grocery bags were dropped to the floor near him, and you saw a pack of dark red cherry tomatoes almost falling out.

"You must have been scared to be all alone in such huge place. I'm sorry I wasn't waiting for you to wake up in your room, dear." His face lit up when you looked at him, chewing your lips to bits from fear and all that tension, your body pretty mich useless again. "I give you my word to become more considerate in the future. By the way, did you have a good look at our house? You got pretty far."

Pretty damn far. The entrance must have been so close.

You couldn't make youself speak to him again, so you simply nodded, weakly grasping the blanket in your trembling hands. Well, at least you could still feel your own body.

"I wasn't sure what you would like, so I just... filled the space, I guess. Of course, we can make any changes you think are necessary."

Changes? Oh yeah, like having windows and ten times less rooms, not even talking about that obviously thick door preventing you from leaving.

"You'll think about it later. How do you feel now, honey?" His shamelessly pretty eyes looked at you almost innocently, and you felt something like anger rising in your chest. "You will have to take some pills before coming into norm, I have them all here. Nothing that could harm your health, of course! They were prescribed by a very good doctor. The best I could find."

You were close to weeping, listening to Steve talking. You were under his full control again, and of he wanted to break a few of your bones, he could do so easily since you were barely able to move again.

"I'm better." You managed to whisper and shut your mouth when Steve smiled at you, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Good. I was getting worried about your constant anxiety. I've told you so many times your lifestyle isn't good for your health, darling! Why have you never listened to me?"

God, he was a madman while you were confined to bed. Your chances to stay alive were miserable.

"I'm sorry, d... dear." You basically pushed these words out of your throat, afraid to make Steve upset. "I will do better."

"I'm glad you heard me out." You shivered and closed your eyes when he leaned closer and dropped a kiss to your forehead.

You expected him to get away and sit straight, but Steve didn't. His face was inches away from yours, and you were afraid to look at him knowing you'd see nothing but the frenzy in his eyes. Captain America was long gone. Someone else had taken his place, and that someone wasn't a good guy ready to sacrifice himself to save his people.

Listening to his erratic breath, you tried to prepare yourself for the end. That was it, right? He'd take that syringe and plunge it into the socket of your eye or into your carotid artery any second. You could feel his madness showing itself on his face even with your eyes closed.

"Why won't you look at me, sweetheart?" His kind voice made you shook. "Come on, open your eyes."

You refused, still. What did it matter?

His breath burned your ear when he spoke next time.

"If you're so willing to run away from me, do you want to play a game?" Steve planted a kiss on your cheek and smiled when you finally opened your eyes. "It's an easy one. Do you like hide and seek?"

You gulped down, watching him like a dangerous animal ready to plunge its fangs into your soft flesh.

"I'll give you ten minutes, and you have to run and hide from me. If I won't find you soon, I'll let you go." His gentle smile was quickly turning sinister while you were left gasping for air. "But if I am going to catch you, I will..."

"No."

He stopped talking and stilled, watching you with wide eyes. The pure confusion on his face looked strange - he didn't understand what you were trying to do.

"I'm not a child." You said, watching him with determination emerging out of nowhere as you spoke. "I don't like these games and I'm tired. I wanna see a movie, Steve."

Was his madness contagious? You certainly felt so, giving him what sounded pretty much like an order. No, you wouldn't play his sick games just to end up mutilated and broken. You'd play yours. You felt so bold and intent to resist him after dreading torture and death so many times. It was like that syringe injected some magic potion into your body, leaving your mind free of fear. What there was for you to lose, anyway?

"Of course, honey! I'm so, so sorry. Of course, you're a grown woman, and it was silly of me to offer you this." He looked... apologetic? Bewildered? Ashamed? "Let me take you to the living room... yes, like that, darling. You're doing so good."

Lifting you in his arms, Steve showed you that warm smile of his once more and carried you away, humming some melody. You put a hand on his chest and listened to his heartbeat that was quickly slowing down. You just escaped your own death, probably. Maybe being a little crazy would actually help you survive.

Once you got an opportunity, you would slit his throat the very first night, you thought.

THE END

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #yandere

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oftenderweapons · 5 years ago

Text

Stress Reliever - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 3.9k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello! As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ll be publishing longer scenarios which could actually be considered small one-shots. The first theme will be stress-relieving/angry sex (’cause let’s admit it, that’s one great way to blow off some steam and ease some tension)

I’ll be following the official order, so I’ll start with Namu uwu.

I don’t really think I need to say this is smut, and filth and an unedited mess. Let’s just move on to trigger warnings.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing; unprotected sex within an established relationship (wrap it before you tap it, and please get checked for STIs regularly) lingerie kink, DADDY kink (like, how could I not) plus Joon is fucking packed and we all fucking know it, dirty language, allusions to cheating (but like, not really, how could one possibly cheat on daddy big dick Joon? Ha, not me), spanking, ddlg/bdsm dynamics, brat!reader, oral (female receiving, mentions of male receiving), peaches and cream (don’t look at me like that, how could I NOT do this) marking, biting, overstimulation and ruined orgasm (listen, daddy makes the rules, it’s not my fault, next time be less of a brat), cumplay, mild angst (lack of attention, abandonement issues). RIP to y/n’s deceased La Perla set. I suppose this is all? This is quite pwp, but not really. About 3900 words.

Also, here you can find my masterlist. Enjoy!

Your day had been phenomenal, your boss had complimented you and assigned you a new office as you joined your new team. You had celebrated going out for lunch with your new colleagues, getting to understand the dynamics and roles within the groups. Since you were given a free afternoon to receive a general briefing and celebrate your promotion you went off work earlier than usual, deciding to get yourself a nice new dress and some celebratory lingerie, all Italian lace and silken bows.

But your mood was sour. Namjoon didn't even bother reading your text, ignoring you all day, which normally would not bother you, but considering how hard you had been working for that promotion and how tired you were, but most importantly considering he knew how much it mattered to you, it really upset you. And you were meaning to make him pay for it.

As you arrived at home you started getting ready, you bathed and did a face mask, hair all pretty and soft, fixed your nails. You felt gorgeous. Gorgeous and furious. Which was normally a very entertaining combination when you added Namjoon, who was currently absent without justification. He should have arrived home twenty minutes ago.

When he finally came through the front door, you were lounging annoyed on the sofa.

"Hi."

You did not answer. And he didn't even notice, nor look at you.

He went straight to the bedroom, got rid of his clothes and wore something comfy, going straight to the kitchen.

"No dinner?" He asked.

"I'm going out." He looked up to where you were sitting, a little baffled.

"And no dinner?"

"I called at the Garden, booked a table for two at nine. You could get ready in fifteen. It's on me."

His forehead creased. "I'm a bit tired."

You raised a brow. "I'm going out anyway."

He huffed out. "Okay. Let me wear something decent."

Five minutes later he headed out, in jeans and a white shirt. He looked completely insane, the sleeves slightly rolled up, his hair pushed back. "Am I okay?"

"You look divine." You were too turned on to deny him a compliment. "I'm sorry I made you dress up. I really wanna destress."

His half tired look in his eyes had disappeared, probably thank to the brief shower he had taken. "It's good, baby."

You headed to the restaurant, his hand perched on your knee during the drive, his head heavy on your shoulder. He still hadn't mentioned your promotion.

A nice waiter welcomed the two of you, he must have been new, considering you had never seen him before and you and Joon were pretty much two regulars there.

He accompanied the two of you to the table, your hand reaching for your man, while he looked absolutely lost, completely disconnected from you. Even at the table you tried to spark a conversation but he was entirely unresponsive, only mentioning that he had been working on his new collaboration and he had been late because he had to meet the singer. The fact that it was a woman low-key triggered you. It's not like you were jealous, or maybe you were, but jealousy was a feeling you had felt before and you had always had the self control not to act upon it. However, mixing that mild jealousy with the disappointment of him not acknowledging your promotion and your special effort for your looks, together with his detached demeanour had you starting something you never thought you would have the guts to do.

You started being excessively polite -- borderline saccharine -- to the cute waiter, asking for his name and behaving in an almost too friendly way, offering him nice smiles and sugary 'thank you's.

Not that Namjoon seemed to notice.

You were getting half an idea to gently grab the waiter's wrist and write your phone number on his forearm just to see what your boyfriend would do.

By the time you finished your main course and got ready to close your meal with dessert, you were so upset you gave up on your usual tiramisu, telling Geonwu -- the waiter -- to hand you the bill. Namjoon seemed to get out of his bubble for a second, as you turned down the dessert, suddenly triggered by your strange change of habit. He must have really upset you, he thought as you gave the waiter your card and waited for the payment to be processed.

A few minutes later you entered your apartment, kicking your shoes and heading for the bedroom. You hoped he would trip over your discarded shoes. Damn him.

In front of the mirror in your ensuite, you started taking off your makeup, slowly undoing your hair. You hated him.

He reached the bedroom too, standing in the door between your room and the bathroom, looking at you through the mirror.

"I know what you were trying to do at dinner." He crossed his arms. "I don't like it at all."

"I wouldn't have done it if you had payed attention to me." You took off your earrings and your watch. The necklace he had given you for your first anniversary. "But you were… Busy."

"So you wanted me to pay attention." He came up behind you, pressing himself against your backside. "Sorry thing I already knew you would land that promotion." He kissed your neck, slowly starting to unbutton the mother pearl buttons on your silk camisole. "So I thought I could keep you on edge and make you snap at me, make you so angry you would finally take all that tension off on me."

You held your breath as he nibbled at your neck. "And I know you were trying to rile me up and make me jealous just to get me to fuck you like crazy, uh?"

He finished with the buttons and untucked your shirt, discovering the black lace corset underneath.

"Was this part of the plan, little vixen?" He toyed with the strings of the undergarment, his sex now hard against your back.

You nodded eagerly.

"Then bend the fuck over cause Imma teach you a lesson." He lifted up your pencil skirt. "These are new, aren't they?" He said teasing the fabric.

"Yes, daddy. I bought them for you." You just wanted him to snap, hoping that your submission would spark up his dominance.

You saw a shiver ran down his spine. "So kind, but you didn't bend over yet. And this won't save you from your punishment." He said, pressing a heavy hand between your wing blades and pushing you down. "You know daddy likes giving you attention, so why didn't you ask?"

"I didn't want to bother you, daddy." You already felt a whine in your voice, a petulant, bratty tone emerging.

“I still don't get whether I should treat you like the brat you are or like the good girl you’re desperately trying to be.” Suddenly you felt the heavy smack of him delivering the first hit. You moaned out in relief and arousal. “You better keep quiet. You kept quiet while you should have told me you wanted me, so now that you wanna talk you’d better keep it down, brat.” he delivered another spank, making his point clear. “Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.” You lifted your head, your eyes rolling up from under your lashes.

He licked his lips and used his spare hand to hold your chin up high, so to maintain eye-contact. “Good girl.” He caressed your bum delicately. “Shall we say that you received your promotion at nine a.m., and now it's almost midnight. That makes it fifteen hours of you keeping it from me. Considering that you’re always so eager when I spank you I won’t include the first two blows I already gave you. Now hold tight because dirty girls like you don’t learn their lessons from soft punishments.”

By the thirteenth blow you were gripping the sink, knuckles white, face blushed with effort, a coat of arousal and sweat slickening your thighs. Namjoon’s tempo had slightly slowed down in order to softly brush your sensitive skin between a spank and another. “Come on, two more, ____. Enjoy them.”

He hit you with full force. Considering that you’d got used to the pain, your tolerance adjusting to his attack, he must have really put some fury in the last two.

Now finally done with your punishment, he moved you slightly to the side, so to use the sink to cool down his palms. “Next time I should use a paddle. No use hurting my hands for punishing a spoiled brat.” Some part of you already felt a dark craving, moaning at the thought. He snickered at how hungry you always were for him.

He passed the cool skin of his hands on your glutes, offering you a small reprieve, taking care of you without giving any explicit sign of your punishment being over. You knew it wasn’t, and it didn’t surprise you when he hooked his fingers in your panties and dragged them down your legs, kneeling to unhook them from your feet. “Those don’t deserve to be ripped.” Now at perfect eye level with your slit, he couldn’t help but give in to the smell and taste of you, licking up your soaked thighs, nuzzling his lips against your sex, delivering one sweet kiss. “Can you take it like a girl good and make daddy happy or do you wanna slow down?”

He probably knew how exhausted your muscles must have been from the position you were into. However, you wanted it your way. “Make daddy happy.” You murmured.

He smiled like a madman, still between your thighs, biting one of the few spots that weren’t bright red on your behind. He raised to his feet, towering over your bent shape, his nimble finger undoing his belt and jeans, gripping his hard on and using the tip to tease your entrance. “Baby, you got me so hard, watching you take your spanks so well, your ass so soft, quivering like jelly. You should see yourself right now, baby. Looking like a wet dream.”

He caressed down your shoulders, using his free hand to hold your waist. You knew he wouldn’t bend down to kiss you, that would be so out of character. And considering he hadn’t stretched you out, you also knew it would hurt.

“Ready?”

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.” He offered you his hand in your own and you gripped it hard as he slowly sinked in. It took him half a minute to bottom out. A deep groan followed. “So good, babe.”

You released a heavy breath, squeezing you inner muscles lightly. “Woah baby, fuck.” He swore viciously, carefully beginning to roll his hips, both his hands on your waist, one of yours joining there, reaching for his fingers, craving for a small sign of affection while he was being careful not to hurt the bruises already forming on you ass. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, looking for the smallest sign of discomfort on your face and posture. Once adjusted, you arched further, allowing him a shift in angle that had him hissing and throwing his head back. His beautiful, dark hair followed, catching your attention in the mirror. His chest, still covered in the shirt, inflated, straining the buttons on his sternum. You would have done anything in that moment to kiss the small triangle of skin appearing at the base of his neck.

Now newly focused, his eyes opened and fixed on you, while one of his hands moved to your breast, still covered in the corset, toying with your nipple, then gripping the flesh with his big palm.

“Joonie,” you dared murmur as his pace intensified.

“You good baby?” He slowed down again, in fear he was hurting you.

“So good, Joonie, I just—” You shut up a second, needing to focus before you continued your sentence. “I wanna cum, daddy.”

“It’s okay baby, let me take you there.” He made you turn your face and caressed your cheek tenderly, using his other hand to reach between your thighs, drawing taunting, tight circles on your clit, with just the right pace and pressure. God only knew how he did that.

“Keep squeezing me baby, so close.” He gripped the back of your neck for leverage and his thrusts got stronger and faster, you completely losing it over the way his hips stayed closer to yours and pushed harder, pulling out just an inch before plunging in again.

Your orgasm washed over you with sweet relief and you were sure it would have gone on for a bit less than a minute hadn’t Joon pulled out of you, his hand still toying with your clit, his vicious fingers way too skilled not to know how much he was affecting you -- and how wrong it all felt. “Joon, inside!” You cried out, barely coherent, only now noticing in the reflection that his arm was moving aggressively, his lower lip caught between his teeth before it slipped out, his jaw angrily clenching in a way that made you want to turn around and suck him into oblivion.

“This ass still needs something.” He spat out through gritted teeth.

Your mouth opened in wonder as you felt him press his tip to your skin, his hot flesh turning even hotter when he groaned out almost desperately, one hand still on his shaft, milking out his cum.

“Do you like that, daddy?” You teased, wanting nothing but his fucked out babbling to praise you.

“Love it, vixen, you nasty little fucker. I’ll put a damn ring on your dirty finger someday.” He muttered, his high almost over, the hand on your mound parting your labia before he slipped in sloppily, some drops of his orgasm ending inside you, while the rest made a sticky mess between the two of you.

He crumbled forward, mouth at your neck, his spine arching up away from you as he kept pushing his hips against yours, chest deflating with heavy breaths. One of your hands removed the fingers still massaging your sex into overstimulation. You were both a sweaty bundle of limbs, exhausted and brainless.

“I’m so in love with you, ____.” He whispered in your ear. “My perfect baby.” The hand under you slipped to your chest, helping you handle the weight of your upper body. “Can you wait like this a couple seconds? I need to clean you up before we make a mess.”

You nodded sleepily while he stretched towards the closest towel, wetting the cloth under the tap and placing it against your skin as he slipped out. The arm under you helped you rise up, his mouth immediately kissing your cheek.

“Did I go too hard?” He asked, his free hand touching you in tenderness and devotion, stroking your heated skin. He used a clean corner of the towel to swipe the dirty spots on your behind, then cleaning himself roughly.

“It was amazing.” Your head propped on his shoulder, your neck stressed because of your previous position.

“Let me take you to the bathtub and ease out the knots on your muscles, yes?” He discarded the cloth and turned you around, kissing you softly and fondly. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you again. “You’re amazing.” He pressed his mouth to your forehead, “and now I wanna take care of you.”

He took off your corset with care, knowing how sensitive you were, but also how tired your body was, incapable of handling any violent push and pull to undo the garment.

“Tell me you didn’t ruin it.” You said, voice imploring.

“No. I was careful. I still regret ruining that La Perla I got you for your birthday. The colour looked so good on you.” He blushed, completely oblivious that two minutes ago he had been an unbelievably sexy, self-confident man spanking you and ruining your orgasm without the smallest hesitation.

“I feel so spoiled, I took a bath this afternoon.” You murmured, thinking of all the wasted water.

“Would you prefer a shower?” He asked, already closing the tap.

You nodded. Your muscles were sore but your conscience was still awake.

Opening the enormous shower he loved so much, he helped you sit down on the wide seat on the wall, flinching as the cold marble made contact with your bruising skin.

Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes, feeling sorry for the pain you were feeling because of his selfishness.

“Can I make it better?” He asked, caressing your face gently before pushing your hair back. His concerned tone made your insides melt.

“I think that having a proper orgasm with your tongue between my legs would help.”

“You’re a spoiled brat. Never gonna learn.” He tried sounding angry, but the smile on his face told you otherwise. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You opened your legs wide as he kneeled before you. “You mentioned putting a ring on it, Joonie.” You teased, the inside joke between the two of you now sounding way too serious after he said it in that context, with that voice just an orgasm ago.

“Careful or I’ll wife you.” He kissed your inner thigh, biting playfully. “Fill you up with babies.” He bit the other side. “Have you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

“Please do, kind sir.” You begged, laughter spilling from your mouth.

He positively laughed at that, his fit of giggles tickling your skin. You were overflowing with love for him.

“Sounds shady coming from a lady who was flirting with the waiter at dinner just tonight.” He started sucking at your skin, the tissue bruising easily after his harsh treatment. “Do you think I forgot?”

Here he was again: gone Joonie, welcome daddy. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed sarcastically against your other thigh, now just a couple centimetres away from your heat. “Do you think he could have done you like that?” His hand grasped your breast, squeezing it viciously. “Like I did tonight?”

“No, daddy.” Your mouth opened as he started rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you think he could discipline you?” He asked, his voice matching the love bite on the soft skin of your crotch where your thigh met your pelvis.

“Of course no, daddy.” You repeated, shifting delicately in your seat to accommodate his mouth.

“Good.” He perched your legs on his shoulders, then his tongue licked your labia forcefully, your flesh and his adhering perfectly, the bridge of his nose rubbing your clit deliciously.

The angle was difficult, and if it hadn’t been for the whole sink ordeal, you would have probably balanced yourself on your arms and used your hips to fuck his face midair, but from the way he was looking at you, you could tell Namjoon knew he couldn’t trust your body like that tonight, the risk of you slipping because of a lousy grip or tired muscles too high.

Much to your dismay, he parted his mouth from your cunt, meeting your gaze. You loved seeing how blissful he got when he was using his mouth between your legs, his brain too focused to think of anything else. It was his go-to stress reliever.

“Hold tight. Be careful.” He said with intention, as he moved an arm behind your back and brought you closer to his face, making you plant your feet on the ground as he laid down on the empty floor. With some attentive adjustments, following his lead, you ended up straddling his face, his head luckily away from the stream of water falling from the shower head.

“I need you to ride daddy’s face, little vixen. Show me how much you wanna belong to me.” He teased with a dark growl.

“That sounds so good daddy!” You squealed enthusiastically. “I’m going to make you so proud.” You promised, smiling at him before his mouth latched on you, his arms snaking around your waist and dragging you down.

“I’m so happy when you lick me, daddy.” You said, voice mischievous, while he enthusiastically picked up his pace.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” His tongue lashed on your clit mercilessly as he kept pumping your most sensitive part with the muscles of his cheeks, hollowing them with the force of his movement.

“I’ll learn...” Your breath caught in your lungs. “I’ll be so good to you.”

His hands helped you balance yourself attentively, chasing your high, until you felt your eyes closing, the room spinning around you and your hips moving on their own command, your climax already possessing you.

“Daddy, please, that’s...” The breathiest moan exited your mouth, your arms collapsing, Namjoon’s hands on your hips the only thing keeping you from smashing face first against the tiles. He moved his head with wide sweeps upwards, accompanying you through your high. In the meantime you managed to readjust, your weight now again in control, you eased Namjoon’s arms, thinking of how tired he must be.

You lifted yourself up, sliding away from his face, down to his lap.

He was incredibly hard, once more, quite unusually. “Please, let me ride you, daddy.” You tried to persuade him. “I’ll do all the work.” You were literally batting your eyelashes at him.

He laughed breathlessly. “How can I tell you no, baby, when you sound so nice?”

“Can I?” You pouted.

“Yes, baby.” He groaned.

You were on him in two seconds, grabbing him, squeezing him gently in your palm -- at which he shut his eyes tight -- and holding his tip towards your entrance, sliding on it flawlessly.

“You feel amazing, ____.” He breathed from his spot on the floor, still in the same position as you’d left him after your mind-blowing climax.

You moaned out at the sound of your name, going already pretty fast to make sure that you both came as soon as possible. Namjoon’s hands led your vicious pace while your hand, already toying with your core, made sure that you could come to the edge of your third high within a few minutes. “Joonie, tell me you’re close.”

“Keep going, baby, almost there. Use your-- oh that!” His mouth opened, eyes scrunched. “There!”

You smirked naughtily as you worked him with your kegels, hips gyrating on him.

“Joonie, help.” You called out, noticing that his arms were going slack.

Exhaustion was getting to the both of you, but as he pushed up, chasing his sensations, you felt the change of angle and in a couple seconds you felt his hot cum fill your every crevice, your own orgasm mixing with his as your upper body collapsed, mouth searching for his neck. “Joonie.”

“Here.” His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your legs started shaking and giving out. “I’ve got you, ____ baby.”

Your nose brushing against the side of his jaw, teeth scraping gently against the vein on his neck, you let your body be lulled by his breathing.

“Love, let’s finish this shower and head to bed, yes?” He caressed your hair back, lovingly.

You have little memory of what happened afterwards, except his weight beside you on the mattress, the lights switching off his heartbeat calling you to sleep.

#bangtan sonyeondan #kim namjoon #kim namjoon scenarios #kim namjoon one shot #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #rm x reader #rm scenario #rm smut

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musicallisto · 4 years ago

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without fail tag

THE “WITHOUT FAIL” TAG — List five things that you, WITHOUT FAIL, weave into or explore in your stories, whether it be specific themes or tropes, character archetypes, allusions to other literary works, what have you! It really can be anything that you consistently include in your narratives for whatever reason. Then invite others to share theirs by tagging them!

I was tagged by @deadlymodern - thank you so much for tagging me, this tag is amazing and I loved reading your answers! I can tell you have a very thorough approach to your writing & themes, it’s so cool!

(tagging people at the bottom of the post if you want to skip)

1. flowers, skies & words

grouping them together since they're all related to a wider, general literary device: symbols and allegories in my stories. Without fail, I’ll always use flower symbolism to evoke certain themes, places, characters... withered petals for death, blossoms for youth, you name it, it’s probably been in one of my stories. just consider my main WIP’s title, The Grave of Roses (Le Tombeau des Roses). It’s a little basic, and has been used time and time before in literature, but I still love it.

Other elements that often make it into my stories as symbols are planes (because I love aviation obviously, but also as a symbol of breaking free, independence, of man’s domination on mortality, what with having tamed the skies, but also his frail condition and how everything hangs on a thread). Also, the sky is pretty.

And lastly, words, stories, novels always have their place in my stories, and more often than not one of my characters is a writer, or someone who uses words and stories as some kind of comfort, outlet, or a driving force.

At its [the tombstone] foot, below the name, red roses piled up, enough of them to cover ten graves. A single vermilion bud, a wind-swept poppy, clashed with the rest of the bouquet, and Samuel knew that it was William's children who had placed it there. Only they knew that he didn't even like roses anymore, and that he would come to lay poppies on his father's memorial every time he returned to London...

The tomb was both smaller and prettier than Samuel imagined, less opulent than England would have wanted to give its precious child. The morning sun, like a caress, illuminated the epitaph, a Latin verse that Samuel had known in the past. “Bury me southward,” he heard William say so clearly that he almost turned around, "so that I can look at England and France in the same breath." His name, however, was drenched in full light, facing east, and inexplicably this saddened Samuel.

“And there it is... it's pretty, don't you think? I don't know if he would have liked it... You probably know it better than I do...”

“And why do you care about that, huh? You don't even believe in God.” “He's a writer. He believes in symbols.” “He believes in vanity, alright.”

“I think he would have liked it anyway,” he nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the lonely poppy. (Translation)

2. parental roughnesses

this was bound to come, because I feel like we were all pretty fucked up at some point in our lives from our upbringing. I didn’t go for straight up “parental issues” because I don’t deal with like, abusive or absent parents or anything, just complicated relationships between parents and their children, but who still love each other. Oftentimes it has to do with one of the children idealizing the heck out of their parent and slowly realizing that they make mistakes and are not a hero at all, and/or unmeetable expectations and parental pressure. but it’s not like I’m projecting or anything lol

“You never knew Father, William,” Grace stopped him immediately [...]. “Don't you dare pretend you know what it's like.”

“Growing up without a father is not necessarily better than losing him in childhood! Everyone here has suffered from his disappearance, Grace. You have no idea how much I miss him, despite never meeting him. But that's all in the past now. And there's no reason for there to be another war.”

“Of course there is!” she retorted ferociously, despite the tears spilling from her eyes. “Of course there is, and they're going to send you there like Father, and you'll want to play hero like Father, and then you'll get shot down like a dog! Where's it going to be this time, huh? Above Luxembourg, just like him, or maybe somewhere in your beloved France?” (Translation)

3. patriotism

One way or another, all my stories always deal with patriotism, nationalism, pride in one’s country and more broadly speaking one’s relationship to it. It questions what it means to belong to a country, to share one culture, one language; does it justify acting in the benefit of one’s country, and where do you draw the line before you intentionnally harm others’; what even is a country, a nationality, and it what sense do you belong to one, and what do you owe it, if you even owe it anything? Is it wrong or right to feel love and attachment to your place of origin? And what does it mean to fight for your country, for its values, for its people? & other things of the like. It probably stems from my own experience as a binational person; growing up, I was always asked stuff like “but who do you root for in a football game” “but are you like really French or not?” “if Spain and France got into a war what would you do?”, and this all lead me to question “am I more French or am I more Spanish - which one am I, and which one would others perceive me to be - do I need to pick a side? And how can I express my affection to these places that raised me both differently, without undermining the other - or others? can I still be proud of my heritage given the horrors my countries have committed in the past?”. I still haven’t found a definitive answer, so my writing is just me throwing trails out to the world and hoping I’ll figure it out someday. that’s why my stories often have a war setting; firstly I just love historical fiction, and secondly it’s the perfect backdrop for all these questions to unfold.

William laughed at the idea - he, a true Frenchman! It was a very silly thought. He may have loved what he had seen of Charlotte's country, but England was not to be ashamed of any other land, for it was the only one he would love until his last breath. (Translation.)

4. just a hint of supernatural

I love me a good ghost story, and I’m a fan of everything spooky, but what’s subtly spooky, and not the gory, in-your-face horror. This particular theme may have increased since I saw The Haunting of Hill House which completely OBLITERATED ME with how it uses the house and its ghosts to tell a story of family and trauma and memories... but I’ve loved ghost stories forever. Another piece that truly resonated with me was One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad) by Gabriel García Márquez. It was my first dive into the world of magical realism and I didn’t make it out of there the same person I was when I entered. This one is not necessarily included in every piece without fail, because some are just too anchored in reality, but if it’s not a straight-up spirit or an otherworldly creature, I’ll always find a way to include an aspect of superstition, a myth, a legend, a tale from faraway that is neither proved nor disproved throughout the story. It truly adds to the atmosphere of the world, even in a very realistic and gritty setting, I believe.

I hear murmurs of legends among the soldiers. [...] One of those stories caught my attention, I must admit... It is not very special, nothing more than a children's tale, but I thought it was beautiful enough to please your Romantic soul. Some pilots speak of a cemetery, somewhere in the countryside north of London, which has something mystical about it, lost in the flowers that sway as far as the eye can see, in the calm rhythm of the wind, wrapped in the heady scent of eternal spring, and where the bravest warriors would go to rest forever, tired of their exploits and the continual explosions. No one knows exactly where it is or what to do to be buried there, but this beautiful image simply floats like a dream in the minds of many and, I confess, in mine as well since I first heard about it.

It is said that there only flowers dare to disturb the heroes in their sleep... This fragment of silence is called the Grave of the Roses.

So if I were to leave you, if you were to hear that I am gone...

With a bit of luck, that is where you will find me.

5. love

this one is broader and less obvious than you might think. Of course, I’ll always, always implement an element of romance to my story (and more often than not it’s angsty with star-crossed lovers or insurmountable obstacles or forbidden romances and whatnot), but there’s more to it. I don’t think I have ever written a story that is entirely grim and bleak, simply because I do not believe the world is built like that. I’ve said time and time again that love is my favorite thing in the world, and I believe it is the force that drives us all forward and connects us all together; love is, to me, the truest power of humanity, and its inherent purpose. And love covers all subjects and all types of relationships, but my absolute favorite ways to explore and show love in my stories is through long-lasting, rock-solid friendships (because friendships are often overlooked both in fiction and real life), and just a grandiose love letter to humanity as a whole. I’m an optimist, and many people who have suffered more than I have would deem me naive for thinking this - and I cannot blame them -, but as Anne Frank put it more bravely than I ever could, “despite everything, I still think humans are good at heart”. My stories are always born out of love and made for love. For the love of humanity and kindness and literature and love of myself, too, because sometimes I just like rereading the words and thinking, “wow, I’ve made it this far. look at me go.” In a word, yes, I would say that is what it boils down to; my work, but also what I hope my entire life and being will be. An ode to love.

“He admired you and truly loved you, you know. You were a good leader, I'm sure, and a good friend, above all.”

He thought she was going to put her hand on his shoulder, and prepared to bend to avoid it, but instead she came to rest on the polished marble of the tomb, which was already beginning to erode at the corners. The soft light bathed her hand, and Samuel's on the other corner, still resting above William's surname, the only thing he had been proud of from beginning to end.

“And I loved him too. I loved them all. If you only knew...”

well, I got carried away, as I always do when talking about my writing, but it made me miss it so much. I haven’t worked on any of my projects since literally October and I’m feeling the void rn. anyway, thank you again for enabling me to ramble about what I love most, Thais! and I’m tagging @softeninglooks, @lxncelot, @myriadimagines, @swanimagines & @randomfandomimagine + plus any writer who wants to talk about their marvelous work <3

#tag game #mywriting #long post #writing #ltdr

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giorno-plays-piano · 5 years ago

Text

You were all I wanted

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, kidnapping, human trafficking, slight mention of body shaming, allusion to non-con.

Words: 2195.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

P.S. Peter is an adult!

__________

"We hope you are going to enjoy your new girl, Mr. Stark." The man loosened his grip on your shoulder as he let you march straight into the arms of a stranger in a fancy striped suit and big frightening men with guns surrounding him.

"Nah, this one isn't for me." The stranger who bought you brushed it off as if your presence meant nothing. "She's a present for the boy. Peter, where the fuck are you?"

You almost jumped at his loud voice, keeping your head low and watching your unstable feet. Well, you expected as much - before you that mysterious Mr. Stark bought one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. Her striking black hair was shining even in the dim lights of the dressing room where all captured girls were taken care of before the start of the auction. She costed twice more than you and had much more admirers - you remembered how men were shouting, trying to outbid each other. You weren't that popular, but still ended up being purchased by the same man she was. Now it all made sense.

"I'm here, Mr. Stark!" A young boy's head popped out in the crowd of other buyers, and he emerged right in front of you with a long men's coat in his hands. "I'm sorry it took me so long!"

"Look at this gent." The man smirked at him, and his guards laughed a little at the boy's enthusiasm. "So caring! I hope you're not going to take the girl straight to church?"

Now there was an inappropriately loud burst of laughter, and you bit your own tongue. They all were a bunch of bastards, but your life depended on them now. You needed to keep your mouth shut if you wanted to make it out alive.

The boy smiled brightly at his patron and looked at you with sparkles of happiness in his dark eyes. Oh, at least he was more or less pleased with the way you looked, you thought.

"Congrats with your first girl, Peter." Mr. Stark's smug grin suddenly turned warm at the sight of the boy who was almost jumping with excitement in front of him. "You're sure she's the one you want? I can still get a replacement if you've changed your mind."

"No, no, Mr. Stark, she's perfect for me!" Once the man in the suit nudged you to come closer to the boy, Peter gently wrapped your shoulders into the coat he carried and smiled at you widely. "Thank you so much for your present, sir!"

"Enjoy, kid." His patron smirked and motioned to the men waiting for him. "Let's get going then, I have business to attend to."

Judging by their nasty smirks, his business had something to do with that gorgeous black-haired woman they took somewhere earlier. You did your best not to throw up at the thought of him forcing her down her knees.

"Can you walk?" The boy suddenly asked you quietly, and you blinked. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Nice joke. The guy looked twice slimmer than you, skinny as a rail. You'd break him in half, probably. You weren't sure whether he was mocking you, but it was obviously not the right time to throw a temper tantrum.

"I can walk. Thank you." You mumbled and made a step towards those men who were already leaving.

"Ok. Come with me then." You thought his boyish smile looked pretty.

You walked past other girls dressed in expensive flashy lingerie adorned with glitter, sequins, and laces. Some of young women were as terrified as you were, their faces red with tears; the others seemed strangely happy, shouting something to each other and giggling in front of their new masters - you thought those girls were prostitutes or someone of the same kind because the idea of laughing happily after being bought like a piece of clothing didn't sit well with you. You spotted a few more ladies who were still unstable on their feet because they were given too much drugs, probably. Two dozens women, maybe more, were gathered in a place like that to become someone's property. Like you did now.

It was cold outside despite September being usually warm in New York. You had never lived here before, but one of your friends moved in the Big Apple two years ago and was always talking about nice weather they often enjoyed.

"It's right over there." The boy pointed to one of the cars in a long row of them, Mr. Stark already getting inside a ridiculously fashionable one. Peter's old Honda was nowhere near that, but you were relieved. It made you feel like you weren't taken to some scary place full of criminals waiting to fuck the shit out of you.

The kid opened the door for you like you were some fairytale princess or something, and you got inside, holding the coat that almost slipped from your shaking shoulders while the boy quickly landed on the driver's seat. You couldn't guess his age, but if he drove the car he was probably older than 16.

"I'm so sorry, I know you're cold." He glanced at your silk robe beneath the coat, your legs bare - you had nothing but fluffy slippers on your feet. "It'll get better in a minute."

What a considerate little guy. If he didn't show up with that overconfident mobster who looked like he owned New York, you'd think Peter was some sweet high schooler who spent his weekends working in an animal shelter. But you weren't stupid to believe his innocent looks.

At one point you thought he might be Mr. Stark's illegitimate son, but something told you it wasn't that. The way Peter looked at him with adoration proved that the man was more of his patron as you suspected from the very beginning.

"I know they didn't feed you today, so I brought you some chicken soup." He said and reached to grab something from the back seat - you glanced at the metal food jar thermos that softly landed on your naked lap.

Did he bring you food? For real? No, it must be some trick - there were drugs or something like that there, for sure. Why else was this guy playing the role of your mother, for God's sake?

"You're not allergic to chicken, are you?" Kid looked concerned, watching the troubled expression on your face. "Oh shoot, I didn't check your allergies!"

"I'm not allergic." You quickly replied, afraid to make him upset.

He was getting restless too fast, you thought. Peter really behaved like a kid. What was that Mr. Stark told him after the auction? Something like "congrats with your first girl", wasn't it? So, it probably meant Peter had never been with a woman before. Not that you had been with a man, either. Maybe that's why he picked you.

But it also could be all an act. Teenagers weren't getting slaves to take care of their sexual needs. Maybe this Peter wasn't as young as you thought, and in fact he was some psycho who planned to drug, rape and murder you.

Either way, he would get mad if you didn't get started with that soup - you could read it in his face.

Opening the jar, you felt a delicious smell filling your nostrils when your stomach made an ugly sound. Damn, you had never been so hungry in your entire life.

The truth was the supervisors who took care of all the girls before the auction made you starve for two days "to get you in shape". They said you were too fat and they had to do something to make you at least a bit more presentable.

"Well, if I'm going to die, I will die with a full stomach." You thought gloomly and started gulping down the warm soup. It tasted heavenly good.

The boy watched you in awe as if you were becoming more and more beautiful with eash sip.

"I'm not much of a cook, but Aunt May managed to teach me to make a chicken soup." He said with a sudden warmth to his voice. "So, um, don't worry, you won't die of starvation with me."

You forced yourself to smile at his attempt to make a small joke. As far as you were concerned, your body was perfectly okay even after you finished eating. Maybe the drug took longer to start affecting you, but maybe you were just lucky and there was nothing in the soup at all.

All of a sudden, Peter's phone started ringing, and he took it from the pocket of his jacket immediately.

"Where the fuck are you again, kid?" You could hear Stark's thundering voice even from your seat.

"I'm sorry, sir!" The boy squeaked and adjusted his seatbelt. "We're coming!"

____________

The room he brought you to was fairly large and comfortable to your tastes: there were a comfy king-sized bed, a huge table with a dozen of oddly-looking gadgets and two screens, a chair, a drawer and a closet. There was also a newly-bought TV that wasn't set up yet, and a microwave on a side table.

"I'm terribly sorry for the mess." Peter apologized to you as if you were his parent who came to scold him. "Don't worry, I'll take it all away. Please come and sit here."

He briefly gestured to the bed, and you bit down on your lower lip nervously. The kid was fast.

You didn't talk much in the car since you were waiting for the drug to kick in, but nothing happened. As for Peter, you thought that he was too shy to talk, but maybe he just didn't want to. In the end, he asked his patron to buy you for a very different reason.

"The bathroom is over there. You can take your shower, if you want." He smiled childishly at you.

How could he keep such innocent face when he was about to rape you?

You gathered whatever courage you had left and said, "C-can we talk?"

The boy froze on the spot and dropped whatever gadget he was holding back on the table. You glanced at his skinny boyish figure, that dark ruffled hair and a really pretty face - he looked like your neighbor's sweet son who would climb a tree to get a cat stuck up there back to the ground.

"Of course!" Peter landed on the bed close to you, watching you with his undying enthusiasm. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Why did you choose me?"

You really wanted to know. You weren't the usual goods they sold on that auction, the human traffickers said. Though there were a few girls who weren't breathtakingly beautiful, most of the ones brought there were well above average women. They looked like they came straight from Victoria's Secret Show.

"Well... um." You could see his ears getting red. "You're... pretty. I like you."

Huh, funny. Why did you ask? The answer was obvious - you were cheap. Mr. Stark didn't want to spend too much money on a present for the kid, so Peter had rather limited choice, probably.

"Why are you getting upset?" He sounded so concerned that you made yourself smile again to calm him down. Anyway, it was better to be grateful. You were almost sold to some disgusting old man. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. I'm sorry." You hurried to say. "I'm sorry you didn't get anyone better than me. That place was full of magnificent women."

What the fuck were you saying? Did you seriously think those poor souls deserved to be sold like cattle just because they were prettier than you? God, you were so messed up.

"Wait, no!" The boy grabbed your hands in his and made you flinch involuntarily. "No, no, you're beautiful! I chose you because I like you more than anyone else."

Bewildered, you looked at his worried expression, his eyes staring at you intensely while you squeezed your thighs together. Hearing the boy say that felt very odd, but kind of... comforting? Not many people ever called you beautiful, mind your mother and a few friends. It was stupid to think about it now when the one calling you that was the man whose property you had become, yet you couldn't help but get those little butterflies in your stomach.

You eyes watered, and you quickly wiped your tears away.

"People were treating you badly, weren't they? It's terrible." The boy pulled out a pack of napkins and took one, gently pressing it to your wet cheek. "But I swear I fell in love with you once I saw your photos on the website. You're the prettiest girl I've ever met, for real!"

When he removed the napkin, you saw his pupils dilating and felt his breath becoming ragged, heavy. One of his hands rested on your thigh as he leaned closer to you and sniffed your hair. Your body went stiff.

"No one gonna say anything nasty to you from now on. I'll make sure of that."

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #spiderman #spidey #yandere #tom holland

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giorno-plays-piano · 5 years ago

Text

You were all I wanted Part 4

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, human trafficking, allusion to dubcon, minor character’s death.

Words: 3309.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

P.S. Peter is an adult!

_____________

That night he was restless.

It had already been a month since you left the auction in Peter's car and started living in Stark's Tower. The evening when the boy shot a drug addict on the street was forever imprinted on your memory.

Apart from that, things were quite simple. Each morning you were waking up in the same bed as him, having breakfast together, and then staying alone in the room while Peter was gone to do whatever Mr. Stark wanted him to. Sometimes the kid wouldn't leave at all, sometimes he'd come late and drenched in someone else's blood. You helped him shower and clean his wounds if he had any. Well, miraculously, for the past month Peter didn't need stitches or anything of that kind. But you knew he wasn't always that lucky - his back and chest were covered in ugly scars, his wrists bore strange circular shape marks. The only reason you hadn't seen them the first night was because you were so terribly drunk.

The boy whined softly in his sleep, and you tried to shush him. Today he returned beaten up, anxious, and exhausted. He and Rhodes were hunting down someone from the gang who had gone completely mad, but Peter refused giving you any details. You suspected something really terrible had happened since the boy was hard to frighten.

And now he was crying, tossing and turning in bed. It was the first time you saw him like that.

"Peter, Peter wake up." You whispered, gently touching his shoulders. "Please."

It took you a few long moments before he had finally opened his eyes and stared at you, his breathing ragged, erratic.

"It's you. It's you." He mumbled, and you saw tears streaming down his face to the pillow beneath his head.

"Yes, it's me." You cooed at him and wiped the wet tracks with your hand, leaning down to kiss him in the forehead. "You're safe."

"Please, please don't go." The fear in his eyes made you stop as Peter gripped your hand in trembling his. "I'm not safe. I'm never safe."

What kind of nightmare was haunting him, making him shake so badly? He looked so scared, so vulnerable and defenseless, tearing up like a little kid. You had never thought you could pity a mobster, but you were wrong - you felt sorry for him.

Shifting on the bed that way that Peter's head came to rest against your chest, you buried your fingers in his disheveled hair and started caressing his head.

"You're safe with me, Peter." You whispered reassuringly, and he snuggled closer to you, throwing his hands against your body. "I'm staying with you. Come here, sweetheart."

He tried to nuzzle against your soft body so close as if he wanted to become a part of you quite literally. Peter let out a heavy sigh, and you felt the skin on your chest burning.

You spent a few more minutes in complete silence of the room, listening to each other's soft breathing. Although you had no intention of moving away from him, Peter clung to you as if his life depended on it. You were curious what he had seen in that nightmare of his, but you didn't say a word, knowing he needed time.

"It's so scary to be alone in the dark." Peter suddenly said, his grip in you getting a little tigther. "I need you to walk with me."

You blinked, unsure of what to say. Didn't he choose the darkness himself? Didn't he get accustomed to all the things he was doing? You remembered him killing that guy on the street without any regret. You were pretty sure Peter didn't feel anything. Were you wrong?

"If I came with you... Would you leave me there by myself after that? I'm scared of the dark, too."

He had finally let go of you upon hearing your words and gave you a bit of space, looking at your face intently.

"No, I wouldn't. I'm not Mr. Stark."

At first, you thought he was talking about Tony and his relationships with women, but then the realization hit you: Peter was referring to himself. It was him who was left alone. Despite you thinking he was very close to his patron - for God's sake, the man bought you as a present for the kid - things were rather different in reality. Maybe Mr. Stark treated Peter like a toy, too. Yes, the boy, surprisingly, had some authority in the gang as he was considered Rhodes equal, but maybe Peter didn't want that, or not only that. Maybe he wanted to be taken care of, to be shown some kindness for the things he was doing for his boss. It felt ridiculous suggesting that, but Peter's still wet face made you think that it could really be true.

"Do you know what are these?" Suddenly, the boy lifted his hand and showed you the marks on his wrist. When you squinted and shook your head, he smiled. "These are cigarette burns. I got them the first week Mr. Stark sent me to school here. I was twelve."

"Did he burn you?" Your gawked at his skin, shivers running down your spine.

"No, he didn't. The guys at school did. I hid it from Mr. Stark, but soon they crushed my head against the sink and I ran away bleeding." He chuckled at your horrified expression. "I thought Mr. Stark would come talk to the teachers or sent his guys, but instead he gave me a gun and said I had to earn my place in the gang. So I went to school with a gun in my backpack and shot one of the guys who bullied me."

You stared at him, hoping it was all about his very dark sense of humor - he had to be joking. Even though you knew what man Tony Stark was, how savage did he had to be to give a firearm to the twelve-year-old child who was bullied?

"Of course, Mr. Stark made it so the other kid was charged with the murder while I just walked away. After one month, I felt so guilty for what I've done that I attempted to end my own life by taking a whole a pack of sedatives."

When he brushed his hand against your cheek you realized you were crying at his words.

Sniffing, you brought his hand closer to you and lowered your lips to his wrist, kissing the marks on his skin. Peter's eyes went wide, but he didn't say a word at your gesture, and you touched each and every burn with your chapped lips while he watched you. Did it bring him any comfort? You hoped it did, because no words could describe how you felt once he finished talking.

No wonder you were the closest to a friend he had ever had. He wanted to have someone by his side so desperately.

"I will never do something like that to you." He whispered ever so gently, not smiling anymore. "Even if you're going to hate me or run from me... But please, please don't run. I need you. You don't understand, but I need you so much."

Slowly, you started kissing his fingers one by one, watching his eyelashes tremble. For some reason, you felt grateful for his sincerity as if it changed something. He was the only man to ever need you - and need you so desperately he was literally begging you to stay with him. It was stupid believing the one who held you captive here, but you still did.

You wanted him to need you more.

"I want to make love to you." He murmured, and one of his fingers touched your lower lip. "Can I? Please, Baby."

"What, now?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement. "But y-"

"Please." He breathed, and his finger slipped past your soft lips, forcing you to lick it, swirling it around your wet little tongue. "I wanna fuck your ass. You don't mind, do you? You took the toys so good yesterday."

You rolled you eyes at him, but obeyed, nonetheless, sucking his finger deeper into your mouth as if it were his cock. Well, you did like it when he kept playing with your ass the whole week.

"You're so good to me." His other arm was already lowering your pyjamas pants as Peter squeezed one of your buttocks, and then his fingers found your little tight hole. "I love you so much."

You grunted in response, feeling how he massaged the entrance with his fingertips, equally aroused and scared at his excitement.

_______________

One more month had passed. You were finally allowed to go out of your room all by yourself as members of the gang were assured you were completely harmless. The thought of coming back to your family had always lingered at the back of your mind, but you always pushed it away, knowing you might as well just go and shoot people you loved by yourself. Now you had seen what Mr. Stark was doing with traitors with your own eyes and you would never want to risk being in the same position.

Peter still treasured you. He had become way more creative in bed comparing with your first handful of weeks, but not that you could complain since giving you pleasure was among things he cared about the most. Besides, your relationship got even better as now he was slowly opening up to you about both his past and present. You no longer dreaded coming with him somewhere. The only thing that bothered you was a feeling that, somehow, Peter got even clingier, but you brushed it off. There could be nothing bad in his growing affection to you.

That day you were coming back from the communal kitchen - thankfully, most of the gang members didn't use it much as it was reserved for their women. The ones who came to cook there were more or less decent, so you weren't worried being close to them. Besides, the boy also gave you one of his guns. Just in case, he said.

Carefully opening the door to your room, you balanced with a heavy plate of chocolate chip cookies in the other hand and stepped inside. Instead of Peter you found Tony Stark sitting on the chair in his breathtakingly beautiful white suit. You held your breath and stilled, unsure of what to do. You had never faced Mr. Stark all by yourself. Were you even allowed to be here now? He clearly needed Peter, not you.

"I-I'm so sorry, sir, I'll return la-"

"It's quite alright, Y/N, come."

He remembered your name, really? It got you alerted.

You hesitantly closed the door, but didn't turn the key, leaving the plate on the top of the microwave standing on the side table. Did you have to offer the man your cookies? Would he be offended by that?

"I apologize, I didn't know you were coming, sir." You said softly, clenching the fabric of your simple cream-colored dress. "I'm sure Peter is going to return shortly... Um, w-would you like to have some cookies, sir?"

"Yes, please." He answered simply, and you brought him the plate immediately, feeling being something between a hostage and a servant to the crime boss. "Mm, not bad. My mother used to bake them, too."

"I'm glad you like it, sir."

You didn't know where to put yourself, knowing he watches you. Except for a chair near Peter's table and his bed there was nowhere to sit, but placing yourself on the top of the bed while there was a man in your room seemed to you absolutely indecent, so you awkwardly leaned on the wall. You prayed for Peter to come back soon, unsure of how you should behave with the most dangerous man you had ever known in the room.

He smirked at you, finally lifting his fancy sunglasses and hiding them in the pocket of his suit.

"I see you settled in nicely here. Do you enjoy living with the kid?"

You shivered, looking at his handsome face and nodding to him.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Huh, is it Peter's gun you have there? Did he give it to you?" Tony pointed at the holster strapped to your belt - you knew it looked ridiculous, yet it was better to look ridiculous but have something to protect yourself, giving that you were living inside Stark's Tower. "Let me have a look."

"Of course, sir."

You didn't like taking the gun and giving it to the man, knowing perfectly he could shoot you right here and right now. You still remembered that perfectly innocent woman he murdered because she wanted to flee as well as all those ones he got rid of before her.

You did your best to look humble. In the end, you belonged to Peter, didn't you? He said many times that Mr. Stark wasn't taking back the gifts he'd made. If Peter was alright with you living here...

"I see he takes good care of you, dear. You look positively glowing." Tony had that odd smile on his face while looking at you.

"Yes, sir, he does. He's a very good man." You lowered your gaze to your shoes as blush spreaded across your cheeks. Although all this was definitely wrong, you still have very warm feelings towards Peter. Living with vultures for so many years, he was still able to treat someone with kindness.

You didn't see a subtle flash of anger on Tony's face, but he gathered himself rather quickly. Actually, he didn't come here for Peter. He sent him away to have a few moments with you instead.

It was true you were radiant when he was watching you from a far. What was the kid doing to keep you so happy? Did he give you pretty dresses? Jewelry? A car? Anything else? Tony made way more expensive gifts to his girls, but they were never satisfied, nonetheless. It seemed he was choosing some rotten whores over decent women over and over again despite all his efforts, but Peter got lucky with his first girl. Tony was almost ready to admit he was jealous.

So why were you special? He couldn't explain it with words, yet looking at your warm smile every time you saw Peter the man knew why his kid was so eager to return home every evening. Tony wanted to have this feeling, too.

"I could give you more than he does." The man said, and you choked on air, staring at him like a rabbit in front of a snake. "Peter's a sweet kid, but he's so inexperienced, you know. He has no clue what to do with a woman. I bet he doesn't even bring you to nice places or make you gifts, does he?"

Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it could stop any second. It wasn't good, oh shit it wasn't good for you. You had no idea how a man who was able to force the most beautiful women of the planet to attend to him could ever look at you, someone who wasn't even considered pretty by most people. Was it just because he wanted to see you suffer? Because he couldn't handle looking at a woman who was happy?

"But I already belong to Peter, sir. I am your gift to him." You smiled nervously, trying to be polite. "How do I dare to change my master?"

"Nah, the kid won't mind. I'll give him another girl, I promise." The man winked at you, and you realized he wasn't letting you go regardless of what you'd tell him.

You needed to run.

Before you reached the door he was on your back, grasping your hands in his and chuckling smugly. His other palm was already lifting the hem of your dress.

"Huh, you're not so submissive as you look. I like that." He whispered above your ear, grinding his hips against your ass.

"No, please, sir! I'm not good! I'm not good for you!"

He threw you on the bed you shared with Peter and took of his white suit jacket, watching you crawl away and smiling at your pathetic attempt to run from him. What a sweet little girl you were, he thought. You wanted to be loyal to someone like Peter when you had him offering you to take the place of his woman.

Before coming closer to bed he was taking off his pants, and you readied yourself to scream as loud as you could. Maybe Tony had your gun, but you had to do something. Maybe someone would come before the damage was done.

Who were you kidding? No one would come to protect you against the head of a crime family.

"Now be a good g-"

Before Tony finished the sentence you heard the lound crack of the door opening and then the sound of a gun. Although you intended to scream just a second ago, now you were silent, staring at the quickly growing bloodstain on his expensive white shirt. You suddenly remembered the drug dealer who died exactly like that.

Peter was standing in the doorway with his gun pointed at his own patron, and then he fired one more time. And one more. He seemed to calm down only when Tony fell on the bed, staining it's cover with his crimson blood. Once the boy looked up, you saw his hollow eyes as if he weren't even conscious.

"Peter." You muttered, your eyes full of tears. "He... Oh God."

He saved you. The boy shot that sick bastard before he could lay his dirty hands on you, but you weren't relieved. He killed Mr. Stark, the one who took him into the family and gave him roof above his head. Tony's people would tear Peter apart for his silly attempt to save you.

When he lowered his gun, you left the bed and came closer to him on shaky legs, swallowing your salty tears.

"Peter, you need to run. They'll kill you."

He reached out to your face and stroked your lower lip in awe. Apparently, he was as shocked with his own actions as you were, you thought, your eyes bleary with all those tears.

"Peter, please, you need to run. Leave me here, I'll be... a deadweight."

Before you could finish he had ushered you to come closer, pressing you against him and putting a hand on the top of your head like a parent to a crying child. His eyes were still hollow.

"Mr. Stark thought he could take whatever he wanted, but he was wrong." The boy whispered, and you cried out quietly at his words. "He thought you'd say yes, and I won't object, hahah."

"Peter, p-please. If you won't go..."

"Why should I go, Baby?" He left a tender kiss on your forehead, his tone of voice strangely calm, but frightening. "We can run Stark's family without a Stark in it, can't we, Rhodey?"

Amazed, you glanced straight ahead of you and saw heavy armed people waiting behind Peter's skinny figure. You recognized many of them as part of Peter's and Rhodes' team, but there were Tony's bodyguards and some other men you had never seen before. They stayed still, their eyes on the two of you and Stark's dead body laying on your bed. For some reason, no one aimed their guns at you. They just stood their and did nothing at all.

"No one's taking you away." Peter's voice turned sweet as he dropped his gun to the floor and his other hand rested on your back. "And I'm not going anywhere. You're my girl, Baby, and you gotta stay whatever happens."

THE END

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#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #spider man #spiderman #yandere

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